#Just so we’re PERFECTLY clear- this is A JOKE

[livbedum]

THIS COULD BE US

I DO NOT GET JEALOUS

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ topper’s birthday was practically made out to be a national holiday on the island. you had gotten your mother to lend you the yacht , having a more intimate party earlier for dinner. rafe and kelce set up the condo for the actual party. everything was going smooth. until it wasn’t.

word count 5.8k

warnings profanity , jealous!reader and kinda jealous!rafe , mentions of chlamydia , underage drinking , pda ( just kissing and grabbing ) , smut ( oral male!receiving in car , oral fem!receiving , unprotected pinv , spanking (1) , facial ) , and i think that’s it

MINORS DNI 18+ ONLY

IN TOPPER fashion , his birthday party has a theme and dress code. white party , white clothes , white fucking yacht. and because it was his birthday , and he was one of your best friends , you gave in to every single demand he had.

he wanted a dj? done. he wanted the men to women ratio at a happy 1:3? done. he wanted a specific dish created by a specific chef from the mainland? done. he demanded a bouncer to stand at the front door of rafe’s condo for hours just so no ruffians get inside? done.

you were busting your ass to make sure his birthday was going perfectly , and you were doing a damn good job. good enough that it made you think you wanted this exact party for your own twenty-first. you had lost track of him once or twice already. dinner just finished , and he went missing again. grabbing a drink of your own , to relax a little bit after how much work you had been putting into this one night.

“look at miss event coordinator. i know you’re not drinking on the job,” kelce joked , walking up to you with rafe as you sipped your gin and tonic.

“it’s my boat. i’ll drink when i want,” you retorted , side hugging the boy before moving to rafe and hugging him as well, “do you think top’s enjoying himself? he keeps disappearing.”

“oh yeah. he’s enjoying himself alright. enjoying himself with ruthie , chloe , harper , and i think he’s enjoying himself with tabitha right now,” rafe chuckled lowly , taking a swig of his own drink to hide his suggestive smile.

you theatrically gagged , smacking rafe’s arm. “you’re all disgusting. this is my mom’s boat,” you groaned, “i expected you not to fornicate on it.”

“like you haven’t?” kelce quipped , recalling the time you and your ex boyfriend had gone at it so rough one night you had to replace the railing on the sun deck.

“my boat!” you huffed , giggling with them as they laughed at you.

“well , i came over here to let you know we’re good to dock whenever top is. house is all set up,” rafe cleared his throat , seeing topper emerge from the cabin, “there’s the birthday boy!” he cheered , calling topper over.

“guys! i have gotten four separate blowies. this is the best birthday ever,” he slurred his words after he wobbled over to the three of you, “y/n/n , you’re the best for planning everything for me,” he smiled , pressing a slobbery kiss to your temple.

you smiled , discreetly wiping the spit from yourself before wrapping your arm around his waste. “you only turn twenty-one once,” you shrugged, “you ready to go to the actual party?”

“oh , for sure! maybe i’ll get laid four times!” topper laughed , dapping kelce up all the while.

“you’re all pigs!” you scoffed lightly , making your way to the helm, “be back!”

the guests that were scattered around moved to let you walk through without asking , and not long after that you were all headed back to figure eight. you and the boys helped topper off the boat and back onto solid land , his stability not getting any better. the sun hadn’t even set , so you knew in a few hours he would be passed out in one of the guest rooms at rafe’s condo.

it wasn’t long until the house was filled with people. the music was going , playing all of topper’s favorite songs along with the party classics. everyone was drinking and having fun in celebration for topper , and you couldn’t be happier.

for one : you pulled off what looked to be the best twenty-first birthday in kildare. but more importantly , you could stop hosting and have fun yourself. your wedges smacked against the marble flooring as you made your way to the bar. “can i have a tequila soda with a lime? and just a shot as well , please?” you ordered sweetly , silently thanking the bartender for coming to you first despite other people waiting for drinks.

he handed you the shot first , allowing you take it before you got your drink. you throw the shot back , letting it glide down your throat without getting you to make a face. the bartender smiled at that , mixing your drink quickly.

you turned around , leaning against the bar after thanking him. your eyes scanned the crowd. people dancing in the living room , suck and blow happening in the kitchen , swimming and chicken fights in the pool. everything looked good. everything was good.

except you didn’t have not one of your boys with you. you looked around for kelce or rafe. you had seen topper stumble upstairs with a pretty redhead a few minutes ago , but you hadn’t really seen rafe or kelce since you told them to check on a few things before the party even really started.

your brows furrowed , truly not seeing either one. but the crease in your forehead deepened when you found rafe. he was lounging on the couch , legs spread and arms on the back. he was in a group , a couple of guys you knew from school , and a few girls you recognized as well. you watched from a distance , sipping on your drink slowly. you noticed how crystal— if you remembered correctly , was laughing harder than need be , touching rafe’s body in any way she could.

and you don’t know what you would call it— it was jealousy , but something in the pit of your stomach burned. your skin felt hot , your eyes rolling all on their own. because there rafe was hanging out with people that weren’t you when your song was playing. the track made the playlist several times because it was your song. and he wasn’t even looking for you?

“can i get another shot please?” you turned around and asked the bartender. he nodded , pouring one out before sliding it to you.

you downed it easier than the first , setting the glass back down on the counter before drinking the rest of your actual drink. you pivoted on your foot , heading straight toward the couch. like usual , people shifted to the side to let you pass. even if they hadn’t , you weren’t too sure that you wouldn’t have run them right over.

rafe saw you in his peripheral , saw you storming over in your comically— to him , high wedges and silky , white dress. your tits practically jumping out of the material as you stomped.

he looked up at you and smiled when you arrived , but was quickly taken aback when you planted yourself in his lap. his arm came down to wrap around your waist naturally , but during his movement , your own hands came up to his face and pulled him in for a kiss.

you didn’t know you were going to do that. originally , in your head , you were just going to storm over and pout. this was much different than that. but rafe didn’t hesitate to kiss you back , hand on your waist squeezing your body closer to his. he groaned into it , tongue licking your lips before you opened your mouth.

neither one of you were aware how long you were making out when you pulled away , breathing heavily in each other’s faces. until crystal— still you weren’t too sure , cleared her throat.

“oh , hey!” you smiled , leaning into rafe’s touch. his cheeks were still burning from the shock of you traipsing over to stake your claim. he knew what it was the moment he saw the pout in your lips.

the girl was blushing on her own , not realizing that you and rafe had finally gotten together after years of being just friends. “hi,” she muttered awkwardly.

“did you end up taking care of that raging case of chlamydia yet , babes?” you asked , voice sweeter than syrup. crystal— presumably , dropped her jaw , eyebrows tight.

“excuse me?” she scoffed , shocked you would say something like that , but more shocked that you knew.

“oh , did i get that wrong?” you fake worried , hand coming up to your heart, “i thought i heard les and gigi talking about it at the club a couple weeks ago , but maybe it wasn’t you?” you flipped your hair over your shoulder , showing her that you truly didn’t care.

maybe you were a mean girl like everyone said.

“no,” she stated coldly, “it wasn’t me.” she stood up , grabbing her purse and phone before rushing away.

you smiled as soon as she turned , not bothered by her leaving. that was the whole point.

“ooh , you’re mean , pretty kitty,” rafe chuckled beside you , his other hand coming to your thigh and rubbing up and down.

he always called you that. kitty. he said it was because you had claws but looked so sweet at the same time. you harassed him for having a pet-play kink until you realized the term of endearment was quite cute. special just for you.

“what?” you shrugged , looking at him like the last thing you said wasn’t fowl, “i made it up , but i guess the topic hit home for her , so it’s probably best she left anyway.”

rafe rolled his eyes with a smile before grabbing the back of your neck and pulling you in for another kiss. you squealed into his lips at the sudden movement , body shifting in his lap. your hand landed on his chest to catch yourself , and you let your body melt into his.

“you all jealous i’m not paying attention to ya , kitty. green isn’t your color,” he told you , pulling back from the sloppy kiss.

you sat back , offended he would ever accuse you of such a thing. “that’s not true , rafey. you know that,” you whined , lightly— barely at all , hitting his chest in protest of his statement.

“which part?”

“all of it,” you decided with a firm shake of your head, “i do not get jealous , and i always have your attention,” you added , leaning in for another kiss, “and i do look good in green.

“i know , i know. the elusive y/n y/l/n never gets jealous,” rafe played along , kissing you gently as his hand slid further up your thigh, “but i do.”

“what do you mean?” you hummed , moving your lips to kiss at his face and the side of his neck now.

“saw the bartender making eyes at you,” rafe murmured , sighing at the last kiss you planted right behind his ear, “the help was eyeing you.”

“it’s the twenty-first century , rafe. we don’t call them the help anymore,” you reminded him with a roll of his eyes and another inch of skin discovered by his hand, “and besides , i wasn’t focused on him. i was watching you.”

rafe smiled , heart beating faster when you so openly said that he had your attention. of course as friends , you always let the boys know how much you loved and appreciated them. but this was different. this was just for rafe— no one else.

“you missed our song,” you mumbled into his neck , not wanting him to hear that you were disappointed in your voice.

“i was singing along in my head,” he assured you , running his hand up and down your back.

you sighed , taking in the feeling of his hands on you , the warmth they spread throughout your body. “since i’m not allowed to talk to the bartender , will you go get me another drink , rafey?” you asked sweetly , only shifting your head a little bit to let him hear you clearer. you also translated his earlier jealousy of the bartender to making it clear he didn’t want you around him again. that’s how it usually went.

“whatever you want , kitty,” he agreed , pressing a kiss into your temple before tapping you leg to get you up.

rafe stood as well , now towering over you. his drunken smile making him look even better than he did before. you smiled back at him , batting your lashes before he rolled his eyes and yanked you in for another kiss. “don’t make me wait long,” you warned him , ending the kiss and ushering him to the bar.

happily , you sat back down to wait. your solitary peace was quickly disrupted by kelce and topper flopping down next to you.

“four blowjobs and one fuck! best birthday ever,” topper congratulated himself once again , hair messy and lips swollen.

“you’re such a slut , top,” you laughed , getting more comfortable now that you and rafe were most likely hanging out in the living room for longer, “what did you do pop a v?” you joked , causing both boys to laugh like he had in fact taken a viagra.

“speaking of slut…” kelce began with a cheeky little smile. it said he knew something juicy , and topper was all over it.

“what? who fucked who?” he asked , wanting to know exactly what happened and when and where and why.

kelce laughed , nudging you gently. “miss penthouse over here was mackin’ on our boy,” he sold you out , grinning ear to ear, “thought it would never happen.”

“and i missed it?” topper whined , throwing his head back and resting it on the couch, “i always wanted to be there the day you and rafe got together.”

you frowned at topper , feeling oh so bad for him until you flicked his throat , causing him to sit up straight and cough. “you’re a perv,” you stated, “and you too , kel. didn’t know you liked watching.”

“oh , i’d watch you do just about anything , baby,” he flirted , knowing it would make you roll your eyes. that’s how you and the boys were. they flirted with you jokingly ; you called them pigs. it was your dynamic.

“you’re not watching her do jack shit from now on,” rafe spoke , smacking kelce upside the head as he handed you your full glass. you got up , letting him take his place before falling into his lap.

kelce laughed , dapping his friend up. “man , you know i’m not going anywhere near your girl.”

“excuse me! i’m still a human being,” you interrupted, “actually i’m one of your very few friends. please act accordingly,” you playfully reached out and punched his arm.

“so who’s taking who’s last name?” topper asked , grabbing a beer that was sitting on the table and chugging it. gross.

you grimaced at the sight. “maybe you should focus on not drinking random drinks , t,” you suggested , feeling rafe’s hand creep up your thigh again , drawing small patterns on the plush skin.

“i’m the birthday boy. i can do whatever i want!” topper roared , throwing his hands up in the air triumphantly.

“you’re gonna get roofied one of these days,” you shook your head.

“here’s hoping! it’d probably make my night ten times crazier,” topper laughed , finishing the beer and setting the cup back down.

the four of you sat and chatted for a bit , appreciating the time you weren’t being bothered and you could simply enjoy the party. rafe had been pressing kisses into your skin , making his way from your shoulders to your neck while topper and kelce dove down their own conversation.

“we should go,” he whispered just loud enough for you to hear before nibbling at your ear, “soon.” he lifted his hips up with you still in his lap , making the hard on in his slacks known.

you turned in his grasp , giving him a knowing look. “i don’t hookup with boys on the first night,” you reminded him.

“this isn’t the first night,” rafe corrected you , moving some of your hair out of your face and behind your ear, “i’ve been thinkin’ bout this forever. by myself , with other people , when i’m with you. it’s not the first night for me , and i can guarantee it isn’t for you either.” he made a very fair point.

you hummed , taking it into consideration. “but it’s topper’s birthday,” you reasoned , looking over just as he and kelce went outside to the pool. the blonde jumped in , splashing people with the water before coming up for air and yelling out. the crowd cheered as kelce joined him.

“don’t think he’s too worried bout us leaving,” rafe commented , looking at the way topper already had a girl in his arms to make out with.

you pushed yourself up from rafe’s lap and the couch. rafe scrambled to get up , thinking that you were about to leave without him. “c’mon then,” you spoke , grabbing his hand in yours and leading him away from the party. the closer you got to his car , the quieter everything got. like being with rafe silenced everything else. it did for you.

like always , rafe opened your door for you , letting you get settled into the seat designated for you before shutting the door and getting in himself. it took a decent amount of time to get to the hotel. rafe lived on figure eight , which was the more local side of the island. you lived in your penthouse on the more west side of the island , where all of the tourons got off the ferry and onto the sand.

rafe never minded the drive , knowing it was helping you out. but tonight? he was speeding in an attempt to get there faster.

his hand was gripping your thigh , kneading it in his grip. it slipped under your dress about halfway to your place , pinky finger reaching out to touch the delicate material you wore beneath it. he didn’t do anything more though.

it wasn’t like him , but he wasn’t about to finger bang you in his car. you weren’t that type of girl to him. you weren’t a quick fuck he met at a party. no , you were his girl. and his girl deserved more than that. at least the first time. maybe tomorrow he would suggest it on the way back to his house.

but you had had enough of the teasing and gentle touches. with a roll of your eyes , you unbuckled and shifted in your seat to face rafe entirely. your hand reached over to his own lap , tracing the outline of his boner.

“and what’re you doing?” rafe questioned with a smirk, “hm?”

“it’s a long drive , and i’m bored,” you answered plainly , undoing his belt and pulling the zipper of his slacks down, “so i wanna kill some time. that okay?” you looked at him with those big eyes , and he had this exact dream not that long ago , so of course he wasn’t going to say no. especially not when you were already pulling him out of his briefs.

“do whatever you want to me , kitty cat. m’all yours,” he nodded , thrusting his hips up involuntarily when your hand started pumping him.

you hummed contentedly , leaning over the center console to take the tip of him into your mouth. you pressed a sweet kiss to it first , licking your lips clean of the precum he was dripping with , and when rafe whined , you knew you would do this every day of your life moving forward if you could.

you sucked at the tip , hand still moving up and down in tandem with the suction before slowly taking more of him in. you didn’t mind the fact that his hips shifted up every once in a while , forcing you to take him further. you liked it , liked knowing he couldn’t control his body.

“fuck , baby. mouth feels fuckin’ perfect,” rafe moaned out , removing one of his hands from the wheel to the hem of your dress. he flipped it up , exposing your panties to the ac of his car before his fingers trailed down to your center , feeling the wet patch that had taken property of the material.

you moaned when his fingers applied pressure , encouraging you to take him down your throat entirely. your nose brushed against the hair at the base and your throat contracted around his cock , almost causing you to gag before you hummed and pulled off of him. your hand kept up its ministrations , spreading your spit around as you twisted your wrist , earning a solid smack on your ass.

maybe he would fuck you in the car.

“want you to cum in my mouth , rafey,” you admitted , looking at him through your watery lashes for just a moment of eye contact before going back down to his lap and swallowing him again.

“keep going then , baby. so close,” rafe groaned , pulling your underwear to the side to truly feel you, “got yourself all worked up just from sucking my dick?” it almost came out humorously , but it wasn’t that. rafe was just so gobsmacked that you were this wet from a few touches and kisses.

you hummed again around him , bobbing your head up and down fast , taking him all the way each time. it was a lot , but it wasn’t anything you weren’t completely willing to handle.

“fuck , fuck,” he grunted , removing his fingers from your needy clit to reach the top of your head. he didn’t push you down any further , just held you there for a moment. “gonna cum , baby. you gonna swallow it all for me like a good girl?”

you nodded around him , feeling the first few drops of his release land on your tongue before the rest came flooding your mouth. you tried to pull back , needing more room in your mouth for the load he was dispositing there , but he held you head firm. “stay right there,” he moaned , the after shocks of his orgasm hitting as his cum started to spill from your mouth and run down the length of him.

you blinked away the tears and did your best to breath through your nose until he let go of you. his hand returned to you , rubbing and gripping at your ass. you immediately pulled yourself off of him , gasping and swallowing his cum before leaning over again to lick him clean.

“fuck! you’re so good,” rafe laughed , guiding your head up as he came to a red light. he adjusted himself back into his pants before looking over to you. your mascara had started to run a little , roughing up the sleek edge you always tried to maintain. you had spit dribbling down your chin that you were wiping at. “prettiest thing in the obx,” he added , moving to press a kiss to you lips.

you whined into the kiss , shifting to be as close to him as possible. “drive faster,” you said against his lips , needing him now more than ever.

just like that , the light turned green , and you both thanked the universe. that was a good sign.

the light wasn’t too far from your place , so the drive was only a few more minutes. during that time , you readjusted yourself , conjuring up your image again like it was nothing. you didn’t even look like you just took rafe’s cock down you throat. luckily , that was the goal. you didn’t want you mom to find out from the concierge that her daughter was a whore who gave boys road head before taking them up to your suite and having your way with them.

no , she wouldn’t approve.

soon enough , rafe was parking in your designated parking spot near the entrance of the hotel. he didn’t waste any time before jumping out and rushing to let you out of the truck as well. you kissed him politely when he did out of thanks.

your hands found each other again as you lead him inside the hotel. he had been there hundreds of times , but the adrenaline running through his veins and straight to the tent in his pants was different. he wasn’t coming over to hang out with you or to pick you up. he was staying over because you had finally kissed him. after years of wanting you and pushing that greed to the side , he had you. you were his.

and no , neither of you said it , but you both always knew. you more subconsciously than him. he was painfully aware of his feelings for you , and he was okay with waiting. because look at where it got him.

a hello from the front desk and a sloppy makeout in the private elevator later you were entering your home.

you walked into the kitchen , knowing rafe would either follow you or go straight to your room. you grabbed a couple of water bottles and headed to the bedroom , which rafe did choose over the kitchen.

“making yourself at home?” you chuckled , setting the waters down on your bedside table as you took in the sight of rafe getting comfortable in your bed.

“what? you gonna kick me out?” he laughed with you as you made your way to him , crawling up the bed to straddle him.

“never,” you whispered , leaning in to kiss him again. this one was the softest of them all , the slowest more sensual one of the night.

rafe’s hands found purchase on your hips , pushing your down into his own for friction. you both groaned at the feeling , not breaking the kiss.

“you done talkin’ to girls at parties?” you asked him , pulling away and swirling your hips as your hands rubbed at his chest.

his eyes were closed , head fallen back in the satin pillows. “never liked ‘em anyway,” he nodded , fingers tightening on your waist when you moved just right.

“i mean it,” you reiterated , slowing your movements.

“me too,” rafe assured you , sitting up and holding onto you, “they were never you. never could be,” he whispered , kissing you gently again before flipping you over, “you done flirting with bartenders?”

“i never have,” you giggled as he nipped at your neck , grinding his hips into yours.

“then i think we can agree , it’s just me and you,” rafe’s voice came out shaky— whether it was the nerves of exclusivity or the way you felt under him.

your smile widened as you tilted your head. “is the big bad rafe cameron asking me somethin’?” you teased him as he pulled away to look at you.

“kitty,” he began , his own smile forming if it ever truly left. you bit your lip in anticipation. you knew rafe , knew he couldn’t ask you what he wanted.

“it’s fine , rafe,” you nodded meekly, “promise.”

and ignoring the pinch in your stomach , you pulled him back in for a kiss that he dodged to make his mark on your body.

“sorry” he mumbled into your skin , biting and sucking at your neck down to your collarbone, “i wanna. i promise,” he spoke so softly , moving lower and lower down your chest, “but you know you’re my girl , right?” he looked up at you as he slid your dress up to your stomach. his fingers traced the hem of your underwear , causing you to take a deep breath in. “right?” he echoed , hooking his fingers to pull them down your legs.

“yeah,” you nodded , waiting for him to touch you again. his kisses started on your thighs , holding them open as he moved your legs over his shoulders.

“good girl using your words,” he chuckled , sticking his tongue out and swiping it through your folds once slowly before sucking your clit into his mouth. your head fell back , jaw open to let out a whiney moan , one you’d been holding in all night.

you knew about rafe and his experience. you knew because you were best friends who told each other everything. with that in mind , you had no clue he ate pussy like a starved man , like you were oxygen and he had been underwater for too long.

when he slid a finger into you , you tensed up a little , not expecting the stretch yet. “relax , baby,” he chastised you , diving back in to mouth at your clit to get you to let your muscles untense. and god , it felt good. too good.

“fuck , fuck! rafe , stop. stop , stop,” you rushed out , pushing his head away from you , and he immediately pulled away and sat up.

“what’s wrong?” he worried , searching your face for anything.

you giggled , pulling him in to kiss you. “i want you to fuck me,” you told him , hand going to the tent in his pants again, “that’s what we came here for , right? so fuck me so i can come on your cock,” you whispered in his ear.

the man didn’t waste any time. he tore his pants off , slipping out of his shit just as fast while you undressed yourself , giggling the whole time.

“what’re you laughin’ at , kitty?” rafe asked despite chuckling with you as he found his way back on top of you. he left his hand guide himself to your entrance , promptly stopping any laughter coming from your lips. he slid his cock through your folds , up and down until you were whining.

“rafey…” you sighed , using your leg hooked around his hips to pull him closer.

and he couldn’t deny you any longer. not with that look on your face. not with the cadence of your voice. not with how wet you were. as rafe slid himself in , completely to the hilt , you both groaned in sync. he paused , stilling inside of you to give you both a second. lord knows he needed one. “you okay , baby?” he asked gently , kissing at your neck. he still hadn’t moved , breathing deep.

“mhm , want you to fuck me,” you nodded , maneuvering to kiss him on the lips. your tongues fought for dominance as you made out , rafe’s hips starting to move.

his thrusts were harsh— deep and hard. the type that forced moans out of your mouth with each one. your head thrown back gave rafe the chance to mark your neck more. he grunted in your ear , hot breath hitting your skin as he gripped so tight on your hips he was sure there would be bruises there too.

“you’re so fucking perfect,” rafe moaned , holding himself up to fully look at you, “pretty fuckin’ kitty , wanting me to fuck you so bad , huh?” he was smiling the whole time. he moved around , sitting back and pulling your legs together. he kissed at your calves , slamming into your faster harder than before.

your mouth was left open , moans and whines and borderline screams flying out freely. “fuck! so fucking deep , rafe. feels so good,” you babbled , hands gripping the sheets in your hands.

“yeah? you like that , baby?” he grunted , wetting his thumb with his tongue before moving it to rub at your clit in time with his thrusts, “squeezin’ me so tight,” he moaned , letting his head drop back in ecstasy just for a moment before focusing again.

“i’m so close! right there , right fucking there!” you alerted him , hands coming up to grab at your tits.

“ahh , that’s it,” rafe hissed , not changing a thing he was doing, “cum on my cock , baby. fucking cum for me.”

his words only helped throw you off the edge. you squealed , moving you legs down from his shoulders in an attempt to get away from his assaults as you came down.

rafe didn’t stop though. no , he just grabbed your thighs and yanked you back toward him , continuing to fuck himself into you throughout your high. it was when your moans turned from pleasure to the smallest amount of pain from the overstimulation that he pulled out.

breathing heavy , your eyelids dropped as you tried to come back to reality. that idea was short lived as rafe flipped you onto your stomach.

“i’m not done yet , baby,” he warned you , adjusting the way your body was splayed on the bed. once he had you the way he wanted , he straddled your thighs. he jerked himself off a couple of times and sheathed himself back inside you.

your body welcomed him with ease , letting him slide into you with no push back at all. “fuck,” you groaned , burying your face in and holding onto your pillows.

rafe took that as a sign you were ready and began fucking into you again. he didn’t hold back this time , using your body the way he wanted. but there was a certain moan you heard come from his lips along with a stutter of his hips that reminded you he wasn’t wearing a condom.

your hand flew back to his hips , pushing him out of you before you rolled yourself onto your back. “come on my face,” you blurted , panting with him. he ran a hand down with a groan his face before shifting up your body. his thighs pushing your tits up as he jerked himself off in front of you.

your hand replaced his , still wanting to be the reason he finished. you stuck your tongue out and closed your eyes when the first few drops hit your skin , squeezing a little more until he was coming completely undone.

“fuck , kitty. yes , yes , yes,” he whimpered , gripping the back of your head and bringing your mouth to his dick again, “take it just like that. yeah,” he grunted , cock twitching in your mouth as you drained him.

when rafe felt like he could move again , he shifted to the side , clambering off of you. “fuck!” he panted with a laugh , placing his hands on the side of your cum covered face and kissing you. you moaned into it , tasting both him and you on your tongues.

he pulled away and slid off the bed , leaving you to go into your bathroom. you were left on the bed , eyes closed and chest rising and falling. the silence was deafening , only being able to hear your breathing and a high pitched ringing.

“rafe , will you grab—“

“i gotcha,” rafe assured you , coming back into the bedroom with a wash cloth and your makeup removed, “c’mere.”

you pushed yourself up , and rafe sat next to you. he gently wiped at the white stains on your face , making sure to get all of it off. “prettiest girl in kildare. i’ll say it for the rest of my life,” he cooed , boyish grin on his face as he finished getting the last of cum. you peeked one eye open with a smile to look at him , checking if he was done.

rafe wasn’t looking at you when you checked , too busy pulling out a makeup wipe , so you shut your eyes again , waiting patiently as the blush started to creep up on your cheeks. “oh , kitty. no blushin’ after all of that!” he teased you , starting to remove the makeup on your face.

“m’not,” you huffed , smile breaking back out on your swollen lips.

“you’ve always been a shit liar,” rafe muttered , shaking his head as he got the last of your makeup, “there. now you’re even prettier.” his compliment was sealed with a kiss while you rolled your eyes.

“will you pass me the water?” you croaked , realizing how dry your throat was after you tried to swallow.

he nodded , grabbing both bottles. he unscrewed one , handing it to you before opening his own and chugging more than half of it. you let out a short laugh at the sight , sipping on your own.

“still know where you��re clothes are at?” you asked him , assuming he was staying the night and not wearing the dress pants and shirt while he did so.

“don’t need ‘em,” he shrugged , climbing under the covers before dragging you back with him.

a/n lol i stay lying to y’all bout when n what im finna post:) but comment to be added to this taglist! <3

[that-willowtree]

i hate gay ppl im so glad theyre not real

[jasmines-library]

if your requests are closed you can just ignore this :) but im just imagining liek a batfam and younger teenage daughter where bruce gets a tattoo of her name or like symbol which is usually a big no but he got it where it's not as noticeable cause she mentioned once how he should and so when he showed her and all the other boys they immediately would pull all dramatics like oh he doesn't love me ph he picked favorites and in all reality he was planning on getting a tattoo for all of them and just did hers first to mess with them a bit

Fresh Ink

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

Word count: 400

BATFAM MASTERLIST

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

“What is that?" Damian scowled, noting the small inking peeking out of the hem of Bruce's shirt. The six of you were mingling in the kitchen, all gathered together for breakfast before you all scatter about for your own busy days.

Bruce followed Damian’s gaze, as did Tim and Dick. “It’s a tattoo.” Bruce hummed.

Damian practically rolled his eyes. “TT. I can see that. But since when did you get tattoos?”

“It’s recent.” Bruce answered.

Damian squinted at the tattoo. It was rather small, but– “Is that her name?!” Damian pointed a finger at you accusingly from across the room.

This time Dick inspected the tattoo. “It is.”

Damian gasped dramatically. “Favouritism!”

“It’s not favouritism –” Bruce started.

“It is.” Jason said from where he was leaning against the counter.

“No it isn’t–”

“Where’s our tattoo’s, bruce?” Tim leaned in. “Don’t you love us too?”

“He doesn’t love us anymore, Tim.” Dick said teasingly. “We’re not worthy of tattoos.”

“You may as well disown us.” Jason added “It’s clear they’re the favourite.”

You laughed softly, amused from the other side of the room. It is clear that your brothers are joking, amused by the situation. Well…maybe all of them except Damian who sat there slumped on his chair, his arms folded in front of him and his face drawn perfectly into a scowl. “It was my idea.” You said. “I told him he should get one. He asked me to design one for him.I didn't think he would actually get it.”

“Sure.” Jason elongated his words sarcastically. “That’s the excuse”

“It’s true.” Bruce backed you up.

“Doesn’t excuse the fact that you’re playing favourites” Dick teased.

“I’m not playing favourites.” Bruce said. “In fact, I was going to ask the four of you if you wanted one too. But since I apparently don’t care about you then…..”

“No. No.” Damian jumped in quickly. “You love us very much. We were joking.”

You smirked a little at Damian’s change in demeanour, clearly keen to get his own tattoo. Bruce noticed this too, and so did your other brothers, each watching Damian with an amused eye, but also interested themselves.

“I’ll go get a pen and paper.” Damian said, slipping from his stool. It squealed against the tiles as he dashed out of the room, his voice fading away as moved continuing his rambles. “I have some great ideas—“

Bruce smiled a little. But oh lord….what had he gotten himself into…..

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

BATFAM TAGS:

@hearts4robs @xxrougefangxx @hell-o-kittys @harleycao @batfamsstuff @alicedawitchbish @killxz @rosecentury

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

[obsessed-with-fake-men]

After His Show

After seeing the band play a gig in the city, you ride back to town on Seb’s motorcycle. But, you get a little distracted along the way…

Sebastian xF!Reader, Sebastian xAFAB!Reader

Rating: Mature/Explicit

Tw: nsfw, mdni, smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex, mentions of cigarettes, pet names, semi-public sex, oral male receiving

AN: This fic can be read as a follow up to Under His Desk or as a stand alone. I have been on the motorcycle thirst trap side of the internet lately and I thought that perfectly aligned with a fic idea. I have never ridden a motorcycle so if my descriptions are inaccurate, I’m sorry :)

Wc: 4400

It was another fall day and you had just finished a harvest which meant one thing - it was time to pop into Pierre’s for some more seeds. You head down the road that leads into town trying to decide if you want to focus on artichokes or if you have enough time left in the season to plant some fairy roses. You’re so lost doing the mental calculations that you would’ve run into Sam if he hadn’t grabbed you by the arms.

“Look where you’re going, farmer! You could’ve made a dent in me,” he jokes, squeezing your biceps. “No, but for real you’re strong right?” 

“Uh yeah, I guess I am?” you shrug.

“Well, we could use an extra roadie for the Goblin Destroyer show tomorrow night if you’re free,” he says. “I know Seb would be really happy if you were there.” Sam winks at you.

You flush, forgetting that Sam knows you and Seb have been fooling around since he almost walked in on the two of you. If you’d only grabbed your bra before hiding under Seb’s desk this embarrassment could’ve been avoided.

“Yeah, sure I don’t have any plans for tomorrow,” you say. “It would be cool to see y’all at a real gig and not just rehearsals.”

“Sweet! Okay, we’re meeting at the bus stop at 4, see you there,” Sam calls as he heads for home.

The next day you finish your chores around the farm as quickly as you can. You may be a roadie tonight, but you’re a groupie at heart and you want to look the part. When you’re satisfied that you look somewhere between halfway decent and slightly hot, you head for the bus stop. 

As you approach, you see Seb leaving. You try to catch his eye but it’s clear his head is elsewhere. When you get to the bus stop, Abigail whistles at you.

“Damn girl, you clean up nice,” she exclaims. You hadn’t really had a chance to dress up for a night out since you moved to Pelican Town a few months ago.

“Thanks,” you laugh. “You look great too, very punk rock.”

“Dude I wear this outfit literally all the time, but thanks,” she laughs.

You help load the rest of the equipment, looking around every now and then hoping to see Seb. By the time all of the gear is loaded, Sebastian still hasn’t appeared. You see Sam lingering by the doors to the bus.

“Hey Sam, is Seb… I mean I saw him heading to town when I got here and we’re about to leave,” you trail off.

“Oh yeah, he had to help his mom with something, he said he’ll meet us there,” Sam replies.

Disappointed, you board the bus behind Sam.

The ride to the venue goes by faster than you expected, and you spend the whole time laughing and joking with Sam and Abigail. Upon arrival you jump into your role as a roadie, unloading gear off the bus with the same focus you use to plant or harvest crops. When everything is set up, you head outside for a smoke break. You’ve always smoked off and on, but since hanging around Seb the habit has admittedly gotten a bit worse.

Searching your pockets for a lighter, you come up empty. You wish Seb was there, he always has one on him. As if in answer to your prayers you hear a motorcycle nearing. Looking up, you see Seb riding towards you. You had to focus to keep your mouth from falling open. Sure you’d seen him working on the bike and that was objectively hot, but seeing him ride up on it was another thing entirely. You weren’t sure if it was the confidence he rode with, but even with his face obscured by the helmet he looked sexy.

Seb pulled the bike up right next to you. He was surprised he parked straight because he had been looking only at you since he entered the lot. Seb knew you were going to be there tonight, but damn he didn’t know you were going to look this good all dressed up in black. He knows that it’s the traditional color crew wears, but he hopes you considered his reaction as you picked out your outfit - the thought makes him blush. Those tight black jeans seem to hug every curve and your top is cut just low enough to get his heart racing. 

Sebastian pulls off his helmet and runs a hand through his dark hair. 

“Need a light?” he asks, nodding toward the unlit cig in between your fingers.

“Yeah, your timing is perfect,” you say, as Seb dismounts the motorcycle and pulls a lighter from his pocket. 

You lean forward, breathing in as he lights the tip of your cigarette. 

“Sounds like you were missing me,” he teases, plucking the cig from your fingers to take a drag.

“Missing you or just your lighter, who’s to say,” you retort.

Seb offers the cig back to you, instead of taking it, you lean forward making eye contact as you take a drag while it’s still between his fingers, lips brushing his digits. Seb’s cock twitches at your brazen flirtation and he huffs out a laugh. Damn, you really know how to get him going.

Seb grabs your hand and pulls it up to his mouth. He kisses the inside of your wrist, causing you to draw in a ragged breath.

“Well I missed you, y/n…” he whispers against your wrist. 

You can’t think beyond his admission and his breath dancing across your sensitive skin. It makes your heart race and you’re certain he can feel your pulse quicken under his soft touch.

“Are you sure you haven’t missed me too?” he teases, pulling your body flush with his. Seb’s other hand captures your chin, forcing your gaze to meet his - the cherry of your cig reflected in his blown-out pupils. 

“You can tell me, baby,” he coos. “I know how to keep a secret.”

The back door to the venue opens with a bang.

“Yo Seb, you out here?” Sam’s voice calls. “It’s time for the final soundcheck!”

“Yeah man, I’ll be there in a minute,” Seb shouts back, not taking his eyes from yours.

Without warning, he pushes you back against the wall of the building, lips locking with yours, cigarette dropped forgotten on the pavement.

His hand travels to your waistband, fingers skillfully popping the button of your jeans.

“Seb what are you doing??” you hiss. “Someone will see us!”

“Not if I’m quick,” he promises with a wink.

Undoing your zipper, his long fingers find their way to your underwear. A moan escapes your lips as he brushes over the wet cloth barely covering your pussy. Seb is quick to capture the sound with his mouth.

When you quiet he whispers in your ear, “Can’t believe how wet you are for me already sweetheart.”

Gently he runs a finger through your folds under the fabric. You gasp, struggling to remain silent. Seb plunges the finger deep into your hole, covering your mouth with his other hand to keep you from crying out. 

He pumps his finger into you a few times, just enough to make you ready to beg for more when he removes his digit from you, bringing it to his lips. Watching Seb suck your juice from his finger causes your walls to clench around nothing - you can’t get over how hot and bothered this man makes you.

“Don’t worry baby, I just wanted a taste. Let’s call it a good luck charm,” Seb chuckles. “C’mon, they’ll be wondering where we are.”

As Sebastian heads onstage for sound check you grab a drink from the bar and join the waiting crowd. You’re not in the first row but you don’t mind. Positioning yourself in front of the keyboard, you look around, shocked by the number of unfamiliar faces at the show. The second the lights go down and the band takes the stage, there’s a palpable shift in the energy. Sure you’d been to rehearsals and a couple of local shows, but seeing the guys and Abby on a stage in the city, they look like they belong up there.

Seb had played it cool in front of you, but as he walks onto the stage he can feel his hands begin to shake. Shit, this is the biggest crowd they’ve ever had. He can NOT fuck it up now. Positioning himself behind his keyboards, Seb blinks through the spotlights to the sea of faces. Well maybe not a sea, but it’s a decent-sized lake. As soon as his eyes adjust, he sees you. He’d recognize your smile and bright eyes anywhere. He’s always nervous for shows, but locking eyes with you, he lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. You mouth “you got this” and blow him a kiss. God you’re so cute, he thinks, shaking his head to himself as his heart swells.

Abby starts the count-off with her drumsticks and muscle memory kicks in. Seb loses himself in the music as he always does. Forgetting he’s on a stage in front of a crowd of strangers, his fingers know just where to go. As the first set ends Seb slowly comes out of his daze, guided by Sam’s voice distantly addressing the crowd.

“We are Goblin Destroyers, thanks for coming out tonight!” Sam shouts as the crowd cheers. He introduces the band, and as you hear him say “...and on the keys we have Sebastian!” a huge cheer erupts from the audience. It’s a little too big of a cheer for your liking, and you can see Seb trying to hide his flushed face behind his dark fringe. You feel a sudden surge of jealousy and mentally kick yourself for not having marked Seb’s neck with your lips and teeth before the show. You’ll have to remember that next time. 

The music starts back up and you surrender yourself to the sound. The bass thrums in your chest and your eyes are glued to Sebastian. You love watching him play. It’s as if all his worries melt away leaving just Seb and the music. It’s so hot to see him this way, totally raw - the mask he usually keeps up between himself and the world is replaced by a look of utter calm.

The only other time you’ve seen him like that is when he’s inside of you. Watching his fingers expertly fly across the keys sends a shiver down your spine as you remember where they were just an hour before. You try to keep your lust at bay and enjoy the show, but the only music you want to hear now are the sweet groans from Seb’s lips as he fucks you.

After a few more songs, the show is over and people begin filtering out of the venue. You head backstage to help pack up when a hand grabs your arm and pulls you into a dark corner. Just as you open your mouth to shout, Seb slots his lips between yours for a devastating kiss, full of tongue and teeth and the adrenaline high he still has from the gig. You pull back for breath and punch him in the arm. 

“Ow, what was that for?” he asks rubbing where you struck him.

“For making me think I was getting kidnapped,” you laugh, putting your hands around his neck. Leaning up, you whisper into his ear, “You looked really hot up there,” and you take his lobe between your teeth. Seb lets out a soft groan and cups your ass in his hands. 

“Ahem,” Abigail clears her throat. 

The two of you freeze, debating whether it’s too late to pretend you were doing something, anything more innocent than what she’s seen.

“Oh my god, chill out you two,” she scoffs, rolling her eyes. “I know you’re fucking, Sam called me as soon as he left your little sex pad.”

You burst out laughing and Seb says, “Ew, Abs don’t call my room a ‘sex pad’.”

“Whatever, will y’all just help pack up the gear?”

You turn to leave, but Seb pulls you in for another quick kiss.

“If everyone knows, I might as well show you off,” he says with a wink before walking away.

Packing up is quick work and before you know it everyone is piling into the bus.

“You want the same spot?” Abigail asks. 

“Oh um actually Seb said he’d give me a ride back….” you say. 

“Ah, I get it. You two drive safe and use protection,” She says, closing the last door on the equipment storage.

You flush and stammer, “wha- we won’t uh-”

“Oh my god wear a helmet, dumbass,” Abigail laughs, punching you lightly in the arm as she heads for the bus.

You make a final sweep of the venue to make sure nothing is left behind. Emerging into the parking lot you see Sebastian, leaning against his bike. The lone streetlight above like another spotlight, and he’s putting on a show just for you. Seb’s lips curve into a soft smile as takes a drag from his cigarette. The smoke curls up around him, obscuring all of his features except his gleaming eyes that track you as you approach. All his.

Finally alone, the desire that has built up over the course of the night threatens to overtake you right here in the parking lot. You reach for him as Seb puts an arm around your waist pulling you close. He leans down, kissing up your neck to your ear.

“Did you get all dressed up in black just for me?” he whispers, nipping at the sensitive shell of your ear. You let out a shaky breath. 

“All for you Sebby,” you sigh.

His cock hardens from both the nickname and your admission. He pulls your body flush with his. You gasp as you feel his hard length pressing against you. 

“Let's get you home sweetheart, there’s so much I want to do to you,” Sebastian growls into your ear.

Taking one last drag from his cig, he drops it to the pavement putting it out with a twist of his foot. Seb reaches behind his back and produces two helmets. He hands you the smaller one.

“I thought you only had the one helmet,” you tease. 

“Gotta keep my girl safe,” he says with a wink. 

The two of you put on the helmets, and you watch as Seb straddles the bike. Ugh, he looks so hot, something about the helmet covering his features, only his neck exposed, really gets you turned on. He starts the bike and revs the engine. Seb reaches out a hand to you and you take it, straddling the bike behind him, you wrap your arms around his stomach. He reaches back, running his hand down your thigh, giving you a quick squeeze. And then you’re off.

God, you feel so good nestled behind him. Your arms hold him in a tight hug as your thighs squeeze him. Fuck he loves your legs and with your tits pressing into his back, he’s in heaven. Seb has always loved taking his bike out, he feels so free flying down the quiet highway under the stars.

His heart swells at the trust you place in him, to keep you safe as the two of you speed through the empty streets. He hopes you’re having a good time too when he feels you lean back and let out a whoop into the night air. Seb laughs and does the same. When he’s with you, it’s like gravity’s endless weight is lifted and he can dream again. You must sense this because you squeeze him tighter for a moment. 

Something no one ever told you about riding a motorcycle is that it’s basically one giant vibrating seat. And with your arms around the man you’re planning to fuck the second this ride is over, the sensation is making you extremely horny. You can feel the wetness pooling between your legs and you try to adjust your position to get the vibration right where you want it. Seb must think you’re uncomfortable because the moment you shift his hand reaches back to squeeze your thigh again.

His worry for you makes you determined to let him know just how good you feel. You start to move one hand, running it down his stomach. Seb returns his hand to the handlebar, thinking your touch is to reassure him, but you aren’t done. Your fingers drift downward, searching and finding. His cock stiffens and his hands clench the handles. You give him a rough squeeze through his jeans and he lets out a groan barely audible through the sound of the wind. You tug on his length as you rock your hips on the seat.

Closing your eyes you begin a slow pace of jacking him off over his jeans and grinding your pussy into the vibrations. You’re so lost in seeking your pleasure that you don’t notice Seb has turned off the highway until the motor cuts off. You whine at the lack of vibration, not fully comprehending what’s happening until Seb pulls you off the bike. His helmet is still on but his visor is open. You can see the desire flashing in his eyes. 

“My needy girl, couldn’t wait to finish the ride before needing my cock,” he growls. 

“I- I didn’t mean to…” you whimper as Seb pulls off his helmet, and runs his hand through his hair. 

“What am I gonna do with you,” he huffs out a laugh, shaking his head.

Setting down the helmet, Seb circles the bike. You take off your helmet, shaking out your hair. He drinks in the sight of you, the moonlight shining off your hair, the desperate look in your eyes, the way your black clothes cling to you and how he wants to peel them off. He pauses in front of you, hand palming his now aching erection. Your gaze is glued to that hand, taunting you.

Seb undoes his belt buckle, pops the button on his jeans and slowly pulls down the zipper. Watching you squirm with every small movement, he could do this for hours, basking in your hungry gaze knowing that you want him just as much as he wants you. But he won’t keep you waiting. He eases his cock out, hissing as the cool night air trails over his hot length. 

“On your knees baby.” 

You oblige instantly, he chuckles at your obedience. 

“That’s a good girl,” he growls. 

He shudders as you grab him, pressing a light kiss to his tip before you flick your tongue along the slit dripping with precum. And when your warm, wet mouth wraps around his length he has to stop himself from thrusting into the back of your throat. You take your time, sucking with your mouth and pumping with your hand until he can’t take it anymore.

He grabs a fistful of your hair and rocks his hips forward. Forcing his cock to hit the back of your throat. The feeling of your tongue on the underside and the light scrape of your teeth on top force out a groan from deep within his chest. His eyes lock on yours, so full of tears just waiting to spill out. He thrusts a few more times, relishing in the feeling of his balls hitting your chin. When your throat squeezes him as you choke on his cock, he swears if he died right now at least he’d die happy.

And as much as he craves to chase his own pleasure and pump his seed into your waiting mouth, he has to make sure you’re okay. Pulling his dripping length from your lips, Seb crouches down to cup your face in his hands. You cough and take in a few ragged breaths before meeting his gaze. He strokes your cheek, “such a good girl for me” he sighs pulling you in for a searing kiss.

“Up you go,” he says, pushing you up to standing. You lean back against the parked bike, not trusting your legs to hold you. Now it’s your turn to look down at Seb, even though you know you have tear streaks on your face and drool on your chin, his eyes are full of adoration. It’s so cute you don’t know if you want to laugh or to cry.

He rubs his hands soothingly up and down your thighs. Then his fingers catch the hem of your shirt, lifting it just enough for him to press a soft kiss to your stomach. He grabs the waist of your jeans, eagerly undoing the button and zipper he pulls them down to reveal your black panties. This pair has a little bow just below the waistband like you’re a present that’s his to unwrap. He stands slowly, moving his hands from your waist to cup your breasts. 

He kisses you softly then whispers in your, “Turn around for me baby.” 

You do, bracing yourself against the bike. He softly touches your ass. It’s fully on display, framed by the lacy black straps of your thong. He growls, slapping your soft flesh. You let out a moan as the cool night breeze instantly soothes the sting. Seb cups your pussy and chuckles when he feels the hot wet crotch of your panties. 

“If I knew you’d like the bike so much, I would’ve put you on it ages ago,” he teases, pulling the fabric to the side.

He teases your slit with a long finger, dragging it through your folds to lightly flick your clit. You gasp and arch your back. Fuck he loves how responsive you are, every touch eliciting a reaction. He plunges two fingers into you, pumping his cock at the same pace. He gets lost in watching his digits disappear into your warm, wet hole. 

“M-more Seb, please,” you whine, pulling him from his trance. Before you register the loss of his fingers, the tip of his cock is already teasing your folds. You moan, pushing your hips back. 

Seb chuckles. “Is my sweet girl ready for my cock?” he asks under his breath.

He knows the answer is yes, he knows you’ve been ready since before the show, but he likes making you wait. Teasing you until his cock is the only thing that could make you feel better. He notches his length at your entrance and slowly pushes into you. You groan, finally getting what you’ve been craving for days. Your toys at home can’t compare to this feeling. Being filled and fucked by your man. 

He slowly enters you until his entire length is sheathed inside your perfect pussy. Your walls clench around him causing his breathing to turn ragged. His grip on your hips tightens, as he eases out of you until just his tip is inside of you. Then without warning, he shoves all the way back in. You cry out, arching your back and Seb knows he’s hit the spot inside you that makes you see stars. He thrusts into you again and again, fingers leaving bruises on your flesh as he steers you closer and closer to orgasm. Your walls squeeze him tighter and he knows you’re close. 

“That’s it, baby,” he grunts, “Cum for me, you can do it.” 

And you do, expletives and his name string together in a chant that he’s sure could raise him from the dead as you cum around his cock. He follows you over that cliff, pushing as deep as he’s able, sealing his body with yours as tightly as he can. If two souls could join, it must feel like this, he thinks as he empties himself into you.

The two of you stay in this position, you draped over the motorcycle like Seb’s wet dream and Seb still inside you, head hung low, trying to keep his legs from giving out as he decides if he ever wants to move again. And then your pussy flutters around his length and he’s sure if he doesn’t pull out now he’ll die from the overstimulation. Easing his cock from you he watches entranced as his seed drips out of you.

He’s never wanted kids but his mind is suddenly filled with images of your belly swollen as his child grows inside of you. He flushes and his cock twitches painfully at the thought. He pushes that desire down, your relationship (if you can even call it that) is so new, he’ll do anything to keep from scaring you away.

Carefully, he covers your dripping pussy with the thin strap of fabric that is your thong. You groan and wiggle your hips as he rubs you through the fabric. Seb slaps your bare ass, huffing out a laugh at your little yelp. After tucking his cock away and pulling on his jeans, Seb helps you up and turns you around. Leaning against his bike, he pulls you into his arms kissing the top of your head and breathing in the smell of your hair. You rest your head on his shoulder, kissing his neck.

His heart is so full he fears it might burst. You pull back to see his face, the look in his eyes is so tender, so loving you have to hold back tears. You slide your hands behind his neck and pull him in for a kiss. The kiss is long, full of hope and passion and all the things you are too nervous to say.

Pulling away from the kiss, Seb squeezes your still-exposed ass. “Let’s put this away before you tempt me to go again,” he says pulling up your jeans. You giggle, buttoning your pants. When you look up Seb is back on the bike, his arm extended toward you with helmet in hand. 

“What do you say, baby, let’s keep this adventure going?” he asks, hoping you understand the weight of his words. You know that after tonight, your heart is his whether he knows it yet or not. You take the helmet and climb onto the bike behind him. You whisper into his ear, “Lead the way Sebby,” and set the helmet on your head. He starts up to engine and with a whoop, the two of you speed off into the night. 

[helioooss]

sidelines

synopsis: you’ve always been in love with sana…but she’s your best friend. and she’s straight. but you just love her so much that you’re willing to wait.

w/c: 7k+

warnings: angst, slow burn like usual. actually proofread (thanks grammarly).

a/n: i promise hard times p2 is coming, it’s just really long and i have to cut it down to at least 8k words LMAOOO

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

it was one of those mornings where nothing seemed particularly special, but your world was about to change in ways you couldn’t have predicted. you sat at your desk in the architecture firm, your fingers gliding over your keyboard as you worked on some revisions for a new project.

the sun streamed in through the tall windows, casting a soft glow over the open-plan office. it was peaceful, the quiet hum of the air conditioner blending with the distant chatter of colleagues.

you had already been with the company for two years at that point, and most days followed the same routine: coffee stains on your desk, project meetings, drafting designs. your colleague and closest friend, jaehyung, would often pop by to gossip about office politics or the latest sports drama, but today, the usual hum of the office seemed more heightened — like something different was in the air.

and then she walked in.

you were so absorbed in your work that you didn’t notice chaeyoung from hr walking towards you until she cleared her throat. you blinked, looking up, and that’s when you saw her.

“this is sana,” chaeyoung spoke, gesturing to the woman standing beside her. “she’s new here, and i’d like you to show her around today.”

sana was beautiful, so beautiful that for a moment, you forgot where you were. her long dark hair framed her face perfectly, and her eyes sparkled with an easy warmth that made your heart skip a beat. it was awkward, the way you felt instantly flustered, but you swallowed it down, reminding yourself that this was work.

this was a professional setting.

“i’m y/n,” you managed to croak out, standing up from your desk and offering a hand. your palms felt sweaty, and you hoped she didn’t notice.

“nice to meet you,” she smiled, shaking your hand. her smile was bright, and it only made things worse. there was something about her that seemed so effortless.

“of course, likewise,” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady, but you could feel the awkwardness settling in your chest.

what were you so nervous about?

you led her through the office, showing her where the break room was, the conference rooms, and the layout of the design floor. your voice felt stiff, formal, and you hated it — sana didn’t seem to notice. she asked questions, laughed at your small jokes, and nodded thoughtfully as you explained the details of different projects.

it wasn’t until you reached the café across the street, where you both grabbed coffee after the tour, that the conversation started to feel more human.

“so, how long have you been with the company?” she asked, sitting across from you, her hands wrapped around her mug.

“two years now,” you replied, feeling a little more relaxed. “it’s a good place to work. lots of creative freedom, which is nice for someone like me who’s obsessed with details.”

she laughed softly. “i get that. i can already tell we’re going to get along.”

and just like that, you felt a small crack in the awkward wall that had been building up inside you.

as you both sipped your coffees, you couldn’t help but think how nice it was to talk to someone who seemed so easygoing, so similar to you in ways you hadn’t expected. but there was a tiny tension that you couldn’t ignore, a pull toward her that made your heart race. you shook it off. it was too soon to start thinking about her like that.

besides, you had minji…your girlfriend of six months. and you were happy, right? things had been going well with her, at least until recently, when she’d been distant and secretive.

you didn’t want to think about that now. not with sana sitting across from you, smiling in that way that made your chest feel tight. however, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something had just changed in your life. you didn’t know what it was, but it was there, lingering.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

weeks passed, and your life settled into a new routine. you, jaehyung, and sana became close, often grabbing lunch together and bouncing ideas off each other during project meetings.

sana was easy to talk to, and the awkwardness you’d felt when you first met her quickly melted away. the more you got to know her, the more you realised how similar you were: your sense of humour, your love for silly internet memes, even your taste in movies. it felt like you’d known her forever, and soon enough, you couldn’t imagine your days at work without her.

as your friendship with sana grew, your relationship with minji started to crumble.

you couldn’t put your finger on when it started, maybe a few weeks after you’d met sana…but minji had become distant. she canceled plans, avoided your texts, and when you did see her, it felt like she was somewhere else entirely. you tried to ignore it, convincing yourself that she was just busy with her bar job, but deep down, you knew something was wrong.

and then, one night, it all came crashing down.

you had gone to minji’s apartment, hoping to surprise her with dinner. you hadn’t heard from her all day, and something inside you told you to check in. when you arrived, you saw her through the window, sitting on the couch with someone else. their hands were intertwined, their heads leaned close together.

your heart dropped.

you didn’t even bother knocking. you turned and walked away, the image of them burned into your mind. your phone buzzed in your pocket: minji’s name lighting up the screen, but you didn’t answer. you couldn’t.

that night, you cried yourself to sleep. the betrayal cut deep, and the pain was overwhelming. you had trusted her, loved her, and now it was all gone. the next few days were a blur of silence and heartache. you barely ate, barely slept.

jaehyung and sana noticed something was wrong, but you didn’t have the energy to explain it to them.

it wasn’t until a few days later, during lunch with sana, that you finally broke down.

“minji cheated on me,” you confessed, your voice trembling. you stared down at your food, unable to meet her eyes.

sana’s expression shifted, her face softening with concern. “oh, y/n…i’m so sorry. i had no idea.”

“i didn’t either,” you muttered, feeling the tears sting your eyes again. “i thought everything was fine. but i guess i was wrong.”

she reached across the table and gently squeezed your hand. her touch was warm, comforting, and it made your heart ache even more. “you don’t deserve that. you deserve someone who’ll treat you the way you treat them, with love and respect. she lost you, remember that.”

her words were kind, but they only made you feel worse. because as much as you tried to deny it, part of you wished sana was that person. it was a selfish thought, one that made you feel guilty, but it was there, gnawing at the back of your mind.

you quickly pulled your hand away, not wanting to dwell on that feeling. she was your friend, probably your best friend now, and that was all she could ever be.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

the weeks that followed were difficult. you were still reeling from the breakup with minji, but somehow, having sana by your side made things a little easier. she was always there for you, whether it was bringing you coffee in the morning or sending you funny instagram reels late at night to cheer you up.

jaehyung, of course, teased you endlessly about how close you and sana had become.

“you two are practically joined at the hip,” he joked one afternoon, leaning against your desk with a smirk. “i’m starting to think you’ve replaced me as her best friend.”

“please,” you rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t deny the truth behind his words. you and sana had grown closer, and it wasn’t something you could easily ignore.

“you like her do you?” he asked in that teasing tone.

blood rushes to your cheeks, turning away from him with a scuff as you tried to hide a smile. “shut the fuck up.”

as the months passed, something else began to grow too: your feelings for sana. they were small at first, easy to brush off as just admiration for your friend. however, the more time you spent with her, the harder it became to push those feelings away.

the problem was, she was straight. she had boyfriends over the years, relationships that came and went, and you always stood on the sidelines, watching. it hurt, more than you wanted to admit, but you buried those feelings deep, telling yourself that her friendship was enough when in reality, you were suffocating in the feelings you couldn’t admit.

your college friends, jihyo and jisoo, noticed the change in you before you did.

“you like her, don’t you?” jihyo asked one night over drinks.

you froze, your glass halfway to your lips. “what?”

“sana; you’re totally in love with her.”

you opened your mouth to protest, but nothing came out. jihyo was right, and you knew it.

“you should just tell her,” jisoo added, her tone gentle. “it’s been years, y/n. you can’t keep holding it in forever.”

you shook your head, laughing bitterly. “she’s straight. what’s the point?”

“you don’t know that,” jihyo said, raising an eyebrow. “maybe she doesn’t even realise how she feels about you.”

you snorted. “yeah, right.”

“you know you don’t have to wait for her forever, right?” jisoo has a concerned look plastered on her face. “you’re allowed to see other people, too.”

“i know,” you heaved out a sigh, taking a full sip of your wine.

but the seed had been planted, and now you couldn’t stop thinking about it. should you tell her? would it ruin everything if you did? every time you thought about confessing, your chest tightened with fear. you couldn’t bear the thought of losing her, even if it meant keeping your feelings locked away forever.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

time continued to pass, and eventually, sana started dating jaehyung. it shouldn’t have surprised you, they had always been close, and you knew jaehyung had liked her for a while even though he never really told you. when he finally said something, the news hit you harder than you expected.

“hey, i just wanted you to hear it from me first,” he said one day, pulling you aside after a meeting. “sana and i are seeing each other.

your stomach twisted. you forced a smile, even though your heart was breaking all over again. “that’s great, jaehyung. i’m happy for you guys.”

and you meant it. at least, a part of you did somehow. jaehyung was your best friend, and if anyone deserved to be happy, it was him. the other part of you, the part that had been in love with sana for so long, felt like it was being ripped apart. you felt sorry for yourself.

you watched them together, always keeping your distance, always pretending like it didn’t bother you. sana was happy, and that was all that mattered.

months went by in an instant and whilst you were somehow satisfied with your place in her life, you couldn’t help but feel a growing sense of loss. every time you saw them together, laughing and holding hands, it felt like you were watching the future you’d never have with sana slip further and further away.

and then, one day, it was over. just like that.

“we broke up,” jaehyung said casually over lunch, as if it were no big deal. “mutual, though. no hard feelings.”

you blinked, surprised. “what happened?@

he shrugged like he didn’t just lose the girl of everyone’s dreams. “we realised we’re better as friends. it wasn’t meant to be. it felt…forced, y’know?”

you didn’t know what to say, but relief flooded through you, followed immediately by guilt. you had no right to feel relieved. this was jaehyung’s relationship, and yet here you were, glad that it was over.

“are you okay?” you asked him, trying to sound supportive.

he nodded, smiling softly. “yeah, i’m fine. honestly, it feels like the right decision.”

as much as the breakup brought you some sense of closure, it also left you feeling more confused than ever. because now, without jaehyung in the picture, you were left alone with your feelings for sana. and they weren’t going away anytime soon.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

over five years passed, and not much changed. you were still single, still in love with sana, still watching her live her life from the sidelines. dating people every now and then, only for her to dump them sooner before you could even have a full picture of their personality.

you kept busy with work — you were up on the chart now, and with friends, with anything that would distract you from the ache in your chest. no matter how much time went by, you couldn’t let go of her.

“waiting…as an act of love,” jaehyung said at one point, shaking his head at you. “will do you no good. just take the risk and tell her how you feel.”

“how did you do it?”

“you know, when sana and i dated briefly — nothing happened. we held hands and kissed, but it never went far from that. i think, deep down, she always had you in mind.”

“i don’t think she feels that way about me.”

“her life revolved around you then, what more now?”

as the years went on, the air between you and sana began to thicken, weighed down by something you couldn’t quite name at first. after three years of friendship, the kind of closeness that had felt inevitable, it was now something different. where once you shared every moment, every little thought, there was now a tension growing, a tension that neither of you seemed willing to address directly.

you had stayed single for so long, not out of choice, but because you couldn’t move past your feelings for sana. while she dated others and broke things off when they didn’t work out, you remained the steady constant in her life; the one who stayed when her world shattered.

you had tried to bury your feelings for her, to put them away in some hidden corner of your heart, telling yourself that being her friend was enough. but it wasn’t. it hadn’t been for a long time.

“so, any girls in your life yet, y/n?” jihyo eyes you, your eyes falling on the ring in her finger.

she had gotten recently engaged and all of your friends, including sana, had been invited to a celebratory dinner. you knew where this was going to go.

nayeon laughed, shaking her head. “who was your last ex again?”

before you could mutter a word, sana placed her palm on your back, rubbing it in circles. “c’mon guys, not minji again!”

“what makes you all think i can get a girl?” you joked, but not really. “you all scare them away.”

“at this point, maybe you and sana should just marry each other,” momo teased - but you knew she meant it.

“righto, i’m always going to say yes to sana,” you elbowed her gently. “ask me and i’ll say yes.”

meanwhile, sana just looked down and smiled. “idiot,” she muttered.

then came lisa.

she was like a sudden burst of color in your otherwise grey world. she was bright, funny, kind, and she understood you in ways that felt so effortless. from the moment you met her, it was like something had shifted in you; a part of you that had been dormant, that had waited and waited for someone to break through the wall you’d built around yourself.

it was something new.

with lisa came a new kind of tension between you and sana, one that was much harder to ignore.

at first, sana didn’t say much. she would make small, offhanded comments about how often you were spending time with lisa, or how she hadn’t seen you as much lately. it started innocently enough — just a teasing remark here and there. but soon, those remarks became more frequent, more pointed.

“so, is lisa your new best friend now?” she’d ask with a laugh that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“no,” you’d reply, trying to brush it off, though the weight of her words tugged at something inside you. “you know you’re my best friend, sana.”

“how did you two meet again?”

“at jaehyung’s party, remember?” you reminded her. “she works for his firm, their new financial officer.”

“cool, she’s cute…you would look cute together.”

but it was more than that. she wasn’t just teasing. she was pulling at the threads of something deeper, something you weren’t ready to confront. because even though you could see lisa as your partner, there was still that part of you…the part that had always loved sana — that couldn’t let go.

as time passed, sana’s clinginess grew. she’d text you late at night, asking if you were free to talk, even though she knew you were with lisa. she’d show up at your apartment unannounced, acting as though it were perfectly normal for her to be there when you both had other plans.

you tried to give her the benefit of the doubt, telling yourself she was just being her usual self, yet there was something different now, something more intense behind her actions that you couldn’t ignore.

“you’ve been so busy lately,” she said one evening as you sat on the couch in her apartment, a movie playing in the background that neither of you were really watching. her tone was casual, but her words were loaded with unspoken meaning.

“work’s been insane,” you replied, trying to keep the conversation light. “jaehyung and lisa are trying to make me jump to their firm as the head architect but i got offered to become a managing director someplace else.”

sana didn’t respond immediately, and when you glanced over at her, she was staring at the floor, her jaw clenched tightly.

“you don’t have to make time for me anymore,” she muttered, her voice so quiet you almost didn’t catch it.

“what?” you asked, turning to face her fully, your heart sinking at the sadness in her tone.

“i said, you don’t have to make time for me anymore,” she repeated, a little louder this time. her eyes were still fixed on the ground. “you’ve got lisa now, right? i’m just…i don’t want to be in the way.”

you blinked, caught off guard. “sana, you’re never in the way. you know that.”

she finally looked up at you, her eyes sharp but tinged with something you didn’t quite understand. “am i? because it sure feels like i’m losing you.”

you felt the words hit you square in the chest. losing you? she wasn’t losing you. you had been there for her through everything. you had been the one who stood by her side when every relationship she had crumbled, and now she thought she was losing you?

“you’re not losing me,” you said softly, trying to soothe the tension building in the room. “i’m still here. i’m always going to be here.”

she laughed, but it wasn’t a happy laugh, it was bitter and filled with frustration. “you say that, but everything’s changed. ever since you met her, it’s like…it’s like you don’t have time for me anymore.”

you felt a lump form in your throat. “things haven’t changed, sana. i still care about you just as much as I always have. lisa and i are honestly nothing.”

“but it’s different,” she snapped, her voice rising with emotion. “it’s not like before. we don’t spend time together like we used to. you don’t call me late at night anymore. you don’t tell me things first. i…i miss you.”

her words hung in the air, raw and vulnerable, and suddenly, you realised that this was more than just jealousy.

she missed you. she missed the connection you shared, the closeness that had defined your friendship for so long. you were different now, and she couldn’t seem to handle it.

“sana,” you said softly, reaching out to touch her hand, but she pulled away before you could make contact.

“don’t,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “don’t act like this is all fine when it’s not. i know you’re falling for her, and i can’t handle it. i hate how much it bothers me, but i can’t…i can’t stand seeing you with someone else.”

her words cut through you like a knife. you had spent years loving her, waiting for her, hoping she’d see you the way you saw her. and now, as you were finally ready to let her go, she was pulling you back in, making you feel like maybe there was still a part of her that needed you in a way that went beyond friendship.

“why does it bother you so much?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, your heart racing as you waited for her response.

sana’s eyes flickered with multiple things; fear, uncertainty, something you couldn’t quite place. she looked away again, her hands trembling slightly as she fidgeted with the edge of her sweater.

“i don’t know,” she admitted, her voice so quiet you could barely hear her. “i don’t know why it bothers me so much. i just, i hate seeing you with her. i hate that she gets to have you in ways that i…that i never did.”

your breath hitched at her words, a flood of emotions crashing over you. there it was — the thing neither of you had ever said out loud, the cloud you had both danced around for years. she was jealous, not just because she missed you, but because she wanted you in a way she had never admitted before.

“sana…” you began, but she cut you off.

“i’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “i know it��s not fair. i know i don’t have the right to feel this way, but i can’t help it. i hate that you’re slipping away from me, and i don’t know how to stop it.”

you sat there, frozen, unsure of what to say. the truth was hanging between you, unspoken but undeniable, and for the first time in years, you saw it clearly. sana wasn’t just afraid of losing you as her best friend: she was afraid of losing you, period. deep down, even if she hadn’t admitted it to herself, she had feelings for you too.

“you’re not losing me,” you said again, but this time, your voice was steadier, more certain. “but things are different now, sana. i can’t go back to how things were before.”

“why not?” she asked, her voice laced with desperation. “why can’t we go back?”

suddenly, the last few years flashed inside your mind — from the moment you met sana until now; the premonition, feeling that you were going to fall in love with her eventually. the bottled feelings sit on the tip of your tongue, just waited to be spilled out. you love her.

you love her and that was it.

“because i’m in love with you and i would like to move on,” you finally said, the words spilling out before you could stop them, years worth of bottling up your feelings for a girl who could never love you back.

the room went silent, the weight of your confession crashing down like a tidal wave. sana stared at you, her eyes wide with shock, her lips parted as if she couldn’t quite process what you had just said.

“what?” she whispered, her voice trembling.

“i’ve been in love with you for so long,” you continued, your voice breaking as you spoke the words you had kept locked inside for years. “and i’ve tried to move on, i’ve tried to let go, but i can’t. it’s always been you, sana. and that’s why things can’t go back to the way they were. because i can’t keep pretending that i don’t feel this way.”

sana’s face crumpled, her eyes filling with tears as she looked away, her hands trembling in her lap. “i didn’t know,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “i didn’t realise —“

“i know,” you said softly, the tears spilling over now. “i didn’t expect you to. i was okay with loving you from afar. to watch you grow old and have a family with the person you deserve, i’ve come to terms with the fact that it’ll never be me.”

for a long moment, neither of you said anything. the silence between you was heavy, filled with all the things that had gone unsaid for so long.

“i need time,” she finally said, her voice barely audible as she stood up, her movements slow and hesitant.

“sana,” you began, but she shook her head, cutting you off.

“i just need time to think,” she said, her voice trembling as she backed toward the door. “i’m sorry.”

and then, without another word, she turned and left, leaving you standing there, your heart in pieces as the weight of everything finally settled in: you lost her.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

the days that followed sana’s sudden departure were heavy with silence. you tried to keep yourself busy, immersing yourself in work and spending more time with lisa, but there was no escaping the thoughts that raced through your mind. you replayed the last conversation over and over, wondering if you had said too much, wondering if you should have kept your feelings buried like you had for years. you wondered if sana would ever come back to you or if you had finally pushed her away for good.

meanwhile, from the other side of the city, sana was on her own journey.

that night, after leaving your apartment, she had walked aimlessly through the bustling city, her thoughts tangled in a mess of confusion and fear. the rain had started to fall, soaking her through, but she didn’t care. all she could think about was you — your confession, the look on your face when you told her that you had been in love with her for years. it was a truth that had shaken her to her core, forcing her to confront feelings she had buried deep inside herself.

sana had always been someone who prided herself on knowing exactly what she wanted. in her relationships, she had always been in control, choosing partners that seemed to fit the mould of what she thought she needed. yet it had never worked out.

every relationship she’d had, no matter how promising it seemed at first, had eventually fallen apart. she had chalked it up to bad timing or simply not finding the right person. now, with everything that had happened between you, it all started to make sense.

for the first time in years, sana allowed herself to reflect on all those moments you had been there for her — every time she had called you in the middle of the night after a breakup, every time you had listened to her rant about the latest guy who didn’t understand her, every time you had picked her up, emotionally and literally, after things fell apart.

you had been her constant, the one person who never wavered, who never asked for anything in return. she realised that she had always turned to you, even when she was in a relationship, because deep down, she had always trusted you in a way she had never trusted anyone else.

then there was lisa.

she couldn’t explain the jealousy she felt at first. it had confused and frustrated her, making her feel things she didn’t want to acknowledge. now, as she looked back on it, she understood why it hurt so much to see you with someone else. lisa wasn’t just another person in your life; she was someone who had taken a piece of you that sana had always assumed would be hers.

the truth was, she had never seen you with anyone else because, in her mind, you had always belonged to her. not in a possessive way, but in the way that two people who are meant to be together belong to each other, even if they haven’t figured it out yet.

the days passed, and sana’s thoughts became clearer. she realized that she had been selfish, taking your friendship for granted, not understanding the depth of what you had given her. she thought about the way you had always been there to pick up the pieces of her life, even when you had nothing left to give. you had given pieces of yourself to make her whole, and she hadn’t even noticed.

standing on the edge of losing you, she saw it all so clearly.

no matter how many boyfriends she had, no matter how many times she tried to find love elsewhere, nothing ever felt right because it was always supposed to be you.

and now, she needed to make things right. she needed to tell you what she had been too afraid to admit.

one evening, after a long day of pacing her apartment and rehearsing what she was going to say, sana found herself outside your door once again. her heart pounded in her chest as she raised her hand to knock, her mind racing with a thousand different thoughts.

what if it was too late?

what if you didn’t want to see her?

she knew she had to try. she couldn’t let fear keep her from telling you the truth any longer.

you opened the door, your eyes widening in surprise when you saw her standing there.

“sana,” you said softly, your voice laced with hesitation. “i didn’t expect to see you.”

she swallowed hard, her throat tight with emotion. “can i come in?” she asked, her voice trembling slightly.

you nodded, stepping aside to let her in, though the tension in the air was palpable. you hadn’t seen her in days, and the weight of everything that had been left unsaid hung between you like a heavy cloud.

she paced the room for a moment before finally stopping in front of you, her hands fidgeting nervously at her sides. she took a deep breath, trying to gather her thoughts, trying to find the right words to explain everything she had been feeling.

“i’ve been thinking a lot,” she began, her voice quiet but steady. “about what you said…about us.”

you said nothing, waiting for her to continue, your heart pounding in your chest.

“and i realised…i’ve been so blind,” she continued, her eyes flickering with emotion as she met your gaze. “i didn’t see it before, now it all makes sense.”

“what makes sense?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, afraid to hope, afraid to let yourself believe what she might be saying.

“you,” she said simply, her voice filled with sincerity. “you’ve always been there for me. every time i fell apart, every time something went wrong, you were the one who picked up the pieces. and i didn’t even see how much you were giving up to do that. you’ve given me so much of yourself, and i’ve taken it for granted.”

you felt a lump form in your throat as her words sank in, the weight of everything you had been holding inside for years finally starting to lift.

“i’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “i’m so sorry it took me this long to see it, to see what’s been right in front of me all this time. i was so focused on finding the right guy, on trying to make things work with people who weren’t meant for me, that i didn’t see that the person i’ve been searching for…it’s been you all along.”

your breath hitched, your heart pounding in your chest as tears pricked at the corners of your eyes.

“sana…” you start to say, but she shook her head, stepping closer to you, her eyes filled with raw emotion.

“i was jealous of lisa because she had you,” she admitted, her voice trembling. “because she was getting to be with you in a way that i never let myself even think about. i didn’t want to admit it, but the truth is i’ve always had feelings for you. i’ve just been too scared to face them.”

she took a deep breath, her hands trembling as she reached out to take yours.

“i love you, y/n,” she whispered, her voice cracking with emotion. “not just as my best friend, but as more. i’ve loved you for so long, and i didn’t even realise it. and i’m so sorry it took me this long to come around, to see what was right in front of me.”

you felt tears slip down your cheeks as her words washed over you, the weight of years of unspoken feelings finally being released. “i love you too,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. “i’ve always loved you.”

sana’s eyes filled with tears as she pulled you into her arms, holding you tightly as if she were afraid to let go.

“i’m so sorry,” she murmured into your shoulder. “i’m sorry for hurting you, for not seeing you sooner. but i’m here now, and i’m not going anywhere, my love.”

you held her close, your heart swelling with a mixture of relief and joy. after all the years of waiting, all the heartache, all the unspoken feelings that had weighed you down, sana was finally here. she had finally come back to you.

“i love you.”

“i love you too.”

[prentissluvr]

the language of love isn't dead — dean winchester

cw : gn!reader, fluff, frenemies to lovers, petty arguments, ft. sam!, dean is annoying obviously <3, reader speaks latin (i used google translate and it is probably very wrong lol), kissing, one mention of a sexual innuendo, a few joking death threats, non-serious mentions of choking, poorly edited, 2.4K words. requested !

summary : you tend to compliment dean in the dead language of latin after fights so that he doesn't know what you really think about him.

MOVED BLOGS TO @sammyluvr !! no longer active on this blog! all fics can be found there!

“you’re being ridiculous,” you frown at dean, arms crossed against your chest as you stare him down in tonight’s motel room.

“ridiculous?” he parrots, indignant. “this is baby we’re talking about. my car. you know, the ‘67 black chevy impala i would kill a man over?”

“yeah, i know her,” you reply, sarcastic in tone. “and your homicidal tendencies when it comes to her. i’m very familiar, dean.” you roll your eyes at him because you just can’t help it. dean makes it very easy to get annoyed at, for a multitude of reasons.

reason number one, he’s annoying. reason number two, he’s very hot when he’s angry. reason number three, he’s very hot pretty much all the time. it does not help that sam got first dibs on the shower, so he’s still covered in a bit of grime and blood from the hunt you just walked away from. it’s his best look, aside from any time that he smiles.

“well, then you should know that getting her perfectly tended to and polished leather seats dirty with wendy’s barbecue sauce is like a goddamn felony and i should sentence you to life of never even stepping foot near my car again,” he fires back, and if you didn’t know him well, which you do, you’d venture to guess that he’s joking. he’s not.

you groan in frustration. “for the last time, i did not get barbecue sauce on your car seats,” you insist.

“i saw you sneaking fries before we got to the room,” he counters, narrowing his eyes at you. “you could have gotten grease on the leather too.”

“i ate two fries dean, and i was careful. i used a napkin and i did not open my barbecue sauce!” you spit back at him. you can’t believe you’re arguing about this right now. except that it is so believable and so like you and him. it’s not like either one of you is going to back down, certainly not about something so petty and meaningless.

“then how come i found some in the back seat?” he says for what feels like the millionth time.

you throw your hands up in the air. “i don’t know! i don’t even use my barbecue sauce for my fries. there’s no reason for me to have opened it!” you argue, huffing out a frustrated sigh. “and how do you even know it was barbecue sauce?”

“it looked like barbecue sauce, it wasn’t there yesterday, you’re the only one who orders it and the only one who’s sat in the back since then. therefore, barbecue sauce,” he admonishes, crossing his arms over his chest to punctuate his point. you can’t help but laugh at him a little bit. he just sounds so ridiculous.

“well then, let’s say it was barbecue sauce—which it wasn’t. did the leather get damaged?” you ask pointedly.

“that doesn’t matter!” he practically rages, taking a step towards you. god, he’s beautiful and you hate him for it (you really, really love him for it). “what matters is that you got it dirty!”

“jesus, dean! just drop it, your car is fine!” you chastise, your voice raising a little in volume as you take another step towards him. you can see his light freckles better now. they’re so goddamn pretty it makes you want to choke him.

“just drop it?” he repeats, fuming. “i will not ‘just drop it.’ this is about baby. i can’t ‘just drop’ something about baby! how can i even trust you enough to let you in my car again, huh?” this is the point where he’s serious, but not that serious. there’s clear frustration and anger in his voice, but he’s stuck with you and he knows it. and when he asks that final question, his volume lessens and he shrugs. he’s looking for you to grovel or offer something to appease him. the question is whether or not to give him that. your instinct is, of course, to not. you let out a huff of breath.

“well, maybe because i’m excellent company in the car,” you suggest, a gloating tone making its way into your voice. “and i like your music better than sam does. which means we always outnumber him. that’s very important.”

he’s unimpressed, clearly. “you gotta come up with something better than that, sweetheart,” he goads.

you curl your lip at him and roll your eyes. “you absolutely suck, dean,” you state. he raises his eyebrows and you groan and roll your eyes yet again. that’s not the word to use around him unless you want a sexual innuendo thrown in your face. “you are absolutely horrible, dean,” you amend.

he laughs at you and his annoyance mostly subsides. “which means i have no problem getting back at you tenfold for getting goddamn barbecue sauce on my car seat.”

“te respicere bonum cum iratus es, ita dampnas,” you grumble, shaking your head and glaring at him. like tradition, you end the argument with a certain latin phrase full of choice words. 

now dean, sweet, lovely, silly, gorgeous dean, has no idea what you’re saying. he doesn’t care to learn enough latin for that. he doesn’t need to know, he thinks. your tone of voice says it all. he thinks those choice words are the type that one fills an insult with. today you tell him, “you look so damn good when you’re angry.” which, funnily enough, is not an insult.

it’s the perfect way of looking him in the eye and just spitting it out. you get to say without consequence what you’re thinking, what you’re feeling, what you want to tell him so badly. it’s not the same as him knowing, but it helps. it eases your tension until the next time, it softens the blow a little.

sam fails to hold in his laugh behind you. you whirl around and glare at him, freshly dressed and out of the shower. you hadn’t even heard him leave the bathroom. narrowing your eyes at him, you tell your long time best friend, say something and you die. he puts his hands up in surrender, still laughing at you a little.

“shut up,” you grumble, then turn back to dean with a scowl.

“what was that little nerd exchange?” dean teases, realizing sam understood what you said.

“nothing,” you glower. “i’m showering now!” 

dean throws his hands up in protest. “you’re making me shower last after getting barbecue sauce on my car?”

“dean, i swear to the lord in heaven, if you–”

“fine, fine!” he relents, the sarcasm and teasing still clearly present in his voice. “you’re right, you should shower first, you probably have barbecue sauce all over ya.” you raise your fist in a threat and it’s dean’s turn to put his hands up in surrender. “i’m just saying!”

“stop saying!” you groan. “just– stop talking, i’m gonna lose my mind.” if i have to stare at your gorgeous face and listen to your gorgeous voice for another second i will go crazy. you sigh heavily. god, you wonder if you could survive not kissing him. monsters and demons and all the strange shit in the world… that’s fine. it sucks but, jesus, at least you know how to deal with them.

but doing it all with dean? you have no idea how to deal with that. so far, it’s by arguing with him, complimenting him in a dead language, and keeping him at an arm’s length. and so far, it’s not working out too well, because you still want him. you still want him to want you back. you still wish and wish and wish that the language of love isn’t dead, not for you and him, not yet, at least.

maybe the shower will help. this motel doesn’t have the worst showers; the water pressure is decent and the water stays hot for a while longer than some others.

you’re not annoyed when you finish, at least, not about his stupid accusations of you getting condiments on his car seats. unfortunately, you are still annoyed about how attracted you are to him. even more unfortunate, you suppose, is that you’re attracted to him, period.

you sigh because you can’t bring yourself to actually try not to be. not that anyone can reverse feelings, but you let your feelings run rampant, more than you should sometimes. you let him eat away at your heart like a goddman movie zombie that’s too stupid to remember it eats brains. then, you figure that the thought of him eats away at your brain too, because he messes with your rationality sometimes.

his eyes are on you as you leave the bathroom and you wonder if sam’s tattled on you. when you shoot him a look he shrugs and shakes his head. you’re not convinced, but you let it slide. you plop down on the pullout couch bed and pack your old clothes away, ignoring dean’s heavy gaze. only when the door to the bathroom opens and closes do you flop against the bed with a heaving sigh.

“i hate your brother,” you grumble, barely loud enough for sam to hear as the muffled sounds of the shower turning on hits your ears. you turn to your side and curl up, not even bothering to pull the sheet over yourself.

you can’t see sam, but you hear him scoff from his spot on his own bed. “sure you do,” he quips, completely sarcastic.

“no, i really, really do,” you insist, not meaning a word of it.

“well, he hates you too, then,” he answers, voice heavy with implication. you know what he means because he knows what you mean. hate, of course, is love.

“no, he doesn’t,” you counter, sad about it. you bet that no one’s ever sounded so disappointed that someone doesn’t ‘hate’ them.

“you’re hopeless.” sam’s probably shaking his head at you as he reads the words on the book in his lap.

“i’m hopeless,” you sigh.

⟢⟢⟢

it’s not until a few days later that dean confronts you about your little latin digs at him. sam did tattle, only because he’s tired of your pining, but dean won’t tell you that. he’s smart enough to know you’ll end up with your hands around sam’s neck if you end up finding out, and he’s not trying to have his… person strangle his little brother.

“hey, idiot,” he starts, the word layered with affection. “why do you always insult me in latin? sorta feels like you lose the point of insulting someone to their face like that.” 

he’s leaning against the hood of his car, beer in hand like always. it’s oddly uncommon to find yourself like this; outside, alone with him. the motel’s not busy and there are barely any other cars in the parking lot, and even less people. it’s just you and him as far as you can see. the night air is mild, cicadas singing as summer begins to slip away.

“well… maybe the point is that you know i’m saying something about you, but you don’t know what,” you shrug, sort of proud of the smooth answer. you’re not even lying. inside, you’re panicking a bit. this is dangerous territory.

“the stuff you’re saying is that horrible, huh?” his tone suggests a joke. his eyes suggest otherwise. it makes you pause. 

how unfair is it, to the both of you, to lie? to even joke that you’d say such mean things about him? about dean winchester, whom you know sort of hates himself. who has just two people by his side, you and sam.

and you, who only argues with him because it’s easier than being nice. you, who deserves what you want but won’t let yourself even try to have it.

“no,” you sigh out. “i’m not saying horrible stuff about you.” you don’t look at him, you don’t mess around. you take the joking in his voice and strip it away. you take the look in his eyes and put it in yours. it makes him look at you, for once. it’s easy to imagine his eyebrows raising, his lips caught somewhere between his signature smirk and a curious frown. “not in latin, anyways,” you add, letting a huff of laughter leak into your bitter voice.

dean keeps looking at you. you know you’re supposed to explain after saying something like that, but you’d much rather not.

“no?” he asks finally. now you have to say something more.

“no,” you confirm, still staring at the trees across the street instead of him. the street lights are orange in color, and it feels either cruel or hopeful that it’s such a beautiful night. “i… say it in latin because it’s something nice. and you can… ignore this, if you want. i say it in latin because i like you a lot, dean. y’know, more than a stupid, fucking friend.” you roll your eyes a bit, like you’re upset with yourself. then you swallow thickly and ignore the fact that you can see him in your peripheral vision. he doesn’t look like he normally does. he doesn’t look angry.

dean is torn between teasing you and kissing you. you sound mad about the fact that you have feelings for him, like you wish you didn’t. ‘more than a stupid, fucking friend’ is a real funny way to phrase things, if he’s honest with himself. the question is, does he say that to you, or does he look for something better to say? he’s not good with ‘better things to say,’ whatever that might be.

“a little aggressive for a love confession, no?” his voice isn’t even that teasing. it’s sort of gentle. he wants to slap his hand over his mouth for saying that godforsaken four letter word. you had said ‘like.’ it’s freudian slip, he supposes, since he loves you.

“this isn’t funny, dean,” you murmur, voice sort of defeated. and yet, you hear it. it’s not funny to him either. he wasn’t trying to be funny, he was trying not to feel. he was trying to say at least something, because he was having trouble coming up with anything else.

“i know,” he relents. he draws in a deep breath. “will you look at me?” your lips part, then close. you blink a few times. you turn your head and look at him. god, he loves you back. he’s got to, or there’s no other way to explain how he looks at you.

and there’s definitely no other way to explain him kissing you. he looks you right in the eyes and he leans in until his lips are touching yours. 

his eyes flutter closed, yours follow. you kiss him back, he kisses harder. the language of love isn’t dead. all you had to do was say something.

[snowysosturn]

Allies or Affiliates? - Chris Sturniolo

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14

Pairing : Y/n x Chris Sturniolo

Summary : Law student Y/n’s life takes a turn when she reconnects with Chris, her brief teenage flame who is now a dealer for a dangerous Boston drug gang. As their bond reignites, Y/n is drawn into Chris’s tumultuous world, where rival gangs clash and loyalty is everything. Balancing her love for Chris with her own ambitions, can their connection survive the chaos that threatens to pull them apart?

Warnings : MDNI, Mentions of drugs, mentions of murder

A/N: Although this is FICTION I want to make it clear how serious getting involved with anything to do with drugs can be, and how hard it can be to get out of it and in no way am I trying to glorify it.

The clock read 5:03 PM as I stepped out of the front door of Boston University, the autumn sky painted in soft streaks of pink and orange. The campus buzzed with the usual energy on a Friday - students rushing to home to get ready for weekend parties, some chatting in small groups on the lawns, while others sped off on bikes or scurried to catch the next bus. Boston was always alive, but there was a kind of comfort in the routine of it all, a sense of order in the chaos.

I pulled my coat tighter around me, the early October chill creeping in as I started walking. It had been a long day, a long week, really. Law school wasn’t a joke. Between the hours of lectures, the mountains of assignments, and the never ending reading list, I felt like I was constantly drowning in work. Sometimes, it felt like I barely had time to breathe, let alone catch up with my friends or even sleep. But tonight, I had made an exception. I was heading to my best friend Willow’s place for some much needed relaxation and a good catch up.

Willow had been my best friend for as long as I could remember. We grew up together, practically sisters. Our families had always been close, bonded by the same comfortable, though not extravagant, wealth. We weren’t the type of rich that screamed excess, but our lives had always been comfortable, easy. Willow and I never talked much about that, though, it was just an unspoken part of our lives, something we both understood without needing to mention.

After taking a short subway journey, I made my way through the familiar streets toward her apartment, I felt the weight of the week slowly starting to lift off my shoulders. Willow’s place was always my safe haven, bringing me back memories of when my family also lived in Beacon Hill. A place where I could let my guard down and forget about the endless deadlines, the pressure to perform, and the expectations that came with law school. Tonight, I needed that more than ever.

When I reached her apartment building, Willow was already at the door, waving at me with a bright smile. She was wrapped in a chunky knit sweater, her hair laid perfectly, and she looked as warm and inviting as ever.

“Took you long enough” she teased as I walked up the steps.

I rolled my eyes, grinning. “Blame the professors. They think we’re machines.”

“Ah I’m only messing” she said, stepping aside to let me in. “I’ve got wine ready. You need it.”

“I’m not arguing with that” I replied, stepping inside and shrugging off my coat. The warmth of her apartment immediately hit me, and I sighed in relief. It was always so homey here, the soft glow of the candles she had lit casting flickering shadows on the walls. Willow’s place had this calm, peaceful vibe that was the exact opposite of the chaos in my life right now.

“So” she began, handing me a glass of white wine mixed with lemonade to (you know to make it sweeter) as we settled onto the couch, “What’s the latest? How’s law school treating you?”

I groaned, taking a sip of the alcoholic concoction before answering. “I don’t know why yous ever let me decide to become a lawyer” I laughed.  “I feel like I’m constantly drowning in assignments and then I’m up to my ears in readings, and don’tttttt even get me started on work. I’ve been spending so much time at my mom’s bridal studio, I swear its like every woman in Boston is getting married this year.”

Willow chuckled, shaking her head. “I don’t know how you do it. I’d lose my mind.”

“I’m hanging on by a thread. But it’ll be worth it. I hope.” I said rolling my eyes.

“It will” she said confidently, raising her glass. “You’re going to be an amazing lawyer one day. I can already see it.”

“From your lips to god's ears” I laughed, clinking my glass with hers. “But yeah, I’ve got to sit in on a court hearing on Monday. Kind of like an observation. We’re supposed to get a feel for how things work in the courtroom.”

Willow looked impressed. “That sounds intense. Are you nervous?”

“A little” I admitted. “I’ve never actually been inside a courtroom before. You think I would've already 3 years into law school, like it’s one thing to read about cases and watch the news, but it’s another to actually be there, seeing it all unfold.”

She nodded thoughtfully, taking another sip of her wine. “You’ll do fine. You always do. Just remember, you’re smarter than you give yourself credit for.”

I smiled, feeling the tension in my shoulders start to ease. “Thanks, Willow. I needed that.”

We talked for a little while longer, catching up on the little things, what she’d been up to, how her week had gone, the usual chatter that always seemed to flow so easily between us. I could feel myself relaxing, the stress of the week slowly melting away with each sip of wine.

Eventually, I reached for my phone and connected it to her TV, letting some music play softly in the background. After a few songs, “Everybody Dies In Their Nightmares” by XXXTENTACION started to play.

“Oh my god, I haven’t heard this song since, like, 2018!” Willow said, laughing as she set down her wine glass. “This reminds me of Nate Doe, he showed it to me. I haven’t heard about him in years.”

Her words sparked something deep in my memory, and suddenly, a flood of thoughts hit me. “Oh my god who was friends with Chris Sturniolo. Where the hell did he go?”

Willow’s eyes lit up in recognition. “Chris! Oh my God, he was such a sweetheart!”

“I know, right?” I said, leaning forward in my seat. “Do you remember we used to talk all the time during summer 2018? How he’d walk all the way across Boston just to hang out with me. I had such a soft spot for him.”

Willow smiled, leaning back against the couch cushions. “Oh my god yes! He was so good looking at the time too.. Do you remember how he and Nate were inseparable? They were always together.”

“Yeah” I nodded, my mind spinning with memories. “Nate had this tough exterior, but Chris.. Chris was just a genuinely good guy. I wonder what happened to him.”

We both fell silent for a moment, lost in our thoughts. Nate had always seemed a little rough around the edges, coming from a background that was a bit more complicated than ours. But somehow, he managed to keep it together. Chris, though, he was different. He was kind in a way that stuck with you, the type of person who made you feel like you mattered.

Without even realizing it, I pulled out my phone and started scrolling through old messages with Chris. “I wonder if he’s still around” I said, more to myself than to Willow.

She glanced over at me, intrigued. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know..” I shrugged. “I just haven’t thought about him in so long. I’m curious.. I really do hope he’s doing okay.”

Curiosity got the better of both of us, and soon enough, we were deep diving into our old messages on Facebook Messenger of all things. We laughed as we scrolled through the innocent conversations between us, Nathan, and Chris, back when everything seemed simpler, easier. There was something sweet about it, something that reminded me of a time when life wasn’t so complicated.

I eventually clicked onto Chris’s profile, but my heart sank a little when I saw it. “Weird” I muttered, frowning at my phone screen.

“What’s up?” Willow asked, glancing over at me.

“He unfriended me” I said, scrolling through his profile. “And there’s nothing here. No posts, no profile picture.. everything’s wiped. He only has like 20 friends on here now.”

Willow raised an eyebrow. “Seriously?”

“Yeah..” I said, showing her my phone. “It’s like he disappeared off the face of the earth.”

Willow shrugged, sipping her wine. “Maybe he’s just gone off the grid. People do that sometimes. I mean, I only keep Facebook for Messenger these days anyway.”

“True” I muttered, though something about it felt... off. “I just wonder what happened to him. It’s like he vanished.”

“Maybe it’s no big deal” Willow said, trying to reassure me. “People change. They move on.”

“Yeah, I guess” I said, though I couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that something wasn’t quite right.

As we continued scrolling through old conversations, laughing at the silly messages we used to send as 15 year olds, I found myself thinking more and more about Chris. He had been such a big part of my life for that brief time, and now, it felt like he was a ghost, someone who had been there, but now was completely gone.

After a couple more glasses of wine and plenty of laughs, Willow and I decided to call it a night. It was almost midnight, and the weight of the week was starting to hit me. We didn’t even bother clearing the table, just left the wine glasses and half empty bottle as they were, and headed to bed.

The next morning, I woke up earlier than I’d planned. It was barely 7am, and sunlight streamed in through the sheer curtains, casting a soft glow across the room. I stretched, yawned, and checked my phone – no new notifications, except for a reminder that I had to open the bridal shop today.

Willow was still fast asleep when I slipped out of her apartment, but that was no surprise. She was always a late riser. Beacon Hill was quiet this early, the cobblestone streets almost deserted, with only a few people out for their morning walks. You could see my breath in the crisp morning air as I headed toward the bridal shop in downtown Boston, deciding to stop for a coffee along the way.

As I made my way down Charles Street, I noticed something out of place for this hour of the morning. A cluster of police cars parked near the corner, their flashing lights reflecting off the surrounding buildings. There were officers standing around, talking in low voices, and a small crowd of people who seemed to be watching from a distance.

I couldn’t help but feel curious. What had happened? What was going on in these people’s lives, right under my nose, that I had no clue about? The thought lingered with me as I ordered my usual oat milk cappuccino and continued on my way.

It was strange how life worked. One minute, everything seemed normal – people going about their routines, living their lives – and the next, something like this happened. Something that could change everything. And soon enough, I’d be on the other side of that. Potentially defending people in situations just like this, trying to piece together what had happened and why. It made me wonder if I was really ready for that kind of responsibility.

I got to the bridal shop and unlocked the door and went through my usual opening routine. The shop had a certain charm to it, and I’d expect nothing less from my mom. Elegant white dresses hanging on racks, soft lighting bouncing off the delicate lace and silk, the smell of freshly brewed coffee mixing with the faint scent of roses. Mom had impeccable taste when it came to design, and it showed in every corner of the shop.

After turning on the lights and setting everything up, I put on the radio like I always did. The shop wouldn’t open for another fifteen minutes, so I had some time to kill. The thought of Chris floated back into my mind as I leaned against the counter, doom scrolling through Instagram.

Maybe Instagram was my best bet for reconnecting with him. Facebook had been a bust, everything was wiped there, but maybe his Instagram account would offer something more. I just wanted to know what he looked like now at least.

I typed his name into the search bar and found him easily enough. @christophersturniolo. My heart skipped a beat when I saw his profile, and funnily enough I was already following him, must have been from years ago. But that feeling quickly faded when I realized it was just as ghostly as his Facebook. Only two posts, both from 2018. No profile picture. Nothing else. It was like he had disappeared from the internet, or at least from any part of it that was publicly accessible.

I clicked into the first post, squinting at the photo. It was a shot of him and a couple of other guys, standing pool side which looked like Nate’s back garden, if I could remember correctly. They were all grinning, arms slung around each other’s shoulders. I was about to scroll down when something on the radio caught my attention.

“…another victim in the ongoing feud between the Crimson Cartel and the H Block gangs. The man, whose identity is being withheld until the family is notified, but is said to be apart of the H Block gang, was found dead on Charles Street late last night in what police believe to be a gang related hit. Authorities are urging anyone with information to come forward…”

I froze, my thumb hovering over the screen of my phone as the news report continued.

The Crimson Cartel. I’d heard of them before, everyone had. They were one of the biggest gangs in Boston, notorious for their drug trafficking and violent turf wars. And now, it seemed like things were escalating again, another life lost to the senseless cycle of crime and violence.

It was awful. The idea that people could get dragged into something like that just to make ends meet, that they could lose themselves to drugs or crime, it always hit me hard. Maybe it was because I’d led such a different life, a life of relative privilege, that it felt so distant. But now, with everything I was learning in law school, it didn’t feel so distant anymore. One day, I’d probably be defending people caught up in situations like this, people who made bad decisions, sure, but who were still human, who still deserved a chance.

I shook my head, pulling myself out of my thoughts. I glanced down at my phone, intending to close out of Instagram, but then I noticed something that made my heart skip a beat.

The little heart icon beneath Chris’s post… it was red.

Did I just like that? My stomach dropped. I must’ve tapped it without realizing while I was distracted by the radio. Panic surged through me as I scrambled to unlike the post, but the damage was already done.

Chris would get a notification. He’d know I’d liked his post from 2018, after all this time, after years of no contact. What would he think? Would he even care? A million thoughts raced through my head, but there was no taking it back now.

I stood there for a moment, staring at my phone screen in disbelief. What had I just done?

A/n: ooooooo first part im exciteddddd, im hoping to have a posting schedule of Tuesdays, Thursdays and Sundays. But that may vary week to week depending how busy I am<3

taglist: @mattybearnard @sturn-33 @ncm9696 @yourfavsturniologirl @crazy4jewel @sodakid1234 @stupendoustreewinner @lovealwayssturniolos @matthewsturniolosss @m4ttsmunch @loveexxx @ilusa @starkeyszn @wonnieeluvvr @dylnblue @valxrieq @maggot3647 @cigarettecemetary @ribread03 @chrisstvrns @bandasaruswrx @noplaceissafeanymore @amexiass @witchofthehour @mattssgf @jetaimevous @v33angel @ivysturnss @urmom69lol @ashlishes @watercolorskyy @sturnioloshottiekay @amelia-sturniolo3 @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut @pvssychicken @alizestvrnss @lvrsturniolo

[babyur2nice]

▎night walks with felix

౨ৎ synopsis: you’re stressed out from exams and decide to pay felix a visit.

—————————————————————————

you sigh, tears blurring your vision as you struggle through another problem on your economics homework. no matter how much effort you put in, you can’t seem to make any progress in understanding the material. having been working for the past six hours, you’re also exhausted. with the exam just two days away you’ve scarcely allowed yourself a break to eat, decisions that are now catching up to you as you struggle to focus.

after 10 minutes, you can’t take it anymore. it’s late and you know your body won’t allow you to study anymore, yet you still feel guilty giving in. you close you textbook, the tears starting flow as the stress overtakes your body.

your brain almost immediately jumps to your boyfriend felix, wishing he was there to hold you and tell you that everything would be alright. you glance down at your alarm clock on your desk. 12:37, it reads. you sit with your head in your hands trying to decide whether he’d be awake.

against your better judgement, you take the all too familiar walk downstairs to felix’s room and knock softly on his door, not wanting to wake him if he was asleep. you don’t hear anything at first and then you hear rustling and a moment later the door cracks open revealing felix, in nothing more than his blue and white striped pajama pants rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

he looks at you and your puffy eyes, face shifting quickly to express a look of concern. “what’s happened, what’s wrong” he asks, pulling you inside and shutting the door.

“it’s stupid, shouldn’t have woken you up, ‘m sorry” you sniffle, the tears flowing all over again at the fact that you had disturbed his sleep.

“no no, none of that doll” felix says taking your face in his hands, “its not stupid if it’s making you upset, tell me what’s wrong so i can make it better”

another sob shakes your body as felix cringes, hating seeing you in pain, and pulls you into his chest. he places his hand on the back of your head petting your hair gently as you tell him about your exam and the stress you’ve been feeling.

he listens exceptionally well, not interrupting you once as he holds you against his body, letting you expel your frustrations. “im sorry doll” he says when you finish. “im glad you came to me, you needed a break”

you nod against his chest, as you slowly catch your breath.

“let’s go for a walk yeah?” felix asks. “always helps me clear my head”

“don’t you want to go back to sleep?” you ask, guilt once again taking over as you remember that he had been fast asleep prior to your arrival.

“nonsense” he says kissing the top of your head. “im already up, why waste a perfectly good night? here.” he says as he pulls two sweaters out of his closet passing one to you. “put this on, don’t want you to catch a cold out there”

you smile at him gratefully as you pull the sweater over your head. once it’s on, felix reaches down to brush a loose strand of hair out of your eyes. “so pretty” he mumbles almost to himself before taking your hand in his and leading you out of the dorm and into the refreshingly cool night.

“where are we going” you ask.

felix looks down at you with a smile. “somewhere amazing” he says. he leads you across campus and into town, all the while telling jokes and stories meant to lighten your spirit.

“just a bit farther now doll” he grins as he leads you down an alley way. “we’re going to need to climb, can you do that for me?”

you nod and felix smiles at you in return “good girl.”

he beckons you towards the side of a building and the ladder attached to it. “just up here, follow me” he says as he begins to scale the ladder. he reaches the top quickly and helps pull you up after him.

you stand up and look around, letting out a little gasp. you can see everything from up here; your dorm, the pub, the library, the lake and most impressively, the moon.

felix walks up behind you, wrapping his arms around you. “it’s beautiful right? i discovered it last year and have been coming here ever since”

“it’s amazing” you say.

“you’re the first person i’ve ever brought up here” he admits. “it was mine but i suppose it’s ours now” he grins while sitting down.

you sit down next to him, leaning your head on his shoulder as he continues. “seeing everything from up here always reminds me how small i am, how small my problems are”

he wraps his arm around you, rubbing circles on your back. “you could fail your exam and none of this would change. everything would still be here, we’d both still be here, and i’d still love you. i know you won’t fail of course” he adds with a chuckle.

“felix, thank you” you say, struggling to find words to express just how much he means to you.

“glad i could help doll” he says. “i love you so much, and i promise i’ll help you study tomorrow, yeah?”

you hum in agreement as you press your body closer to felix’s as the two of you look across the town shrouded in moonlight, both knowing that this rooftop would become a sacred space for the both of you.

[foreverisntenough]

‘Act II’

Summary: Attraction is like a gravitational pull that is undefinable and unavoidable. Unbeknownst to you, Jude had been keeping an eye on you since he caught a glimpse on his best friend’s girlfriend’s Instagram but he’s been loving his single life. You always were independent and know how to swim on your own but maybe you have been just treading water. Could the tides change on a holiday in Greece when you finally meet? It might get a little rocky but maybe you could be his paradise.

Index

Warnings: This series is 18+ MDNI

Note: Thank you for reading! Please be sure to like, comment, or message me what you think of the series! ‘Act II’ is interconnected to the 'You’re Mine' and 'Ours' Series but can read it independently.

Chapter 8 - Last Night | ‘Act II’

word count - 10.9k

Jude leaned casually against the kitchen island, a drink in hand, as he made small talk with the girl who had been eyeing him all night. She was attractive, with hair that fell in waves around her shoulders and a confident smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. She was saying something about her job, but Jude’s mind kept drifting, his thoughts unwillingly turning back to you. As the girl laughed at something he’d said—a joke that felt hollow even as he told it—Jude’s heart twisted uncomfortably in his chest. Everything about this felt wrong. The way she looked at him, the way she leaned in a little too close, the way her laughter felt forced. She wasn’t you. She didn’t make his pulse quicken, didn’t challenge him in ways that both frustrated and fascinated him. She didn’t make him feel like he was teetering on the edge of something incredible and terrifying all at once. The girl’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts, and he forced a smile, trying to engage in the conversation. But as she spoke, he found himself comparing her to you in every way. The way her laugh wasn’t as genuine, the way her eyes didn’t light up with that same spark of mischief. She was perfectly fine, but she wasn’t you. Jude’s grip tightened around his glass, his knuckles turning a shade lighter. He shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t be talking to this girl, this close to her,  trying to convince himself that he could be the person he used to be—the one who didn’t care, who didn’t get caught up in feelings he couldn’t control. But with every passing second, it became more and more clear that he couldn’t do this anymore. He didn’t want to. Before he could extricate himself from the conversation, he felt a familiar presence at his side. He turned to see Trent standing there, a look of confusion and concern etched across his face. Trent glanced at the girl Jude was talking to, then back at Jude, his brow furrowed.

“Jude,” Trent said, his voice polite but laced with underlying tension. “C’mere for a minute, mate.” Jude hesitated, caught between the girl’s expectant gaze and Trent’s pointed look. Finally, he nodded, excusing himself from the conversation with a forced smile. As he and Trent stepped away, Jude could feel his heart pounding in his chest, a mix of guilt and frustration churning in his stomach.

“What the hell are you doing? You need to drop this shit. You know what you're doing, mate. ” Trent asked quietly once they were out of earshot, his tone more confused than angry.

“It’s nothing, bro. Just talking.” Jude ran a hand over his hair, exhaling sharply.

“That didn’t look like nothing. I thought you were with Y/N. What’s going on? You have a fight? I thought things were good.” Trent’s eyes narrowed, clearly not buying it. 

“Nah, we’re good. I am into Y/N,” he admitted, his voice low, “but we’re not… She’s not my girlfriend, okay? It’s not like what you have with Whit. It’s so different.” Jude felt a pang of shame at Trent’s words, but he tried to shrug it off, to play it cool. 

“Why not? You like her, she likes you… She’s flown to Spain twice to fucking see you. Why are you holding back?” Trent crossed his arms, his expression growing more serious.  Jude opened his mouth to respond, but the words caught in his throat. How could he explain the fear that gnawed at him—the fear of losing himself in someone else, of being vulnerable in a way he’d never been before? The truth was, he did want what Trent had with Whitney. They we’re engaged, they had a baby, they had lived together for years, but the most enviable aspect of it, they were unequivocally in love. He envied it more than he cared to admit. But the idea of giving himself over to something so uncertain, so unpredictable, terrified him.

“I’m not ready for that,” Jude said finally, though the words tasted bitter on his tongue. “I’m not like you, Trent. I can’t just… dive into something and hope it works out.” Jude took a deep breath. 

“I’m not hoping bro… I put work in. We put in effort for it to work out. You should too. Stop dragging her around if you aren’t ready. It’s fucked up. Jude, I’ve known you a long time, and I’ve never seen you like this. Y/N means something to you—more than any of the other girls you’ve been with. Don’t throw that away because you’re scared.” Trent’s expression softened, his concern for his friend clear. Jude looked away, his jaw clenched. He didn’t want to hear this, didn’t want to confront the truth that Trent was so easily pointing out. “If you don’t want her, don’t fucking do this, tell her.” But he couldn’t deny it, either. You had gotten under his skin in a way that no one else ever had. You were all he could think about, even when he tried to distract himself with someone else.

“I do want her. I just don’t know what to do,” Jude admitted, his voice strained. “It’s like… she’s all I can think about, even when she’s not around. And that scares the hell out of me, bro.” He sighed.

“Then stop fighting it,” he said simply. “You’ve got something good with Y/N. Don’t mess it up because you’re afraid. Trust me, it’d be worth the risk.”  Trent placed a reassuring hand on Jude’s shoulder. Jude swallowed hard, the weight of Trent’s words sinking in. He knew his friend was right, but that didn’t make it any easier to accept. Still, as he glanced back at the party, at the girl he’d been talking to just moments ago, he knew that nothing here could compare to what he had with you.

“You’re right,” he said quietly. “I need to stop fucking about.” Jude nodded, the decision finally settling in his chest. He hated that he was conceded. He hated that Trent was right. 

“Good. Stop being a fucking donut and go upstairs.  Go upstairs and find her please. She’s the one you should be with tonight.” Trent smiled, relieved.  Jude nodded, feeling a sense of resolve he hadn’t had before. As he made his way back through the party, the noise and the people faded into the background, his focus solely on you. He didn’t know what the future held, he was praying that when push came to shove he’d be ready to take the plunge. For you, it was worth it.

Jude climbed the stairs with a heavy heart, a type of guilt he hadn’t felt since he was a little boy who had done something wrong but didn’t quite know how to fix it. As he approached the door to his room, the weight in his chest only grew… why did he just do that? When he finally opened the door, the sight before him made his heart break. There you were—curled up in his bed, looking so peaceful, so angelic, that it nearly undid him. The soft light from the hallway illuminated your face, casting a gentle glow over your features. Your hair was splayed out on his pillow, and your chest rose and fell with the slow, steady rhythm of sleep. You were perfect, and all he could think about was how much he wanted this—wanted you—to be his every night. Carefully, Jude crossed the room and slipped into bed beside you. As he pulled you into his arms, he felt the warmth of your body seep into his, grounding him in a way he desperately needed. You stirred, your eyes fluttering open as you felt his presence, and you instinctively cuddled closer, pressing soft, sleepy kisses to his bare chest. Jude stared up at the ceiling, his mind racing. The guilt gnawed at him, sharper now that he was lying next to you. How could he have been so foolish? How could he have even entertained the thought that there could be anything better than this—than you? After all the turmoil from him entertaining a girl the other week, was he delusional? The very idea was absurd, and the embarrassment of his earlier actions weighed heavily on him.

“Baby…What took you so long?” you murmured, your breath warm against his skin. Still half-asleep, you nuzzled into him, your voice soft and drowsy. Jude’s heart clenched at the question. He grappled with what to say, not wanting to lie to you, not wanting to keep any more secrets. But the truth was complicated, and he didn’t want to hurt you with it. 

“I was… just talking,” he said, his voice quiet and uncertain. Finally, he settled on the simplest answer, though it felt inadequate. You hummed in response, your eyes closed as you clung to him, but there was a hint of something in your voice—a slight tension that hadn’t been there before. Even in your tired state, you could sense that something was off, something was troubling him. And as much as you wanted to ignore the uneasy feeling in your stomach, you couldn’t quite shake it.

“Jude… is everything okay?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, laced with a mix of concern and weariness. You tightened your grip on him, your kisses trailing up to his neck as if to reassure both of you. You hated that now you were scared of him being with other women. 

“Yeah, angel.” he whispered back, his voice strained. “Everything’s fine. Just… just tired, I guess.” Jude’s throat tightened, and he swallowed hard, wishing he could just erase the last few hours.  But even as he said the words, he knew they weren’t enough. You deserved more than this, more than half-truths and evasions. You deserved all of him—the real him—and he wasn’t sure he was ready to give that, but he knew he had to try. As you drifted back to sleep in his arms, Jude made a silent promise to himself: he wouldn’t let this—let you—slip through his fingers. Not now, not ever.

Whitney caught you in the hallway the next morning, her expression a mix of concern and determination. You two had always been close, but Whitney’s protective side was out in full force today, especially after what she’d heard from Trent last night when they had gone to bed. 

“Y/N, can we talk?” Whitney’s voice was soft, but there was an underlying tension that made your stomach tighten. You nodded, trying to suppress the unease rising within you. You’d seen the way Jude had been acting the night before, and though you tried to push your fears aside, they lingered like a dark cloud over your thoughts. Whitney led you into the small sitting room at the back of the house, away from the noise and commotion of the morning. Once you were seated, Whitney wasted no time getting to the point.

“Trent told me what happened last night,” Whitney began, her eyes searching your face for a reaction. “He said Jude was talking to another girl at the party right after you went up and not in a platonic way… and that Trent had to step in. Even if it was harmless… it’s really not nice.” Your heart sank. You’d suspected something was off, but hearing it confirmed made you feel like the ground was slipping from beneath your feet. Still, you forced a smile, trying to brush it off.

“It’s fine, Whit. Really,” You said, your voice steady even though your heart wasn’t. “Jude and I… we’re not anything serious. We’re into each other, that’s it. It’s meant to be just fun.” You lied. And the lie fucking hurt. 

 “YN, I know you. And I know you care about him—probably more than you’re willing to admit. I just… I don’t want to see you get hurt.”  Whitney frowned, clearly not convinced. You looked away, your gaze fixed on a distant point outside the window. You wanted to believe that everything was fine, that you could keep your heart protected behind the walls you’d built. But the truth was, those walls were starting to crack, and it scared you more than anything.

“It’s just… complicated,” You finally admitted, your voice quieter now. “Jude’s not the kind of guy who wants to settle down right now I don’t think and I’m not the girl who wants to get her heart broken.” You sheepishly told her. Whitney reached out and took yorur hand, squeezing it gently. 

“I get that. But maybe you’re not giving yourself—or him—enough credit. Jude cares about you, Y/N. Trent said he was acting weird last night, and I think it’s because he doesn’t know how to handle what he’s feeling.” Whitney sympathetically smiled at you. You bit your lip, your emotions swirling in a confusing mix of hope and fear. You’d seen glimpses of something deeper in Jude, moments where he’d let his guard down just enough to show you that there was more to him than the carefree playboy he pretended to be. But you’d also seen the hesitation, the way he pulled back whenever things got too real.

“It’s just… he’s used to keeping things casual and so am I. You know I always have.” You said, your voice faltering slightly. “And I don’t know if I can let myself get close to someone who might not be there when it really matters.” Whitney’s gaze softened, her worry for her friend evident. 

“You’re right to protect yourself, but don’t shut him out completely. Maybe you need to give him a chance to show you who he really is. Maybe he just needs a little time to figure things out.” You nodded, though your heart still felt heavy.  “Y/N… you always have but you haven’t always had to.” She cooed gently. You wanted to believe Whitney, wanted to believe that Jude could be different, that he could be the person you needed him to be.But the fear of getting hurt, of letting yourself fall only to be left alone, was almost too much to bear.

“I’ll think about it,” you said finally, squeezing Whitney’s hand in return. “But for now… I’m just going to take things one day at a time. No expectations, no promises.” You couldn’t even pretend to smile as you said it because that’s exactly what you wanted. You wanted promises and you wanted to expect things of him. 

“That’s fair. Just… don’t forget that you deserve someone who’s all in, Y/N. Someone who sees how amazing you are and doesn’t want to let you go.” Whitney smiled, though there was still a trace of worry in her eyes. You nodded, your heart aching with the truth of Whitney’s words. As you stood up and made your way back to the rest of the house, You couldn’t shake the feeling that you were standing at the edge of something—something that could either lift you higher than you’d ever been or break you completely. And the scariest part was, you weren’t sure which way it would go.

You were curled up on the couch later in the day, head resting against Jude’s chest, completely knocked out from a mix of exhaustion and the drinks you’d had yesterday night. The soft rise and fall of your breathing was the only sound in the quiet room. Jude, very much awake, ran his fingers lazily through your hair, his gaze soft and protective. He was hungover too, but he didn’t mind, not with you draped over him like this. Trent came over to the couch, having just said his goodbyes to Denise, Whitney who was still saying hers. Without warning, he flicked Jude’s ear, pulling him out of his reverie. Jude winced, then grinned up at Trent, lifting one arm for a half-hearted dap without disturbing you.

"You alright, mate?" Trent teased, eyeing the two of you with an amused smirk. "Looks like you’ve got your hands full."

"Yeah, I don’t wanna move. Might wake her up." Jude chuckled, keeping his voice low so as not to wake you. Trent raised an eyebrow, leaning in a little closer.

"Nah, that’s not it," he teased, a knowing grin spreading across his face. "It’s not about waking her up, it’s ‘cause you like it. You like her laying on you, you like taking care of her." Jude couldn’t help but laugh softly, though he knew Trent was right. He enjoyed having you this close, the feeling of being needed, and maybe even more than that, the feeling of taking care of you, of you trusting him enough to fall asleep against him. He was in deep, and he knew it.

"Yeah, yeah," Jude grumbled, shaking his head with a smile. "Alright, maybe. But keep that to yourself, yeah?"

"Too late for that, bro. You’re already in trouble so don’t fuck it up." Trent gave him a light punch on the shoulder, still grinning. Jude let out a quiet laugh, glancing down at you again, your peaceful face nestled against him. He didn’t mind being in trouble. Not if it meant moments like this with you.

When Jude picked up the injury, you knew it was going to be a long road for him. It wasn’t just the physical pain or the rehabilitation that weighed on him—it was the feeling of purposelessness, the uncertainty of what he was without football. You curled up next to him, your arms wrapped tightly around his waist as he vented his frustration. He wasn’t the kind of guy to let anyone see his vulnerability, but with you, he felt safe enough to spill his thoughts.

"It's not the rehab, you know?" he started, his voice low and filled with frustration. "It's the fact that I'm just sitting there, useless. I hate watching from the stands... makes me feel like I’m not contributing to anything, like I’m just taking up space." You ran your hand across his chest, feeling the tension building in him as he spoke. 

"I can’t imagine how tough that must be," you said softly, "but Jude... you’re so much more than just football. I know that’s hard to believe right now, but you are. Football’s what you do, not who you are." He sighed, staring at the ceiling as if it held some answers, but you knew he was listening, even if he didn’t say it right away. The weight of sitting out a game at the Bernabéu, watching his team battle on without him, was too much for him to bear. 

"I'm supposed to be out there. That’s where I belong, on the pitch. Not stuck in a suit, sitting on the sidelines," he muttered. Then, his voice softened as he turned toward you, his gaze searching yours. "Will you come with me to the match? I don’t want to sit up there alone." You blinked, surprised by the question but also deeply touched. You knew this was more than just wanting company. This was him letting you into his world—really letting you in. This wasn’t about a night out, or a private moment shared between just the two of you. This was about being seen with him, in front of the world, at his place of work where every move he made was watched, scrutinized. And he wanted you there, right beside him. It was a gesture of trust, of significance. Jude had built walls around his life, carefully separating his public and private selves, but now he was pulling you through those barriers. Your heart swelled with the realization that this wasn’t just about sitting in a box seat at the Bernabéu. This was Jude telling you that your support, your presence, had become something he relied on, something he couldn’t imagine going without.

"Of course," you whispered, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. "I’ll be right there with you." He pulled you closer, resting his head against yours, his breath a little steadier now. There was still so much for him to work through, but in that moment, you felt like the invisible walls between you had crumbled a little more. You were part of his world in a way you hadn’t been before, and the weight of that made your chest tighten with emotion. As you lay there, you couldn’t help but feel the enormity of what it meant. The world would see you two together, no more hiding, no more secrecy. Jude needed you in a way he hadn’t before, and that thought filled you with both warmth and a sense of responsibility. You wanted to be there for him, to lift him up when he felt purposeless, to show him that his worth went beyond the pitch. In that quiet, intimate moment, you realized that you’d become part of his foundation, and in some ways, he had become part of yours.

You were engrossed in a video, scribbling notes in your notebook while sitting cross-legged on Jude’s bed. The topic was one you couldn’t afford to miss—an upcoming art exhibit back in New York, one you really needed to be home for. Your focus was razor-sharp until you felt Jude’s presence beside you. He flopped down dramatically, his larger frame pressing into yours as he leaned his head into your lap.

"What’re you doing, angel?" he asked, his voice low and curious looking up at you.

"I need to pay attention," you muttered, trying to focus on the details of the exhibit, but Jude wasn’t so easily deterred.

"Can I listen with you?" he asked, a little more earnestly this time. 

“You don’t have to.” You smiled. At first, you were ready to brush him off, but something in his tone made you pause. 

“Can I listen with you?” he repeated again persistently. He just wanted to be with you. You sighed softly, running your fingers over his hair in a distracted motion, scratching at his scalp while the video continued. Jude grabbed the pen from your notebook, and even though it was unclicked, he began tracing it over your skin in idle strokes. His touch was light, almost absentminded, but it sent small shivers across your arms. You could tell he was about to ask something—his lips parted—but before he could get the words out, you shushed him gently.

"I just wanna know your middle initial," he whispered, smiling against your thigh. You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the soft smile tugging at your lips.

 "You're were right. It's ‘y/m/i,’" you finally admitted before leaning down to kiss his temple. He had been drawing your initials on your skin, you felt the letters over and over again. Satisfied, Jude clicked the pen and, with careful precision, began to write his own initials now—'JVWB'—on your arm. The ink left a subtle trail on your skin, a quiet mark of him. When he finished, he gently turned your hand and placed the pen in it, watching you with that familiar glint of mischief in his eyes. Wordlessly, you took the pen and did the same, tracing your initials onto the inside of his wrist. You both glanced at the marks, your initials resting against each other’s skin, a quiet connection. You didn’t say anything more, but neither of you wiped the ink away. It felt right, leaving it there.

The morning of the match, the energy between you and Jude felt different. As you both got dressed in the warm glow of your shared space, there was a quiet, almost unspoken intimacy that flowed between you. Jude was focused on pulling together his outfit, looking for a middle ground between subtly but professional, while you carefully picked out your own clothes—stylish, sophisticated, a Miu Miu denim jacket, a leopard mini skirt, tall black boots, along with the Chanel bag Jude had gotten for you. You knew you could have worn something simple, maybe a Madrid jersey, but something about today felt like it needed a more personal touch. This wasn’t about being just another person in the crowd. When Jude looked over at you, his eyes flickered with admiration. A slow grin spread across his face as he took in your appearance. 

"You look gorgeous," he said, his voice soft, but there was an edge of pride in it. "The club might have to put you in the trophy cabinet after this." His playful smirk made you roll your eyes, but you couldn’t stop the warmth that flooded your chest. You both left for the stadium, and though Jude wasn’t on the pitch today, the moment you arrived, you could feel the weight of being by his side. The cameras were everywhere, capturing the scene, projecting it onto the big screens for the entire stadium and anyone watching from home to see.  Jude sat beside you, his presence calm but solid, like a shield against the swirling energy of the match day. When the camera panned to him, he raised his left hand, giving the crowd a wave, but what made your heart skip a beat was the way he kept his right hand intertwined with yours. His fingers laced through yours, resting gently on his thigh, a subtle gesture that wasn’t overt but spoke volumes.  It was bold, and in a world where he could easily keep things between the two of you private, he chose to let people see this small but meaningful connection. You weren’t hidden in the background anymore; you were sitting there beside him, as much a part of his world as he was in yours. That quiet gesture had your heart racing in a way you hadn’t expected. It wasn’t just the thrill of being seen with Jude; it was more than that. It was the sense that, for the first time in your life, someone truly saw you for who you were, beyond the surface, beyond the glamor or the assumptions people had about you. Jude’s hand in yours wasn’t about possession or display—it was about acknowledgment, appreciation. He saw you, the real you, and it made you feel like you were falling for him all over again, but deeper this time. You glanced over at him, watching as he focused on the game below, but there was a softness in his expression, a hint of vulnerability that made your heart swell. You leaned into him slightly, letting your shoulder brush against his. He squeezed your hand in response, a silent confirmation that he felt it too—this connection, this bond that was growing stronger by the day. Sitting there with him, surrounded by the energy of the match and the roar of the crowd, you realized just how much he appreciated you. Not as an accessory or a fleeting romance, but as someone who mattered, someone who was part of his life in a way that was real and meaningful. And in that moment, you felt something shift. You weren’t just falling for Jude—you were falling into something deeper, something that felt like it had the potential to last.

Jude had popped inside momentarily so you sat in the stands next to Denise as the game unfolded before you. The roar of the crowd, the energy in the stadium—it was exhilarating. But what truly caught you off guard was how at ease you felt with Denise by your side. Denise had been warm, welcoming, and most importantly, had said things you hadn’t realized you needed to hear.

“You know,” Denise said, her eyes fixed on the field, “Jude’s been so much happier lately. I can’t help but think it’s because of you.” She turned to you, her expression soft. “He talks about you all the time, hun. It’s been nice having you around.” Your heart fluttered, the tension you’d been carrying easing slightly. Whitney’s words from the other day had lingered in your mind, leaving you with doubts and questions. But hearing this from Denise, someone who knew Jude better than anyone, was a relief. It made everything feel more real—more possible. When the final whistle blew, Denise gave you a reassuring smile as you made your way to the box to find Jude. As soon as you saw Jude, his eyes found yours, and a grin spread across his face. He moved towards you, pulling you into a tight embrace, his lips brushing your temple. The connection between you was undeniable, the affection natural and easy. For a moment, you felt like everything was falling into place. But then, someone else appeared.

“Hey, Jude!” the guy called out, striding over with a casual confidence. He glanced at you, curiosity in his eyes. The man in the suite—one of the VIPs, someone who clearly knew Jude and had been chatting with him casually throughout the game—turned to Jude with a curious smile and asked, "So, who’s the lovely lady?" It felt like the whole room paused, even the noise from the crowd below dimming in your ears. Your heart raced, anticipation bubbling in your chest. It wasn’t that you expected Jude to call you his girlfriend. You weren’t naive. You knew where you stood—or at least, you thought you did. Jude hesitated, the words catching in his throat. He hadn’t thought about this—hadn’t prepared for it. And in that moment of uncertainty, he saw the flash of hurt in your eyes. But what you didn’t expect was Jude’s hesitation to continue. His pause. The way his mouth opened, but no words came out. He didn’t say your name. He didn’t offer any explanation of who you were. He was stumped, as if he didn’t know how to define you or the place you held in his life. The silence hung heavy between you, a sharp contrast to the warmth and connection you’d felt moments before. You felt your stomach drop, like someone had pulled the floor out from under you. How could you be so wrong? Just minutes ago, you thought he saw you—truly saw you. You thought he wanted you, that he appreciated you for more than just a passing moment. But now, all of that belief, all of that trust came crashing down. What you felt like doing amidst the sting of his hesitation was telling this man that you were simply the idiot who Jude uses for sex and to unload all his feelings on but apparently, not good enough for a label. Jude eventually muttered something about you being a friend. The man nodded politely and moved on, but it didn’t matter. The damage was done. The moment was ruined. You sat there, stunned, the weight of disappointment pressing down on your chest like a heavy stone.

This was a test, wasn’t it? All of it had been. You’d been waiting to see if he could really step up, if he could finally give you the validation you needed after everything—the months of uncertainty, the limbo, the back and forth. The audacity he had to be jealous enough of you to sleep with someone else but the indifference to not even say your name was shocking. And while Jude had passed the first part of the test, holding your hand, letting the world see you together, he had just failed miserably at the most crucial moment. Your chest tightened, and you blinked away the stinging sensation in your eyes. You couldn’t let him see how much it hurt, but inside, you were crumbling. You knew in that instant that you were done. This was it. You couldn’t handle the limbo anymore, couldn’t live in this space where you were important one second and invisible the next. You weren’t going to be someone he couldn’t even acknowledge in public, someone he wasn’t sure how to define. The decision hit you with finality: you needed to go home. Tomorrow. You couldn’t stay another minute longer in this in-between state, where you were constantly left guessing about where you stood in his life. You deserved more than that. You needed more than that. Jude couldn’t sway you this time. You felt distant, like you were a million miles away from everything and everyone—including Jude. And as much as it hurt, you knew it was time to let go. You had been drinking and you started drinking more after that. This night was a wash anyway. It was clear that no matter how many people told you that you were good for Jude and he liked you, he didn’t want it enough. You’d traveled to Madrid to make things work and he couldn’t even get the balls to introduce you. The rest of the night was awkward and tense and for you a bit blurred. You retreated to his house, but the usual comfort between you was absent. You kept your distance, and Jude was too afraid to bridge the gap, terrified of making things worse. But in your drunken haze you wanted one last hurrah with jude. A final send off.

It's late and the air was heavy with tension between you and Jude. The pressure from earlier had been intense, leaving you with hurt feelings and unresolved emotions. But as the moonlight streamed through the windows of Jude’s room, and despite your anger and deep sadness inside you, he still looked delicious. You couldn't help but be drawn to his irresistible presence. With a deliberate move, you rolled over and face him, your eyes adjusting to the dim light. Jude, with his tall, athletic frame and tanned skin, looks like a Greek god lying there. His brown eyes flickered, meeting yours, you could see a mix of emotions playing across his handsome face. You reached out letting your fingers trace the outline of his muscular chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath.  A mischievous smile played on his lips, and you knew then he was considering your temptation but he also knew he was in the dog house so there was hesitation. 

“Y/N, you’re drunk and you’re upset. Please.” His voice is deep and husky. Jude paused as he tried to hold you off from climbing over into his lap in bed. The thing was… you really weren’t that drunk anymore, not at all actually, you knew exactly what you were doing. 

“Mmm it’s fine, baby. I’m really not and I want you. You’re turning me on.” You leaned in, your lips brushing against his ear before you sat back on your heels and ran your hands up his thighs. Jude groaned but then shook his head despite feeling his resolve crumble.

“I’m not doing anything.” Jude smiled at you hating that the way you were leaned over him had you tits spilling out of your tank top. You were running on the adrenaline of ending this and you wanted Jude to fuck you. 

“Mmm but you… you’re so sexy.” You continued moving your hands up over his hips onto his abs. You caught his eyes dropping to your tits. “Are my nipples hard already, Jude?” You smirked, glancing down. “Look.” You brushed your fingers over your hardened nipple before pulling your shirt completely over your head. You sat there playing innocent on full display for him.

“We really shouldn’t, yeah?” Jude hesitated again despite his hands moving to grab your hips pulling you onto his lap. He was saying one thing and doing the other. Ironic considering he’d been doing that out of the bedroom as well.  He gripped your hips, and he pulled you closer. You leaned forward and began kissing his neck.

“Pleaseee, I want your cock inside me.” You moaned rolling your bottom lip dramatically before sitting down onto him entirely. Jude could feel your warm pussy on his hardening cock now. You could feel his desire growing as your bodies pressed together. His fingers explored the curves of your body, tracing the line of your waist, then sliding up to cup your full breasts. A soft moan escapes your lips as his thumbs graze your sensitive nipples, before pinching them.

“Y/N, come on this is so unfair.” He complained. "Too fucking gorgeous to resist," he whispers, his breath hot against your neck. 

“Just give me a kiss, Jude. Please. I promise I’ll be such a good girl for you.” You moaned, picking up his hand, dragging his fingers up your body before taking two of them in your mouth. You sucked on his fingers the way you would his cock, swirling your tongue around them. 

“Fine, just one.” He smiled but he knew he was tempting fate as he leaned in to kiss you.. apparently just once but you both knew that wasn’t going to happen. “Jesus baby.” He growled. His words ignited a fire within you, and you felt a surge of power, knowing you had this effect on him. You wanted to show him just how perfect you were, to make him remember everything, especially the pleasure you give him. You were straddling his waist, your legs on either side of his powerful thighs. The heat between your bodies palpable as you grinded against him, your wetness already leaving a slick trail on his hard length. "Fuck, Y/N," he groaned, his hands gripping your ass, pulling you closer. "You're driving me crazy." He whispered. You wanted to roll your eyes. He was in fact driving you crazy lately. You leaned down, your hair cascading around his face as you kissed him hungrily. Your tongues dancing, tasting each other, as your hands explored, caressing and teasing. You reached down, guiding his thick cock towards your entrance, teasing yourself with the tip.

"Please, Jude," you begged, your voice breathless. "I need you inside me. Make me forget everything but you." With one swift motion, he thrusted into you, filling you up completely. You gasped at the sensation, your body welcoming him as if you were made for each other. The stretch of his massive cock both intensely pleasurable but painful from the lack of foreplay. After you adjusted his cock hit all the right spots, and you couldn’t help but moan loudly, your head thrown back in ecstasy. Jude started to move, his hips thrusting in a slow, deliberate rhythm. Each stroke sends waves of pleasure through your body, and you matched his pace, riding him with abandon. His hands grip your tits, squeezing and kneading them, as he fucked you with purpose, making you feel every inch of his hardness.

"You like that, baby?" His voice raw with desire. "You like my cock pounding into your sweet pussy?" He sat up and whispered nibbling on your ear. He tucked his face in the nape of your neck. He sucked on your sensitive skin. His hair tickling you. Hoarse grunts escaping him as you soaked him. He collected enough spit in his mouth before he made you open yours. He spit his saliva into your mouth. You swallowed diligently with a moan. 

“Oh fuck, that feels so good!” You whined, your nails digging into his shoulders. "Harder, Jude. Make me feel you everywhere." He obliged, picking up the pace, his hips slamming into yours. The bed creaked with the force of his thrusts, and your moans fill the room, a symphony of pleasure. You felt your orgasm building, a coiling tension deep within your core. You shut your eyes tight with your mouth agape as your tits bounced. The sight was enough to make him cum. You flashed your eyes up to look at him. The look in your eyes made Jude tense.

“Oh angel, don’t give me that face. I’m not gonna last.” He grunted out. He slapped your ass and you smirked. You moaned at the second. You squeezed your pussy tighter around him feeling him twitch inside you. “Fuck baby, squeezing me so tight. You want to cum for me? Let me feel you cum on my cock, baby, please.” He begged. He knew exactly what to do, what to say to get you there. "That's it, angel," he encouraged, his breath hot against your ear. "Cum for me, baby. Let me feel your pussy clench around my cock."  His dirty words pushed you over the edge. You cried out his name as your body convulsed around him, your juices flowing freely, coating his shaft. He groaned, his own release building, as he continued to thrust through your orgasm, prolonging your pleasure. As the waves of ecstasy subsided, you collapsed onto his chest, your heart racing. Jude's arms wrapped around you, holding you close, his breathing ragged against your hair. You could feel his cock still throbbing inside you, awaiting to continue fucking you when you were ready to go but the reality was… you wouldn’t ever be again. You were ready for something Jude was about to hate.

"That was so good, baby.” You kissed his chest, tasting the salt of his sweat, whispering against his skin. His lips were back all over your neck. He smacked your ass cheek ready to go again but you ignored it. “I’m tired, Jude.” His whole body stiffened at your words, his body going completely still. 

"Y/N..." he began, but you cut him off by placing a finger on his lips.

"Shh... no more talking. Tired. Just sit with this," you said softly, as you gently rolled away from him, breaking the connection between your bodies. You curled up on your side of the bed, your back to him, knowing that Jude was being left unfulfilled, his cock still throbbing and needy, desperate for relief. You felt a pang of satisfaction knowing you've left him wanting more, but also a hint of guilt for the lingering tension between you. As you laid in bed after, the silence between you felt heavy, almost suffocating. Jude wanted to reach out, to pull you close and tell you that you were more than just a fleeting moment, more than just someone to pass the time with and maybe you could continue having sex because this was probably the worst case of blue balls he’d ever had. But the words were stuck in his throat, weighed down by the fear that maybe it was already too late. You, for your part, stared at the wall, your mind racing. You’d always been afraid of getting too close, of letting someone in. But with Jude, it had felt different—until now. Now, all you could think about was how vulnerable you’d let yourself become, and how much it would hurt if this all fell apart. Taking back some semblance of power through sex was satisfying but that feeling vanished quickly. In the quiet darkness, you laid side by side, both too scared to do anything, both too afraid of what might happen if you didn’t. As the night rolled into morning, that fear only grew, threatening to tear you apart even as you clung to the hope that maybe, just maybe, you could find a way through this together. You began to drift off to sleep, your mind swirled with emotions, unfortunately you were dreading what was to come in the morning. Everything had been perfect, or at least it felt that way. You were sitting there, hand in hand with Jude, feeling like you’d finally found something real. The world seemed right for once—like you were falling into place with him, and for a fleeting moment, you believed it. You believed you mattered to him in the same way he had come to mean so much to you. But then it all came crashing down. 

The suitcase hit the floor with a heavy thud as you stood in the middle of the room, chest rising and falling with anger. The sun was far too bright for how dark the mood felt inside the room. You could hardly look at Jude without feeling the wave of betrayal twist inside you. You were livid, yes, but underneath all the fury was a deep, wrenching hurt that had been growing since they day he’d told you he slept with someone else. 

"You’re really leaving?" His voice cracked at the end, soft, unsure—a sound so foreign for him, but it didn’t sway you. Jude stood across from you, his face losing its color, brows furrowed in confusion and guilt, hands clenched at his sides like he didn’t know what to do with them. 

"Yeah," you bit out, your voice edged with bitterness. "I am." For a moment, the air was filled with nothing but the echo of your words, the room stilling as the finality of it all weighed down between you. Jude’s heart pounded in his chest, a cold dread wrapping around him. He knew you were upset after last night, after his inability to introduce you, but this… this felt like too much. His thoughts were spiraling, the panic bubbling up, clawing at his throat.

"I know last night wasn’t great," he started, walking closer to you, his voice low, trying to keep it steady. "But leaving? Just like that? It feels… harsh." He could barely believe the words coming out of his own mouth, grasping at anything to keep you from walking out that door. And that’s when you snapped.

"Harsh?" you repeated, your voice shaking, eyes brimming with unshed tears. You spun around to face him, anger flashing across your face like lightning. "Harsh is being reduced to nothing in front of everyone. Harsh is you pretending like I don’t exist when it matters most." You could feel your throat tightening as the words spilled out. "Harsh is thinking I’m finally something to you, only for you to not even say my name, Jude. Not even my name." Your words were like a slap across his face. Jude froze, the shock of it hitting him like a punch to the gut. His mouth opened, but nothing came out, the weight of your anger and hurt choking him.

"That’s not—" he croaked out.

"You didn’t even look at me!" you yelled, cutting him off, your voice shaking now, the pain seeping through the cracks. "It didn’t matter if it was me, or the girl you slept with, or the one you were flirting with at the party. It’s all the same, isn’t it? We’re all interchangeable to you. Nothing special. I’m nothing special." Jude’s stomach twisted violently, his face going white as your words hit him like a freight train. His hands trembled as he raked them over his face. 

"How do… you—" His voice cracked again, barely a whisper. "How do you know about anyone at the party?" The disbelief in his voice almost made you laugh, but it was a bitter, broken sound. You wiped at the tears angrily, shaking your head. 

"Do you think I’m blind, Jude? Do you think I didn’t hear about you with her? The way you smiled at her like it meant nothing? The same way you smiled at me before we got involved. Do you even realize how much you’ve hurt me? Or are you too wrapped up in your perfect little world to notice?" Jude took a step toward you, but you recoiled, holding your hand up to stop him. 

 "I wasn’t thinking… I didn’t—" His heart was pounding in his chest, a deep pit forming in his stomach.

"Exactly, you weren’t thinking," you spat, the frustration bubbling up inside you. "You’ve never thought about me, Jude. About how I feel. I’ve given up so much to be here with you in Madrid, to support you, to be by your side, and you can’t even give me the decency of acknowledging me in public." Jude swallowed hard, his throat tight, guilt crashing down on him like a wave. He could see how hurt you were, how much pain you were carrying. His mind was racing, trying to find the words, but everything felt hollow compared to the anger and heartbreak written all over your face.

"I do care about you," he said, his voice barely above a whisper, but you just shook your head, a sharp laugh escaping your lips.

"Do you?" you asked, your voice quieter now, the anger beginning to give way to the deep sadness that had been simmering underneath. "Because it doesn’t feel like it. It feels like I’m just here, waiting, always waiting for you to make me feel like I actually matter to you. But last night? You couldn’t even say my name, Jude. You couldn’t even call me yours." He felt like the air had been sucked out of the room. His chest was tight, and he could barely breathe. He didn’t know what to say—because you were right. He had failed you in the worst way possible, and now he was standing in front of you, watching everything fall apart.

"I’m sorry," he whispered, the words so small, they felt like they’d vanish in the air. "I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize… I didn’t mean to hurt you like this. I—"

"You didn’t realize," you repeated, shaking your head, the hurt etched deep into your face. "Of course, you didn’t. You never have." Jude felt a sharp, deep pain in his chest as the realization of how much he had messed up hit him. His hands fell limply at his sides, helpless. 

"Please, don’t leave. Don’t go. I know I’ve hurt you, but I—" You cut him off again, shaking your head as more tears slipped down your cheeks.

"I’m tired, Jude. I’m tired of being the one who waits. I’m tired of always being on the outside looking in." Jude felt his heart break as you spoke, his entire body aching with the guilt, with the fear of losing you. He didn’t know what to do. He had never felt so helpless in his entire life.

“I’m begging you, please," he choked out, his voice cracking. "I need you. I don’t know how to fix this, but I’ll do anything. Just… don’t go." You stared at him, your eyes red and swollen from crying, and for a moment, you felt like you might give in. Like you might run into his arms and let him hold you the way you wanted him to, but then the anger bubbled up again, and you couldn’t.

"I can’t do this anymore, Jude," you said, your voice shaky but firm. "I can’t keep pretending like I’m okay with being nothing to you when all I’ve done is give up everything for you." You turned, grabbing the handle of your suitcase, and Jude’s heart clenched painfully as you went to turn towards the door. He wanted to reach out, to stop you, but his feet felt rooted to the floor. You stood there, suitcase in hand, your heart pounding as Jude's words echoed in the room, cutting through the tension like a jagged knife.

"I called her your name," he said softly, his voice strained with guilt, like he was offering it as some kind of consolation, a way to make things better, to prove you weren’t nothing to him. But instead of calming the storm inside you, it ignited something far worse—a deeper, more painful rage. Your grip tightened around the handle of the suitcase, your knuckles turning white as you stared at him, disbelief flooding through you.

 "You think that makes it better?" you asked, your voice cold, the anger simmering under the surface ready to explode. "You think that fixes anything?" A whirlwind of rage and heartbreak tearing through your chest. You couldn’t believe how the night had unraveled, and now, after everything you’d been through together, this was how it was ending.

“Wait!” Jude’s voice cracked behind you, desperate and pleading. You paused, barely turning your head, your body rigid with fury, your breath coming in sharp, jagged bursts. “When I—when I slept with her…” he began, stumbling over his words, “I called her your name.” His voice trembled, the confession hanging heavy in the air between you. He said it like it was supposed to mean something, like it should somehow ease the ache in your heart. But instead, it was gasoline on a fire.

“What?” Your voice was sharp, cutting through the tension like a blade. “You think that’s supposed to make me feel better?” You whipped around, eyes blazing, barely able to contain the explosion brewing inside you. 

“I—no, I just—” Jude stumbled over his words, trying to catch up with the damage he didn’t realize he’d already done. “I just wanted you to know, even when I was with her, I was thinking about you.”

“That’s supposed to be comforting?” You laughed bitterly, shaking your head. “You’re unbelievable.” He stepped forward, hands raised as if he could somehow reach you, somehow fix the irreparable.

 “I didn’t mean it like that. I was so messed up, I thought you were with someone else. I wasn’t thinking straight—”

“Don’t,” you snapped, your voice cold. “Don’t be sorry. You can sleep with whoever you want, right?” You threw the words at him, each one a bullet, sharp and cutting. “It must be so fucking hard being the Jude Bellingham and not hooking up with people when you’re this insecure.” The venom in your tone was thick, and Jude flinched, his face twisting in pain. He tried to protest, stepping forward, pleading. 

“Angel… I thought you were with him. I didn’t know what else to—” he puffed out some air defeated. 

“No, I’m not your angel anymore.” You interrupted , your voice dangerously low, as you turned fully to face him. The look on your face made him stop dead in his tracks. Something in your eyes shifted, darkening, and he knew instantly he was about to lose more than he’d ever realized. “Did she make you feel as good as I do?” Your voice trembled, but the power in your words was enough to knock the breath out of him. The question was simple, but the impact was profound. Jude froze, the weight of your question crashing into him. His eyes widened in shock and fear as he realized the gravity of what he’d done.

“God, no,” he breathed, his voice soft, like the truth was tearing him apart.

“Of course not,” you said, your voice dripping with scorn. You shook your head, a cruel, bitter laugh escaping your lips. “You threw everything away—for shitty sex—because you were too insecure to believe we had anything real.” The truth of it hit him like a punch to the gut. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. The room seemed to spin around him as he watched you, standing there with a strength he suddenly realized he had never truly appreciated. You stepped closer to him, eyes burning into his, your voice steady but cold. “I hope it was worth it, Jude. I hope that fleeting moment of doubt and weakness was worth losing the one person who would’ve given you everything. Because I tried to give you everything.” You started crying, unable to stop. You had made a mistake but only because of Jude. His heart dropped to his stomach as he realized what you were saying and how much it hurt you. It wasn’t just about the mistake he made—it was about how he’d completely shattered something that could’ve been so much more. He hadn’t just messed up; he’d destroyed the only connection that had ever felt real to him. You took one last look at him, disgust and heartbreak mingling on your face. “You can keep apologizing, but it won’t change the fact that you let your insecurity ruin everything we had.” Jude had never been called insecure before and it had never been more true. And with that, you turned on your heel, leaving him standing there, drowning in the suffocating weight of his own regret. For the first time, it was glaringly obvious—emotionally and physically, no one would ever measure up to you. Jude’s face crumpled as he realized how wrong his words had been, how desperately he had miscalculated. He had thought that maybe, just maybe, telling you he’d been thinking of you would ease the pain, but all he had done was drive the knife deeper.

"I didn’t mean it like that," he stammered, his eyes pleading with you to understand. "I wasn’t trying to—"

"You weren’t trying to what, Jude?" you cut him off, your voice rising, the hurt pouring out of you now like a dam had broken. "You weren’t trying to tell me that I’m just some idea to you? That I’m nothing more than a name you throw around in your head, in your bed? I mean so little to you that it doesn’t even matter who I am as long as you can imagine me there?" Jude took a step toward you again, desperation in his eyes, his hands reaching out as if he could physically stop you from leaving, from pulling further away. 

"That’s not what I meant, I swear—" He shut his eyes. 

"But that’s exactly what it is," you spat, shaking your head, tears blurring your vision. "You don’t care enough to see me. Not really. You only care about the idea of me, the version of me that you can fit into your life, your world. But you’ve never actually cared enough to sort out who I really am, to protect me, to give me something real." Your chest felt like it was caving in, the weight of all the hurt you had been holding back for so long crashing down on you. You had given him everything, opened up your life, your heart, and now it felt like all of it had been taken advantage of. Used and discarded. Jude’s face fell, his expression shifting from confusion to something much darker—guilt, pain, the realization that he had truly lost you.

"I care about you, I care about you so much," he whispered, his voice breaking, but you shook your head, stepping back as the walls started to go up. This wasn’t something you could just patch over with words anymore.

"No, Jude," you said, your voice firm, though the cracks of emotion were still there, seeping through. "You don’t. You don’t care about me, because if you did, you wouldn’t treat me like this. You wouldn’t let me be labelless, nameless. You’d fight for me. You’d see me." Jude’s breath hitched, his eyes wide as he stared at you, helpless. He could feel you slipping away, and he didn’t know how to stop it. He had never been good with feelings, with sorting through the mess of his own emotions, and now, standing here in front of you, he realized that it was too late to learn.

"You’re right," he whispered, his voice cracking. "I didn’t let the people around me know that I saw you the way I did but I promise I did see it. I didn’t treat you how I knew I felt. But I will now. Please… don’t go." But the damage was done. The cold, suffocating weight of betrayal had settled deep inside your chest, and no matter how hard he tried, no matter what words he said, you knew there was no coming back from this.

"I can’t," you said, your voice hollow, the finality of it hanging heavy in the air. "I can’t keep letting you do this to me. This time… this time, I’m building a wall. A steel wall. I can’t keep protecting myself with the glass you begged me to take down because you keep shattering it." You turned toward the door, your heart breaking with each step you took, but you knew you couldn’t stay. Not anymore. Not after everything. And behind you, Jude stood frozen, his heart pounding in his chest as the realization hit him—he had lost you. Jude stood there, heart hammering in his chest as he watched you walk out the door, the words stuck in his throat, choking him. He wanted to call out, to say something, anything to stop you. He knew exactly what he needed to say—I love you. But how could he say that now? It would’ve been selfish, unfair. You didn’t deserve his love if it was tangled up in this mess, in the pain he had caused.

So, he let you go.

As the door clicked shut behind you, the silence swallowed him whole. His fists clenched at his sides, his body vibrating with a tension that had nowhere to go. He took a step forward, and then another, until he reached the wall. His breath was shallow, ragged, his head spinning. The pressure inside him built, rising like a tidal wave, until it was too much, until he couldn’t hold it back anymore. With a guttural scream, Jude lashed out, his fist connecting with the wall, the sharp pain shooting up his arm like fire. He didn’t care. He hit it again, harder this time, the plaster cracking beneath his knuckles. The pain was grounding, but it wasn’t enough. Nothing would ever be enough to numb the agony in his chest, the guilt that was eating him alive. He stumbled back, his body trembling, and slid down the wall until he was sitting on the cold floor, his head dropping into his hands. The tears came then, hot and unrelenting, streaming down his face as he sobbed into his palms. He couldn’t remember the last time he cried, but now he couldn’t stop. He was furious—at himself, at the situation, at everything he had done to you. Jude had spent so long trying to be the person everyone expected him to be, the confident, untouchable star, the guy who always had it together. He thought he needed to prove something to Toby the other night, prove that he was still Jude. The one who didn’t get tied down, who could have anyone and never cared too much. But right now, sitting there on the floor, broken and alone, he wanted to be anything but that person.  He had lost you, and it was all his fault. He had never felt more himself than when he was with you. He had never felt more safe and authentic and he was too juvenile to grow up and do something about it. The realization hit him like a sledgehammer. He had taken you for granted, dismissed your feelings, brushed off your pain. And now, you were gone. Maybe for good. He couldn’t fix it with an apology this time. Words were meaningless now, and no amount of charm or sweet talk could undo the damage he had caused.

"I’m so sorry," he whispered, his voice barely audible as it cracked with emotion, the tears still falling. He wasn’t sure if he was talking to you, to himself, or to the empty room that felt like it was closing in on him. Jude’s chest heaved with the weight of his own remorse, the crushing understanding that he had pushed away the one person who made him feel real, made him feel seen. And now, all he could do was sit there in the wreckage of what he’d destroyed, the emptiness echoing around him. All he had wanted was to be enough for you, but now he wasn’t sure he ever could be.

You furiously scrubbed over your arm where Jude’s initials once were every time you showered even though the ink of of him was long gone. It felt like Jude was burned onto your body, no solvent was strong enough. You couldn’t get him off. The tension between you and Jude had lingered long after that fateful night at the game. What had once felt so natural, so easy, had become heavy with unspoken words and unmet expectations. The awkwardness hung over you like a storm cloud, and neither of you knew how to clear the air. The silence between you was deafening. Jude wished he asked you to stay, beg you not to leave—but he knew your answer, his fear once again kept him quiet. When you walked out the door, neither of you called it a break. You weren’t officially together, so how could it be? But it felt like one. The space between you grew, not just in distance, but in the emotional chasm that had opened up. Back in your Manhattan apartment, you found yourself crying more than you’d care to admit. You were embarrassed, frustrated that you’d let yourself get so wrapped up in someone like Jude. Someone you thought might actually care about you beyond the physical. But now, all you had were memories that felt more distant with each passing day. Jude wasn’t faring much better. He would stare at his phone, your contact name glowing on the screen as his thumb hovered over it, unsure of what to say, what to do. Every time he thought about calling, he would sigh and put the phone down, the weight of his own insecurities and fears keeping him from making that leap. Even Denise noticed the change in her son. He was quieter, more withdrawn. She didn’t press him, knowing better than to force Jude to talk before he was ready. But she could see the hurt in his eyes, the way he carried himself with a heaviness that hadn’t been there before. Weeks passed in this limbo, neither of you reaching out, both of you desperate to but too afraid to be the first. Once you had left Madrid for home, everything seemed to unravel at once. You felt like this was the end for you and Jude, the silence between you made it feel like it should be. You hadn’t responded to his texts or calls. The sting of that moment in the suite still lingered, and as much as you cared for him, you couldn’t ignore the way he hesitated, like you didn’t matter. Back in Madrid, Jude was losing it. Your absence hit him harder than he expected. He tried to keep himself busy, but no amount of training or distractions could drown out the fact that you were gone, and the silence on your end was eating him alive. The uncertainty of whether you two were over gnawed at him, twisting in his gut.

🪩🫶❤️‍🔥🍹🌞🍒 Thank you for reading! Please like, comment, or message what you think of the chapter 🍒🌞🍹❤️‍🔥🫶🪩

Next part - Chapter 9 - His Angel xx

[remuslupinslittleslut]

Teach us - Part one

@missakward123: can you do dom! reader poly marauders? Also loved this!! Yes I can, but I have such a hard time writing a sub!Remus, so I kinda took it in my own direction.

Part two is found here!

Reader x Remus turned into Reader x Poly!Marauders.

Masterlist.

They thought it was strange how Remus had been the first to lose his virginity out of the three of them. Both Sirius and James had girls throwing themselves after them constantly, but somehow, Remus was the first to go all the way.

You had always found them all quite attractive, but thought that Sirius and James tended to be a bit obnoxious at times. When you saw Remus studying alone in the library one day, you thought you’d go up and say hi to the tall, handsome guy. The two of you had only talked briefly before this interaction, but soon found that you enjoyed each other’s company. It didn’t take long from there for you to go on a date and soon you were a couple. 

Remus, ever the gentleman, didn’t tell his friends about your first time, he thought it was best kept private between the two of you, therefore you always tried to keep it somewhat lowkey, finding time to be perfectly alone. Though any secret could not be held for long in that dorm and one evening the cat came running and screaming out of the bag. You thought you’d get to be alone with Remus, as the other two had practice. As it turned out, however, practice was canceled and the door to the dorm was thrown open just in time for the two surprised boys to see you orgasm, quivering around Remus’ cock.

It slightly ruined the mood and you struggled to cover yourself as Sirius went on a long rampage about “The betrayal! The absolute betrayal. Our baby moons got laid and didn’t tell us. Here he is, having had sex the whole time – while keeping us in the dark.” He was pacing back and forth, only half joking about his distress before deciding to be the bigger person and be happy for his friend. “Good job Moons. First one out of all of us. Amazing.” With a chef’s kiss he left the subject of betrayal and moved on to something else.

After the embarrassing moment of coming in front of your boyfriend’s friends, it didn’t take long before the question was asked.

“Hey Moony, since you already had sex, could you teach us how to do it?”

“Yeah, Moons, I wanna be ready for when Lily lets me go all the way if you catch my drift,” James agreed, with a very unnecessary wink as everyone understood exactly what he meant.

You stared, gaping. That they would ask such a question didn’t surprise you one bit. The fact that Remus seemed to be actually thinking it over did.

“I guess,” he started, patting your thigh, “you’re gonna ask her if she’s willing to teach you.”

You, teaching his friends how to have sex? The idea was preposterous. Yet… It did make you feel a certain tingle between your legs. You still found them attractive, and the thought of being the one to take their virginities? Oh, that was just beautiful. You thought it over in your head. Remus was quite dominant, not really treating you as a submissive but he liked being a bit in control, he’d never let you have all the reigns. These two however… Looking Remus straight in the eye, you searched for any form of hesitance – you didn’t find any.

“Alright then, we’re gonna have to set some rules,” you said.

It was agreed that the day after, you’d help take your boyfriend’s best friends’ virginities. You said 24 hours to give everyone a chance to back out, and told them very specifically that they would shower, properly, “none of that locker room stuff, a real shower, clean everything.” It was best to be clear when dealing with teenage boys.

A whole 24 hours later you found yourself walking up the stairs to their dorm. You knew Remus would be there, and you knew they’d given consent. You wore your school skirt, but without panties, a t-shirt with a very flattering bra and your hair out. You had to get yourself in that dominant mood, ready to boss the boys around. Since becoming Remus’ girlfriend, you had gotten to know his friends as well. You knew James would be easier to dom, and you knew Sirius would be a little brat. Therefore, you started with James. Opening the door, you could cut the tension with a knife.

The boys were so cute and nervous, standing up and waiting for you (not Remus, of course, he was comfortably splayed out on his own bed). “Jamie,” you said. “Do you still wanna do this?” He nodded. “Okay, then take your clothes off and sit down on your bed. You,” you turned to Sirius, “are gonna have to wait your turn.”

When James was naked and seated on the edge of his bed, you took a moment to appreciate his toned body. The moment didn’t last very long though as you wanted to feel him. Climbing into his lap, thighs straddling his, you took his face and held it in your hands. He was so pretty, so soft, so pliable. “Jamie, have you ever kissed a girl?” you asked him, bringing your mouth so close to his that your lips almost touched his. “No,” he said, cheeks flushing red. Holding onto his cheeks, you brought your lips against his, softly at first, then with a little more pleasure. The warm breath from his nose on your cheek sent chills down your spine. Deciding to progress, you slightly opened your mouth, letting your tongue out to lick lightly at his lips. He moaned.

You continued kissing him, making out really, until you felt he was ready to move on. Leaning back a little, you pulled your top over your head, revealing your soft tits, perfectly framed by your bra. “Go ahead, baby, you can touch.” With your permission, warm hands pressed against your back before following the lines of your body, meeting your front and lightly squeezing your tits. You allowed him to explore freely, until he pushed his head down, paused and looked up at you, eyes asking for permission. Instead of answering him verbally, you pushed your tits against his face, letting him know he could kiss and suck all he wanted. He did manage to get your bra off all on his (you were so proud of him), and as it fell to the floor, you felt his cock twitching.

You let him play some more with your boobies before taking his hand, kissing it once and telling him “Jamie, have you ever felt a girl?” When he shook his head, you kissed the top of his head and pushed his hand down, between your bodies and toward your core. “Feel that? I’m all wet, that’s all for you baby,” you cooed, watching his facial expressions in awe – he was so fascinated. “Now, do you know where your little cock is supposed to go?” Little was a big lie. His brows furrowed in concentration as he felt around for the right hole, he did find it, and pushed a finger in. “Good boy, now put your cock in.” You raised yourself, hovering above him, hand coming down to help him push his cock into your warm hole. “Oh that’s a good boy f’me,” you moaned, loving the feeling of him filling you up.

Being so focused on James had almost made you forget about your audience, looking to the side, you met Remus’ hungry eyes. You could tell he was enjoying the show, hand rubbing against the bulge in his pants. You decided not to look at Sirius, making him wait for your attention.

Grabbing James’ shoulders, you carefully tried moving, sliding yourself along his cock, making you both moan. You tried a few different movements, going up and down, back and forth. It felt really good and you enjoyed playing around with it, and it seemed as though he was enjoying it too, his head thrown back, glasses askew and mouth slightly open. Suddenly his hands squeezed hard on your hips, making you stop your movements. “Jamie, you okay?” You asked, massaging his scalp with your fingers. “Yeah,” he reassured, “yeah, just need to… I’m gonna come…”

You giggled softly, “it’s okay if you do, but first, I wanna do one more thing.” Pulling your body away from his was hard, letting his heavy cock fall out of you was even harder, and you immediately mourned the loss. Though, you knew it would be worth it. Laying down flat on your back, you beckoned for him to join you, to climb on top of you. “You should know how to fuck a girl, Jamie,” you said, helping him find his way back into you. His athletic body was made for this, for moving himself back and forth, hips pushing against yours. He didn’t go very fast, but you knew he’d be able to when he got more used to the feeling. Hiding his face against your neck, letting the vibrations of his moans shoot right through you, his hips started making the smallest, cutest, most desperate little movements. “That’s good baby, that’s a good boy, you’re doing so well, so good, making me feel so good.” You didn’t think you’d be able to come, he was a virgin, but the little thrusts pushed the head of his cock against you in a way that just felt too good to hold back.

“Jamie, baby, I’m ‘bout to come,” you moaned, kissing his head, holding him close, “you’re so go- ah-od,” your moans grew louder as you experienced a rather mild orgasm, though, an orgasm nonetheless. Your walls spasming around him made him come as well, pretty cock filling you up with his little virgin cum.

“Wow, Jamie, you did so well, I’m so proud of you,” you told him, after he had pulled out and collapsed on top of you. His head was still buried in the crook of your neck, his breathing fast and hard. “Did you enjoy it?” You asked, to which he pulled his face away, eyes wide. “Like it? That was amazing.”

You stayed like that, letting him hold onto your body for a while, not wanting to leave him without aftercare and love. Though you knew, as soon as James moved away from you, you’d have to deal with his mischievous best friend. Before you let James continue his cuddling – with Remus – you made him promise you something. “Next time love, you’re gonna let me take your cute little cock in my mouth, okay?” To this, he nodded, excitedly.

Part two.

[onsomenewsht]

All these people think love’s for show but I would die for you in secret

About when she’s got a smile and you got impatient

》 Leah Williamson × Reader

》 words count: 1.7 k

》 soft launch [verb, specialized]: to make a product, service, or business available or open for the first time, but only to a limited number of people at first

Being in a private relationship when you’re a public figure is even funnier than it sounds. And it sounds pretty funny as it is.

“You’re overthinking it”, Leah says, even if she knows better than to tease who’s literally feeding her.

You don’t bite back but keeping the plate slightly out of reach is a clear enough answer.

She smiles.

Oh, the way she lights up your day when she smiles at you.

You and Leah aren’t much for sharing your lifes on social media.

She’s been pretty much traumatized by the immense and not-really-that-unexpected attention after leading her national team to an historic tournament win. You’ve been scolded enough times by your agent to take your online enthusiasm down a notch.

So, your relationship flowered from two friendly teammates - who happened to share a room after a worth to be celebrated win - to an overly in love couple - who barely manage to store that many jackets in a four door closet.

You both understand the importance of some privacy to grow a love so beautiful yet so fragile, also not really caring about the outside world’ hot takes.

But one year of unplanned dates, dances around the kitchen waiting for delivery and shared stories in the middle of the night are a lot to keep just between the two of you.

Your teammates are way over your not-so-discreet looks during practice and your constant touch, the skipper never been one to shy away from a teasing kiss or wandering hands and you never back down an opportunity to make your friends regret every single life choose ‘til that very moment.

“We’re having a good time, aren’t we?”

“Yes, we are”, Leah raises a perfectly shaped eyebrow.

Oh, the way she lights up your mood when she challenges you.

“Such a cute moment to share with our loved ones, isnt?”

Leah looks around, the pasta dish shared in your kitchen island definitely counts as a cute moment for her. Sure, the fact you both are just in oversized t-shirts adding points to her case. Or yours, she’s not sure yet what point you’re trying to make.

“You want to share this?”, she gestures at the scene with a smirk, “We eating undercooked pasta in our underwear at unholy hour?”

“Yes, I want to share us having a wonderful time and perfectly cooked pasta”

Her blonde head tilts studying you, thinking it’s more about the fact you’re looking at her like she’s the reason why the sun rises every morning.

You’re feeding her, Leah’s own hands way too busy caressing her girlfriend’s outstretched legs to bother with food. And you can see her nipples through the overworn t-shirt of yours she’s on.

It's definitely about the nipples.

“What if I die tomorrow and no one knows I managed to win you over?”

“That's a way too dramatic turn, even for you”, but then she cracks up and you sure will die happy if this is how you meet your maker.

Oh, the way she lights up your home when she laughs at something you said just for the sake of making her happy.

“What? Life is unpredictable and McCabe is getting more aggressive with the age, I don’t know how much long I still have”

“And your main concern is the world knowing you won me over?”

"Of course not, my sunshine", you reach toward her, brushing your lips so close to hers she can already taste the wine you paired with the pasta. “My main concern is not being able to survive a tackle by Katie, even dead I have a reputation to keep and it’s your duty to defend my honor ‘til your own grave”

It is Leah who is closing the distance now, and even if you wanted to keep the jokes coming - still making sure she does make up a great story about your noble sacrifice if needed - Earth stops running around the sun when she kisses you.

You’re whipped and she’s honored, truly grateful for the opportunity to learn all your ways to show her and the people you care about how much love one can gift the world with.

“I love you”

“Why are you looking at me like that, Williamson?”

“I love you”

“Now you’re scaring me, are you the one dying?”

She knows you, she knows humor is your way to deal with comfortable and uncomfortable situations alike. She knows you’re always up for a good laugh, but she also knows you never say things just for the sake of a joke. Your words are always meaningful, your retorts always smart enough to look effortless.

“You wanna make some big announcement?”, Leah asks with a smile that’s held back by the seriousness behind the question.

“No, but I don’t want to hide us”

“We don’t hide”

“We don’t keep a secret, but sometimes we do hide”

It takes her a moment, but she gets what you’re saying. Your relationship is not hidden per se, not a secret and never denied.

But sometimes the two of you have to delay your greeting and wait for more private settings, or think twice before posting anything on your social media accounts. Sometimes she needs to withhold the instinct to rush to you and be the first to celebrate you for an incredible and game changing goal. Sometimes you need to hold back yourself, walking a step behind with your head down just to refrain from taking her hand in yours.

Usually, you two don’t even realize you're actively hiding the deep love no speculative-but-surprisingly-high-quality video edit can really capture. It happens regardless and it’s starting to make you feel dejected, Leah notices.

“Then we don’t”

You look up, stopping playing around with the now cold pasta. Your girlfriend’s hands are still on your legs, her soft touch never hesitant or refrained despite the tricky topic.

“What are you saying?”

“You know what I’m saying”

Your lover lights up again, the world lights up again.

She’s smiling a lot tonight, she thinks. She’s also perfectly aware of the permanent grin on her face whenever you’re around. She’s whipped too after all.

You wait for her to elaborate, so she does.

“I’m saying we do whatever we want whenever we want, and we share what we feel like sharing about our lives together”

“Whatever we want?”

Leah is pretty sure you have some very specific images in mind, you’re always taking photos of everything and everyone. Needless to say, your girlfriend is by far your favorite subject to capture.

Pictures of her sleeping with face masks on, or her frown while she’s playing board games and not necessarily winning, or when she’s trying outfit after outfit to make sure she’s dressed up for the occasion. Pictures of her taken during intimate moments, not necessarily suggestive but definitely meaningful given the nature of your relationship and the level of trust in each other.

She’s confident you have several photo albums of her in your phone.

You do.

That’s why when you reach for the long forgotten device, putting on a show of taking as many candids as you can, Leah happily plays along. Your shenanigans get a more creative direction, let's say, and some of the photos are taken just for the two of you to admire.

~

“We can soft launch”, she insists hours later, archives improved and clothes forgotten.

You’re lying on your back with her head placed comfortably on your thigh, sheet all over the bed. She can see your pensive gaze, despite you being at ease.

“Who educated you on such slang?”

“Beth but that’s not the point”

“It clearly is, she did the soft launch thing all wrong”

The hand you have between her blonde locks stops its ministration when Leah bursts out laughing like you just said the funniest thing possible.

“Let’s show them how it’s done!”

~

The next couple of days you both shared a bit more on your social media pages, nothing too revealing but enough to give your agent anxiety.

She posted a few photos on her stories, like a restaurant set up that’s most definitely a date and you from behind preparing tea in her kitchen in the middle of the night. Surprisingly you take a more subtle approach, posting teasing pictures but nothing really telling, even if Leah’s in most of them.

It lasts three days, by the end of which you’re even more pissed than before.

“I genuinely can’t believe it! You’re shoving her during practice and you two are basically married, but you post my hand on your thigh and I’m a really supportive friend”

The team’s admin posted some training shots in the morning and the vast majority of the comments are about the cute interaction between your girlfriend and Lia, the two always messing around a bit.

You’re mostly joking but the English capitan is aware that the constant rumors and the oversexualised comments she often receives upset you. Not sparked by jealousy, rather by the lack of respect towards her and her personal life.

“Relax, my love, they comment about us too”

She’s holding you from behind, her hands on your sides and her freshly washed hair leaving wet spots on your shirt. She lays her chin on your shoulder, trying not to giggle too much at some unhinged comments she can read under the posts you are scrolling.

“The way she looks at Leah: same”, you read out loud, faking annoyance. “Oh, that’s enough!”

You must have spotted something that snapped your sudden reaction.

Your lovely girlfriend stays unfazed in her position as you determinately search for a particular photo, type a caption, then stop to silently wait for her approval.

Leah barely nods, but you feel her smile and then her lips on your skin when you post it.

A picture of the two of you looking at each other with heart shaped eyes, dressed up to the nines since it was a snippet of a date on your summer vacation.

Her black attire was to die for and you sure died in some way. The blonde remembers in vivid details your care and attention, slipping it under her with such reverence later that same night.

She shivers, comments already popping in.

“You'd have tagged me”

“They know who you are”, your grin getting bigger by the seconds as you lock your phone and toss it away muted.

You turn around in her arms, and even if you know Leah’s most definitely sporting one of her best smiles, when you look at her it’s life changing.

Oh, the way she lights up your entire existence when her love for you it’s clear on her face.

You pick her up by her thighs, holding her as close as your bodies physically allow.

"Impatient", she teases.

“I’m gonna show you impatience”.

~

fine.

[augustjustice]

That Healing Touch

AO3 Link

They stand in the Mayfield’s darkened living room, all looking at each other like they can’t quite conjure up the words for their next move. Eddie rubs a hand over his head, eyes darting away from the gazes of the others, just barely managing to bite off another Jesus Christ by digging his teeth into his bottom lip. 

They can’t be certain where Mrs. Mayfield is. Maybe she’s been cleared out because of the hellscape currently seeping through Eddie’s trailer ceiling, like he assumes Uncle Wayne has. Maybe–she’s out for some other reason. The pinched expression on Little Red’s face suggests that wouldn’t be all too uncommon, for her mother not to come home in the night. 

Eddie knows that song and dance well enough from his own youth.  

All they can do is hope for the best–that she doesn’t show up. Eddie isn’t sure what they’ll do then, but he’s gotten pretty damn good at this whole running thing, bitter as he is about it. 

“We should try to get some sleep,” Nancy finally breaks the silence, clipped and authoritative, like she hadn't just been dragged through a landscape of nightmares by Vecna’s own design. 

After Chrissy, and then Patrick, Nancy makes the third time Eddie’s seen it, a pair of eyes glazing over, ghostly white. As shaken up as it’s left him every time just to see it from the outside looking in, he can barely understand how Wheeler is still on her feet, isn’t just a quivering mess in the corner somewhere, like he imagines he would be. Full of surprises is a fucking understatement, at this point. 

“Nance–” Steve starts, one arm stretching out towards her, the worry on his face transparent. 

“I’ll be okay, Steve,” she takes a step away from him, putting distance between them.

From the thin line of her mouth, Eddie gets the sense that any comfort offered might make her reach her breaking point. Steve must feel it too, because he drops his hands as though in surrender. 

“Just…” Nancy sighs, steadying herself, “we won’t be any help at all if we’re all too exhausted to function.”

“You heard the lady,” Robin gives a wobbly, uncertain smile, “she’s in charge, after all.” 

She pulls out that old adage, like it’s a well worn joke. Eddie has the good grace not to call her out on it, doesn’t quite drawl out a sarcastic That’s not what you said in the boat, but it’s a close call. 

Steve’s eyes dart back and forth between them, lingering on Robin, the pair of them managing some kind of silent communication through nothing but frowns and eyebrow twitches. 

“Alright, alright,” he finally agrees, however reluctantly, giving a defeated nod. “I mean, you’re not wrong on the sleep thing. Not like we can play our best game when we’re totally out of it, after all.” 

There’s something in his tone, the way his gaze flits briefly to the kids and then catches Eddie’s own, that reminds him of that moment right before launching off the bank out into Lover’s Lake. Steve’s being glib, casual, the way Eddie had been when he’d refused to let Dustin get on the boat with them, the four older teens all playing along with an unspoken plan. He’s trying so desperately to seem perfectly normal for the four munchkins currently in the room with them. 

Eddie barely understands how any of the kids are holding their shit together as well as they already are, especially when he feels like he’s about to shake apart himself at any second. But behind the brave faces, he can see it, the exhaustion beginning to settle, making them look older than they have any right to.

The least he can do is play along. 

“Not the sports metaphors, Harrington,” Eddie sighs, long and loud, as he sways into Steve’s space, grin too bright. “Please, be merciful, there are nerds present.”

“Yeah, well, when aren’t there?” Steve asks, low and dry. He bumps his shoulder against Eddie’s, gratitude obvious.

“I am not a nerd!” Erica protests loudly.

“You’re joking, right?” Dustin rolls his eyes. “We’ve been over this, Erica Sinclair. You are as nerdy as they come.” 

It’s a little uncanny, because the amused but fond look Dustin pins her with almost perfectly mirrors the way Eddie has seen Steve look at Dustin himself, the way Eddie suspects he also sometimes looks at the kid.

“Plus, some of us? Are jocks and nerds, thank you very much,” Lucas says, swiveling around to Erica’s other side and shooting her a pointed look. 

“Yeah, turns out Lucas isn’t too cool for the rest of us,” Max teases, eyes crinkling at the corners as she knocks her shoulder into his. 

“That’s true,” Erica agrees, hands on her hips in a way that reminds Eddie, hysterically enough, of Harrington. “You’ve always been the one who’s way too cool for my brother, not the other way around.”

As their bickering continues, Steve catches Eddie’s eyes again, mouthing a quick Thank you while they’re all too distracted to see. 

Nancy and Robin both look a little heartened, too, by the familiar sounds of the kids arguing, their rigid edges softening.

“Nine has long since past, so you know what that means–time for bed, kiddos!” Robin interrupts the petty squabbling before it gets entirely out of their control, starting to corral them back on track. 

Several groans ring out, but Steve cuts them off with a quick clap of his hands, jumping in right where she left off, their rhythm as fluid as a well-oiled machine. 

“Yeah, yeah,” he makes a motioning gesture with one hand, the other firmly planted on his hip, “Come on, you knuckleheads, and get a move on.”

The combined force of Robin and Steve seems, miraculously, to be enough, the younger four members of their little monster-fighting brigade getting into gear to set up their various sleeping arrangements, even as they grumble about it. 

“Robin, you’re with me,” Nancy declares simply before turning on her heel and marching from the living room.

Eddie catches the subtle look Steve and Robin share again.

“Better somebody stick close by Nance after…everything,” Steve says quietly, the tightness of his voice making it clear he’s still a bit shaken up.

“I’ve got her,” Robin assures him, giving Steve’s arm a quick squeeze at his grateful nod. 

Max clears her throat, then, drawing Eddie’s attention away from the pair as they hunch their heads together and head out of the room, still talking in soft voices.

“Erica can stay in my room. There are sheets and shit in the hall closet for the rest of you,” she directs.

Eddie nods, following her and ignoring the heated game of rock-paper-scissors that’s broken out between Dustin and Lucas to determine which of them is going to claim the couch. As they make their way down the hall, they pass what must be Mrs. Mayfield’s room, catching a quick glimpse of Nancy and Robin beginning to quietly settle in for the night.

Max stops in front of a wooden door, shorter in width than the rest, and yanks it open roughly.

With a dismissive wave of her hand, she gestures at the contents inside for Eddie to see. 

“Whatever you guys need, take it.” The words are brusque, a cover for the generosity of her statement, the ease with which she’s letting them all into her space, into her home. He’s noticed it to varying degrees with all of them–it feels transparent how much they know and trust each other, the way they’re willing to give up nearly anything to help the others, to help with this entire life-risking hero’s quest they’ve put themselves on.

But Eddie’s the outsider, here, not a member of their little party, the odd man out. So it still feels like he should be especially grateful, every time they extend that willingness to give whatever they’ve got to try and help him.   

“Sure thing. Thanks, Red.”

“Night, Eddie,” she murmurs, back already to him, quiet enough he almost doesn’t catch it.  

He’s turning to retreat back to the living room, blankets piled up in his arms, when a voice behind him stops him in his tracks.

"Psst! Eddie! Hey, Eddie!" Steve calls at a stage whisper from down the hall, reminiscent of the way he'd called after him in the Upside Down. When Eddie catches his eye, Steve motions with one hand for him to follow. "C'mere."

Eddie drops the stack back in the closet for now and dutifully makes his way towards Steve. 

“Yeah, dude. What’s going on?”

Grabbing onto a loose fistful of Eddie’s leather jacket, Steve tugs him into the bathroom in one quick motion, and then shuts the door behind him with a click.

Eddie tries fervently to ignore the thrill that goes up his spine at being manhandled by Harrington. 

It shouldn’t come as all that much of a surprise, really, that Steve’s capable of it. Eddie might not know shit about sports, but he did know that Steve was on, like, pretty much every team known to Hawkins back when he was in school. So, of course he can tug Eddie around like a floppy-armed ragdoll. 

That said–Steve seems winded from the exertion, after he does it, leaning back to basically slump against the bathroom door. The move serves as a reminder that he’s a little worse for wear, at the moment, despite the fact that he definitely hadn’t showed it earlier. Not while he was busy running around the world hidden beneath their feet. 

“Harrington, seriously, man–you doing okay?” Eddie asks, wincing slightly in sympathy pains even as he tries to keep his tone light, conversational. 

“Just–give me like…one second here,” Steve holds up a finger for emphasis, the fact that his breathing is still clearly labored not doing much to soothe Eddie’s nerves. 

But he does as Steve asks, taking a moment to drink in the sight of him–a check in with absolutely no subconscious ulterior motive, thank you very much. 

And, well–Steve is a far cry from the pristine, preppy visage Eddie had gotten used to seeing swaggering around the halls of Hawkins High in his perfectly pressed jeans and popped collar polos. Here, in the lowlighting of the Mayfields’ bathroom, he’s bare-chested–apart from Eddie’s battle vest still slung over his shoulders–skin smudged with Upside Down soot, his sides mottled with angry crimson gashes where the bats had dragged him across rocky ground. 

That famous hair of his is still somehow swooping perfectly into place, though. Annoyingly enough, and as fucked up as it probably is…Eddie thinks he manages to be mouth-wateringly hot regardless, whether he’s totally polished under the high school’s harsh fluorescents or mussed and panting beneath the dim orange glow of the single working lightbulb currently flickering above the sink.

He’s gotta admit, though, in his fantasies of Steve Harrington cornering him alone in a bathroom–of which there had been none, obviously, because that would be ridiculous, not to mention colossally stupid–approximately zero of them had panned out like this.

Especially when the next words out of Steve’s mouth are a hurried, “Eddie, man, you, uh–think you can change this bandage for me?”

Eddie's eyes dart down to the scrap of Wheeler’s shirt wrapped around Harrington’s middle, the darkened stain of rust colored blood coating it–and, yeah, shit. Definitely makes sense now, why Steve dragged him in here.

“I’d ask Robin,” Steve is saying, “but, dude, you saw how she got about the rabies, and I really don’t wanna freak her out more than she already is. And Nance–well, after the shit she already went through tonight, I’m not gonna put this on her too. There’s Henderson or Sinclair, I guess, but–”

Steve bites at his bottom lip. And, sure, Eddie’s never been great in school, but he likes to think he can read people pretty well. It doesn’t exactly take a rocket scientis to put the pieces together, especially after the little show they’d put on in the living room–Steve doesn’t want the kids to realize just how badly he’s hurt, and clearly he doesn’t want to burden the girls, either. 

Eddie wonders exactly how he should feel about the fact that Harrington’s singled him out as the one he’s willing to let carry some of the responsibility currently weighing on his own broad, more than capable shoulders…and decides to take it as a compliment. 

“Harrington,” Eddie cuts him off by clapping a hand gently to his arm, meant to be reassuring, “you don’t have to sell me on it, man. I’ll do it. Happy to help.”

“Oh, okay…good,” Steve’s shoulders slump, like he was expecting to have to put up some kind of a fight. He catches Eddie’s eyes, giving him a quick, almost uncertain half-smile. “That’s–thanks, man.” 

Steve moves around him, then, allowing himself to collapse into a sitting position atop the closed toilet with a pained wince. 

“Don’t mention it. Uh,” Eddie spins around once in the small space of the bathroom, searching, “has Little Red got…alcohol pads, gauze, shit like that?”

“Under the sink,” Steve pants, one hand clasped against his side, “second door.”

That one simple sentence from Steve is enough to paint a picture in full. Steve’s been in the Mayfields’ trailer. He’s been in it enough times he knows where things like the first aid kit are kept. 

Eddie squats down, ducking his head below the counter–and spots it immediately, the slender first aid kit, exactly where Steve had said it would be.

And, sure, Eddie had at least been aware that Steve knew his mouthy little red-headed neighbor. Dustin and the other boys had often regaled him, disbelieving as he might have been, with tales of their incredibly cool babysitter, the former King of Hawkins High. Eddie had even seen Harrington’s infamous BMW parked over here a few times, a sight so surreal he couldn’t help but register it. 

But, still–there’s a difference in knowing abstractly and actually seeing the familiarity between Steve and the kids in words and gestures, his importance in their lives taking concrete, undeniable shape. 

Like Eddie had told him while they trekked across the woods in the Upside Down–the Steve Harrington of reality? Is nothing like the one he’d pictured all those years they’d shared space in the same halls and classes. 

“Seems like you know the lay of the land pretty well,” he can’t help but comment as he tilts his head toward the cabinet.

“Yeah, well, Mayfield wipes out on her skateboard a lot.” Eyes widening, as though he just realized what he said, Steve points in Eddie’s direction. “Don’t tell her I said that.”

Eddie shoots Steve a toothy grin. “You scared of a fourteen year old girl, Harrington?”

“Absolutely,” the corner of Steve’s mouth quirks up into a half smile, “and if you know what’s good for you, you will be, too.”

“Trust me, man–I’ve got a healthy respect for Red’s fearsomeness. Even if I think she’s totally a lot softer than she lets on.”

Steve shakes his head, giving him a rueful smile. “You’re not wrong there.”

Popping open the kit, Eddie surveys their supplies. There’s an assortment of things inside, including an array of bandages in a variety of sizes alongside gauze, scissors, and hospital tape. 

“Jackpot.” 

Eddie holds up an alcohol wipe, shaking the little white package triumphantly.

“Great,” Steve agrees, though he sounds ragged, eyelids fluttering shut for a brief moment as he sucks in a sharp breath.

“You need me to,” Eddie tilts his chin towards the scrap of fabric wrapped around Steve’s middle, “undo that for you?”

“...Could you?” Steve asks, a flash of hesitance and uncertainty crossing his face. 

Eddie isn’t sure if Steve really thinks he might refuse, that he’s overstepping some kind of boundary by asking, or if it’s just costing him immensely to admit he needs the help. 

“‘Course I will, man. Absolutely. Said I’d help, didn’t I?”

Steve nods, then stands up, reaching out and gripping the bathroom sink briefly in order to steady himself. 

Once he’s up, Steve shrugs out of Eddie’s battle vest. The move puts himself–and that thick pelt of his chest hair over firm pecs, the hard planes of his stomach just above Nancy’s makeshift bandage–on full display…revealing the very physique Eddie had been desperately trying to get him to cover up by tossing him the vest in the first place. 

Eddie tries his damnedest not to ogle Harrington’s body too obviously, reminding himself of Steve’s wounds, of the task at hand. The task in which he’ll have to get up close and personal with Steve’s bare stomach. 

Jesus Christ. Maybe he’s still in Hell, and climbing out of that impossible, gravity-defying hole in the trailer’s ceiling had actually all been part of some elaborate fantasy. 

Eddie squats down in front of Steve, putting himself on eye level with his stomach. He shouldn’t be glad for the stain coating that strip of white fabric, the reminder of blood–he’s not, really, obviously he’s not–but he’s not mad about the fact that the sight is helping his boner just…calm the fuck down. Because now is absolutely not the time, but the wires in his brain can’t help crossing, taking very interested note of the fact that he’s all but kneeling in front of Steve fucking Harrington on a dingy bathroom floor. 

As Eddie reaches out for the makeshift bandage, he braces one hand on Steve’s hip to steady himself, his fingers grazing against the unmarred skin just below his wound. That initial brush is enough to have Steve sucking in a sharp breath.

“That hurt?” Eddie asks, spooked as he blinks up at Steve worriedly.

“All good, dude,” Steve shakes his head in answer before tilting it up to the ceiling, hands settling on top of his head.

He grips at his own hair tightly, mussing those luscious waves with the force of his tugs. The move is enough to have Eddie seriously doubting the truth of his denial. He’s got a feeling trying to argue the point, however, would get him absolutely nowhere. 

“Just keep going.” 

So Eddie does, unwinding the fabric in slow, careful movements, tongue poking unconsciously out from between his lips as he pours all his focus into the task at hand. 

He’s just managed to get off the first layer when Steve’s body gives a subtle shift, the only warning Eddie gets before the other boy sways on his feet. 

The pair of them let out an alarmed Shit! in unison just before Eddie catches Steve around the waist, careful not to press against his injuries.

“Dude! Holy shit, be careful!” he chides sternly. “You’re not gonna be a damn bit of good to any of us if you collapse on the floor and conk your head on the side of the tub or some shit.” 

Steve lets out a humorless laugh.

“And what exactly am I supposed to do about that, Eddie?” he asks, sarcasm on full blast as he gestures weakly to his belly, body still pressed close in Eddie’s arms. “Not sure if you’ve noticed, but I’m not, like…exactly at full fighting shape here.”

Eddie rolls his eyes.

“That’s exactly what I’m talking about, man. Look around,” he thrusts out his free hand in exasperation at the empty bathroom. “It’s just you and me in here. So you can give up the heroic, stiff upper lip shtick for a minute, and just–I don’t know, hold onto my shoulder, or something. Jesus Christ, Harrington, scare a guy to death, why don’t you.”

Steve lets out a huff, but Eddie’s pleased to feel his body loosening beneath his touch, the line of his shoulders no longer so taut and rigid like he’s a warrior who’s about to be called right back onto the battlefield. 

“Yeah. Yeah, okay, you’re right, you’re right.”

“No shit I am, Harrington,” Eddie reaches over and bops him lightly on the end of the nose, “and don’t you forget it.”

Steve rolls his eyes. 

“Uh-huh. No one likes a smart ass, Eds.”

But Eddie can see the way the corner of his mouth quirks up into a private half smile. 

They untangle themselves then, resuming their prior positions. Miraculously, Steve does as instructed, settling a hand on Eddie’s shoulder, large palm warm enough Eddie can feel the heat radiating even through his leather jacket. He really hopes that’s not a sign Steve’s running some kind of infection induced fever. 

So Eddie returns to the task at hand, peeling back the last scraps of Wheeler’s shirt, he and Steve grimacing in unison at the way it tries to stick steadfast to his skin. 

With the wound finally free, Eddie hisses in sympathy as his eyes dart all over the bite marks beginning to scab across Steve’s stomach. They look raw and angry, bright red where all the skin has been scraped off or gnawed through. He’s seen his fair share of cuts and bruises, from brawls at the Hideout to scuffles at school, but nothing quite like this. 

"Shit, man. We could really use a Healer right about now."

Steve lets out a wry little noise of agreement, understanding enough.

“Guess that’s gotta be you, Munson,” he says, giving Eddie a jocular, almost apologetic pat on the shoulder. 

Eddie can’t stop himself from shaking his head, because Christ, this guy–all heroic, death-defying stunts and sarcastic comebacks one minute, and then big, sympathetic puppy dog eyes the next. He kinda can’t believe he’s even real, let alone that this is what the Steve Harrington is like.

Scrambling to cover up how awe-stricken he’s suddenly feeling, Eddie shoots Steve a smirk as he quips, "Admit it, Harrington. You just wanna see how I'd look in the skirt."

Idiot, Eddie mentally berates himself, posture stiffening the second the words leave his mouth. Just because you’re a sixth year senior, that’s no excuse to be a fucking moron, do not flirt with the former jock King of Hawkins High. 

After all, just because he's hurt…that doesn't mean he couldn't break Eddie clean in half if he wanted to, and flirting with a straight guy is practically a one-way ticket to just that.

So shock hits Eddie with all the force of an ice cold bucket of water dumped over his head when Steve simply huffs out a laugh, good-natured.

"You caught me," he sticks up his hands, like he's surrendering in a hold-up. "That's been my real plan all along."

For once, Eddie’s too flustered to speak, his mouth opening and closing a few times as he feels the distinct heat from a blush spreading up his neck, splotching his face and ears. 

There’s a playful glint in Steve’s eyes, then, like he smells blood in the water. It’s nice, after everything that’s happened this evening, to see them shine with something other than the foggy glaze of pain. 

“Oh, seriously, did I catch you off guard with that one for a change?” Steve leans a little closer into Eddie’s space, the corner of his mouth quirking up into a half-smirk. “What is it, Munson, cat got your tongue?”

Eddie finally recovers enough to shake his head and quip, “Can’t turn off that infamous Harrington charm for even a second, can you, Stevie? Bleeding all over the place, and you’ve still got it.” 

“Well, how do you think I get all the nurses at Hawkins General to take such good care of me when I end up there?” Steve shoots him a wink, being distressingly glib, in Eddie’s humble opinion, about the multiple trips to the ER he’s apparently got under his belt. “A little charm goes a long way, Eds.”

Eddie snorts. “Yeah, so they tell me.”

“Come on, man,” Steve waves a dismissive hand at him. “You’d know all about it.”

Embarrassingly enough, the mere suggestion that Steve Harrington finds him charming makes Eddie’s cheeks go even pinker.

He clears his throat, soldiering on quite valiantly, if you ask him. 

“Well, uh…Nurse Munson’s on duty tonight, and, in my totally accurate medical opinion, we need to get those scrapes cleaned up asap, big boy. No more dalliances,” Eddie wags a finger in his face, “and then I’ll think about letting you earn back your lollipop at the end.”

Steve laughs again. “Yeah, well, no way in hell I’m gonna miss out on that.”

But he stills dutifully, like he really is serious about being the model patient, earning back his treat. 

As he starts tearing open the alcohol pad, prepping for the next part, Eddie can’t help but shoot him a sympathetic look.

“Harrington–sorry, dude. This is probably gonna sting like a bitch.”

Steve’s grip, where his hand has settled back on Eddie’s shoulder, tightens, but Eddie refuses to shrug him away. As Steve nods his head, Eddie can see the way he’s clenching his teeth. 

“Just…try to make it quick, yeah? Lickety split.”

Eddie’s lips twitch in amusement from the dorky turn of phrase, yet another layer to Steve Harrington he finds irresistibly endearing. 

But he promises just the same. “You got it. Fast as lighting, that’s me.” 

Keeping his swipes gentle, Eddie begins to clean the wounds gouged into his sides. Almost instantly, he can see sweat beading on Steve’s brow. 

It feels kind of like a parody, of the handful of times Eddie had attended gym class, found his eyes lingering despite himself on Harrington’s glistening, Adonis-like form. Something inside him stirs, deep into caretaking mode, compelled to wipe the dampness away.  

He resists the urge, but just barely. And since there’s not much else he can do for the pain, Eddie figures conversation makes as good a distraction as any. 

“You know, I thought Dustin was full of shit before, but–you’re, uh. Totally babysitter extraordinaire, aren’t ya, Harrington?” 

“For all the good it does me,” Steve lets out a huff that’s at once amused and exasperated, and the sound is music to Eddie’s ears, breaking up the short, pained breaths from before. “Those little shitheads are total pains in my ass–but, I mean, somebody’s gotta keep ‘em alive, you know?”

“And that’s gonna be you, huh?” Eddie quirks an eyebrow up at him as he continues rubbing circles into his skin, doing his best to clean the gore and muck from the stretches that remain uninjured. 

Talking is helping distract him, too. Sure, he had patched up his dad as a kid, after a few jobs gone wrong, but, still–nothing that really held a candle to this. The less he thinks about the raw wounds spread out in front of him, the ones Steve is trusting him to help with, the better.

In honor of that, Eddie lets out a whistle. “Steeeeeve Harrington, big damn hero. Never thought I’d live to see the day.”

“Shut up, man,” Steve complains, and even though the lighting is low, Eddie would swear there’s a pink tinge staining his cheeks, “it’s not that big a deal.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, my dear Steven. It absolutely is. Total paladin behavior, in fact.”

The little confused furrow that appears between Steve's eyebrows is ridiculously cute. Eddie isn't sure how disgusted he should be with himself for what a lovesick thought that is.

"...Pala-what?"

“They’re like knights, basically. The D&D version. Championing a cause, protecting the weak and defending the innocent, restoring good to the lands. That sorta thing.”

Steve gives a short nod of understanding, his mouth forming a perfectly shaped oh. 

“I’d say the shoe–or, you know, armor, whatever–fits.” Still meticulous in his strokes with the pad, Eddie finds himself rambling. “Diving into that lake to protect the rest of us? That’s paladin 101, man. True heroic shit.” 

“I mean…it’s really not.” Steve shrugs ever so slightly, his lips tugging down into a small frown. “It’s what I’m good for, you know? Nance and Robin–hell, even the kids–they’ve got the brains part of this operation covered. They need somebody around to just…take the risks so they don’t have to.” 

Eddie’s eyebrows shoot up immediately at the implications of Steve’s words. 

“Well, well, will you look at that? Now who needs to cut himself a break?” Eddie asks, echoing what Steve said to him back in the Upside Down.

“Just the facts,” Steve says with a wan smile–parroting the phrase Eddie’s heard the youngest Sinclair use on the boys after she’s thrown out a particularly cutting remark, and not even having the decency to look bitter about it.

Eddie shakes his head, vehement. “That sounds like a crock of bullshit to me, Harrington. Don’t sell yourself short, not like that. You’re a badass, sure, no two ways about it–but those kids, out there? They’d be fucking…lost without you, man. Hell, when Buckley realized you’d gotten hurt? Looked like she was hanging on by a thread. They need you.” 

I need you, Eddie thinks, but can’t quite say it, his throat constricting anxiously around the words. Still, he catches Steve’s eyes deliberately, willing him to catch his full meaning. 

Sucking his bottom lip between his teeth to chew at it, Steve ducks his face for a second, dodging Eddie’s look. When he speaks again, it’s quiet but no less sincere.

“Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it,” Eddie answers immediately, a smile breaking out across his face. “I mean, what’re friends for? You’d do the same for me–already have, even.”

“Oh, so you’re saying we’re friends now, Munson?” Steve crinkles his nose in amusement, inviting Eddie in on the joke.

“Well, I mean…hell pretty much has frozen over,” Eddie replies, playing along easily. “Besides, who else but us is there to band together, give Dustin a hard time so his head doesn’t get any bigger than it already has?”

Steve inclines his head, smile amused, soft. It’s a beautiful sight, one Eddie could get used to seeing. 

“Can’t argue with that.”

As Eddie finally finishes up cleaning the last of the scrapes and bite marks, he can feel Steve’s eyes on him, following his movements. 

“You know, you’re not half bad at this,” Steve observes thoughtfully.

Discarding the last of the alcohol pads, Eddie gives Steve a cordial half bow. “Why thank you, my liege. That’s high praise indeed coming from the king himself.”

“Never mind, I take it back. Your bedside manner sucks,” Steve says, deadpan, rolling his eyes. Then, he jabs a finger in Eddie’s direction, “And don’t call me that.”

“Guess you’re just gonna have to report me to the doctor on the floor, then…your royal highness.”

As Steve reaches out to shove his shoulder, Eddie lets out a delighted cackle, dancing just beyond his reach. 

“Strike what I said earlier, too. There’s no friendship bracelet in your future, dude, not with that attitude.”

Eddie lays a palm over his heart, gasping like he’s been hit. 

“Not the friendship bracelets, Stevie! What have I done to deserve such a cruel and unusual punishment? And after I helped heal your wounds, too.”

“Yeah, well, the job’s only half done on that front, Nurse Eddie. Better get back to it, and then I’ll think about letting you earn back your friendship bracelet. Maybe,” Steve says, mimicking Eddie’s ultimatum from earlier. “And you’d be missing out, too, dude. Just ask Robin, I come up with the absolute coolest designs.”

“Challenge accepted, Stevie boy. Prepare to witness the best bandaging you’ve seen since Boris Karloff’s The Mummy.” 

Steve’s lips twitch, like he’s trying to bite back his smile. “Thought you were trying to keep me alive, Munson, not turn me into a Halloween decoration.”

Eddie clucks his tongue. “Such limited imagination, Harrington. I assure you–I can do both.”

Gauze from the first kit at the ready, he gets right to work unspooling it, giving himself a suitable enough length to get started with ease. 

Now that they’ve managed to jump over that first major hurdle and Steve’s injuries have been thoroughly cleaned, the full magnitude of the situation hits Eddie all at once. A wave of tiredness, bone deep, rolls over him as he presses that first layer of gauze against Steve’s side, and he can’t help but say, “This whole thing is–completely and utterly batshit insane. You realize that, right?”

Steve’s got his arms raised over his head, now, but the slight tilt of his eyebrow might as well be a shrug as he looks down at Eddie, the quirk of his lips apologetic. 

“You kinda get used to it, after a while.”

“Get used to it? Jesus Christ–” Eddie groans in disbelief even while he keeps his fingers steady, holding the gauze carefully in place as he continues wrapping it around Steve’s stomach. “Don’t say that kinda shit to me, man.” 

“Sorry.” Steve has the decency to look chastened, though not nearly as apologetic as Eddie thinks he should.

“Like, sure, okay–dark wizards and magic, that’s great for D&D. But in real life? Kinda prefer that the evil alternate dimensions didn’t eat a hole in the ceiling of my uncle’s trailer, you know? Some of us need a place to live.” 

Eddie’s practically hugging Steve around the waist by the time he’s stopped talking, ready to secure his handiwork. There’s a bizarre kind of intimacy to it, Steve warm and solid in his hold, and Eddie wonders if Steve can feel it too when he glances up at him, silent communication passing between them that has Steve ripping off a long strip of medical tape and handing it down without having to be asked. 

So, needless to say, Eddie’s a bit distracted, finishing off the job and giving everything one final assessment, when Steve breaks the silence with two totally nonsensical words. 

“...the pool.”

Eddie blinks, startled enough he straightens up and gives Steve a full once over, wondering for a moment if the bats had gone for his head, too, without them being any the wiser.

“Wait–what?”

“The pool, at my place,” Steve trucks on, that determined clench to his jaw. Not from pain, this time, but something else. “That’s what it was–well, is–for me. The place, where the demogorgon attacked. It took Barbara–Holland? Nancy’s best friend. The first night that we…”

He trails off with a shake of his head. 

“Well, anyway. It doesn’t matter. I’m just saying, I get it. Maybe not to the level of, you know, having your whole goddamn ceiling ripped out, but–the Upside Down, all this shit. It takes things from us. All of us. And I’m sorry it happened to you, too, but…at least you’re not alone?”

Eddie gnaws on his bottom lip as he looks at Steve, watching the other teen wince. Like he just knows it’s not enough.

But the thing is…it is. Steve has to know that it is.

“To be honest, I think that’s the only thing that’s keeping me from just, I don’t know–shattering into a million little pieces, or something,” Eddie admits. “The fact that you guys–” 

Embarrassingly enough, his throat constricts, for a second, choking off his words. 

“...that you’re here. With me. Especially Buckley and Wheeler and Little Red–even Lucas, after I was such a shit to him…and you. I mean, you don’t even know me, not really, and the whole rest of the town is practically lined up outside with Carver, holding pitchforks…but not you. Pretty damn sure I’d never have even made it this far without that.” 

Steve clasps his shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“We’re not going anywhere, man,” he promises, gaze steady, hazel eyes so serious Eddie doesn’t dare doubt him. “We’ve got this. We’ve got you.”

Eddie takes a chance, settles his hand on top of Steve’s, gives it a squeeze in return. 

“I’ve got you, too. You know?”

Steve gives a little nod, his smile warm enough to light up his entire face. 

“I know you do, man. I know.”

And, for a second, looking back at Steve, the hope floods in, and Eddie lets himself believe it. That, with this merry band of misfit monster hunters standing behind him, there’s no choice–it’ll all turn out alright, in the end.  

—

By the time they make it back to the living room–“decent” again, Steve having immediately shrugged Eddie’s battle jacket back on over his now freshly wrapped bandages, the sight of which had made something in Eddie’s chest immediately flutter–Lucas is settling down on the couch with a patchwork quilt while Dustin bemoans his fate, loudly, as he piles blankets onto the floor in something that’s steadily resembling a nest. Eddie guesses, when he didn’t immediately come back, the pair of them must have gone on their own journey to raid the Mayfield’s linen closet.

“We said best of ten,” Lucas is saying with a sigh, the picture of put-upon patience, “not my fault you suck at rock-paper-scissors.” 

“It’s a game of chance!” Dustin squawks in protest. “There’s absolutely no skill involved. How can I ‘suck’ at some bullshit game that requires no strategy.”

Lucas shrugs, unperturbed. “You tell me.”

The noise Dustin lets out makes it clear he’s gearing up for a continued argument–when Steve drops a hand on his head, distracting him with a noogie. 

“No one likes a sore loser, Henderson.” 

“I am not a sore loser!” Dustin huffs, arms crossed over his chest and lip jutting out in something that dangerously resembles a pout. 

“Au contraire, my dear friend. You’re right about that, you’re not a sore loser. You are, in fact…” Eddie holds up a single finger, Dustin’s face brightening in that moment’s worth of anticipation, “the sorest of losers.”

The blue streak Dustin swears up is worth it for both Lucas and Steve’s guffawing laugh. 

He continues muttering to himself, low-voiced and difficult to make out apart from something that sounds distinctly like traitors in my midst, as he somewhat viciously tosses more quilts onto the ground.

“Gimme that,” Steve says without heat, taking several blankets from Dustin’s hands and spreading them out, laying a solid foundation for a pallet that he quickly uses the others to build upon. “Now, come on, man, quit complaining and just…lie down.”

Given the fuss Dustin’s been kicking up, Eddie can’t help but be impressed that Steve’s instruction is enough to actually get him to comply. The powers of babysitter persuasion strike yet again, it seems. 

Or, at least…half as he’s told, since settling onto the pallet still offers plenty of back talk on Dustin’s part. 

“I can’t believe this. My theories turn out to be correct all damn night, and still I get relegated to sleeping on the carpet. How is that fair?!” Dustin huffs. 

From his position on the couch, Lucas’s only answer is to snort, shaking his head. 

Hand on his hip, Steve cocks a single eyebrow, shooting Dustin the driest of looks. There’s something deeply wrong with Eddie, he’s pretty sure, that he finds the whole thing painfully attractive. 

"Dustin, man, it’s not a competition. Besides…beats the floor of a Russian elevator," he comments, and Eddie has no idea what the hell that is supposed to mean.

Dustin tilts his head from side to side, as though considering. Reluctantly, he says, "...Agreed."

Nodding, seemingly satisfied, Steve lays down on one side of Dustin. Eddie does the same, following suit until they’re bracketing him like a pair of parentheses. A warmth settles over Eddie, pleasant and bone-deep, as he tilts his face to catch Steve’s eyes, staring back at him from over the top of Dustin’s head. 

"Scoot over, dude. Eddie doesn't want your pointy ass elbows digging into him." Steve nudges Dustin in the side, causing the younger teen to readjust with a minimal amount of grumbling. To Eddie he says, sotto, "Trust me, man, I know. Those things are like daggers or something, I swear."

“Are not,” Dustin protests, though the words sound drowsy, his eyes having already drifted shut despite all the protests about how uncomfortable he’d been.

“Are too,” Steve volley backs effortlessly. Eddie catches the look he’s giving the kid, though, and it can only be described as fond amusement.

“Thanks for the warning, kind sir,” Eddie gives Steve a mock salute, eyes sparkling mischievously. “I’ll be on the lookout for those deadly weapons being brandished in the night.”

“Can’t believe…ganging up on me…” Dustin murmurs, the last word trailing off as his breathing begins to even out. 

“You’re the one who wanted to introduce us, dude,” Steve argues softly, though it’s clear his words have fallen on sleeping ears. To Eddie he says, voice a whisper, “You believe this kid? The arguing never stops, man, even in his sleep.”

“I know,” Eddie whispers back, parroting back Steve’s own words in the Upside Down, and the pair of them share a pleased, knowing grin.

And it’s comforting, the thought that sweeps through Eddie’s mind once he’s settled enough to start drifting off, Dustin’s snoring soft between them, Steve only an arm’s length away.

They’ve got Henderson. And as for Eddie himself?

Well…Harrington’s got him.

[misswynters]

Costars on set

Tom taylor x fem!reader

[word count: 583

[a/n: @benjicotblckwood thought you might like this! >_<

[note | pls don’t just like, reblog & give me feedback. i don’t want to get shadowbanned

The set of House of the Dragon was a flurry of activity as you arrived, ready to dive into another day of filming. The imposing stone walls of Winterfell, recreated with stunning detail, loomed around you, adding to the authenticity of the experience. You spotted Tom Taylor, your co-star and on-screen husband, dressed as Cregan Stark, the formidable Warden of the North.

Tom looked every bit the part, his Stark armor fitting him perfectly, his brooding expression matching the character he portrayed. When he noticed you, his stern demeanor softened, and a warm smile spread across his face.

“Morning, Lady Stark,” he greeted, his accent adding a touch of charm to the formal title.

You grinned, feeling the familiar flutter of nerves mixed with excitement. “Good morning, Lord Stark. Ready to rule the North?”

He chuckled, his eyes twinkling. “Always. And with you by my side, it’s going to be a good day.”

The tension between you and Tom had been evident since the first day of filming. Playing Cregan Stark and his spouse required a deep connection, and the bond you had formed off-screen made your on-screen chemistry even more compelling.

The scene scheduled for today was an emotionally charged one, showcasing a pivotal moment in your characters' relationship. You both took a moment to discuss the scene, ensuring you were on the same page. Tom’s supportive nature always put you at ease, and you appreciated how he valued your input.

“Just remember,” Tom said, his voice low and reassuring, “we’re in this together. If anything feels off, we’ll adjust.”

You nodded, grateful for his encouragement. “Thanks, Tom. Let’s make this scene memorable.”

The director called for action, and you both slipped into your roles. The scene was intense, with your characters confronting the challenges of their tumultuous world while finding strength in each other. Tom’s portrayal of Cregan’s stern yet loving nature was captivating, and you felt the emotion of the moment as if it were real.

After a few scenes, the director shouted “Cut!” looking pleased. “Excellent work, both of you.”

Tom turned to you, his intense expression melting into a genuine smile. “You were amazing,” he said, admiration clear in his eyes.

“So were you,” you replied, still feeling the residual emotions from the scene. “It’s easy to act with someone who’s so in tune with their character.”

As the crew prepared for the next shot, you and Tom found a quiet spot to relax. He handed you a bottle of water, his fingers brushing against yours briefly.

“Thanks,” you said, a warm sensation spreading through you that had nothing to do with the set lights.

“Anytime,” he replied, his gaze lingering on you a moment longer than usual.

You both chatted about the scene, laughing and sharing stories from the set. Tom’s easygoing nature always made you feel at ease, even on the most demanding days. His ability to lighten the mood with a joke or a kind word was something you cherished.

Later, as the day drew to a close, Tom walked you to your trailer. The setting sun cast a golden glow over the set, creating an almost magical atmosphere.

“See you tomorrow?” he asked, his voice soft and hopeful.

“Definitely,” you replied, feeling a pang of disappointment that the day was ending.

Tom hesitated for a moment, then smiled. “Goodnight, Lady Stark.”

“Goodnight, Lord Stark,” you said, watching him walk away.

As you entered your trailer, you couldn’t help but feel a growing sense of anticipation. Working with Tom as Cregan Stark was more than just a role; it was a connection that deepened with every scene, every shared moment. The days ahead promised more challenges and triumphs, but with Tom by your side, you were ready for whatever came next.

© misswynters ‘24 - don’t modify or steal my writings

a/n: wanted to write something short for one of my crushes, tom 🩵

[erenthology]

Eren Jaeger x reader (drabble)

‘Did it hurt?”

you turn to meet his eyes, confused by his question. “What? it felt goo-“

“When you fell from heaven.” he laughs at his own joke. “God, Eren you’re so tacky.” you say, pushing his body from yours. “Girls love it.”

There’s the reminder you needed. “right. So I’m heading out.” His whole body turns, “where are you going?” raising an eyebrow, trying to pull you back into bed. “I have plans.” you turn from his grip and start looking for your underwear.

He stands up and and puts his jeans on, “with who?” his tone makes you falter a bit. He’s never cared about more than how far you’d let him go in bed. At least he’s never given any clear indication.

You hesitate putting your clothes on for a second before answering. “Just meeting a friend”

“And who’s this ‘friend’?” He’s standing right behind you now which makes you jump. “Jesus, Eren. you can’t creep up behind me like that.” He stands unaffected, waiting for your reply.

“Just helping a guy from my class with our chem exam.” He laughs without any indication of humor. “You’re kidding, right?”

You feel the tension rising and do your best to avoid it, like you always do. “I’m tutoring, dude. Let it go.”

“I just fucked you senseless into my madress and you’re about to meet another guy?” he doesn’t even know why he’s raising his voice. He’s not mad at you, he’s mad at himself for not having the guts to claim you as his.

Some people would call Eren arrogant, greedy, well, he kinda has the right to be. As the captain of the hockey team, he’s used to getting that he wants. that, and his looks. Flashing what he’s been told is a ‘very charming smile’ usually has him set for anything he wants.

Thing is, he wants you, and he thought he made it clear. I mean, are that blind to his advances? Other guys should know you’re off the market. He’s kinda made sure everyone knows. Except you apparently

The moment he raised his voice, regret filled his heart upon seeing your face. He feels he can’t stop messing up but the though of you meeting another man at when you’re giving of indications of being mad at him, is scary.

“Are you jealous?” You inquire, wanting to understand him. “I’m not jealous! It’s just..you’re mine.” even he looks confused as he says it.

You scoff at this, “you’re not my boyfriend, you have no right.” Maybe he doesn’t like the reminder.

He blocks the door with his body as you’re trying to exit. Frustrated, you sigh. “What are you doing? move.” you say, taking a step forward. “No.” he sternly says and means it. You bring your hand to slap him but he grabs it.

“We’re just fucking, right? so let me go, Eren. Let me go!” You struggle but his athlete body has no issue keeping up against you. “Don’t say that. you’re more than that to me.” At this, you stop fighting against him, looking anywhere but his face.

“I’m sorry.” You’re taken aback when he slumps his head on your shoulder. “I shouldn’t have mentioned other girls. It was a bad joke.” You feel heat rising in your face. “What are you talking ab-

“Stop. You know exactly what I’m talking about.” he exhales.

“I don’t unde-“

“you know I like you.” he interrupts, looking exhausted. You feel a lump in your throat and hate yourself for it. “How Eren? you never show me.” your voice breaks as you say it.

“I never show you? he almost laughs. “We spend every living moment together, I chase after you like a goddamn dog, god [name] how could you not see how infatuated I am with you?” he’s breathing heavily now.

Maybe you have been ignoring his advances. Maybe actions speak louder than words, or maybe, this is exactly what you’ve been waiting for.

“Mentioning other girls did upset me.” you decide to admit. This is your way of showing him you like him too, and he understands it perfectly.

“Yeah?” he smiles and you return the favor. “Yeah.”

“Want me to tell you how I jerk off to you and only you? Cuz I can get pretty romantic you know.” he pretends to be serious. Breaking out in laughter, “You can’t let a good moment pass, can you Eren?”

“Huh? wait, I can go into detail, I usually imagine you on to-“ you slap your hand over hush mouth. “Hush.”

He feels relief that you’re not upset anymore. Draping his hand over your shoulder, dragging you back in to his room. “You know, you look pretty hot when you’re angry.”

You deadpan, letting him go on. Eren explains everything so passionately, it takes a while getting used to. “I’m being for real. It’s hot when you talk back to me. Every time I look at you, you somehow turn even more beautiful.” he says in all seriousness, making you turn your face away from his in embarrassment.

he threads his fingers through yours, “don’t look away.” he murmurs, breathing you in through your neck, using his free hand to push your hips closer to his.

“I like it when you say stuff like that.” you confess, making him smile in your neck, scattering soft kisses up your jawline. “Then I’ll keep saying them.” He pulls back and thinks all the ways you make him fall into pieces, of the unsaid words he’ll make sure to tell you.

You carefully lift up your tangled hands and leave kisses up his wrist, taking initiative giving him the eyes. He lifts his face and locks eyes with you, message received.

Grabbing your jaw, he whispers, “wanna get fucked?” and you nod, teeth sinking into your lower lip.

Playlist

He runs his hand down his chest and twirls his finger in the air, “turn around for me, gorgeous.” You comply and make sure to graze your ass against his zipper, his eyes follow the movement and the air suddenly feel thicker.

“You’re a little tease, aren’t you?” sweeping your hair away from your back. He makes sure to take a mental photo when you turn your face back and smirk. You’re going to be the end of him.

“Strip.”

And so you do while his fingers trail from your neck down your lower back, until it’s playing in between your legs, “Jesus christ, this pussy.” His boner is prominent against you back as firmly holds you against him by your hipbone.

Wasting no time, he stops himself from making you come on his fingers and leaves a trail of wetness on your skin as his hands move away.

“You’re so wet, [name]. Do you like it when I touch you?” he’s being condescending. You hear his clothes hit the floor and excitement rushes through you. “I like it.” you exclame.

Taking a fistful of your hair, he brings his face into yours, capturing your lips with a promise. “Gonna fuck you so hard, baby.”

He pushes you onto the mattress and positions himself on top, locking his fingers into your hips. His touch is so rough, branding you as his. A slow grind of him entering you leaves you breathless, the stabbing pain of his size lasting for only a second before the rhythmical plunging of his cock turn into pleasure.

You lie weightless as his skin slaps against you, spreading warmth from inside out. He grabs onto the headboard and pushes even deeper, increasing the tension of pleasure with every stroke. It’s too much, you could swear he’s in your belly. Releasing a shriek, you squirm away, overwhelmed by pleasure. He grabs your chin abruptly, “you’re gonna take it.”

Running your hand down your belly, you stop to show him. “can feel you.” you breathe. His eyes follow your movement and the moments he realizes what you mean, he lets out the sluttiest grown and pummels into you with everything he has.

“fuck, fucking love fucking you.”

Throaty moans leave your mouth as he claims every inch of your body. He lifts your legs higher and leaves kisses along your foot. “Tell me who you belong to.” staring deep into your eyes, leaving you no place to hide.

“Y-you.” you hiccup as the force of his hips rutting into yours, moves your entire body. He holds you down, massaging your skin with rough hands. A pleased hum leaves his throat, “Yeah, and I don’t like sharing.”He’s so arrogant.

“Harder.” you plead, pushing your hands against his steel back muscles. A whistle leaves him and his face explodes into a grin, “a real freak aren’t you?”

You give him a lustful smile and he immediately obliges your demand and rocks his hips into yours even harder, skin to skin. Keeping his eyes on you to make sure you’re okay.

The way your eyes roll to the back of head head as you start touching yourself is indication enough for him. Each touch of his pelvic increases the friction against your clit . Your pussy is tightening up, spasming around his jock. And you feel his cock jerk inside you.

No words are needed, you both know each others bodies inside out. You come first and he gathers you in his arms as you scream and writhe beneath him, “shh, baby. It’s okay. so proud of you.” he whispers all tenderly, running his palms up and down your sides as you continue to pump his cock, making him release.

His head rears back as his cock jerks inside of you, spurting his cum into the latex barrier in between you. The high of coming together is like nothing else, his fist in your scalp and your hands scratching every inch of him you can reach.

As you both calm down, your rough markings on his abdomen turn into soothing touches while he inspect every inch of his handprints on your body. You’re a match to his flame, and he has no intention of letting you go.

“Staying the night?” he asks intentionally, this feels like a deciding moment between you two. “mhm,” you hum, “but just because your shirts are comfortable to sleep in.” you say, slyly.

Yeah right. “Had no intention of letting you leave anyway” he admits and gets up, throwing away the condom and begins picking out a shirt for you to wear. It already feels empty without him inside you.

“Hey, did you really have someone to tutor?” he asks, snapping you away from your thoughts.

“Yeah, why?” you answer thoughtlessly, making Eren snicker, “well you should probably let him know you’re not coming by now,” he reminds you.

“Oh shit.” you jump towards your phone and he just laughs, smacking your ass.

“best ass in the world.”

[spiteless-xo]

╰┈➤ aurora borealis — longing — part 2/5 ⋙ A snapshot over five years of how your relationship with Satoru Gojo develops.

ft. satoru gojo / fem!reader (minor hiromi higuruma / reader) wc. 7.4k cw. sfw but explicit content in future chapters - minors do not interact, explicit language, friends to lovers, slow burn, pining, sexual tension, sexual jokes, miscommunication, emotional cheating (not on Gojo), major character death, potential manga spoilers, second person POV

Previous ⋆ Masterlist ⋆ Next

2014.

Satoru Gojo.

The little flip your stomach does every time you see his name on your phone always makes you feel stupid, so you try to quell the feeling by turning your phone face-down and setting it on the table. You take slow, measured breaths to calm your heart rate before returning your attention to the crossword puzzle in front of you.

“Who was that?” Hiromi asks. He doesn’t look up from his book.

“Just a friend from school,” you explain with a handwave, but you return your hand firmly to the table when you notice it shaking. “Not even a friend, really. He’s one of Utahime’s friends.”

Hiromi hums but says nothing.

“It’s his birthday, and he and his friends always throw a big party around this time of year, but since Utahime is spending the holidays with Nanami, she’s been ignoring his messages,” you explain, even though you’re fairly certain he’s not listening. “She never liked going to his parties, anyway—she only ever went because of Shoko—but he doesn’t understand that. I don’t know why he’s messaging me, now… we’re hardly friends. He’s not even in the country right now, so I’m not sure why—”

“Which one is this?” he asks, surprising you with his attention. “The one that’s always barking at Nanami?”

You laugh. “Yes, that’s the one—Gojo.”

Hiromi nods, pressing his lips into a tight, thin line as he peers at you from his seat beside you. You clear your throat under his gaze and shift your chair away from him slightly.

“Anyway, it’s nothing,” you say, and look back down at your crossword. 

What’s a nine-letter word for easily upset? You write SENSITIVE.

Hiromi places his bookmark into the pages of his book before shutting it and setting it aside. He reaches over for your hands and takes them in his.

“Are you alright? You’ve been acting strange all day.”

You pull your hands out of his grip and lean back into your chair, crossing your arms over your chest and away from his touch. “I’m ok, it’s just the holidays, you know? It’s a pretty stressful time of year.”

He nods and then leans back, mirroring your pose. He stares at you for a moment and, for once, you don’t let your nervous chatter fill the silence, so he returns to his book.

Hiromi never pries. The two of you have been dating for a few months, after meeting at a networking event, but you feel like he’s constantly holding you at arm’s length.

Hiromi loves silence. He’d let it stretch on for hours if he could. But you are easily upset—sensitive—and so you often fill it with nonsensical chatter. 

You know this is a tactic he utilizes at work with his clients—most people are uncomfortable with silence. You don’t like that he uses it on you, too. You wish he’d initiate conversation with you more.

What’s a seven-letter word for severe suffering? ANGUISH seems to fit perfectly.

Hiromi is older than you—more mature and established in his career—so you’ve always told yourself that his standoffishness is a result of that. That’s the reason you were drawn to him when you first met—he had his shit together. He was somebody you could rely on. Someone you could see a future with.

You know he never listens to you when you chatter about your life. He just smiles and nods, listens just enough to seem engaged, but he’s never really paying attention. He doesn’t have time to hear childish thoughts about your immature friends.

Not even friends—a friend of a friend.

“Do you work tomorrow?” you ask.

“No, not tomorrow,” Hiromi responds. “You?”

“No, but I’m busy,” you say. You tap the end of your pen against the table, glancing up at Hiromi. 

You know there shouldn’t be this kind of awkward tension between a couple. This is supposed to be the honeymoon stage of your relationship, and yet there’s a palpable distance between you.

Reaching out for Hiromi’s hand feels awkward and forced. You pull back before your kisses can deepen. You’ve been intimate, but ironically, the act has always lacked intimacy.

You know something is off, but you don’t understand why. The two of you are perfect for each other on paper: you have the same goals and aspirations, you’re financially compatible, and you agree on everything regarding kids, religion, and politics. 

Six letters across, a feeling of craving something, and it shares an S in the fifth block from a previous clue. After some thought, you settle on THIRST.

Hiromi continues reading, so the silence drags on.

You set your pen down on the table and reach out for your phone, flipping it up to read the message on your screen. You’re still trembling slightly as you hold the device in your hand, your entire body feels chilly as you tilt your phone away from Hiromi at your side.

Satoru Gojo: you see the northern lights?

You feel like you’re doing something bad—like the message is a secret that can’t be shared—and although mundane, it has your heart thumping loudly in your chest.

You peer around Hiromi to look outside the kitchen window, but you see nothing.

You: no

Your thumbs hover over the keyboard, wanting to say more. Should you ask about the trip? Maybe you could say something witty about the most recent album of photos he posted on Facebook. But when Hiromi shifts beside you, you slam your phone back onto the table—face down.

“It’s getting late,” he says, closing the book and pushing it into the centre of the table.

The phone buzzes against the table, a loud grating sound in the silence of your kitchen. 

Your cheeks feel hot—even more so as his eyes scan your face—but his expression reveals nothing. You tense up when Hiromi lifts his hand from the table, your grip tightening around your phone as if he might take it from you, but instead, he rests his palm on the back of your neck.

Your phone buzzes again.

His warm hand gives the nape of your neck a gentle squeeze, but it does nothing to alleviate your tension. 

“Are you sure you’re alright?” he asks.

“This crossword is hard,” you explain quickly, moving your phone to your opposite side, away from Hiromi. “Do you think you could help me?”

He nods.

“Unquestionably the best," you read while Hiromi kneads at your shoulders. “Four letters.”

The edge of his lip turns up slightly.“ONLY,” he says. “That wasn’t too hard.”

“You might be right. I’m feeling a little off, tonight. Maybe I’m coming down with something.”

Hiromi nods in understanding and leans forward for a kiss, but you turn away so his lips press into your cheek, instead.

“I don’t want to get you sick.”

The chair scrapes loudly against the floor when he pushes it out, getting to his feet and gathering his things into his bag. You stay seated as he packs, filling his answer into the crossword and delighting in how it matches perfectly. You busy yourself with the next clue while Hiromi moves beside you.

Regret deeply, three letters. RUE.

You stand when he pulls on his jacket, patting each pocket with his palms until he retrieves his keys. “The weather’s been bad, recently. It’s good that you’re leaving early,” you say.

He hums in response, throwing the strap of his bag onto his shoulder and pushing the chair under the table. The legs against the floor make another loud dragging noise and you wince.

“Text me when you get home?” you ask, stepping after him as he heads for the door. You watch him slip on his shoes before opening the door behind him. A rush of cool air flows into your house and you tug your sweater tighter around your body for warmth.

Hiromi leans forward and you start to lean back, but his hand comes up behind your head to hold you in place. You scrunch your eyes shut as he comes close and presses a soft kiss to your forehead. He smells faintly of cigarettes.

“Merry Christmas,” he says, and then he leaves.

When you open your eyes, the door is shut and you can see him through the glass as he walks down to his car. You step forward and lock the deadbolt, but stay by the door until you see him step inside his vehicle.

You walk back to the kitchen table, reaching immediately for your phone to read your messages.

Satoru Gojo: no? Satoru Gojo: theyre supposed to be out tonight. go outside.

You’re smiling down at your phone as you read the messages. This time, you step over to the kitchen window and try to peer outside, but you don’t see anything.

You: how do you know they’re out tonight?

Satoru Gojo: been checkin the forecast for you Satoru Gojo: i promised you lights didnt i?

You: i don’t remember that

Satoru Gojo: :(

You laugh and flex your thumbs over the keyboard. You type out a message, delete it, and then type out a similar variation with different words. You’re trying to thread the line between funny and casual, and when you think you’ve finally nailed it, you hit Send.

You: happy birthday old man

Satoru Gojo: lol Satoru Gojo: youre really late

You: better late than never

You deliberately waited to wish him a Happy Birthday today. You didn’t want to seem too eager—too desperate.

But then Gojo doesn’t respond. The longer you look down at your phone, the more you fill with embarrassment. You scroll up in your conversation history, trying to determine his tone and if you’ve upset him by being late, but you scroll too far back and end up reading bits and pieces from old conversations you’ve had with Gojo over text. Stupid messages and little jokes over the past year that you’ve been in each other’s orbits. 

Gojo started texting you more frequently after he left for his trip with Geto.

It started with silly selfies of him at the airport, Geto drooling on his shoulder on the plane, the strange in-flight meal he was given… small things like that. But over the past few weeks, he’s been messaging you more and more.

You’ve started sending him pictures, too, when you come across something that reminds you of him. A fluffy white cat with blue eyes, cute pastries that look sweet enough for Gojo’s tastes, and sometimes even a picture of yourself if you’re feeling presentable enough.

It’s fun talking with Gojo. Every time you see his name pop up on your phone, you feel that same excitement you had when you first met him—that same giddy uncertainty that had you willing to follow him out of a window and onto the roof.

And you know exactly why you feel so guilty messaging Gojo when Hiromi is around—no matter how much you try to feign ignorance, you can’t hide your feelings from yourself.

You have a stupid, schoolgirl crush on Satoru Gojo.

It’s stupid because you know he doesn’t share your feelings for you. You’ve seen how he acts around the others—around Shoko, Utahime… hell, even Geto—and he treats them all the same. 

You’re not special because he texts you while he’s in Europe. He’s probably sending the same messages to all of his other friends, too. 

But you feel special every time you see another picture message from him. You feel special every time you see the words, this made me think of you, on your screen. And you feel special every time you see his name on your phone and you think about how he took the time out of his day to shoot you a message.

And then there are moments like this when you’ve sent a risky message—trying to thread the line between flirty and teasing and failing miserably—where you’re sitting with your phone in your hand, willing it to buzz with another response.

It’s moments like this that remind you that, to Satoru Gojo, you’re just a nobody.

You feel yourself start to spiral so you set your phone back onto the table. You take a heavy breath, suddenly feeling stupid and awkward as you settle back into your seat in front of the half-finished crossword. You move on to a new clue to try to distract yourself.

Come together, five letters, shares a Y in the last box and an N in the second box with previous clues.

You mull over it for a long while, doing your best not to pick up your phone again after your embarrassing fumble with Gojo, but after some time, your phone buzzes against the table again.

This time, it’s much more persistent, and when you flip it over, you see an unfamiliar message across your screen.

Satoru Gojo Facetime Call

You panic immediately—staring down at your phone in shock as you look back at your distressed expression in the screen’s reflection. It’s a mistake—it has to be a mistake—Gojo has never called you before. You’re not even really friends with him! Why would he be calling?

The phone stops ringing before you’re able to shake away your surprise and you’re left staring at the brick in your palm.

You jolt when your phone starts ringing a second time and this time, you press Answer, and the screen immediately fills with Gojo’s messy, white hair and big, blue eyes blinking at you through the screen.

“Why didn’t you pick up?” he whines, and even though you can’t see his mouth, you know he’s pouting.

“Why are you calling me?”

“Because I don’t believe you,” he says with a huff. “Take me outside, right now. Show me the sky.”

You try to feign grumpiness, but you’re so giddy at the sight of Gojo on your phone that you’re only able to muster a half-hearted scowl before your lips turn up into an embarrassingly excited grin. Your eyes dart down to the corner of the screen, where you can see your face, and you subtly move the camera to a more flattering angle as you head to the front landing.

“Fine, but I’m only going outside for a minute. It’s cold out.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Gojo dismisses with a scoff.

You slide your shoes on and step outside. Hiromi’s footprints in the snow trail from the door to the driveway, and you step alongside them, making your own trail until you can see the sky over the top of your house.

“See? There’s nothing.” You point your phone straight up at the sky, holding it still for a beat before returning it to your face.

Gojo adjusts the camera until his full face is in view and—yup, he’s pouting.

“Wait, really? I checked the forecast today and there’s supposed to be a high chance of seeing the lights tonight in your area.” He rests his chin into the crook of his elbow—it looks like he’s slumped over a table from what little you can see through his camera. “What a bummer. You still haven’t seen them yet, right?”

“Not yet.”

He groans, visibly disappointed as he pouts at the screen.

The two of you stare at each other in silence and, like before, you desperately want to keep the conversation going, but you don’t know what to say. You’re excited to see Gojo—really see him—not just a selfie, but you can’t think of a single thing to say to keep him on the line. 

Thankfully, Gojo makes up for your silence by asking, “Aren’t you going to ask how my trip is?”

“How’s the trip so far?” you ask, smiling goofily at your phone.

“Really good!” His face completely lights up, eyes bright with a big grin plastered across his face. “Suguru and I are in Lisbon right now and it’s a blast. They have these little custard pastries called pastel de… pastel de… de - de - de… ok, I can’t remember. But they’re really good.”

Gojo’s excitement is infectious and you find yourself laughing down at the phone. “You really like sweet things, don’t you?”

“Well, you are what you eat,” he says, smiling smugly when you groan. “Besides, that’s not entirely true. I like you, don’t I? You’re not sweet.”

“Ouch,” you say feigning injury.

“How’s things back home? Lotsa snow?”

“It’s not too bad.” You look down as you shuffle your feet, making little snow angels where you stand. There’s less than an inch of snow on the ground right now. “It’s been really mild this year—barely feels like Christmas.”

“It’s not Christmas without one of my special holiday parties,” he says, matter-of-factly. “You’re probably so lonely there without me, huh? Don’t worry, I’ve got plenty of time, we can talk until Christmas.”

You snort. “Don’t you have pastels to eat with Geto?”

“Sure, but he’s still in bed,” he says with a nod. “He doesn’t sleep much—insomnia or somethin’, I dunno—so I don’t wanna disturb him.”

“What time is it there?”

“Uh… like, five? I think?”

“In the morning?”

“Yeah.”

Gojo responds like it isn’t a big deal. Like you aren’t reeling from the fact that he’s up so early to make sure that you see the northern lights from the opposite side of the world. You try to simmer your excitement but the warmth that spreads across your chest has you feeling giddy.

“Oh, wow. I guess I did miss your birthday.”

“Yeah, by a lot—not like I care,” he says, sounding like someone who cares a lot, actually. He pouts at you through the phone and rolls his eyes and you quickly feel guilty about prolonging your birthday wish.

“What are you and Geto doing today?” you ask, hoping to change the subject.

He shrugs lazily, resting his cheek on his forearm. “Dunno. I doubt any stores will be open or anything, so we’ll probably just hang out here at the Airbnb. Suguru found this really cool apartment—once he wakes up, I’ll give you a tour. You’re gonna love it.”

It’s difficult to keep up with Gojo when he’s so energetic like this—but his eyes light up when he talks and you don’t mind listening to his nonsensical chatter.

If anything, it’s kind of comforting.

“Oh! And I got him the best gift this year for Christmas. Hmm, actually, maybe I shouldn’t tell you—hey, wait. Can you fix your camera? I can’t see you.”

You can see Gojo quite clearly, but when you peer down at the viewfinder, you see that only the top of your head is visible in the camera. As you look down, you see a notification pop up at the top of your phone, but you swipe it away quickly so it doesn’t block your view.

“I thought you wanted to see the northern lights.”

“Not when I’m talking to you.”

You adjust the camera until your full face is in view, again. Using the viewfinder, you fix your appearance slightly—brushing snow off the top of your head, opening your eyes a little wider so you look less sleepy, and changing the angle of your face until it’s more flattering.

“There she is,” Gojo coos, and the attention makes you want to duck out of view. “Wait, are you still outside?”

“Obviously. How else would you see the sky?”

“Aren’t you cold without me there to keep you warm?”

You scrunch your nose at him and he grins in response. His comment has another bloom of warmth spreading from your chest to the tips of your toes. “Don’t worry, I’ll head in, now,” you say, and you make your way back into your house.

Your cheeks sting from the warmth of your home when you step inside. You kick your shoes off and make your way back to your kitchen table, taking a seat in front of your crossword and using some miscellaneous junk on your table to prop your phone up. It takes some time to get it to sit properly, with you in the fame, but when you have it perfectly in place, you lean back into your seat.

“Is this your place?” Gojo chirps, ducking from one side of the camera to the other, as if he’s trying to look behind you. “Gimmie a tour.”

“No tour,” you say firmly, and you move the phone closer so Gojo can’t see the mess in your kitchen. “I haven’t cleaned up.”

“Aw, come on,” Gojo says. “You’ve never invited me over and now I’m way on the other side of the planet. You have to give me a tour.”

“Another time,” you insist, and he groans.

“Fine. But when I’m back, I fully expect a tour—no, I want you to invite me over for dinner.”

“I don’t know if my cooking can compare to the restaurants in Europe.”

“S’ok, I’ll eat whatever you give me.”

You laugh and shake your head in dismissal, feeling your cheeks burn from his words. “Sure, Gojo. I’ll invite the whole gang over for dinner so you and Geto can tell us about your trip—I’ll order some pizza, how about that?”

He purses his lips, pressing them into the corner of his mouth as his brows furrow. “Uh… ok, sure,” he says with less enthusiasm. Before you can say anything, he carries on. “So, whatcha got planned for today—err… tomorrow, I guess. Today’s over for you now, huh?”

“Yeah, I had dinner a few hours ago and now I’ve just been working on a crossword.”

“A crossword?” Gojo adjusts his phone until it’s propped up like yours and then leans down on the table with his arms crossed, resting his cheek against his forearm. “Tell me one of the clues. I bet I can help you.”

You laugh at his insistence and peer down at the page in front of you to read out loud. “The clue is: come together.”

Gojo’s brows shoot up into his hairline and you can see the subtle movement of his shoulders flexing beneath his white tee. “I can think of a few things that could be.” He grins wolfishly, running his tongue across his teeth before he says, “Give me an ORGASM.”

Your face gets hot and you duck your head to hide from his gaze. “No, that doesn’t work. There’s only five letters.”

“How many letters are in orgasm?” he wonders out loud. He lifts his hand from where it’s tucked under his arm and counts the letters out on his fingers, when he runs out, he sighs. “Ah, yeah, you’re right. What if we try CLIMAX?”

He counts that one out on his hand, too, just as you say, “That’s still too many letters.”

“FINISH? CUM? There’s two ways to spell that one, so make sure you try both.”

“There’s five letters, Gojo,” you remind him, too flustered to look up. “The second letter is an N and the last letter is a Y.”

“Huh? What word is that?”

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out,” you snort. “This isn’t an adult crossword, so I don’t think it’s going to be something inappropriate. Get your mind out of the gutter.”

When you finally look up at the screen, you’re shocked to see that Gojo’s face is flushed with red—across his cheekbones, down his throat, and even the tips of his ears that are poking out from underneath his hair. You bring your hand up to cover your mouth to hide your laughter.

“Gojo, are you getting embarrassed?”

He frowns, lifting a hand to pinch at the lobe of his ear as he looks away from the camera. “It’s just… it’s weird talking about this kind of thing,” he says, speaking slowly.

“You’re the one that brought it up.”

“I know, I know,” he sighs, and it looks like his cheeks turn a darker shade of red. “But I didn’t think I’d… I didn’t know you’d get so cute all of a sudden like that.”

“Don’t say that kind of stuff,” you say with a huff, looking away.

“Sorry, sorry,” he says, and when you look back he has his palm over his eyes. “You’re still dating whats-his-face, right?”

“Yeah, I am,” you say, feeling guilty because he’s not the reason why you scolded Gojo. 

You like it when Gojo flirts with you, but when he goes too far, it’s hard to remind yourself that he’s just being friendly.

After the reminder about Hiromi—your boyfriend—you look at the clock with a sense of worry. You had asked him to text him when he arrived back at his house, but you never got a message. He should be home by now.

You reach forward for your phone, swiping away from the conversation with Gojo to try to find your messages, and that’s when you see the unopened text from about twenty minutes ago.

Hiromi Higuruma: made it home safe

Breathing out a sigh of relief, you quickly type a message back to him, wishing him a good evening, before returning to your conversation with Gojo. He’s still got his palm over his face, but his blush seems to be fading away.

“He’s good,” you say, even though Gojo never asked. “We were hanging out together earlier today, actually.”

“Oh, I didn’t interrupt anything, did I?” he asks, peeking through his fingers.

“No, he had already left when you called.”

“Ok, good,” Gojo says, feigning a sigh of relief as he drops his hand back down to the table. “I don’t think that guy likes me very much.”

“No, he’s just like that.”

There’s a small thud from Gojo’s end of the line and you watch him perk up, sitting tall, and turning to look at something off-screen. He’s quiet for a moment, just watching, before his face splits into a wide grin. “Oh, hey, Mr. Sleepy is finally awake.”

“Satoru? What are you doing up right now?” You can just faintly hear Geto’s scratchy, morning voice and the soft padding of him approaching.

Gojo scooches his chair to the side, dragging another chair into the screen beside him as Geto settles into the empty seat. You watch Geto rub at his eyes—his hair is in disarray and he’s in the middle of yawning as he looks into the camera.

“Say, good morning, Suguru,” Gojo prompts.

“Good morning, Suguru,” Geto says, and Gojo rolls his eyes. “What are the two of you talking about so early this morning?”

“Gojo wanted to show me the northern lights,” you explain, and Gojo nods proudly in affirmation, “but I couldn’t see them when I went outside.”

Geto hums, crossing his arms on the table and resting his weight on his elbows as he leans forward. “Right. Satoru mentioned that he had been watching the forecast for you these past few weeks.”

“It wasn’t that long,” Gojo says with a chuckle, but you can see the tendons in his jaw flexing as he clenches his teeth around a smile. “Don’t say it like that, Suguru.”

“Right,” he says, lifting a hand to muffle a yawn. “Did Shoko drop off our gift yet?”

“She did,” you say, eyes flicking over to the closet where you’ve kept it hidden. “I was waiting until Christmas to open it.”

“Open it now!” Gojo says, nudging Geto’s shoulder aside as he leans forward into the screen. “I want to see your face when you see it.”

You leave the phone behind as you head over to retrieve the gift. Shoko had dropped off the box earlier this week, wrapped in white wrapping paper with a baby blue ribbon. You felt guilty about not having anything to give her in return, but she dismissed you with a wave of her hand.

“I didn’t get you anything either,” Shoko explained. “This is just from the boys.”

You bring the box over to the table, setting it down in view of the camera before returning to your seat. You rap your fingernails against the box in anticipation as you look down at it with wide eyes. It almost looks too pretty to ruin.

“Open it!” Gojo screams from the phone, and you concede immediately.

You tug the ribbon free and it unravels around the table before you start to claw at the seams of the wrapping paper. When your nail catches on the edge, it rips into the paper, allowing you to fully pull it off and onto the floor until you’re left with just a plain box in your hands. This box is folded shut, so you work carefully to pry it free as you hear Geto hissing from across the line.

“Be a little careful with it, please!”

You manage to pry the box open without upsetting Geto further and when you blink down into the box, you see a familiar-looking mug lying on the bottom, padded on either side by little, pink packing peanuts.

You pull it out curiously as you try to place where you’ve seen it before, while Gojo grins at you through the phone screen.

“Do you like it?”

“Yeah, it’s really nice,” you say, cradling the mug in both hands. “Thanks, guys!”

“I told you she’d like it,” Gojo says, nudging Geto in the side as he sighs. 

“Where have I seen this before?” you ask.

“It’s one of my favourite mugs,” Geto says, “but Satoru thought it would be better in your hands.”

“It was both of our ideas,” Gojo says quickly, pursing his lips.

That’s right—you recognize it now. This is the mug you reach for whenever you’re at Geto’s house, one of his random assortment of mismatched mugs in his cupboard. Your smile grows at the realization.

“That’s really sweet, thank you,” you repeat, and you set the mug down in front of you. “I’m sorry, I didn’t get anything for you guys.”

“S’ok, because you’re having us over for dinner when we’re back, remember?” Gojo says, grinning and you nod.

“Sure, that can be your gift.”

“Oh! That reminds me!” Gojo perks up, standing suddenly. “I gotta go grab Suguru’s gift, hold on one second,” he says before dashing off.

Geto laughs before propping his chin on his hand, smiling at you through the camera. “I was happy to see the two of you talking this morning. Satoru’s been wanting to call you for a while.”

“Oh?” you prompt, feeling your heart thudding a little louder in your chest.

The corners of his lips twitch up into a smile. “He’s been talking about you quite a bit since we’ve been here. He gets excited every time you send him a picture—like a little puppy.”

You smile, sitting up a little taller, and leaning forward toward the screen. “He sends me pictures, too,” you say, and your voice dips down into a whisper, like it’s a secret. “So, I send him stuff back if I see something that makes me think of him.”

Geto nods. “Keep it up, he likes it… he likes you, you know.”

Your cheeks burn with heat and you have to shift your gaze away from Geto’s knowing smile. “Oh, I like him, too,” you say, and the words struggle to escape from the tightness in your chest. “He’s a really good friend.”

“Friend?” Geto says, chuckling softly. “I don’t think Satoru sees you as his friend. You should’ve seen how devastated he was when you missed his birthday.”

Your heart sinks into your stomach from Geto’s words and you wring your hands together. “I didn’t forget, I just wanted to wait until this evening to text him! But I completely forgot about the timezone difference, so I ended up missing it.”

Geto blinks at the screen, pausing for a moment, before breaking out into laughter. “Do you think Satoru’s birthday is today?”

“Isn’t it?” you ask, feeling your cheeks burning. “Today’s the day he had the party last year.”

“That doesn’t mean it’s his birthday,” Geto says around his laughter. “Ah, that explains it! You were confused.”

“When’s his birthday?”

“December seventh.”

You panic—eyes widening as you stare through the screen at Geto’s laughing face. “That was weeks ago!”

“Don’t worry, he’ll understand,” Geto assures you, but you’re not entirely convinced.

“Why does he have his party so late in the month?”

When Geto’s laughter subsides he crosses his arms over his chest, smiling at you before speaking. “It’s something he started doing his first birthday at university. Some of the students would leave after exams for the holidays, but there were many who stayed behind and spent Christmas alone in the dorms.”

“So, he threw a party?”

Geto nods just as you see Gojo running behind him, sliding back into his seat with a large box in his hands. He grins over at Geto before looking at you through the screen, noticing your panicked expression. Gojo’s gaze bounces between you and Geto for a moment before he speaks.

“Were you guys talking about cumming?”

“Excuse me?” Geto chokes as you cry out in panic.

“Did Suguru help you with the crossword?” Gojo asks, breezing past your shared shock. “Did he figure out what the word was?”

“No, I didn’t even ask him,” you say, fanning your face with your palm. “Um, the clue is come together, and it’s five letters.”

Geto’s brows pinch together in thought. “Do you have any letters for it yet?”

“Y in the last position and N in the second position.”

He taps his fingers together, looking at you with pursed lips as he searches his mind for the word. “Have you tried UNIFY?”

You look down at the page—it’s the correct number of letters and it matches what you’ve already written down for the shared boxes. You nod in approval as you write down Geto’s word, “Yeah, I think that’s it!”

When you look back up, Geto is leaning back in his seat with a smile on his face.

“I would’ve never guessed that,” Gojo says with a huff, and then he places the box on the table and slides it toward Geto. “Here’s your gift, Suguru! Open it, now!”

You and Geto share a look of amusement before he starts to work open the gift. He’s much more meticulous about removing the paper than you were—careful not to rip or tear it at all as he works it open at the points where it’s taped together. When he finally peels the paper off the box, it’s in such good condition, it almost looks like it could be used again.

Gojo is practically bouncing in his seat beside him as Geto lifts the lid from the box. He peers into it with curiosity before his face splits into a grin—he falls back into his chair, laughing as he looks over at Gojo.

“You didn’t.”

“I did!”

You watch Geto pull from the box an identical mug to the one you have sitting in front of you.

“Where did you find this?” Geto asks, turning to look at you as you raise your mug to the camera to cheer him.

“Got it online,” Gojo says with a smug grin. “I know you were sad about losing the mug, so I got it replaced.”

“Why wouldn’t you give me the new mug?” you ask, and Gojo waves his hand in dismissal.

“Then I’d have to find something different to get for Suguru, duh!”

Geto laughs, cradling the mug in his hand and looking down at it for a beat before glancing back at Gojo. “Thank you, Satoru.”

“No problem!” he grins. “Now, my two favourite people have matching mugs.”

Geto wraps an arm around Gojo’s shoulder, pulling him close for a brief hug before pulling away with a smile. “I’ll go grab your gift, since we’re exchanging now,” he says as he gets up.

“I should let you guys go if you’re busy,” you say, drawing Gojo's attention away from Geto’s retreating form and back to you.

He frowns. “No, you don’t have to go anywhere.”

“Gojo, it’s getting late…”

“What time is it there?”

“Close to midnight—”

“Close? Or past?”

“Close.”

His brows twitch upwards into a peak on his forehead while his lower lip juts out into his patented puppy-dog pout. “Stay until after midnight, ‘kay? I wanna be the first person to wish you Merry Christmas.”

“You can do it now,” you offer, but he immediately shakes his head.

“Nah, it’s not the same. Besides, I still need to take you on a tour, remember?”

When you smile at the screen, his face glows to match yours. You cross your arms on the table and rest on your forearms, trying to make yourself comfortable. “Ok, fine. But after the tour, I’m going to bed.”

He grins and nods, not able to say anything more as Geto returns to the screen, settling into his seat and placing his gift in front of Gojo. It looks to be a small, white cake box with just a single purple ribbon tied around it to keep it shut. Gojo doesn’t hesitate to rip at the ribbon, breaking it open before flipping open the lid to the box.

“Pastels!” he cheers, eyes growing wide with joy as he looks over at Suguru’s smiling face. “I was just telling her about these—what are they called again?”

“Pastel de nata.”

“Ah, I was close, right?” Gojo says, turning to look at you and you give him a small nod in confirmation. He lifts one of the small custard tarts from the box and holds it up for you to see. “Look—it’s made of egg yolks, that’s why it’s so yellow.”

You smile watching Gojo bring the treat to his mouth, opening wide and taking a bite of the tart with a lecherous moan. His eyes roll back into his head and he slumps to the side, his cheek pressing into Geto’s shoulder as he chews the treat.

“Thanks, Suguru,” he says with food in his mouth.

Geto chuckles and shoves Gojo off of him before standing up from his seat. “Enjoy your treats, Satoru, but I’m going to make myself a proper breakfast. I’ll leave the two of you alone.” He leans over until his face appears back on the screen and waves at you. “I’ll see you again,” he says, smiling one last time before dipping out of view completely.

Gojo stuffs what's left of the tart into his mouth before reaching forward with sticky hands to grab his phone. He lifts you from the table, holding you face-level as he starts marching through the house. You watch him strain to swallow the mound of food in his mouth before speaking, “Ok, quick tour time and maybe by the time I’m done, it’ll be midnight.”

You take a glance at the clock in the corner of the screen, “You have thirty minutes.”

“I can work with that,” he grins, and you can see a light dusting of icing sugar on his lips from the tart before he licks it off with his tongue. “Let’s start with Suguru’s bedroom.”

From what you could see in the background during your call, it looked relatively modern in decor, and as Gojo walks you through the Airbnb, you see more of what you expected. He keeps the camera facing him as he marches up the floating stairs to Suguru’s loft bedroom. It’s huge with an attached bathroom with completely glass walls.

“These aren’t the fancy kind of walls that turn opaque when the door closes,” Gojo says, before demonstrating by slamming the door shut. You can hear Geto’s muffled yell from downstairs, but Gojo doesn’t react. “So, he warns me whenever he’s up here in the bathroom,” Gojo continues, before making his way back downstairs.

He walks you through a small office, a second bathroom, and the enclosed kitchen when Geto is frying up some eggs. “Say, hello!” Gojo grins, panning around until both boys are in view of the camera. 

Geto just glances over at Gojo with a quirked brow and a smirk that makes you feel warm all over. Gojo ignores him and continues walking through the apartment.

“It’s bigger than you thought, huh?” he says, grinning.

“Yeah, I’m surprised. I thought the apartments in Europe would be tiny.”

“Right? I don’t know how Suguru found this place—costs an arm and a leg—but it’s totally worth it,” he says, before flopping backwards into an unmade bed. “And this is my bedroom!”

He quickly pans the camera around the room and you catch glimpses of his clothes thrown haphazardly across the furniture and the floor. You can’t help but giggle when you see a pair of his boxers across the corner of the TV.

“I see you cleaned up for me,” you tease, and when he pans the camera back to his face he’s pinching at his earlobe with his free hand.

“Well, ok… if you were here for real I’d definitely clean up,” he says. His eyes wander around the room, avoiding the camera, before settling on something off to the side. “So, how’d I do? How much time do we have left?”

“Maybe like, five minutes?”

His gaze snaps back to you and you see a devious glint in his eyes. “Oh, that’s perfect. You gotta see this.”

Gojo sits up in a hurry, taking you with him across the room and holding you up until the shadow from his phone casts across his face. The video turns black for a second and when your screen comes back to life, you see the clay tile roofs of the other homes in the area and a mass of blue water.

Across the horizon you can see the sun start to peek out over the water, spreading orange warmth across the river and into the sky as the sun begins to rise. Your eyes widen in amazement as you watch the lights sparkle across the water.

“Wow, Gojo, that’s beautiful!” you say, leaning closer and pulling the phone close to your face. As the blues and yellows colour the screen, you can’t help but wonder how astonishing it must look in person.

“Yeah,” Gojo says, his voice soft. “Really, really beautiful.”

The two of you sit in silence, watching the sun rise over the river. The whole sky seems to burn orange as the sun moves higher into the sky, reflected perfectly into the water below. You find yourself mystified as you watch it on the small screen in your hands, holding your breath as the sun peeks higher and higher from the horizon.

“Merry Christmas,” Gojo says, still out of frame. “It might not be as nice as the northern lights, but damn—it’s gotta be pretty close.”

You nod dumbly, still in awe. The sun won’t rise for another eight full hours where you are, and you’ll probably still be curled up in bed on your own when it does, but seeing it now with Gojo brings warmth to your heart.

“When I come back, we’re gonna have that pizza date, right?” he asks, and the screen goes black for a moment before returning to Gojo’s face. His skin is tinted with soft oranges and reds from the sunrise, his gaze soft as he looks at you through the screen.

“Of course, and I’ll make sure I clean up the place before you get here.”

He smiles. “It’s ok if you don’t. I don’t mind.”

Gojo glances away, back at the sunrise behind his phone, and you see his hand raise to fiddle with the hair on the nape of his neck before sliding toward his jaw to pinch at the lobe of his ear. “You know, I kinda… I like talking with you.”

You feel your cheeks burn and your heart jump into your throat. “I like talking with you, too, Gojo.”

“Satoru,” he says softly, his eyes flicking back to the camera. “I want you… I want you to call me, Satoru.”

“Ok… Satoru,” you say, but your voice is low like a whisper. You’re just trying out the word on your lips—it’s just his name, and yet, it feels so intimate to say out loud like this.

His face softens, his lips twitching upwards while his shoulders relax. “Yeah, like that.”

The pounding of your heartbeat in your ears has your fingers tightening your hold around the phone as you bring it closer to your face so you can see the sparkling blues of Satoru’s eyes, the darkening flush across Satoru’s cheeks, and the soft pink of Satoru’s lips.

“I wish you were here,” Satoru says.

“Yeah,” you say, “me too.”

[thewulf]

Emotionally Involved || Aaron Hotchner

Summary: Request - hi! can you write a hotch angsty / fluff piece based off the episode of s3 ep 20 where they go to NY and have to work with Kate Joyner and Hotch treats reader like how he did to Morgan and pushes reader aside bc even after reader being there for him after his divorce with Hayley and thinking there was something more but then ends in fluff? :)

A/N: Love me some Aaron Hotchner!! Here's a good old angst to comfort :) Thank you for the request anon! Also, sorry this took so long. Lost my CM inspo but found it again. Hope you enjoy!

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Y/N

Word Count: 3.9k+

“New York baby!” Morgan grinned giving your shoulders a squeeze as the two of you walked off the jet.

Shaking your head, you followed him down the steps and towards the SUV’s towards the end of the runway, “You’re far too excited Derek. It’s not like we’re allowed to have fun when we’re here.” You tried not to dampen his parade too hard, but you also didn’t want to get too excited to be here. The team had a job to do, and you needed to be on your A game, Hotch had made that perfectly clear to the team.

“Let a man dream sweetheart.” He threw you a wink before walking ahead of you towards the SUV.

The ride to the precinct was uneventful as the team chatted about the unsub and the profile. When you got there you nearly gasped when your eyes landed on Kate. She was a Haley look alike, that was for sure.

Her eyes never seemed to leave yours as she greeted the team and went through the case. You stood back as her looks turned to mere glares. The team was even picking up on it as Spencer nudged your side and sent you a questioning glance. You merely shrugged your shoulders letting him you didn’t know why she was acting so cold towards you.

The team got to the newest crime scene with concerned citizens watching all around. It truly never got easier to see the distressed faces and worry rampant throughout a community. A dead body laid there with a mere tarp covering his or her indecency from the crowd. A bullet to the head. It truly never got easier.

When you looked up at the camera and the position of the body on the street you shook your head, “With the placement of that camera, odds are the only view we’ll get of him is the back of his head.” You noticed speaking out loud as you were trained to do. Observe your surroundings and bounce off ideas with the team.

Kate wrinkled her nose before giving you a rather unfriendly look, “Let’s not be too quick to decide what we do or don’t have.” She spoke abruptly before walking off. All you could do was bite your tongue and give her a curious look before somebody spoke up from beside you.

“The duchess at work has spoken.” The cop from the precinct snickered before walking off leaving just you and Hotch behind.

Bewildered you just gave him a look, “Did I do something?” She was giving you and you only an attitude while the rest of the team caught a pass.

Hotch sighed before coming out with it, “FBI Brass has made it clear to her that if she doesn’t figure out this case she’ll be reassigned. And you are at the top of the list to replace her.”

You were sure you looked like a deer in headlights at that moment. You? You were just a low-level profiler who’d been with the team for a few years but nothing major. You were good, not great, at your job. You’d never really put much thought into promoting out of your job anytime soon. You loved where you were, the team, Aaron as your boss. It worked. And worked well.

“You’re joking.” Was all that spilled out of your mouth earning a tight-lipped head shake from Aaron.

He looked a little annoyed before answering, “Why should you be surprised Agent? You’re good at your job. People notice that.”

You shook your head, “I thought the Bureau was thrilled to have stolen her away from Scotland Yard?” Still not buying it fully.”

Your boss just shook his head clearly uncomfortable with the whole ordeal, “I don’t know. I guess the politics here are different. And as you can see, she doesn’t really pull the punches.” He gave you a curt look before walking away leaving just you standing there under the camera. What the hell just happened?

You stook there as the group reformed talking about the Tarot Card the unsub left leaving your mind reeling. Why in the hell would you ever be on a list to replace anybody? Was Aaron talking you up that much? Did Strauss notice you?

When you got back to the precinct Garcia dropped the bomb on the team. There was more than one unsub. The team was left speechless as discussion ensued.

Hotch spoke up setting the new plan in action, “Dave you and Reid talk to the agents here. Y/L/N and Prentiss, brief the police when each shift comes on duty tomorrow. JJ and Morgan you’re with me.”

You frowned not liking where the case was heading, “I think we should get out in the streets Hotch.” He’d taught you to speak up when you thought things weren’t right, so you decided to. You were a team after all.

Kate shook her head though, “I brought you here to create a profile.”

You noticed your team mates awkwardly looking away trying to avoid the situation as best as they could. They sensed Joyner’s dislike towards you. But you couldn’t keep your damn mouth shut. You’d thought Hotch would have your back, but you were surely mistaken, “Which we can give in the morning, and they can share with the afternoon shift.” You spoke back to her. It must’ve been more aggressive than you thought because Hotch just gave you a set of wide eyes as if to say, ‘back off’.

“We’ve allocated every extra man we have. This is New York City. It’s not like a few more people is going to blanket the city.” She spoke to you as if you were a child. A mere stupid child. You’d have normally shut up there, but your pride was hurt, you could admit that. She was attacking you, you had to attack back.

“I understand it’s a long shot Kate. But these guys hit mid-day.” You started to plead with her, trying to have her reason with you, “we could be strategic. Target INGRESS and EGRESS to particular neighborhoods. Position us near 14th, 26th, 59th…” Kate just looked away annoyed as hell at you. But you had to challenge her, there were lives at stake and you couldn’t stand it.

“Y/L/N, it’s not your call.” Hotch stopped you giving you the disappointed boss look. You gave him your best disappointed look right back at him. He was acting weird. You thought you knew the man. But maybe he was down bad for the Haley look alike. Maybe you weren’t as close as you thought you were. Some profiler you were.

Your pride and now ego was trampled upon as that just went down in front of your entire team. Giving a sigh through your nose all you could do was grab Emily’s arm and walk away. You had a police debrief to do anyway.

She just gave you a look as you walked away from the group, “What the hell was that?” She asked once the two of you were far enough away so that they couldn’t hear.

You shook your head, “Hell if I know. Let’s get this over with.”

She pursed her lips, “You good?”

Nodding your head, you opened the door to the room where they were all gathered, “All good Emily. Let’s deliver the profile.”

After delivering the profile and avoiding the curious looks from your all too nosey coworkers you found yourself walking back into the central office of the precinct with Rossi. You heard Hotch on the phone with somebody mumbling something incoherent.

“What’s going on?” You asked once you got close enough. Rossi grabbed at the back of your arm sensing the bad blood between you and Kate who was standing right next to Hotch.

“We’ve got eyes on one of them. Subway platform between 59th and Lex.” Hotch spoke clearly trying his best to stay calm. Calm always won out in situations like this.

But your heart dropped, “59th? We could’ve been right there.” You pleaded more with Hotch than with Kate. He simply avoided your gaze and looked towards Kate who looked frustrated with the entire ordeal.

“He’s got a gun! He shot her!” You heard Garcia through the phone.

Your heart broke even further. Did her dislike towards you get that poor woman killed? You looked down at the ground as chaos erupted around you.

“We lost him.” You heard the disappointed voice of Garcia through the line.

Frustration bubbled over as you let out a sigh, “We could’ve had that guy.”

“Even if we were on the platform. Odds are he would’ve gotten away.” Kate spoke up sensing she needed to say something, the case was beginning to run away from her.

“Maybe! But it was worth taking a shot.” You fired back frustrated that she wasn’t listening to you. You were used to working with a team that bounced ideas off of each other. Sure, Hotch made the final call, but he always included your ideas as a consideration, always. Kate just straight up would rather ignore you than consider that you might have a decent idea.

“We had every available man on the street!” She snapped back at you losing a bit of her regular professionalism. At least you were getting under her skin a bit.

“And we suggested to you that you use this very capable team.” Your voice was laced with irritation as you tried to break through to her.

But Aaron stepped in. And again, it hurt when he took her side over yours, “Second guessing doesn’t do us any good right now agent.” He looked at you, not towards her, you.

Fuck it. Might as well let him have it now, “Hotch, how in the hell am I supposed to look at these cops in the eye and tell them that we’re actually here to help them?” Your voice was laced with venom as you let your emotions take over. Fuck professionalism when people were dying because a woman didn’t like you.

“We’re here to present a profile, that’s what we need to do.” He looked at you so coldly you wanted to walk away. You might say something that could damage the relationship you’d managed to cultivate with him.

You couldn’t stop your fiery tongue that usually worked out in your favor, “I said to put us at those express stops, 14th, 26th, 59th and that’s exactly where they hit.” You tried to reason with your boss who was toeing the line.

He raised his voice needing you to tone it down, “It’s not your place to have this discussion Y/L/N.”

You raised an eyebrow in defiance towards your boss, “My place?” You noticed Kate looking the other way. She looked uncomfortable.

“You need to back off.” His voice was laced with that same venom you’d just spit at him.

You started walking backwards shaking your head, “We’ve got seven bodies Hotch.”

“Which is exactly why we need to stay focused.” He didn’t miss a beat as he kept his eyes locked on yours.

You did what he didn’t expect though. You cracked a smile. Maybe you were a little jealous, but you had to call out the tone deaf man, “Focused?” You walked forward so only he and Kate could hear, “From where I’m standing, all your only focus is on her Hotch.” Kate shook her head not really believing her ears.

“Take a walk, now.” He spit at you.

You simply nodded, “Sure, boss.” You waved to Rossi who looked equally as stunned at what was happening. He’d never seen you act so defiant. But then again, he’d never seen Hotch wrapped around one woman’s fingers so easily.

You walked right out of the precinct and down to a Bodega frustrated beyond belief. Unbelievable. Maybe you’d just torched your relationship with your boss, but he was being a real fucking dick to you. You were also being a real fucking asshole right back to him and her. You get what you give you suppose.

You’d found your way to your hotels bar getting yourself a nice cocktail and chatting with the bartender. You weren’t planning on going back to work that night, anyway, might as well get a little fucked up. Have some of the fun Derek so desperately wanted. But in the end you couldn’t. Wouldn’t. You were still on the job.

But you were interrupted on your first drink. Rossi spotted you taking a seat right next to you. You would’ve kept your mouth shut had it not been for the three drinks coursing through your system.

“I know.” You sighed as he sat down, “I was out of line.” You admitted knowing you were still partially at stake for the events that unfolded.

“You get a little too emotionally involved sometimes. I know the feeling.” He stated waving the bartender down for his own drink. Rossi was like the dad of the team for everybody, especially to you though. He’d taken you right under his wing once he’d joined the team. The two of you worked together well and he had a sense of duty to you. He needed to check in on his young buck.

You huffed looking up to him, “I just felt like Hotch was taking her side.”

“There are no sides here.” He stated simply watching you curiously. Did he know of the massive crush you were harboring towards the older man? You’d been so damn good at hiding it that it’d be a shame if it came out now.

You nodded your head, “I know Rossi.”

He didn’t let up, “Word is. They have an eye on you if SSA Joyner gets canned.” He stated simply. Your eyes went wide as this was brought up for the second time in a few hours on this case. First from Hotch, not from him, “People talk. But if she were to get fired it’d be because we didn’t solve this case.” He knew that’d be all you needed. You were competitive. Just like him.

“Rossi, I hope you’re not saying you think I want her to fail.” You took a bit of offense to that.

He shook his head, “Of course not. But I’ve never seen you push a superior like that before.” You raised your eyebrows thinking about what he said before he continued, “So, would you take the job?”

You shook your head quickly, “I don’t know. It’d be nice to be the one making the calls…” You spoke out loud trying to think.

“And dealing with the politics of running a field office?” He threw that question right back at you, “Doesn’t seem like you.”

“The B.A.U. wears people out Rossi.” You admitted quietly while sipping on your drink, “Look at Gideon. He was the best. And in the end, he ran away.” You looked forward and not at the man who was staring holes into the side of your head, “Hotch hasn’t even thought about cracking a smile in over a damn year! That man had to take a personal day just so he can have a conversation with Jack.” You groaned clearly frustrated, “What about you?” You asked, having to know what he thought. You’d just laid it all down on the line clear as day, “How many times have you been married Rossi?” You finally looked back up to see him nodding along with your rant.

“I get it. But I’ll make you a deal. If I think you’re losing it I’ll pull you out myself. But right now. I see someone who wants to get back on the job.” He looked down at the cocktail, “Or is there another reason you’ve gotten it nonalcoholic?” You looked down eyeing the receipt that exposed you so easily. He walked away patting your shoulder wanting you to follow him.

You’d suck it up. For the job and for Aaron. The walk back to the precinct was silent. Your heart was pounding as you walked into the room with the both of them, “Listen, about earlier…” You were looking at Kate, not Hotch, Kate.

She shook her head looking almost embarrassed herself, “You spoke your mind. I respect it. Let’s move on.” She gave you a half-baked smile, good enough for you.

When the case was solved it was too late for the pilot to take off, so the team went back to the hotel to prepare for an early flight home. No matter the time though you were always wound up after a case was solved so you made your way to the hotel bar that was open into the late night, thank goodness. This time you weren’t worried about being on the clock.

“You did well.” The familiar husky voice of your boss sent shivers up your energy depleted body that was still coursing with adrenaline.

Your eyes flicked up to the man you had yet to apologize to, “Thanks Hotch.” You looked away from him quickly before continuing, “I’m sorry about today, I didn’t mean to…”

He cut you off for the second time. This time much more gently, “It’s okay Y/L/N. It’s nice to see you so… passionate.” He almost broke into that rare Hotch grin you rarely saw since the divorce with Haley.

You huffed slightly not enjoying being teased by the man, “I just…”

“I know.” He must’ve had a thing for interrupting you because he kept on doing it, “I didn’t disagree with you, you know. It wasn’t our time or place. I didn’t want to step on her toes. It was touch and go there.” He admitted while taking the beer he had ordered from the bartender, “And then the explosion.” He paused trying to find the words letting you interrupt him.

You gave him a knowing smirk this time, “Are you trying to apologize to me Hotch?”

He bit his lip not having a damn clue in how he was affecting you rather severely, “I’m trying to say there are no hard feelings agent.”

You raised your eyebrows feeling somewhat daring. He approached you after all, “Agent?”

Rolling his eyes he gave you the smallest smile, “Y/N.”

You hummed finishing off your own beer, “That’s more like it Aaron.”

You, just like him, had no fucking clue what you did to him. You calling him Aaron? Oh, he was a goner. He didn’t want to admit how fucking hot he found you fired up in the precinct earlier on in the case giving your higher ups a piece of your mind. But he was your boss, he had to simmer you down before you really ruined your chances of getting promoted. As selfish as he was and wanted to keep you on the team forever he knew you were destined for much, much larger things. You were a natural leader, Aaron found that out quickly. You worked cases with ease and took on the difficult tasks without a second thought. He was constantly amazed by you.

This time he gave you an easy smile. It’d been a while since he felt good enough to smile. Maybe it was the weight lifted off their shoulders from solving the case to your casual flirting with him, but he was feeling good. Damn good. And as tired as you looked Aaron couldn’t deny how pretty you were. That easy gorgeous that never even had to try. He was enamored with you. As always.

“Is that a Hotchner smile?” You quipped not believing your eyes.

“Shh. Don’t tell the team.” You saw it grow just a little.

You shook your head turning your body towards him in the seat knowing he’d get the hint. Hotch was a top-notch profiler and he’d read you like a kindergarten book, with ease, “For the record, I’m not going to take that job.” You stated looking right at him seeing his curious reaction.

“Oh?” He looked at you with genuine curiosity hoping you’d elaborate.

You nodded, “Not ready for it. Have a lot to learn still.”

He let out a soft sigh of relief, “You may think that. But you’d make one hell of a unit chief.”

You grinned giving his hand a quick squeeze hoping you weren’t crossing the line with him, “Maybe in the future, yeah? I just wanna live for now though.”

“I’ll take that.” He grabbed at your hand this time holding it firm, “Have lots to teach you still.” He agreed with you hoping he wasn’t showing too much joy though his face, he still had to keep a somewhat professional composure in front of you. He was still your boss. For now. He just had to give it some time. He knew you were going to be something a little bit more special than just one of his employees. You were… unique.

You nodded, “I should’ve asked this sooner, are you alright?” He didn’t drop your hand, still holding it gingerly in his.

He looked down at his glass before looking up at you, “I’m alright. Thanks for asking.” He hummed hoping he wasn’t making you feel too awkward.

“Would you say anything if you weren’t?”

He shook his head, “Probably not.”

“Can you tell me if you’re actually okay? Your friend died. You were almost blown up…”

He stopped you for a record fourth time, “I promise, I’m okay. It’s adorable that you worry.”

Your cheeks surely lit up like a Christmas Tree on the holiday itself, “Somebody needs to. You’ll run yourself ragged.”

He grabbed at your other hand definitely crossing a line, but he just didn’t give a damn, “You don’t have to do that.”

You didn’t give him a second to argue as your replied, “I want to.”

He nodded flashing you that smile you saw early on in your career but was gone recently, “I’m glad it’s you then. If anybody is.” He admitted almost shyly as his eyes left yours looking away quickly.

You gave his hands a squeeze, “Just tell me if it’s too much Hotch. If I’m ever crossing a line. If I’m too much.”

He looked back up at you with the softest eyes, “You could never, ever be too much.”

“Too emotionally involved?” You pressed.

He laughed throwing his head back, “Rossi got to you I see?”

“He say the same to you?”

Aaron nodded his head, “He did.”

“That man will be the death of me, I swear.” You grumbled knowing what he was up too. He always said the two of you would work out and kept bringing it up now that he was single.

“You and me both sweetheart, you and me both.” He tossed you a wink before standing, “Come on, let’s get you to bed. We’ve got a long day tomorrow.” He held out his hand for you to take. Without a second thought you grabbed at it as he pulled you out of your seat. You were enjoying your hand being in his far too much.

“Whatever you say boss man.” You gave his hand a squeeze as he led you out of the bar and to the elevators getting ready for bed. The two of you sat in comfortable silence as two big cheesy grins coated each of your faces knowing something new was bubbling up between the couple. Something the two of you had been waiting on for a long time coming. One that you knew you’d happily accept. One you’d hope he’d embrace too. Little did you know he was ready to dive into the deep end with you, headfirst and all.

Aaron Hotchner/Criminal Minds: Permanent Taglist (Message me or comment below if you want to be added!): @loving-and-dreaming @kmc1989 @memeorydotcom @matisse556 @buckylov3r @taygrls @ah-blossom @daily-evanstan @hardballoonlove @14buddy22 @rosiahills22 @djs8891