#and maybe I’ll do something out of my routine this weekend

[em1i2a3]

Carry The Zero

Pairing: Bob/Robert Reynolds/Sentry (or The Void) x Avengers!Fem!Reader

Summary: You and Bob are sharing a room while the Avengers Compound is under renovations, which brings on a slew of new things to learn about one another.

Warnings: Semi Spoilers for Thunderbolts I guess because Bob is in here. Other than that there is nothing too extreme happening in here, it’s a bit emotional, but there is fluff in here, I would kind of describe this as a Hurt/Comfort fic than anything. There are mentions of abuse and there is also some heavy petting maybe? I mean, I’ll put that in here to cover my booty lol.

Authors Note: My second viewing of Thunderbolts truly got my mind racing for what to write in regard to Bob. Thought I would put out this lil blurb and probably add more to it later in another segment or something! Anyways! Enjoy y’all and happy premiere weekend!!! :)

Word Count: 6,784

The room wasn’t built for two people, that’s what you knew for sure. It used to be a storage space, at least that is what you assumed judging by the various filing cabinets that lined the area, the dented lockers that were near the door, and the strewn papers that nobody decided to throw away in preparation for the move-in. The only thing that was the saving grace was the fact that the place had a window that let you look out onto the city. But it still didn’t truly make up for the cramped space, even though they were able to shove two twin sized beds inside it and call it a room–which showed how effective their planning was throughout all the chaos.

The Avengers Compound was still under renovations after a security breach took out part of the living space, meaning everyone needed to be shuffled like cards in a losing deck. Room assignments were given unwillingly to everyone, and you had been paired with Bob.

It was weird to be rooming with someone who had the power of a million exploding suns as people liked to say, because even though he carried that on his sleeve sheepishly, his personality certainly didn’t match that of a person who could take down the entire world. He was shy, quiet, and careful, tip-toeing around you like you were going to snap at him at any second–which was not the case at all.

Compared to the other options you had you actually preferred to be rooming with him.

The first few days had passed in near silence. You didn’t talk much, you’d only go into your room to sleep or change, and when you would do something outside of those two things Bob would rush out pretty quickly, apologizing nervously under his breath, like he thought you were obligated to time alone.

He’d go to bed early, and you’d catch him reading beneath the awful buzzing lamp that was left in the room from before the two of you moved in. You never really asked him what he was reading because the title was always changing, like he couldn’t finish anything, or he had so much time to himself he was finishing books like they were snacks.

Then there were little things you began to notice.

He’d pace a lot, wring his hands in his lap, or pick at the skin on his fingers. He was clean, he never left shoes in the middle of the room, and always lined them up neatly under his bed frame, even yours. He would flinch at loud noises, like if there was a childish argument happening in the communal kitchen and things got too high in volume he would get a little twitchy. He was observant, and paid attention to everything around him–sometimes you would hear him talking to himself, repeating fragments of conversations from earlier in the day, like it grounded him in some way.

He had his routine and you respected it as much as possible, but tonight was entirely different.

You were coming in late from training, and a med bay visit.

The scrape on your shoulder wasn’t serious, but it was bad enough to have Bucky send you down to get checked out. It was standard–some antiseptic, a lecture from one of the nurses about being more careful and aware of your surroundings, and then you were released with a warning, and a fresh bandage. You were exhausted, sore, and annoyed with yourself for not paying attention and letting your guard down during a simulation, especially because the past few nights had been like that.

By the time you reached your floor, the halls were quiet. There wasn’t any bickering or discussions happening in the kitchen, nobody was lingering in the living room with post-mission jitters, it was just peace, for once.

You stopped at the fridge to pick yourself up a bottle of electrolytes, then paused, eyeing the row of them. You bit your inner cheek, and after a second of hesitation you grabbed another one for Bob, tucking it against you.

You figured he would be awake like he always was when you were on your training nights. You weren’t sure if he was just waiting for you or if he was just incapable of resting when you weren’t accounted for, but you never asked.

Slowly, you moved down the hall, twisting the cap off your drink with a wince when you strained just a little too much, causing the bandage to sting beneath your shirt. You gritted your teeth and let out a frustrated grunt.

“Gotta take it easy on yourself.” You heard Bucky say from behind you. You turned on your heel, seeing he was still in his training gear, also holding a bottle of electrolytes as well, “You’re gonna burn out if you don’t take breaks.” You shifted under his gaze.

”I want to be better, that’s why I’m training. If you got your ass handed to you on the field you would be doing the same.” He shook his head.

”No. I would be resting and seeing what I could do better the next time. Don’t come to training for the rest of the week, just relax and recoup, we’ll revisit your regimen when you’re better.” Before you could say anything he typed his code in for his room, and was out of your sight. You could feel your body seething as you turned back around to continue making your way down the hall. You’d seen it coming from a mile away just by the way he was watching you during the simulation but you never thought he would say anything to you like that. It just added another layer of annoyance as you reached your room.

You pushed the door open gently, careful not to let the hinges creak too loudly. The room was dark, which was unexpected, Bob’s light wasn’t even on. The only thing that was illuminating the room was the shimmer of city lights, casting silver-blue shadows across the floor.

Bob was in bed, lying on his side facing you, with his blanket tugged up to his neck. His face was soft in the low light–features relaxed, eyes closed. Sleeping, or at least you thought he was. You lingered in the doorway for a moment, squinting in the dimness of the room to see him a bit better.

His light brown hair looked a little messy, like he’d been shifting around for a while before finally settling on the position he was in now. You wondered how long he was lying like that, or if he had been waiting for your return but fell asleep in the process, and now you felt even worse than before.

You let the door close softly behind you with a gentle click, removing your shoes slowly, one at a time. Every motion felt heavier than it should have–dull with fatigue, and edged in frustration. You padded across the narrow space, keeping your steps quiet, with the extra bottle of electrolytes tucked against you, the condensation seeping through your training jacket.

You crouched slowly beside Bob’s bed, biting back a wince as your muscles tensed in protest, while you placed the bottle down on the floor, angling it so he’d see it when he woke up. It was a small, quiet offering, just something kind, a consideration in a way. You took your next moves slowly as you stood up and turned to your own bed with a tired exhale, putting the cap back on your drink and throwing it onto your bed. One hand rose to the zipper of your training jacket, pulling it down in a swift movement, teeth grinding while you pushed the fabric off your shoulders, feeling pain erupt from your ribs and shoulder now, the muscles pulsing with burning heat.

The cool air of the room hit your skin instantly, and your tank top didn’t do much to hide any of your injuries from the environment. Your back arched with the grating sting that came through you, and one hand came up to press against the bandage, making sure it was still on properly and not tugging at your skin. The ache was sharp and pulsing, and when your fingers came away damp, you already knew there was blood seeping through the gauze. You grimaced but didn’t consider making another trip to the med bay. You were too tired to care at this point, and it wasn’t something that would cause you to bleed out, so it was a morning issue to deal with.

You turned toward your dresser, collecting a pair of cotton shorts and an oversized sweater that smelled faintly of sage, throwing both articles of clothing down onto your bed with a soft plop. You rolled your shoulder gently, testing the range of motion in it with a quiet wince before reaching for the hem of your tank top, peeling the rough fabric up your skin carefully, trying to avoid the worst of the sting, though even at your slowest pace you could feel the movement pulling at the wound.

The cotton clung briefly to the tape of the gauze and the dried sweat that coated your skin before finally giving way, and coming off completely. You let out a sigh of relief, as you let the fabric fall to the floor, reaching for your sweater next. The bandage on your shoulder throbbed with every shift you made, but it was the deeper bruises scattered across your body–ghosts of impacts from the past few days–that ached beneath your skin like an echoing thunder. You glanced down at yourself, taking in the way they bloomed across your ribs, stomach, and hips, at this point you could see more bruises than your actual flesh at this point, and they were tender, dark and swollen. Maybe Bucky was right, maybe you really did need a break…

Your fingers curled loosely into the hem of your sweater, but you didn’t think to pull it on yet, you just continued to look down at the wreck that was your body, and the longer you stared, the more numb you became. It was easy to take a break but it wasn’t deserved, you couldn’t afford to make any more mistakes during missions, and you knew you weren’t going to listen to Bucky, you would keep training until your body gave out.

You closed your eyes for a moment, before lifting the sweater towards you, ready to retreat into its softness, ready to disappear and call it a night, but then you heard it.

A breath. Sharp and quick. You froze in your spot.

Then came the sound of movement, the shuffling of the blanket, the mattress creaking under the shifting weight.

Your eyes darted toward Bob’s bed instantly, seeing that his back was now turned towards you. His blanket was pulled up around his shoulders, almost covering his whole head, but there was tension in his posture now, like he was more alert, and less relaxed.

Another breath was inhaled, only it was thinner this time, and wet, followed by a muffled sniffle. Your brows furrowed, and you worked quickly to throw your sweater on without hurting yourself so you were covered up completely, before making your way to his bed, crouching down on the floor, keeping your attention fixated on him. His shoulders were rising and falling now in uneven motions, and now you were piecing together that he was actually crying.

”…Bob?” You whispered, voice soft and low, like if you made it any louder than the volume you were at now it might shatter him. You could see the shuddering in his shoulders halt at the way you said his name, and he pulled the blanket higher over his head, like he was trying to shield himself from your eyes.

”I’m sorry…” Your brows pulled together in confusion as you leaned against the bed a little more, watching the outline of his frame beneath the covers, seeing the small tremors still running through his shoulders. You bit the inside of your cheek as you reached out, your hand hovering for a breath before resting gently against the curve of his back. He was radiating heat through the blanket, but he was stiff beneath your touch, like he didn’t know what to do with the comfort you were offering.

“Bob…Why are you apologizing?” You asked softly. He took in another shaky breath, but didn’t answer. You let out a sigh, rubbing your hand up and down his back like your mother used to when you cried, trying to soothe him, to calm him as much as you could.

”I…I saw the bruises.” He said, barely a whisper. Your hand on his back froze for a moment, “I-I didn’t mean to look, I swear, I just-“ His breath hitched, realizing that you were probably throwing daggers into his back with your eyes, “I just woke up…And saw them, and I couldn’t…Couldn’t stop remembering…” He couldn’t finish his sentence, it was just too much, as another set of sobs escaped his throat. You could feel your gaze soften at the noise, almost like a piece of your heart was breaking for him, continuing your movements along his back, pressing just a little harder into the muscle.

“Is there anything I can do? Do you want some electrolytes or something?” He shook his head.

”No…P-Please just stay…” His voice was hoarse, cracking under the thickness that coated his throat from the tears. You nodded even though he couldn’t see you, staring at his shoulders as he continued to cry, curling in on himself beneath his blanket.

You continued rubbing his back, keeping a steady and consistent rhythm. The heat of him radiated through the blanket like a furnace on the verge of burning itself out. Every time your hand passed over his spine, his shoulders seemed to loosen by a fraction.

“C-Can I ask something…Kind of w-weird?” His voice broke through the quiet again, in such a timid whisper that you barely heard it.

“Sure.” You replied, hearing him sniffle again. There was a long pause, and you could feel the hesitation, like he was trying to put his words together properly so whatever he was going to say didn’t come off creepy. You continued to run your hand over his back, waiting patiently for him, watching his figure rising and falling beneath the blanket, still seeing it shaking. In your mind, you were worried, you hadn’t seen him like this before, and there was a moment where you considered calling Bucky or Yelena to come help you, but then his voice broke through the thoughts.

”…Could you…” He took another breath, “Could you…Please hold me?” The question came out strangled, like it had clawed its way out of his throat before he could second-guess it again. You blinked slowly at the request, not because you were unsure of your answer, but because the way he said it was so gentle, and embarrassed it caught you off guard in a way.

You weren’t sure what you were expecting him to say, you thought maybe he was going to ask you for a tissue, but this was something far more vulnerable, something you never thought would come from Bob of all people, even though you knew he was sensitive. Inside you hesitated only because you didn’t want to hurt him by possibly doing the wrong thing, yet your heart ached watching him break down beneath his blanket which at this point was drowning him because of how much he had curled up beneath it.

“Of course…Just let me change out of these training pants first okay? It’ll just take a second.” There was no response to that, just movement. He shifted towards the wall so he was giving you enough space to get in, still hunched over like he felt guilty for the area that he occupied. You quickly stood up, and made quick work of shimmying out of your training pants and putting on your cotton sleep shorts, which was probably the best idea since you felt him burning through the blanket he was wrapped in. You brought your attention back to him soon after, returning to the side of the bed, your eyes roaming over the lump that resembled his body.

With a gentle hand, you tugged the edge of the blanket down just enough to uncover the top of his head, revealing his light brown hair again which looked dampened with sweat beneath the illuminating city lights that shined through the window. He didn’t say anything, or protest being exposed to you, so you took that as a good sign to continue.

You slid into the space he made for you, careful not to jostle the cocoon he made for himself too much, and eased your bad arm underneath his pillow so your scraped shoulder could rest in a neutral position where your bandage wouldn’t rip off your skin completely. You pulled up the blanket slightly, getting in behind him, scooting closer until your chest met his damp back.

His navy blue t-shirt was soaked through completely, and it wasn’t helping that he was wearing long pants to bed either. There was a fear he was gonna pass out from heat stroke or something, but he had mentioned it several times that he ran hot in general, you just didn’t see it to this extreme. He smelled like a salty rain storm, or like ozone, it was something indescribable to you in those moments, but it was what he typically radiated, it was familiar.

Slowly, you brought your arm over his torso, placing your hand onto the hard plane of his sternum, the muscles beneath his shirt twitching against the unfamiliar touch that you introduced to him.

Neither of you spoke, you just laid against each other in pure silence, listening to each other's breathing–his trembling, yours steady. He could feel your hot breaths against his neck and tried to pay attention to it, as you pushed down the blanket a bit with your elbow to shed the makeshift shield from his body. It took him a while to compose himself enough to speak again, but when he did, you were hanging off of every word.

”…When I saw the bruises…” He rasped, “All I could think about was me. When I was a kid…” The mentioning of his childhood immediately felt like a blow to your stomach. He had said something about how he was raised in passing, but it was an off handed remark that nobody really paid attention to. You figured it was something he didn’t want to talk about, but hearing him say this only made you dread what he was going to continue with.

”After he’d hit me…I’d go over to the mirror, just to see how bad it was. I’d tell myself it didn’t hurt, even if it did, I’d just lie to myself, because I knew if I cried, he’d just get angrier. He was always in the mood to beat me up so when he had a reason I think it made him feel justified in some…Messed up way.” Your chest tightened at his words, thinking about how scary it must’ve been for him, and how terrified he must’ve felt not knowing when his own father would strike. You didn’t speak right away, but you did shift, sliding your hand up higher on his chest, so you could press your palm flat over his heart. His shirt was soaked there too, yet beneath it all you could feel the frantic fluttering of his pulse, like a bird rattling against its cage.

“I’m sorry,” You whispered, your breath tickling his neck again. He didn’t respond, though he didn’t recoil either.

“None of that should’ve ever happened to you,” You continued softly, brushing your thumb along the fabric against his heart, “You were a child, and you didn’t deserve that.” He let out a breath like he was trying not to begin sobbing again.

”You don’t have to say that.” You raised your head a bit, almost in disbelief that he truly thought that what happened to him was somehow okay or justified.

”I do, Bob.” You murmured, inching just a little closer, feeling your body screaming in protest as your injured shoulder moved the wrong way, causing you to hiss through your teeth. Bob noticed instantly.

”You’re hurting,” He said quietly with guilt sinking into every syllable.

”I really couldn’t give a crap about that right now Bob, trust me I’ve been through worse. You’re hurting right now too and I’m not going anywhere. Do you understand?” You replied back, your voice low, but lacking bite, not that you intended to have it sound stern or anything.

Bob shifted beneath your touch, slowly rolling onto his back like the weight of your words cracked something loose inside him. You adjusted carefully to give him space, keeping your injured shoulder angled away from the impact of his back pressing against your arm, even though the ache felt like white noise beneath the tension that was beginning to rise in the room. When he settled on his back you adjusted yourself so your chin rested against his chest, keeping your hand splayed in the same position over his heart.

His eyes didn’t find yours at first, they stared blankly at the ceiling, the soft glow of the city lights catching the shimmer of the tears that were still pooling in his eyes. Now that you could see him fully, you realized how bad things really were. His skin was blotchy, and flushed from how hot he was. His cheeks were stained with fresh tears, mixing with sweat that created this overall sheen on his skin in general, which made his hair cling to his forehead. A long, old kind of hurt settled over his face, the kind that hid quietly within the corners of a person.

He inhaled shakily, and every exhale got caught somewhere between exhaustion and restraint. You could feel the rise and fall of his chest beneath your chin, and it made you ache in a way that put a hole deep in your chest.

”Bob…” You murmured, barely louder than the sound of the city humming outside the window, “Look at me.” At first he didn’t move, keeping his eyes fixated on the ceiling, distant and confused, still taking in those short bursts of air. Your hand left his chest, bringing them up to his jaw, coaxing his attention with the lightest touch you could give him.

“Look at me Bob,” You whispered again.

Then slowly, his eyes shifted downward until they found yours. The moment his gaze landed on you, something cracked open between you both–it was quiet, and delicate, but present and grounded in the center of it all. His expression was drawn, and his lashes were clumpy and wet with tears, framing his shimmering blue irises.

The skin surrounding his eyes were raw, almost a blood red, like someone had scratched it and left their marks streaking down his flesh. You didn’t flinch away from it though, you just looked at him with such focus, like your gaze could settle the storm that was in him. You could see his lip tremble slightly under your gaze as he tried to hold himself still, tears brimming in his eyes again, threatening to spill.

”I hate remembering…I can’t stand it. I don’t want to remember this stuff…I don’t want to think about it anymore, and I don’t want you to associate me with being weak.” You raised your eyebrows, now raising your head up to you were looking at him a little better, resting your hand against his chin now.

”I don’t, ” You stated, watching a set of tears flow out of the corners of his eyes, swallowing loudly, “I don’t associate you with weakness.” You whispered, brushing your thumb along the smooth skin of his cheek.

”I associate you with patience…With overwhelming kindness, and with strength so deep it doesn’t even have to be displayed. You could burn the sky down…You could use all the pain inside you to destroy the planet…Yet you help, you listen, and you keep going. That’s not a weak person Bob.” You wiped one of the tears away with your thumb, feeling him hesitate before leaning into your touch.

“Y/N…I’m not right in the head…You don’t understand…You’ll never understand.” You shook your head, and sighed.

”I don’t have to understand everything to care about you,” Bob’s eyes squeezed shut for a moment, like the words that you said hit him like a truck. You could feel the tension in his jaw, as he clenched it tightly, trying to contain himself a bit.

“I used to think that if I could just bury everything deep enough maybe it wouldn’t make me feel so contaminated…But then when I got the serum…And The Void came…And that awfulness manifested into something bigger…I realized that it just wouldn’t go away. I’m dangerous Y/N…I’m not someone that can be fixed. I know you care, but I can’t risk hurting you.” You shifted closer to him, moving up slowly, dragging your chest along his. His eyes followed your movements, turning his head when you settled near his shoulder, feeling your hand leave his cheek.

“You don’t scare me Bob. You’re just saying this stuff because you think it’ll make me give up on you, but I’m not that easy to sway.” You whispered, reaching down to touch one of his hands, which caused him to flinch. He was already bracing himself, preparing to be pulled into one of your memories, but it didn’t happen…It was like…Things were quiet. Just pure emptiness, and the only thing he could see was you. He stared at you as you wrapped your fingers around his hand, seeing his brows draw together.

“H-How are you…Doing this?” He asked quietly, like he was afraid he was going to disturb the peace and get thrown into your mind out of nowhere.

”I locked it out.” He shook his head at you quickly.

”That’s impossible…It always gets in…” A small smile came up on your lips, hearing the disbelief in his voice, the way he was almost entirely taken aback by what you had just said. You leaned in a little closer to him, like you were going to tell him a secret, feeling his breath fanning over your face.

“Before I was recruited, I was part of a different team. Black-ops, kind of like what the X-Men used to be, but very much under the radar. It was just…Constant missions, we were a clean up crew basically, picking up the scraps that nobody else wanted…” You smiled faintly, the corner of your mouth twitching with the memories of your team, how close you all were, how none of you took crap from anyone…Similar to what you had now, just a little better because of the tether you all had between each other.

“We ran into a lot of people with gifts. Telepaths. Empaths…Stuff like that. Some didn’t even know they were projecting until it was too late. Others weaponized it. Pulled secrets out like stitches and drove people insane without ever touching them.”

Bob was still staring at you, eyes wide and brimming with tears, his chest rising beneath you in short bursts.

“It was mandatory,” You continued. “To train in mental shielding. Neural control. The discipline to lock down your own mind so tight it’s like a vault. We trained until our thoughts didn’t even echo. You learn to breathe around psychic pressure, to mask trauma with static, to reroute memories into dead space. You learn to feel someone reaching for you…And then cut the line.”

Bob swallowed hard, hearing the way you explained everything to him step by step, while still holding his hand, running your thumb over the back of it.

“I wasn’t trained to stop the Void,” You said gently, “But I was trained to stop something similar to it. And apparently, it’s just close enough.” You watched his lashes flutter like he didn’t know whether he was going to cry again or if he was just going to sink into the mattress and disappear entirely.

“…That’s why the mental noise isn’t so loud when we're alone in a room together…” He whispered under his breath, almost like everything was clicking in his mind, as his hand began to tighten around yours now, matching the same hold you had, “…Mental shielding…Who knew that would be the thing that makes everything go quiet.” You smirked at his comment, already hearing the tension in his voice wavering, feeling his breath sticking to your cheeks, shifting in front of him so your noses bumped slightly.

“Technically it’s still quite an experimental thing, but…It works when needed I think.” You can see his lip twitch slightly, drawing into his mouth just a little bit, as if he wanted to get a taste of your breath that coated it.

“It’s…Amazing.” Was all he could muster up to say, continuing to hold onto your hand tightly, like it was anchoring him to this quiet space in his head that he had not been able to reach since taking the serum. “…All I hear, and all I feel…Is you and I had no clue until now…” The sound of his voice made your spine tingle, and goosebumps raise on your skin.

It was shocking that moments ago he was this wreck, then suddenly it was like he was on top of the world. Maybe it was because he hadn’t been touched like this in so long, or maybe it was because he finally had a break from all the noise that kept draining him, you had no clue…But what you did know is how soft his eyes had become, and how deep his breaths were now that he was a little calmer, and not being treated like a threat of some kind.

You shifted again, getting almost unbearably close to him now, the fabric of the blanket sliding down slowly, exposing your clothed bodies to the silvery-blue light just a little more. Bob didn’t move, but his eyes never left yours, he kept every ounce of attention on you, waiting for your next action, hanging on every moment. His breath hitched when your knees bumped gently against his thigh, as the warmth of your bodies radiated like twin heartbeats pressed just barely apart.

Your noses were brushing against one another, and if you tilted your chin up by just a little bit, you’d be kissing.

��I’m glad I’ve been able to make it go quiet for you…Even if it’s not permanent.” A faint smile slowly appeared on his face–crooked, and trembling, but so genuine.

“It’s more peace than I thought I’d ever get…So thank you.” He replied back, his hand squeezing yours, not in desperation, but with something closer to awe, like he still couldn’t wrap his head around the situation that was happening in front of him. His breath brushed across your face as he watched your eyes roaming over his. You couldn’t help but stare at him, to take him in now that he wasn’t crying, to admire the person who was in front of you. It was hard not to lose track of time studying his features, and how they were just…Him.

There was a long pause between the both of you, a snippet of time suspended into the universe where nothing else existed beyond the narrow bed and the hum of the city beyond the window. His chest rose slowly, puffing out warm shallow breaths against your lips, and for a second it felt like he was hesitating on something…But then, he leaned in.

It wasn’t fast, or sweeping like he was trying to catch you off guard. It was careful, like every little millimeter he closed between the both of you was an offer for you to pull back, but you didn’t take it.

When his lips met yours, it was a soft, trembling brush of mouths that lingered more in intent than execution. He kissed like he was afraid you were somehow going to disappear, but you could feel how much he truly wanted this. His lips were warm, and slightly parted, and you could taste the faintness of tears and salt, still hesitating to go the full mile.

There was a moment where he was about to pull back, and that’s when you took the opportunity to fully lean into the kiss and throw logic out the window, just for this one cut of time

Your lips moved against his, answering the softness of his approach with something more certain and grounded. The taste of him was still there, but now it was amplified tenfold from how much more pressure you were placing on the kiss now.

He was stiff at first, the tension in his jaw made it evident, like he was unsure of what he was allowed to do, what he was okay to give back, or like he was bracing himself for the possibility of you pulling back before he could even try to meet you where you were at. But then your hand let go of his, and slid up to cup the side of his face, and he let out the smallest gasp of disbelief against your mouth. Your thumb brushed gently beneath his eye as your lips molded to the shape of his mouth with a tenderness that shattered whatever restrain he’d been holding onto.

Your arm shifted beneath the pillow, bending just enough so you could lace your fingers into his damp hair, pulling him in more with such grace that it made him groan. His hand moved to your neck then–his shaky fingers pressing softly just below your ear, his thumb brushing over the curve of your jaw as he located your pulse instantly. His touch wasn’t possessive, it was filled with care, and curiosity. He wanted to feel the warmth of your skin, the steady–or not so steady–rhythm of your heartbeat beneath his fingers, he craved to be closer to you, and every moment that passed was giving him the signal that you wanted that too.

He shifted gently, slowly turning onto his side without breaking the kiss, being cautious not to put anymore unwanted pressure on your arm beneath him as he wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you in until your bodies were flush against one another. You could feel the dampness on your sweater from his shirt, and your bare legs brushing against the cotton of his sleep pants, which only overwhelmed you more, knowing it was going to be a challenge to stop this from going too far.

His hand splayed out on your back, twitching against the fabric that covered it as you parted your lips for him, allowing his tongue to brush against yours with the softest flicker of hesitation, tasting you like he was drinking something sacred. The breath he let out against your mouth made your skin prickle beneath your sweater, and it only encouraged your response.

You angled your mouth to his, encouraging him to continue, feeling him follow suit in an instant, matching your energy bit by bit, syncing with the way you moved against him. When your hand slid further into his hair, and curled within the damp strands, gently tugging, he let out the smallest, softest moan–it was so quiet and desperate it sounded like it had been buried within him for years. It made your head spin hearing it, and it only made you shift yourself towards him even more, feeling his thigh nudging between your legs so the both of you can completely mesh together. It was such a subtle move, but it lit up every nerve ending in your body like it was nothing.

Bob’s hand slid beneath the hem of your sweater, craving the feeling of your skin beneath his touch. His fingers traced the small of your spine, barely putting enough pressure on it, yet he still managed to send shivers through your body. He was getting bolder, but kept his awareness at the forefront, like he was cataloging every reaction you gave him, terrified that he might cross an invisible line and ruin the moment.

You felt the muscles in his arm shift as he pulled you even closer, putting more pressure between your bodies until you felt every rise and fall of his chest, and his heartbeat pulsed through you. His knee shifted again, nudging further between your thighs, pressing it gently into the thin cotton fabric that covered your most sensitive area, eliciting a gasp from you now. You could feel yourself falter control for a moment, moving your hips just a little to test the friction that you wanted, and that’s when you both realized just how far this could go–and how close you already were to getting there.

His hand tensed against your back, and the kiss slowed down, until he found the correct moment to pull back, just a few inches. His lips were still parted, only now they were swollen and wet with saliva. He was out of breath, and you mirrored the same sentiment, as the both of you tried to even your racing hearts before they exploded. His pupils were dilated, and in the dimmed lighting you could only see a faint glisten of blue that rimmed the darkness that took over, the burn was there, the want was there, but there was the looming fear that you both were going from zero to one hundred really quickly, and that’s when regrets could be made, and neither of you wanted that.

”…We can’t do this…” He whispered, his voice cracking from being the first one to speak. You nodded faintly, your fingers still toying with his hair, reluctant to let go completely, but understanding him.

”I know,” You murmured, “Not like this…Not tonight.” You clarified. He closed his eyes, a soft exhale brushing your lips as his fingers twitched against your pulse point on your neck again.

”It’s not that I don’t want to,” He added quietly, “God I do…You have no idea.”

“I know,” You said again, running your thumb along his cheek, soothing the skin there, “Me too…I want to as well…But we’re not ready. Especially after being in the headspace that you were in a few minutes ago.” He nodded slowly.

”I don’t want it to be something that will be confused for a moment of distraction.” You stared at him, hearing how serious he was about it, “And I don’t want to ruin anything.” He added softly, opening his eyes again to look at you.

”You’re not ruining anything, we’re just pressing pause…And that’s completely fine, and it’s the best decision to make for right now.” He gave a small, nervous smile at that and leaned forward to rest his forehead against yours, “We’ll talk more about it later…But for now how about we just relax hmm?” He let out a shaky breath, the heat from it hitting your lips and invading your mouth for just a split second.

”Yeah…I’d like that.” You smiled faintly, as your bodies untangled just a bit from one another, removing the both of you from the intimate position you had found yourself in moments before. His knee shifted out from between your legs, and rested against them instead, letting the tension unravel and disappear slowly.

He wrapped both arms around you now, carefully noting your injury, and you folded yourself into his chest, letting your hand rest on his ribs as he pulled the blanket up to shield the both of you.

You both stayed there, nose to nose, breath to breath, hearts beating unevenly against one another until sleep came over you like a harsh wave.

[verstappenverse]

Can you do one where max is teaching reader how to sim race and is really bad but when max is gone to races reader is secretly using his sim setup to get better and one day reader surprises max showing they got better? I feel like this made no sense 😭 I really love your writing thought you could make this idea come to mind 🫶🏻❤️

Ghost Laps

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Reader

Summary: What starts as Max teasing you over your terrible sim racing attempts turns into a secret mission to impress him. (Requested)

1.8k words / Alternate Scene / Masterlist

You’re awful at this. Comically bad. You spin out in the first corner, crash into a wall in the second, and somehow end up driving in the wrong direction before Max can even stop laughing.

“I just don’t get it,” you groan, half-laughing, half-threatening to throw the wheel across the room. “How am I already off track? I haven’t even hit the first corner yet!”

From the couch behind you, Max chuckles. He’s draped lazily across the cushions, an arm slung over the backrest and one leg bouncing with idle amusement. “You missed your braking point again,” he says, far too calmly for someone witnessing you virtually crash for the third time in five minutes.

“Maybe if you gave better instructions—”

“You’re the one who missed the turn,” he deadpans.

You spin around in the seat to glare at him, cheeks warm. “Because you said left while pointing right!.”

Max bites back a grin, eyes crinkling. “Come on, you can figure it out. You’ve watched me race a million times.”

“You don’t watch Gordon Ramsay and magically become a chef,” you shoot back, gesturing wildly to the sim setup. “This thing is terrifying. Why is it so sensitive?.”

Max gets up and saunters over with that usual quiet confidence that borders on cocky. He rests his hand on your shoulder and leans down, his voice lower now. “I think you’d rather argue with me than try again.”

You tilt your head up, lips quirking. “Oh because you’re so patient and humble when I spin off into a wall.”

Max laughs, soft and warm. “Alright, fair. But you’re doing better than you think.”

“Really?”

He hesitates. Then lies. “Sure.”

You shove his hand off your shoulder, laughing. “You’re the worst.”

“Okay, maybe this is not my calling,” you mutter, yanking off the headset.

Max kisses your temple, still smirking. “Told you. But hey, it was cute watching you try.”

You should be annoyed, but you know he’s not actually trying to mock you and it’s impossible to stay mad when he looks at you like that, so instead you lean into his side and grin.

“I’ll find a different hobby,” you say.

But later, when he leaves for the next Grand Prix weekend something tugs at you. You find yourself staring at the sim rig after he goes. You are bad at it. Really bad. But maybe not hopeless. And Max, for all his teasing, had been annoyingly kind about it.

The screens glow in standby mode, waiting. Your fingers hover over the power switch.

Just one lap.

That’s how it starts.

You drive.

You crash.

You swear.

You adjust the pedals, crack your knuckles, and whisper to yourself: don’t spin it this time.

And you try again.

Max's sim rig is intimidating, and you know it’s expensive, plus it’s precise and utterly punishing. You don't dare touch his settings, so you make do. One YouTube tutorial turns into five that tuns into ten. Then you’re watching old onboards, listening to the pitch of engine sounds like you actually know what you’re doing. You’re scouring the web late into the night researching for any tips or tricks you can find.

You stop crashing by Day 4. By the end of the week, you can finish a lap. A clean one. You start setting decent lap times by Day 9. By Day 12, you’re doing consistent laps

Two weeks in, you're chasing ghosts. Literally, you race against Max’s stored ghost laps on Spa, watching the glowing blue car pull away in Sector 2 and vowing to close the gap. Every night after work it's a routine, tie your hair up, grab a water bottle, and boot up iRacing like you're training for something. You even start logging your lap times in your notes app like a serious amateur.

It becomes your own secret ritual. A way of being close to him when he’s away that doesn’t hurt so much.

Max texts you in bursts during the two week. Voice notes between debriefs, a quick facetime from the paddock, a few rants about tyre degradation and setup frustrations. He always asks how you’re doing, what you’re up to, and every time you somehow manage not to mention the hours you’re now secretly spending in his sim.

Can’t believe it’s been two weeks since you traumatised the virtual car. time flies. would 100% pay to watch it again.

You’re grinning when you read that one, but you keep the secret anyway.

You don’t know why you’re keeping it a secret. Maybe it’s because it started as a bit of fun, or maybe it’s because you want to surprise him. But part of you also just wants to do something for yourself. Just to prove you can.

He comes home on a Monday.

His flight arrives at midnight, and you meet him at the door, hair a mess from waiting up and eyes barely open. He’s still in his team hoodie, duffel bag slung over one shoulder, and when he sees you, he drops everything just to pull you into a hug.

“I missed you,” he murmurs against your hair.

He looks exhausted, eyes rimmed with fatigue, but he’s smiling like he’s never been happier to be home. You help him carry his stuff inside, and once he’s showered and curled up beside you in bed, he finally asks:

“So… do I get another performance on the sim this week?” Max grins, nudging your side. “Could use a good laugh.”

You shrug casually. “Might’ve had a little go while you were away.”

That gets his attention. He sits up slightly. “Wait, seriously?”

You toss him a look, still deliberately casual. “You were gone, I was bored. Figured I’d mess around a bit without the peanut gallery laughing this time.” You narrow your eyes at him, just for emphasis.

“I never laughed at you,” he insists, way too fast.

You raise a brow. “Max, you wheezed. I thought you were going to pass out.”

He winces, then grins. “Okay… maybe a little.”

Your heart stutters, but you smother it with a smirk. “Wanna see or not?”

His brows draw together, curious now. “Right now?”

You’re already sliding out of bed. “Come on champ.”

You lead him to the sim, flick on the lights, and sit down in the chair. The screens flicker to life, the whirring of the pedals and wheel now familiar.

Max watches from behind you, arms crossed, leaning against the chair but sweatpants and a sleepy smile.

“Alright Verstappen,” you say. “Watch and learn.”

You load into Austria. Red Bull Ring. Home turf.

The loading screen fades, and you place your hands on the wheel. Your shoulders relax. You take a breath.

And then you start.

He doesn’t speak at first. Just watches.

You hit turn one with precision, clipping the apex just right. Brake late into turn three, hold your nerve through the uphill. You’re smooth on throttle. Confident in your braking points. Sector by sector, you thread the lap with a rhythm that feels second nature, because it is now.

By the time you cross the line, Max is no longer smiling. He’s blinking at you like you’ve just grown a second head. He’s still now, standing upright. Eyes fixed on the screen. His smile has slipped into something else entirely, something bordering on disbelief.

You spin around in your seat, heart pounding, breath a little tight in your chest. “Surprised?”

“What the fuck?” he breathes.

You laugh, unable to hold it back. “That bad?”

“That good,” he mutters, eyes flicking from you to the sim, then back again. “That was… really good.”

You beam. “No crashing this time.”

“That was more than just not crashing. That was… I mean you nailed every corner.” He cuts himself off, watching the replay. “You practiced this much?”

You nod, a little shy now. “Every day whilr you were gone.”

His brows shoot up. “Every day?”

“Morning. Night. Whenever I had time.” You shrug, trying not to sound self-conscious. “Just wanted to see if I could do it.”

Max stares at you. Then at the sim. Then back at you.

“You practiced,” he says again, but this time it’s not disbelief. It’s something closer to delight.

“While you were away, yeah.” you repeat, gentler.

He glances at the sim again, then back to you, voice almost reverent. “You used my rig.”

“Every day.”

He narrows his eyes. “Did you change the settings?”

“I never touched your settings,” you say quickly, hands raised in mock surrender. “I'm not suicidal.”

Max laughs, breathless. “Holy shit.”

You grin, smug. “Wanna see how good I am?”

He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he reaches out and cups your face in his hands, his touch suddenly soft, steady.

“You’re insane,” he murmurs, eyes searching yours.

“Thank you,”

“I love it.” He pauses, then adds, quieter now, “And I’m sorry if I ever made you feel bad. I was just messing around, but if I made you feel silly—”

“You didn’t,” you say, but he presses on, voice rougher now.

“I love you and I love that you care about something I care about. That you even tried. That means more than you think.”

Your cheeks flush, but you lean into his touch, heart thudding.

“Maybe I wanted to impress you,” you admit.

He grins. “Well consider me impressed. And slightly terrified.”

You laugh. “Terrified?”

Max kisses your forehead. “Yeah. If you’re this good already, you’re gonna start beating my lap times soon.”

He pauses after that, smile softening, something quieter flickering behind his eyes. Pride. Admiration. Maybe even awe.

Then, without a word, he takes your hand and pulls you gently up. He slides into the rig like it’s second nature then reaches for you again, tugging you back down into his lap. His arms wrap securely around your waist, chin settling on your shoulder.

“You know,” he murmurs, voice low and lazy against your neck, “we should do a proper race. Side by side. Full setup. Winner picks dinner for a week.”

You raise a brow, fighting your smile. “You sure? I am pretty good now.”

“I’ll just punt you into turn one,” he says, without an ounce of shame.

You gasp, dramatic. “Cheater.”

“Champion,” he corrects with a wink, far too pleased with himself.

You laugh, loud and honest, your head tipping back against his shoulder. The sound vibrates between you, soft and full of affection. You don’t move right away content to just sit there, cocooned in the moment. The hum of the rig beneath you, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your back, the smell of his shampoo and the way he still hasn’t stopped touching you.

Maybe it started as a joke. A way to prove something to yourself.

But now?

Now it’s just another thing you love doing together. Another reason to love him. Another way he loves you.

Taglist: @shigarika @bunnisplayground @thecoolpotatohologram @ymrereads @alexxavicry @gigglepre @esw1012 @satorinnie @percysaidnever @osclerc @sainzluvrr @autumn242 @shadowreader07 @joyfulpandamiracle @inmynotes63 @athanasia-day @embonbon @waterdeeply @shadowsoundeffects13 @fastandcurious16 @odegaardlia @skzvibes-blog @iambored24601 @e10owmaks @painfromblues @brokenvines-wiltingflowers @leto-twins-3107 @rxx-eegh @treatallwithkindness @lewishamiltonismybf @mara1999 @armystay89 @ramonaflwsr @zazima @valevv30 @mischiefmxnxgedhp @yoonessa @wordskeeper @freyathehuntress @brumstappen @irenkaproszepana @butterkaput @lenamds @blueskies4everxo

[itwillbethescarletwitch]

Call Me When You Fix Your Attitude 

Lando Norris x fem!reader

a little toxic but it’s ok. 

Lando had been impossible since the post-race debrief. Snapping at engineers, throwing his gloves at the wall, dodging every media obligation McLaren threw his way. You stood just outside the driver’s room door, arms crossed, praying he’d calm down once you got him alone.

He didn’t.

You slipped in quietly and shut the door behind you.

He didn’t look at you, just yanked his race suit down to his waist and flung himself onto the couch like it owed him an explanation.

“They fucking played me,” he muttered. “Team orders my ass. Oscar had the better strategy and the faster car. What the hell am I even doing here?”

“Lando…” you began carefully. “Second isn’t a failure.”

He scoffed, loud and sharp. “Of course you’d��say that.”

You blinked. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you’re not in the car. You don’t get it. You don’t know what it’s like to fight every fucking lap just for the team to throw your efforts in the bin because golden boy Piastri is quicker.”

You crossed your arms. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Project. I didn’t build Oscar’s car. I didn’t give him better strategy. Don’t talk to me like I’m the enemy.”

“You’re not helping,” he snapped, standing up now, pacing the room.

You followed him with your eyes, trying to stay calm. “I’m not trying to help right now. I’m trying to be here. To support you.”

“Well maybe I don’t want support. Maybe I want space.”

“Then fucking say that instead of tearing me apart like I’m a punching bag!”

His jaw clenched, but he didn’t stop. “You want me to spell everything out for you all the time. You always need something—reassurance, validation, your goddamn ‘talk to me’ routine like it’s gonna fix anything.”

You stepped forward, voice rising. “So now being emotionally available is a bad thing?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“No—you implied it. You implied that me caring is annoying. That me showing up for you is inconvenient. You know what? Maybe I shouldn’t have fucking come this weekend.”

“Oh please,” he sneered, “don’t act like this isn’t your moment too. The paddock loves you. Everyone wants a quote from Lando Norris’ girlfriend. You eat this shit up.”

The breath punched out of your lungs.

“Say that again,” you dared.

He hesitated.

“Fucking say it again, Lando.”

He met your glare but said nothing.

“You think I came here for clout? You think I’ve been flying across the world to hold your hand after shit races, picking you up off the fucking floor when you spiral, just for attention?”

He flinched, but again—nothing.

You were seething. “I loved you when no one was watching. When the cameras were gone. When your hands were shaking after Silverstone and you couldn’t sleep for days. I was there. I am always fucking there.”

“You don’t know what it’s like to be second on purpose.” His voice cracked. “To be told to stand down. To not fight.”

“And you don’t know what it’s like to be with someone who resents you every time you try to help!”

The air felt sharp.

Your voice broke through the tension like thunder. “I’m not the reason Oscar’s winning. I’m not the reason you’re angry. But I’ll be damned if I keep letting you treat me like I am.”

He shoved his hands through his hair, practically pacing a hole in the floor.

You were right behind him now. Loud. Unfiltered.

“I stayed quiet after the media tour. I stayed quiet when you told me to ‘just not bring it up’ when you missed the podium in Austria. I stayed quietwhen you brushed me off the night before this race—didn’t even say ‘I love you’ back.”

He whipped around. “I had a race to prep for!”

“And I’m your girlfriend! Not your punching bag. Not your therapist. And not your emotional garbage can.”

Silence.

And then: “I’m fucking done with you.”

You backed up toward the door.

“Call me when you find your fucking senses—because clearly you left all five of them on the goddamn track.”

And with that, you slammed the door and walked out.

You barely made it ten feet before Oscar stepped out of the hallway shadows.

His brows were drawn together, concerned. “Y/N, I—”

“Don’t,” you said, breath shaking. “It’s not your fault.”

“I didn’t mean to eavesdrop. I was just coming to get my physio stuff and—”

“You’ve done nothing wrong,” you repeated firmly. “You’re killing it out there. Don’t ever apologize for that.”

He gave you a tight smile, visibly uncomfortable. “Are you heading back to the hotel?”

You shook your head. “No. I might murder him if I see him again.”

Oscar blinked.

“I’m going home.”

“Monaco?”

You stared at him. “No. Home. My real home. I haven’t seen my family in a while.”

His face softened. “The States?”

You nodded. “Pennsylvania.”

“Oh…” he said, quietly. “Do you want me to call you a car?”

“I already called one.”

He nodded, like he didn’t know what else to offer.

You hugged him—briefly.

“Do me one favor?” you asked.

“Anything.”

“Don’t tell him where I’m going. Not until I say so.”

Oscar nodded, eyes gentle. “Promise.”

———

The silence in the driver’s room was deafening after she left.

Lando stared at the wall for twenty straight minutes. Didn’t move. Didn’t speak. His fingers still trembled from the adrenaline—of the race, of the fight, of the realization that he might’ve gone too far.

Twenty more minutes passed before he finally stood up.

He grabbed his phone. Thought about texting. Thought about calling.

But he knew she wouldn’t answer—not yet.

So he tried to find her the old-fashioned way.

⸻

He moved through the garage, eyes scanning the crowd of engineers and McLaren personnel like a hunter tracking something he’d already wounded.

He checked the hospitality suite.

Not there.

Media pen? Empty.

Her usual seat in the back of the engineering meeting room?

Gone.

He shoved past a cluster of interns near the garage door, barely muttering an apology as he searched for any sign of her—hair, voice, familiar silhouette. Anything.

Then he spotted Oscar.

“Hey,” Lando said, walking up, heartbeat skipping.

Oscar looked up from his phone, guarded.

“Where is she?”

Oscar exhaled slowly, then looked Lando dead in the eye.

“She went home.”

Lando blinked. “Home?”

“That’s what she said.”

The word echoed in his mind. Home.

“Right,” he muttered. “Monaco.”

———

Lando dropped his suitcase with a thud.

His neck ached. His head was pounding. The trip from Silverstone to Monaco was a blur of sleepless hours and spiraling thoughts, and yet noneof that prepared him for walking into an apartment that didn’t feel like home anymore.

It felt… abandoned.

Half the closet was empty.

Her makeup drawer: cleared out.

No cardigan over the desk chair. No sparkly water bottles lined on the nightstand. No favorite mug in the sink.

She was really gone.

He sat on the edge of the bed, letting that fact sink in, chest tight and cold.

And then his phone buzzed.

From Y/N

I’m home. Don’t worry about me.

Call me when you fix your attitude.

It was 8:42 a.m. in Monaco.

Which meant it was nearly 3 a.m. where she was.

His fingers hovered over his screen for half a second before he hit call.

She answered on the third ring, voice groggy, heavy with sleep.

“…Lando?”

His voice was hoarse. “You’re not here.”

“No, I’m not.”

“I thought you were coming back to Monaco.”

“I never said that.”

He swallowed. “You said ‘home.’ I didn’t think—”

“No, Lando. You didn’t think. That’s the whole fucking problem.”

Her tone wasn’t cruel. It was flat. Exhausted.

“You’re in the States?”

A pause. “Yeah. I landed yesterday.”

His heart dropped. “And you didn’t even tell me?”

“You screamed at me,” she whispered. “You humiliated me. In front of Oscar, the team—hell, probably half the garage heard you tearing me down.”

“I know.”

“And now you want updates? After what you said to me?”

“I was angry—”

“At me? For something I didn’t even do?”

“No,” he said quickly, “I wasn’t mad at you. I was mad at myself. The team. The car. The situation. And I made it your fault because you were standing there trying to love me through it.”

She was quiet for a long time.

When she spoke again, her voice cracked. “I didn’t fly home because I wanted to leave you. I flew home because if I’d stayed, I would’ve let you keep treating me like that. And I’m finally—finally—starting to love myself enough not to let anyone talk to me that way. Even you.”

His breath caught. “You don’t mean that.”

“I do,” she said softly.

He heard a sniffle.

“You said I came to races for clout.”

“I didn’t mean that.”

“You said I make things worse by trying to fix you.”

“I didn’t mean any of it.”

Her voice wavered. “But you still said it.”

That hit deeper than anything else.

He pressed a hand over his face, trying to hold in the pressure building behind his eyes.

“Please,” he whispered. “Tell me how to make this right.”

“You don’t get to ask that until you understand how you made it wrong.”

Silence.

“I gave you everything,” she said through tears. “And you made me feel like I was in the way. Like loving you was an inconvenience. Do you know what it feels like to shrink yourself next to someone who used to make you feel ten feet tall?”

He covered his mouth, trying to breathe through the guilt.

“I do now,” he said, brokenly. “And I hate myself for it.”

She let out a small, aching breath.

“I have to go,” she murmured. “It’s late. I’m tired.”

“Wait—please—”

“I’m safe. That’s all you need to know. Call me when you figure out how to be the person I fell in love with again.”

Click.

The line went dead.

———

The apartment in Monaco felt colder without her in it.

Not physically—just empty.

Lando barely moved from the bedroom the first two days. He left the lights off. Curtains drawn. Ordered nothing but espresso and dry toast.

He read her last text a hundred times:

Call me when you fix your attitude.

She hadn’t messaged since.

He hadn’t either.

Because for once, he was listening.

⸻

Day 3:

He sat on the balcony in the early morning, hoodie drawn over his head, staring out at the water like it held answers.

His phone buzzed. Daniel. Max. George. All left unread.

He opened Instagram and saw a tagged photo: Oscar smiling with Lily and a few friends in Paris.

The caption read:

“Grateful for the people who make this sport feel like home.”

Lando locked his phone and tossed it across the table.

She would’ve laughed at that post. She always loved how calm Oscar was—said he reminded her of her brother. Lando used to love how her face lit up when she talked about people she cared about.

Now it haunted him.

⸻

Day 4:

He went to sim. Crashed the car within two laps. Swore loudly. Quit the session.

He hadn’t crashed in months.

His engineer called.

“You good?”

“No,” Lando said honestly. “Not even a little bit.”

⸻

Day 5:

He walked through Monaco like a ghost, hat low, hood pulled. Saw a girl on the beach wearing her favorite brand of sunglasses. He had to look away.

Bought her favorite snack at the corner store out of instinct. Forgot she wasn’t there to eat it.

Came home. Left it on the counter.

Still couldn’t throw it out.

⸻

Day 6:

He stayed up watching old videos on his phone—her voice in the background on race weekends, teasing him, laughing.

One clip from Austria:

“You’re gonna win this weekend.”

“How do you know?”

“Because you always win when I kiss you for luck first.”

She kissed the camera in the video.

Lando cried into his pillow for the first time in months.

He woke up on the seventh morning and stared at the ceiling for a long time.

She’d given him space.

And now he had one chance to fix it.

He didn’t text. Didn’t call.

He just booked the flight.

———

It was quiet.

Too quiet for the way Lando’s heart was racing.

The rain pattered softly against the porch as she stood there, frozen in the doorway of her childhood home, eyes wide and bare-faced. Her hair was still damp from a recent shower, cheeks flushed, hoodie too big. She looked like someone who had finally started to heal—and didn’t expect her wound to come knocking.

“Lando?” she whispered.

“I didn’t want to text. I didn’t want to call,” he said, voice low and shaking. “I wanted to show up.”

A beat of silence.

She didn’t step forward. Didn’t pull him in. She just stared at him like she was seeing him for the first time again.

“I told myself I’d slam the door if you ever showed up without asking.”

He tried to smile, but it didn’t stick. “Do you want to?”

She blinked. Her throat moved as she swallowed.

“No.”

A breath escaped his chest—relief, guilt, desperation all tangled together.

“Come in,” she said quietly, stepping back. “But take your shoes off. My mom just mopped.”

He nodded, shoving off his trainers and stepping inside. The house smelled like lemon cleaner and cinnamon. Homey. Unchanged. Safe.

Too safe for someone who’d broken her the way he did.

⸻

She led him to her room. Same pale walls. Same fuzzy blanket at the foot of the bed. A photo of the two of them in Abu Dhabi framed on the dresser—still there, untouched.

“Sit,” she said softly, motioning to the chair near her desk. She sat on the edge of the bed, feet tucked under her.

Lando looked around like he’d never seen it before. His eyes were glassy, red from the flight. Tired. He looked… hollow.

She noticed.

“Have you slept?”

“No.”

“Eaten?”

“Not really.”

“You should’ve waited to fly—”

“I couldn’t.” His voice cracked on the words. “I couldn’t wait anymore.”

Another pause. Then she spoke first.

“You didn’t text. All week.”

“You told me not to. Said to call when I fixed my attitude.” He glanced up. “I didn’t want to call you with excuses. I wanted to come here with the truth.”

She nodded slowly, looking down at her lap. “Then say it.”

He swallowed. Hard.

“I was awful to you. I know that. I’ve been awful for a while, haven’t I?”

Silence.

“I’ve been so focused on trying to prove myself—on not being second, not being forgotten—that I forgot you. I forgot that you’re not just here for the wins, or the highs, or the press photos. You’re here for me. And I treated you like that wasn’t enough.”

He stared down at his hands.

“And when you said you were done… I deserved it. Every word. I was cruel. And cold. And I let my pride drive the only person who’s ever stood by me right out the fucking door.”

She looked at him, eyes glossy. But she didn’t cry.

“Why do you do it?” she asked, voice tight. “Why do you talk to me like I’m the enemy every time something goes wrong?”

He blinked. “Because I hate feeling weak.”

“You think I make you feel weak?”

“No,” he said instantly. “You make me feel safe. Which scares me. Because when everything else in my life is falling apart, you’re the one thing that never does. And when I feel myself losing everything else… I guess I start trying to break the one thing I know is real. Just so it doesn’t hurt when it breaks on its own.”

Her eyes welled then. Finally. Quiet tears sliding down her cheeks.

“You’re right,” she said. “I am your safe place.”

She wiped her cheek. “But I haven’t felt safe with you in months.”

That shattered him.

“I’ve been walking on eggshells, Lando. Constantly. Trying not to say too much, not to get in the way. Swallowing how I feel because God forbid I add to your pressure.”

She looked up, trembling now. “You’re exhausted? So am I. You’re scared? So am I. You’re angry? Lando, I’ve been angry for months. Angry at myself for letting it get this far. For letting you chip away at me in little, quiet ways every time you came home and didn’t say ‘I missed you.’ Every time I stood in the paddock and you looked through me.”

He opened his mouth, but she held up a hand.

“No. Let me finish.” Her voice cracked. “Because I haven’t said this out loud to anyone. Not even Alex. Not even my mom.”

She took a breath.

“There were days I thought about leaving.”

That stopped him cold.

“I thought about packing a bag, leaving a note, and just disappearing from your world. Not because I don’t love you. God, I love you more than anything. But because I couldn’t breathe around you anymore. I couldn’t keep pretending I was okay while slowly being erased.”

Lando didn’t just tear up.

He broke.

His hand shot up to cover his mouth, shoulders trembling, face turning red as tears spilled freely down his cheeks.

“You were gonna leave,” he whispered.

She looked at him, chest heaving, barely holding herself together. “I didn’t want to. I wanted you to see me before I had to.”

He stood up slowly, like his legs barely worked. Walked to her. Dropped to his knees.

His head bowed into her lap like he was praying.

“I didn’t know,” he choked. “I didn’t know you were hurting that much.”

“I didn’t want to make it worse,” she whispered. “You already had the weight of the whole world on you. I didn’t want to be one more thing dragging you down.”

“You were never that,” he sobbed. “You were never that.”

She ran a hand over his hair, fingers trembling.

“I don’t want to lose you,” he said against her leg, voice muffled. “I’ll do anything. I’ll go to therapy. I’ll quit racing. I’ll walk away from the grid tomorrow if that’s what it takes.”

She froze. “Don’t say that.”

“I mean it,” he said, looking up. “I’ll do whatever it takes to make you feel safe with me again.”

A long silence.

Then—

“I still love you,” she whispered. “But we’re not okay. We’re not gonna fix this with one big gesture.”

“I know.”

She reached for his face. Wiped under his eyes with her thumbs.

“We have to rebuild, Lando. From the ground up.”

He nodded, leaning into her hands. “Then let’s start. Please. Just… don’t go.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” she whispered. “Not yet. But I need you to prove this matters to you. That I matter to you when things are bad, not just when they’re good.”

“I will.” He pressed his forehead to hers, breathing hard. “I swear to god I will.”

[neferaskingdom]

♡ Good Luck Charm | CL16

PART OF MY IS IT CASUAL NOW? SERIES

Summary: If this was just supposed to be Casual, why is he acting like this? Why is he holding her close as if he never plans to let go?

PREVIOUS | MASTERLIST | NEXT

It had started out as a casual thing. A friends-with-benefits arrangement, nothing more. At least, that’s what she told herself at first.

But Charles made it difficult to keep things casual. There was an undeniable charm to him, a sweetness she hadn't anticipated. He didn’t just text her at night or call her when he was back in Monaco. Instead, he called regularly, sometimes even when he was across the world for a race. He’d ask about her day, make her laugh with stories about his travels, and always ended with some version of, “I can’t wait to come home and see you.”

And then, there were the little things he did that went beyond what she’d expected. He’d bring her favorite coffee when they met up, remember small details she’d mentioned in passing, and leave her cute voice messages when he found something that reminded him of her. Charles was effortlessly thoughtful, as if caring for her was second nature.

One evening, after a tough qualifying session, he called her, his voice a mixture of frustration and exhaustion. “You would not believe how bad the setup felt today,” he complained. “It’s like the car just… refused to cooperate.”

She listened as he vented, offering encouragement and making him laugh with a few lighthearted comments. By the end of the call, he sounded calmer, even managing a smile in his voice. “You know, you’re good at this. You make me feel better even from thousands of miles away.”

“Well, someone has to keep you sane,” she teased.

“Oh, you’re doing much more than that,” he replied warmly. “Really, I wish you could be here. You’d probably make the whole race go smoother, just by being around.”

“Is that so?” she teased, her heart swelling at the thought. “And how exactly would I do that?”

“Your mere presence would calm my nerves,” he insisted, the playful lilt in his voice making her laugh. “You know how competitive it gets. If I could just look up and see you, I’d feel so much better.”

“Maybe I’ll have to make an appearance then,” she said lightly, but in her heart, she felt a pang of longing at the thought of being close to him, sharing those moments in person.

As the weeks passed, the calls became a comforting routine. He’d check in after qualifying sessions, asking her opinion on his performance, or he’d call after a disappointing race, needing to vent. It was during those moments that she began to see how much he truly valued her support.

“Do you have any idea how frustrating it is to come in tenth?” he grumbled one afternoon, his voice low and strained as he paced in his hotel room.

“Pretty frustrating, I’d imagine,” she replied sympathetically. “But it’s just one race, right? You’ve got more coming up.”

“Yeah, but it’s Monaco next! I can’t mess that up. It’s my home! The pressure is insane.” He took a deep breath, and she could almost picture him running a hand through his hair in exasperation. “I need to win this one.”

“Then you need to focus and stop overthinking it. You’re talented, Charles. Trust your instincts. You’ve got this,” she reassured him, her voice firm.

“You always know what to say. I can’t wait to come home and see you again.” He sounded lighter, a smile evident in his tone. “Maybe you should come see me race sometime.”

She laughed it off, but Charles was relentless. Every few days, he’d bring up the idea of her coming to watch him race. “Come on,” he’d say, “Just one weekend.”

But she kept brushing it off, always with a half-serious excuse. “Charles, I have a job, remember? I can’t just fly out to some random country you know”

One evening, he finally pulled out his best argument. “Monaco,” he said with a grin she could practically hear over the phone, “that's literally our backyard. No excuses this time.”

She groaned, pretending to resist. “You’re insufferable, you know that?”

“But charmingly so,” he countered, voice teasing but hopeful.

Eventually, she caved. “Fine. I’ll come. Just because you’ll never let me hear the end of it if I don’t.”

His laugh was practically a shout of victory. “You’re going to love it, I promise. And I’ll make sure you have the best seat in the house.”

When she arrived at the paddock on race day, Charles was waiting for her at the VIP entrance, practically bouncing on his feet. The moment he spotted her, he broke into a grin and quickly made his way over.

“You came!” He wrapped her in a hug, holding her close like he hadn’t seen her in years.

“I told you I’d be here,” she laughed, squeezing him back. “Though you owe me big time for putting up with all this noise and chaos.”

“Oh, don’t worry, I intend to make it up to you,” he replied with a smirk, keeping his arm around her as he led her inside. “Let me show you around.”

Charles walked her through the paddock, his hand resting possessively on her lower back as he guided her past the hustle and bustle of team members, mechanics, and engineers. He introduced her to some of the crew, who greeted her with warm smiles, and she couldn’t help but feel the pride radiating from Charles as he spoke about the work they put into the car.

“See that guy?” he said, pointing to a tall man with a headset who was deeply focused on the monitor. “That’s my race engineer. He’s the one who helps guide me during the race.”

She nodded, genuinely interested as Charles continued to explain the intricacies of the race preparations. “And this,” he said, leading her to the Ferrari garage, “is where all the magic happens.”

As they entered at the Ferrari garage, Charles spotted his brother Arthur nearby. “Ah, you have to meet Arthur,” he said, giving her a reassuring smile. “You’ll love him.”

Arthur approached, giving her a friendly grin as he shook her hand. “So, you’re the ‘lucky charm’ Charles keeps talking about,” he said, raising an eyebrow at his brother.

“Don’t start,” Charles muttered, clearly embarrassed, though he didn’t let go of her hand.

“Nice to meet you, Arthur,” she replied, feeling her cheeks heat up as she shot Charles a playful look. “I didn’t realize I had such a reputation around here.”

“Oh, you have no idea,” Arthur chuckled, giving his brother a knowing look. Charles just rolled his eyes and nudged him away, muttering something about “family being an embarrassment.”

Before long, Charles was called back for his final preparations, and he turned to her, his expression softening. “You’ll be watching, right?”

“Front row seat,” she promised, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze.

The race itself was a whirlwind of emotions. As the lights went out and the cars roared to life, she felt her heart racing in tandem with the engines. Each lap was a rollercoaster of tension and excitement, and she couldn’t tear her eyes away from Charles. He navigated the track with grace and determination, every move calculated, every turn precise.

With each passing lap, the anticipation built, and when he crossed the finish line in first place, she couldn’t help but scream with joy. The entire atmosphere erupted in cheers, but for her, it was all about Charles. He’d done it. He’d won!

As he climbed out of the car, sweat glistening on his forehead, he scanned the crowd until his eyes locked onto hers. A wide smile broke across his face, and he hurried over, not caring about the cameras or the noise.

“Did you see that? I did it!” he shouted, wrapping her in a tight hug that lifted her off the ground. She could hardly believe it as he peppered her face with kisses, excitement spilling over. “You’re my good luck charm!”

“I think you had it in you all along!” she laughed, overwhelmed by the joy radiating from him.

“Not without you here,” he insisted, his eyes sparkling with delight. “I couldn’t have done it without you. You make everything better.”

She laughed, still wrapped in his arms, as he planted quick, enthusiastic kisses all over her face. “Charles, everyone’s watching!”

“Let them watch,” he said, not even caring, still grinning as he peppered her face with kisses.

The celebration was in full swing when they stepped into the club, Charles was surrounded by friends, team members, and fans who were all there to revel in his long-awaited Monaco victory. The energy was infectious, and she couldn’t help but feel a rush of pride watching him receive endless pats on the back, his grin wide and eyes gleaming under the flashing lights. He never let her stray far from his side, keeping a steady arm around her waist as they moved through the crowd.

"Finally won my home race," he said, leaning close so she could hear him over the music, his voice filled with disbelief and joy. "It still doesn’t feel real."

She nudged him lightly, a teasing smile on her lips. "You sure it happened? You’re not dreaming right now?"

"Guess I’ll find out if I wake up," he said, laughing as he twirled her in place, pulling her back against his chest. "But you’re here, so I’d say this has to be real."

They both laughed, the shared warmth and excitement washing over them like a wave. He kept her close as they moved through the club, accepting congratulations and raising toasts with anyone who approached. But every few minutes, his hand would slide back to hers, squeezing her fingers or pulling her back to his side. His eyes would find hers, that familiar spark of mischief dancing in his gaze.

Eventually, they found themselves tucked into a quieter corner of the club, away from the crowd. Charles leaned against the wall, tugging her closer until her hands rested on his chest, his grin turning cheeky as he looked down at her.

“So, you’re not disappearing on me tonight, are you?” he teased, his fingers tracing a lazy line up her arm. “I kind of like having you around.”

“Disappearing?” she laughed. “Please, Leclerc, it’s like I’m glued to you tonight. You’ve barely let go of my hand.”

He smirked, his hands slipping down to her waist as he pulled her even closer. "Can you blame me? Best night of my life, and I want you right here."

The sincerity in his voice softened her, but he quickly masked it with a grin, tugging her back onto the dance floor. They spent hours laughing, dancing, and talking between sips of champagne, the atmosphere around them filled with lighthearted banter. Charles was in his element, his joy contagious as he celebrated with everyone around him, but his attention kept circling back to her—small glances, soft touches, lingering smiles.

At one point, he leaned in, his lips brushing her ear as he whispered, "Come with me."

Before she could respond, he was guiding her toward a secluded corridor at the back of the club, pressing her gently against the wall. His hands settled on her waist as he looked down at her, his gaze intense and filled with an energy that set her pulse racing. He leaned in, capturing her lips in a kiss that was equal parts heated and sweet, his fingers tracing her sides as he held her close.

When he finally pulled back, he pressed his forehead against hers, his voice a low murmur. "Thank you for being here tonight. Wouldn’t have wanted to celebrate with anyone else."

The words made her chest tighten, and before she could respond, he was kissing her again, a soft laugh escaping his lips as they stayed wrapped up in each other, oblivious to the world outside their small bubble.

Later, as the night wound down, they left the club together, Charles’ hand never leaving hers. Back at his apartment, he pulled her inside, his smile turning playful again. "One more toast, maybe?"

“Isn’t that what you said after the last toast?” she teased, following him into the kitchen as he poured them each a final glass of champagne.

“What can I say? It’s a big night,” he said, winking. They clinked glasses, his eyes never leaving hers as they sipped, and when she set her glass down, he was already pulling her close, his lips brushing along her jawline before settling on her lips.

They drifted into his bedroom, Charles’ touches growing more insistent as he held her close, a mix of laughter and whispered words filling the space between them. He was relentless, the intensity of the night fueling each kiss, each lingering touch as they stayed wrapped up in each other.

Finally, as the early hours of morning crept in, they lay tangled together in his bed, the celebrations fading into a comfortable quiet. Charles lay beside her, his face nestled against her neck as his breathing slowed, a soft smile on his face.

“Perfect night,” he mumbled, his voice heavy with exhaustion.

She smiled, her fingers running through his hair as she whispered, “Yeah, it was.”

In the quiet that followed, she felt his breathing even out, his arm around her tightening slightly as he drifted off to sleep, holding her close as if he never planned to let go.

Taglist: @dullypully @wintterily @sageskiesf1 @firefirevampire @eloriis

[gracie-eilish]

roommate!billie [pt 5]

au masterlist

warnings: making out, talking about smutty things but no actual smut.

an: sorry this took so long!! it was a holiday weekend in the US so i was crazy busy at work!! i’ll probably be less busy this week so hopefully i can finish up this series and get back to my pride prompts!!

roommate!billie, who practically floated through life nowadays, since you asked her to be your girlfriend.

roommate!billie, who treated you genuinely like a princess.

roommate!billie, who would be pacing around the room, nervous as hell when room selection day came.

being rising sophomores [second year of college/uni] meant you two had second to last pick when it came to housing. and the complete last pick when it came to upperclassmen housing.

you two had agreed, living in the dorms another year wouldn’t be be the worst, but an apartment on campus would be even better. at the bare minimum, you two live well together. clean, respectful of each others space and things, never had many problems about temperature and whatnot. that was just elevated now that you two were dating.

“okay worst case scenario, we could always do two single rooms sharing a bathroom? that way we each have space but we can just sleep in one or the others room every night.” you were rambling on and on, about all the possibilities you two could end up with. billie’s heart fluttered as every single one of them, ended with some explanation of how you’d end up in each others bed.

roommate!billie, who learned how to use pinterest when you shared a board with her, so you two could decorate your rooms to feel homey.

roommate!billie, who is now obsessed with pinterest.

roommate!billie, who thought she loved quiet nights with you before… but by god she loved them now. especially with the spring rain coming in almost everyday…

roommate!billie, who opened the window a sliver every night it was supposed to rain, so it would get chilly enough that you would snuggle closer to her in your sleep.

roommate!you, who didn’t even know where your little purple humidifier was at this point.

roommate!billie, who just had to ask…

“so, what is your obsession with sleep?” she leaned on the doorway of your bathroom, as you finished up some skincare. every product had some kind of relaxing scent, or some magical promise to help you destress and sleep better.

“oh god, i’m such a light sleeper! if i don’t do my whole like routine, i’m basically screwed. ever since i was younger, like genuinely a mouse could breathe in a silent room and it would wake me up.”

“huh,” billie muttered, still confused.

“what?”

“nothing, it’s just.. you always knock out like a light. at least when you sleep with me you’re always out so fast i can’t keep up.”

“really?”

“mmhmm. i look down to say something and you’re already drooling on my pillow.”

“i don’t drool!” you giggled.

“ok i’m messing with you there. but yeah.. you fall asleep so fast! are you waking up in the middle of the night?” she came up behind you in the mirror, setting her hands on the sides of your shoulders, rubbing the skin softly.

“well.. actually i- wow you know what i don’t think i am. i did in the fall, like august, september, maybe a bit of october.. and then a bunch when i went home for winter break..” you trailed off. “but not recently. i guess i wasn’t paying attention.”

“well no, you were asleep.” she teased, making you turn to playfully hit her.

“i’m just saying! i noticed it in november, after we went on our first date. you’d just fall asleep in my arms.”

“oh.” you had a small, flushed, smile on your face.

roommate!billie, who always slipped an extra umbrella in your bag the night before, knowing you’d forget and get stuck in the rain between classes

roommate!billie, who offered to drive you to further classes…. kissing you goodbye each time, leaving her flustered in the drivers seat.

roommate!billie, who loved taking walks at night as it got warmer. right after dinner. she’s always suggest walking to and from the meal hall, or it was one of your favorite parts of the day now.

roommate!billie, who practically sterilized the room when the pollen count got high and your allergies flared up.

roommate!you, who’s parents, came to visit one saturday, to start taking some things back home with them since the semester ended next month.

“hey lovey!” your mom called, shutting the car door.

“hi mommy!!” you called back, walking towards her to let her engulf you in a hug.

you brought her upstairs to yours and billie’s shared room, unlocking it and letting her in.

roommate!billie, who is ADORED by your parents, even before you realized you liked girls and started dating.

“hi mrs. y/l/n!” she said, climbing down off her bed to give her a hug.

“hi you!! you sick of my daughter yet??” she teased pulling away from the hug, shooting you a wink as you playfully scoffed.

“aww i could never be, she’s too perfect,” she came over to hug you playfully, kissing your cheek while you tried to hide your smile.

you three spent the next hour or so, packing up some non-essentials, and moving things down to your moms car. some decor, winter clothes and boots, last semesters textbooks you forgot back in december, things you definitely wouldn’t be needing over the next four weeks.

at one point, you moved your bed away from the wall, to reach some bigger things stored down there, leaving your bed in the middle of the floor to deal with later.

well now it was later. your mom took you and billie to dinner, at the quaint little diner a few minutes from campus, before sending you both off with hugs and kisses and good luck ending the semester.

“i’m gonna shower real quick,” you said as billie unlocked the door, holding it open for you. she just smiled and nodded, kissing your cheek quickly.

as the bathroom door closed, billie put her hands on her hips, looking at the bed in the middle of the floor, when she had an idea.

meanwhile in the shower, you heard quite the commotion in your room. something squeaking on the floor, loud and a little annoying. but you figured it was just billie being a gentlewoman moving you bed back for you.

you were met with quite the surprise when you finally opened the bathroom door.

billie was sat in the middle, of your two twin sized beds pushed together to make one big bed. she had a big fluffy blanket that barely covered both beds, but was big enough for you two to snuggle under.

“what did you get up to missy?” you had a teasing, flustered smile on your face.

“i made it into a big bed!! i hope that’s okay?” she got sheepish and red in the cheeks, making her even more adorable.

“yeah!! yeah, no it’s.. it’s perfect.” you stuttered out. slowly you made your way over, hoisting yourself up onto the tall dorm bed, shifting closer to the middle to be closer to billie.

“this feels so like… adult.”

“adult?” billie laughed, “what does that mean?”

you giggled along with her. “i don’t know, like.. adults share a big bed together i guess?? it’s different than sharing one of our beds separately i guess. there’s more room.”

“that is true, there is more room. now you won’t be up against the wall every night,” she giggled.

the two of you laid together for a while, watching tv on billie’s laptop, when the mood shifted a bit.

roommate!billie, who gained quite the reputation last fall, as somewhat of a player. never ghosting hookups, but never committing either.

roommate!billie, who never wanted to pressure you into anything, especially knowing you hadn’t been with any girls, and maybe no guys either.

roommate!billie, who would actually worship you if she ever had the chance to be with you like that. if sex with you is anything like your soft angelic kisses, she’s a goner.

roommate!billie, who wasn’t impatient, but definitely curious.

the tv show you were both watching had become background noise at this point, both of you chit chatting every so often about whatever came to mind.

not to mention flirting. billie was in quite the flirty mood today, especially since she pushed your two beds together.

she just watched you for a moment, smiling softly as she pushed some hair behind your ear. your skin glowing under the colored light of your sunset lamp lighting up the room.

“y’so pretty,” she whispered mainly to herself but the sheepish smile growing on your lips told her you heard it. you leaned up meeting her lips in a kiss.

it started soft, before getting hungrier, more desperate. you moaned softly into the kiss, making billie’s ego inflate about a million sizes. she wanted to hear it over and over and over again.

softly, she helped you lie back without breaking the kiss. your hands threaded through her hair and hers moved around on your waist.

her kisses shifted to the corner of your mouth, your cheek, jaw, jawline, down your neck, until she found your sweet spot, eliciting a whiney, breathy moan from your lips. billie smirked onto your skin at the sound of your little gasps and moans.

her ego would go nuts if she knew that she was the only person to ever make you moan before.

she sucked and licked over the same spot until it bloomed dark on your skin. she began to move down more towards your collarbones, her hands softly moving under your sweatshirt when your breath hitched.

“you okay?” she said, looking up at you from where she was kneeling.

you just lay there, panting, looking at the ceiling, blinking.

“baby, you’re scaring me.” immediately you grabbed her hand from under your sweatshirt and looked down back at her.

“i’m okay.”

“what’s going on love? talk to me please.” she shifted her weight to lay next to you. you played with billie’s fingers, nerves eating away at your breath.

“i’m um.. i’ve never…” you cleared your throat, stalling. billie’s free hand went to rest on your waist over your sweatshirt, her fingers moving softly on your clothed skin.

“have you ever had sex before?” her words were soft, and understanding before you even said your answer. there was no disappointment or bite to her words. you finally made eye contact and wanted to cry. her face was so soft, eyes full of love and warmth.

slowly you shook your head, eyes moving down to yours and billie’s hand, still connected.

“that’s okay baby!! i’m not upset, that’s perfectly fine,” you started to tear up. “oh baby, no. why are you crying pumpkin?”

“because i’m embarrassed about it… and you’re being really nice,” your bottom lip wobbled and your eyes were wide like a baby deer.

“lovey,” billie pouted sympathetically. she sat up against the pillows, bringing you down to her chest to hold you.

“we don’t have to do anything tonight. or anytime soon. or ever if that’s what you want. i’d wait forever for you,” she kissed the top of your head a few times before leaning back a tad to wipe some tears from your face.

“are you sure?” you croaked. billie nodded warmly, her smile so sweet.

“okay,” you nodded and snuggled back into her chest, still hiccuping back tears but slower now as you caught your breath.

billie held you like that for a few minutes. your scared little heart, starting to warm up again, coming out from behind the metaphorical wall you had in there. billie was so sure you had fallen asleep, until you shifted so you could look up at her.

“billie?”

“yeah, baby,”

“can i tell you something.. like kinda big?”

“anything you want, mama.”

“i think i’m falling in love with you.”

“yeah?”

“uh huh..”

“oh babyyy.. i’ve been in love with you for months.”

an: posted at 11:58 pm…. on the 16th like i promised😎🤪

[bad268]

Love your writingg!!

Could you write a oneshot with ollie when reader couldn't make it to a race and she got sick while at home but didnt tell ollie cuz it couldve made him shit the race and he comes back home at takes care of herr??

+hiii!! idk if ure still taking request, but maybe an ollie x reader where she gets her wisdom tooth out and the aftermath is just her being chaotic and funny while ollie just goes with everything.

but yeah, i think it’s pretty cute. thank you!

Boyfriend Of The Year (Ollie Bearman X Reader)

Fandom: RPF/F2/F3

Requested: Clearly (I just did a sick fic, so i decided to incorporate these. Hope yall don't mind <3)

Warnings: Wisdom teeth surgery and recovery

POV: Majority Second Person (You/your), some Third Person (They/them)

W.C. 2301

Summary: A routine dentist appointment turns into a secret to keep Ollie sane.

As always, my requests are OPEN

MASTERLIST // HITLIST

~~(^Pinterest)

Your phone was blowing up with texts from Ollie. He was probably wondering where you were at this point since you promised to be at the qualifying session, but due to a dentist appointment scheduled between the sessions, you had to split up. Ollie and his dad drove together, and you took an uber to your appointment. Well, at that dentist appointment, you found out that your chronic jaw pain was actually your wisdom teeth getting dangerous. They were growing inwards and pressing your teeth, so your dentist strongly encouraged an emergency wisdom teeth removal for the same day. Ollie was going to be pissed and you knew it.

“Hey, CareBear,” You greeted in a fake tone. You were still at the dentist, but you stepped outside to get a little bit of privacy. “What’s up?”

“Don’t ‘Hey CareBear’ me! Where are you? You said you were gonna be here,” Ollie asked. He was finally able to let out a breath after running around the paddock trying to find where you were. When he couldn’t find you, he started asking around, but no one had seen you. Then, he started calling you, and coincidentally, the calls were during your x-rays or consultation, so you were not answering. It was driving him insane. “Are you almost here?” 

“The dentist was short-staffed, so they haven't gotten me in yet,” You came up with on the fly. You knew he would hate that you lied to him, but he would also throw his entire race weekend away for you. Yes, it was adorable and it’s part of what made you love him, but this was not the time to be a loving boyfriend. This was the time to show everyone why he deserved the Haas seat. He could be boyfriend of the year afterward. “I can text you when I’m done, but I need to see them today. You know how bad my jaw has been hurting lately.”

“Oh?” Ollie smirked as he lowered his voice, about to make a joke but his dad walked right past him.

“Don’t even start, Oliver,” You pressed as you saw your dentist gesturing for you to come back in, so they could prepare you for the surgery. “Listen, CareBear, I gotta go. I think they’re ready to take me back. I’ll text your dad to pick me up when we start wrapping up. You need to get back for debrief or start preparing for quali.”

“Yeah, I should probably eat something,” Ollie said to himself as he scratched the back of his neck. He had never had to go into qualifying without you, so he was a bit nervous. However, he totally understood that this was something you needed to do. “I’ll get on pole for you.”

“I expect you in the top 22, nothing less,” You joked as you both said goodbye and hung up the call. You headed back inside as they started giving you the rundown on how the surgery would occur. For once, you were thankful for scheduling your appointment in the morning and not eating beforehand. Just before they would put you under, you decided to call Ollie’s dad. It didn’t take long for him to answer.

“Hey, Y/n,” David greeted immediately as he walked toward the back of the garage, “Need me to pick you up? That was awfully quick.”

“Actually no,” You chuckled nervously. “Don’t tell Ollie until after quali, but I’m getting my wisdom teeth out right now. If we tell him, he’s going to freak out.”

“Was this the plan the whole time?” He asked, quieting down as Ollie walked by nonethewiser. He was finishing up before he would be getting in the car, so he had enough on his plate, in your opinion.

“No, I just found out that the jaw pain I thought was the start of TMJ was actually my wisdom teeth growing inwards,” You explained with a smile as you watched your dentist finish setting everything out. “Listen, David, I’ll need you to pick me up in like an hour. Maybe after qualifying break it to him? Or just let him figure it out when I’m loopy. I really don’t care.”

“I’ll take care of him, don’t worry,” David reassured as he saw Ollie gesturing for him to come over before he would get in the car. “Have them call me when you’re done, and we’ll pick you up.”

You thanked him before ending the call and heading into the back where the operation would take place. 

The qualifying session went by quickly for Ollie because it was basically a one-lap shot. Right after the first laps, it started pouring rain, so when Ollie was at the top of the timing page, no one was able to beat him. He tried to call you as soon as he got out of the car, but every call went straight to voicemail. It freaked him out a little, but he brushed it off, thinking you were still getting your cleaning. It wasn’t until his dad was ushering him to change and get to the car park almost as soon as he wrapped up media that he started thinking something was wrong. Ollie sat nervously in the passenger seat as his dad drove in silence, which was completely unusual for him, so he decided to try and break the tension.

“So, dad,” He dragged out as he looked over at his dad. They pulled up to a red light, and David looked at Ollie. “Where are we going?”

“The dentist,” David said simply as he moved the car into first gear when the light changed. “We need to pick Y/n up.”

“Shouldn’t they have finished up during quali?” Ollie asked before muttering to himself, “I thought they would have been in the garage by the end of media.”

“They had to get some work done,” David responded. It was light-hearted, so Ollie wasn’t too worried. When they pulled up, he parked the car but made no move to get out for a second, causing Ollie to look over confused. “They had to get their wisdom teeth out.”

“What? Why didn’t you tell me?” Ollie freaked out, immediately getting out of the car and trying to reach the front door before his dad. Unfortunately for him, his dad anticipated this and beat him to the punch by blocking the door. “Dad, let me in.”

“No, you need to understand why we didn’t tell you,” David pressed as he put a hand on Ollie's shoulder and sheered him back toward the car. “They didn’t want you to be nervous in qualifying. It’s getting to the end of your season, and next year, you’ll be in F1. Everyone’s eyes are on you, and the last thing they wanted was for you to get nervous and risk your position in the championship.”

“That makes no sense! I wouldn’t have thrown the session!” Ollie disputed as he threw his hands up.

“Oh, please,” David tsked, “You almost crashed the car when you found out they had a headache a few months ago. Of course, you wouldn’t completely compromise your qualifying session knowing they were getting surgery. That sounds totally believable to me.” 

“Maybe you have a point,” Ollie mumbled as he dripped his hands to his sides in defeat. He looked back over to his dad as he sighed, “Can we go in now?”

“Are you going to cause a scene?”

“No.”

~

POV Switch-Third POV

All the while, Y/n was just waking up. The team had wrapped up the surgery at the end of qualifying and called David, saying he didn’t need to rush since they still needed to ween Y/n off of the meds and they still needed to pass the memory tests.

Y/n didn’t remember even waking up, but they did semi-register people walking in, around, and out of their room. Most of them were dentists or nurses checking their vitals, but then two people walked in that didn’t look like a dentist or nurse. It was Ollie and David, but Y/n was still too out of it to recognize them (or what they were saying to be honest).

“So they’ll be a little loopy for a while,” one of the dentists said to David, causing him to nod. Ollie had already taken a seat beside you and was holding your hand. The dentist then took David out of the room to talk about how to help clean the wounds and give him a list of foods that Y/n could eat while recovering. Ollie wanted to say something, anything to Y/n but they ended up talking before him.

“Whoever is your significant other is lucky because damn you’re hot,” Y/n chuckled slightly as they fell back against the pillows and smiled sleepily as they looked at him. “They’re like really lucky.”

“Well, you’ll be happy to know that you’re my significant other,” Ollie chuckled with them as he brought their hands up to kiss their knuckles.

“No way!” Y/n said as loud as the gauze in their mouth could allow as their eyes almost fell out of their head. “You’re telling me I bagged you?!”

“You bagged me,” Ollie chuckled in disbelief. He was upset at first that Y/n didn’t tell him sooner, but he couldn’t find it in himself to be mad at them, especially when they said something like that. “If I tell you a word, can you remember it for me?”

“Anything for you, handsome,” Y/n shamelessly flirted as they leaned in a little closer to prop their head against Ollie’s free hand that was resting by their head. 

“The word is ‘pole’,” Ollie said, and Y/n repeated it a couple of times before nodding that they understood it. “Okay, how are you feeling now?”

“I’m feeling tired. I wanna sleep. I wanna eat. I’m hungry. I want someone to tell me what place Ollie is in for the race tomorrow,” Y/n ranted before gasping toward the end, remembering the qualifying session they missed. In the haze, Y/n’s brain never connected that Ollie was sitting in front of them as they went on a rant. “Ollie Bearman is my favorite driver, and I wanna know where he placed. Do you know Ollie?”

“I know of him, yeah,” Ollie said as he bit back a laugh. There was no way he was witnessing this. “I think I know where he placed.”

“Where?” Y/n gasped as they tried to sit up in the bed, but the vitals machine started going off, causing a few personnel to walk in, but Ollie was already pushing them back.

“What was the word from earlier?”

“Pole?” Y/n said confused before it finally connected, “Wait, pole position?”

“Yup, he’s on pole for the feature race,” Ollie smiled at their enthusiasm. “Now, what’s my name?”

“What’s your name? CareBear?”

“Well, yes, but what’s my real name?” 

“Oliver,” Y/n dragged out before the fog cleared enough for them to make the connection. “Wait! Ollie, my CareBear! You’re Ollie!”

“I am,” Ollie chuckled as he leaned over to place a kiss on Y/n’s forehead while the dentists started removing wires and needles from Y/n, so they could leave. Ollie wrapped an arm around their shoulder, knowing Y/n didn’t like needles. He took to whispering reassurance in their ear until they were cleared to leave. Ollie then asked, “You still sleepy?”

Y/n didn’t respond as they were already asleep, so when all of the paperwork was signed, Ollie picked Y/n up to carry them to the car.  The entire ride to the hotel, Y/n was asleep against Ollie’s shoulder until David pulled into the parking spot. That’s when Y/n woke up, stretching their arms above their head.

“I still wanna sleep,” Y/n whined as they leaned back against Ollie. “My legs feel like jelly.”

“I can always carry you again,” Ollie commented already getting out of the car and moving around to help Y/n out. As soon as Y/n stepped out, Ollie’s arm was lifting up their legs to carry them up to their room. Thankfully, David was already leading the way and opening doors for them.

“You’re really working for that Boyfriend Of The Year award, aren't you?” Y/n teased as they plopped their head against Ollie’s shoulder.

“I didn’t know I was in the running,” Ollie joked back as he left a kiss on their nose.

“You’re always in the running,” Y/n pouted before going on another tangent, “Y’know, I’d love to kiss you, but I can’t really feel my lips so I don’t know how that would go.”

“I’ll give you a kiss when you don’t have bloody gauze in your mouth,” Ollie said as he walked up to the door. “Does that sound like a deal?”

“Add some ice cream or smoothies and you’ve got a deal.”

“You can’t drink from a straw, so no smoothies.”

“Buzzkill.”

“Not a buzzkill,” Ollie said simply as he set Y/n down on the bathroom counter, so he could change their gauze. “We’re not risking you getting dry socket.”

“Kissass.”

“How does that make me a kissass?” Ollie chuckled as he helped Y/n down from the counter and to the bed. Ollie fixed the pillows around them to make them comfortable before grabbing an icepack from the freezer. 

“You know the judge of the Boyfriend Of The Year award, and you’re kissing their ass,” Y/n chuckled as they leaned back into the pillows and took the icepacks from Ollie, immediately pressing them against their face. “Let me say, you’re winning.”

“I would hope so,” Ollie retorted, “I should be the only one in the running!”

~~~~~

© BAD268 2024. DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION.

[disciplined-cornfed]

Rome wasn't built in a day

Alex had never expected his college life to take this kind of turn. He’d moved to New York for school, planning to live on campus like most students, but when he found a better deal on an off-campus apartment that financial aid would cover, he jumped on it. The apartment was in a decent neighborhood, close to the subway, and the landlord didn’t ask too many questions. Seemed like a win.

What he hadn’t planned on, though, was Frank—his new roommate.

Frank was… something else. The guy was like a time capsule from a decade ago, straight out of Jersey Shore. From the gelled-back hair, the deep tan, ridiculous yelling at football and ufc matches every weekend, the flashy chains, to the relentless love of tank tops and gold watches. Alex wasn’t sure if Frank was for real or if this was just an elaborate, extended joke.

But here’s the thing: despite his douchey exterior, Frank was actually a pretty nice guy. Sure, he blasted club music at ungodly hours and flexed in the mirror every time he passed it, but Frank was always chill. He’d offer Alex food whenever he cooked, made sure the apartment was clean, and always gave him a heads-up when he had people over. Plus, Frank clearly knew what he was doing in the gym. The guy was shredded, and Alex had to admit, Frank’s discipline when it came to his diet and workout routine was impressive.

It didn’t take long before Alex’s curiosity got the best of him.

One day, after weeks of seeing Frank pound protein shakes and head to the gym religiously, Alex asked him for some advice. He had always been a casual gym-goer, but seeing Frank’s dedication made him wonder if he could up his own game.

“Yo, Frank,” Alex said one afternoon as they sat in the living room. “What do you usually eat for those gains, man? And how do you stay so consistent?”

Frank grinned, pausing the DJ Pauly D remix playing on his speakers. “Bro, it’s all about focus foods and the right lifts. Stick to lean meats, eggs, beans, lots of veggies. And you gotta hit the weights hard. No shortcuts.”

Alex nodded, scribbling down some notes on his phone. “Got any recommendations? Like content or something I can watch?”

Frank’s grin grew wider. “Oh, for sure. I’ll send you some stuff. There’s Dom Mazzetti, Vinny Guadagnino—some good shit, bro. But hey, I’ll send you my playlist too. Got a WAV file I use at the gym that keeps me hyped.”

Alex raised an eyebrow. “A playlist?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Frank said, waving his hand dismissively. “It’s got some fire tracks. Also, I threw in some personal affirmations underneath it, helps me stay focused during my lifts. You probably won’t even notice them, but they help, bro. Trust me.”

Alex wasn’t really buying into the whole “subliminal affirmation” thing. It sounded like some weird self-help nonsense. But Frank was shredded, and if these little tricks worked for him, maybe they were worth a shot.

Later that evening, Alex plugged in his headphones and hit play on Frank’s WAV file. It started with “Lucky, Lucky, Lucky Me”—a male cover that felt oddly calming. The song transitioned into upbeat remixes like “Fireball” and other club tracks that seemed to pump adrenaline into his veins. Somewhere in between, Sinatra’s smooth voice made an appearance, bringing a strange, nostalgic energy to the mix.

As the playlist played, Alex caught faint whispers beneath the music—barely noticeable. “You love the gym. You crave the weights. Tanning makes you feel amazing. You rep the Italian pride with every lift.”

He chuckled to himself. This subliminal shit can’t be real, he thought. But, whatever—Frank swears by it.

The playlist ended with “Lucky, Lucky Me” again, and as Alex dozed off that night, the tune echoed faintly in his head.

The changes didn’t happen overnight, but as the days went by, Alex began to notice subtle differences. It started with his workouts. He’d always been someone who worked out occasionally, but now there was something different. One morning, as he walked past the gym on his way to class, he felt an urge—a need to lift. It wasn’t just about getting in shape anymore. Something about the weights called to him, pulling him in.

He ended up inside, grabbing a set of dumbbells and diving into a full workout. By the time he finished, he was drenched in sweat, but instead of feeling exhausted, he felt exhilarated. There was a rush—an energy that coursed through him, leaving him wanting more.

From that point on, the gym became part of his daily routine. At first, he didn’t even realize it was happening. He started following Frank’s tips—lifting heavier, focusing on compound movements, and pushing himself harder with each session. His muscles responded quickly, growing faster than they ever had before. His shirts started to fit tighter, hugging his chest and arms in ways they never had before. Every time he looked in the mirror, he couldn’t help but flex, admiring his progress.

It wasn’t just the gym either. One afternoon, Alex caught himself in front of the bathroom mirror, noticing how pale his skin looked under the fluorescent lights. Without thinking much of it, he booked an appointment at the tanning salon down the street. After his first session, he looked at himself in the mirror, marveling at the golden glow on his skin. It made him feel good, confident—like he was stepping into a new version of himself.

Tanning became part of his routine, just like the gym. He started looking forward to that golden glow, the way it made his muscles stand out more, and how it just felt right.

One weekend, Alex found himself wandering into a clothing store, drawn to a section of tank tops with bold prints—Italian flags, American flags, vibrant colors that screamed confidence. He picked up a few without thinking twice, the fabric feeling perfect against his newly defined arms. When he got home and slipped into one of the tanks, he stood in front of the mirror, flexing his biceps. The tank hugged his body in all the right places, and as he admired his reflection, a grin spread across his face.

Damn, I look good.

It wasn’t just the clothes that made him feel this way—it was the pride, the feeling of representing his heritage with every lift, every flex. It felt right.

The most surprising change came with his voice. At first, it was barely noticeable—a slight shift in his accent, a few new words slipping into his vocabulary. But as the weeks went on, the transformation in his speech became undeniable. His voice took on a thicker Jersey inflection, and words like “bro” and “yo” started slipping out naturally, almost without him realizing it. He spoke with more confidence, more swagger, his words carrying a weight that hadn’t been there before.

He even noticed how loud he’d become, but it wasn’t obnoxious—it felt like he was owning the room. His friends started to comment on it, but Alex didn’t mind. It felt like the way he was supposed to talk, like his voice was finally matching the rest of his transformation.

One night, Alex found himself scrolling through YouTube, where he came across a Dom Mazzetti video. He clicked on it, expecting to laugh at the over-the-top persona, but something else happened. As Dom joked about gym culture, diet, and lifting, Alex found himself nodding along, relating to the lifestyle. The gym wasn’t just a place to work out anymore—it was part of who he was becoming.

The next few weeks passed in a blur. Alex’s days revolved around the gym, tanning, and repping his heritage with pride. He found himself following more content creators who embodied the same mindset—guys who lived for the grind, the lifts, and the pride in who they were.

His roommate Frank noticed the changes, too. “Bro, you’re looking jacked,” Frank said one afternoon as Alex flexed in the mirror before heading out to the gym. “You flexing the gains hard now.”

Alex grinned, running a hand through his hair, which he’d started gelling back every morning. “Yeah, man. It just feels right, you know?”

Frank clapped him on the shoulder, a proud smirk on his face. “Told ya. Once you get in the groove, there’s no going back. You’re one of us now, bro. Tanning, lifting, and heritage. Welcome to the crew.”

Alex chuckled, feeling Frank’s words sink in. Wasn’t just about the workouts or the diet no more. It was the whole package—the attitude, the pride, the way he carried himself. He’d become confident, bold, and unapologetic. The gym had become his temple, and every flex in the mirror, every perfectly tanned muscle, reminded him of how far he’d come.

He spoke with more confidence now, his voice carrying a thick Jersey accent that seemed to come naturally. Words like “bro” and “yo” slipped out effortlessly, and he found himself embracing the louder, more assertive side of himself. Even his walk had changed—there was more swagger, more presence.

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

A few weeks later, Alex and Frank were sitting in the living room, scrolling through profiles of potential new roommates. Their lease was ending soon, and they needed to find someone to fill the third room. Frank leaned back in his chair, sipping a protein shake as he swiped through a list of candidates.

“Yo, check this one out,” Alex said, pausing on a profile. “Marco Ricci. Italian last name.”

Frank raised an eyebrow and leaned in, studying the screen. “Oh shit, an Italian? That’s promising.”

They opened Marco’s profile, but instead of seeing someone flexing or rocking a tan, Marco looked... pretty regular. He wasn’t out of shape, but he wasn’t exactly lifting heavy either. Pale, with a pretty average physique, he was the kind of guy who didn’t seem to spend much time at the gym. His shirt was plain, and his expression, while friendly, was far from the confident swagger Alex and Frank had come to expect in their circle.

Alex chuckled, nudging Frank. “Dude’s kinda pasty, huh?”

Frank smirked. “Yeah, bro. Definitely needs some work. But Rome wasn’t built in a day, you know? He’s got the Italian blood—that’s what counts. We can mold him.”

Alex nodded, his mind already racing. Marco might not be there yet, but with the right guidance, who knows? The guy had potential. He just needed some direction.

“Yeah,” Alex said, swiping right on Marco’s profile. “We’ll get him there. If he’s down to move in, I have the perfect playlist in mind."

Frank chuckled deeply, shaking his head. “Bro, he won’t know what hit him.”

Alex grinned, flexing in the mirror nearby. “Hey, Rome wasn’t built in a day, right?”

Frank laughed again, raising his protein shake in a mock toast. “Damn straight, bro."

WANNA BECOME A GUIDO FOR REAL? Try this subliminal:

Guido Subliminal (Accent, Mindset, Discipline, Extreme Confidence)

[carlyyyyxbishhop]

Back to friends? Spencer x reader

*Not gender specific*

Idk I was clearing out my drafts and found this from like 3 years ago (originally a Shayne oneshot but thought I'd change it to Spence)

TW: mentions of sex & alcohol.

You weren’t sure how things ended up the way they did. One drunken night had slowly formed a routine between two strangers.

You had met Spencer on a night out at some dingy bar in West Hollywood. The night had occurred for your mutual friend's birthday and consisted of shots, cocktails and karaoke. Spencer had kept his eye on you all night, watching as you interacted with everyone. He was mesmerised by your ability to talk to people, something that he had struggled with his whole life. 

He had somehow mustered up the courage to talk to you, though you did most of the talking. And somehow, he had managed to get you back to his place. One night stands weren’t normal for either of you, maybe that’s why it lasted longer than that one night. After one night Spencer knew he’d need more.

And so that one night repeated the next weekend, and the weekend after that. You eventually added weeknights to that roster and two months later you realised you were at Spencer’s more nights than your own place. 

He didn’t mind, he was the one that invited you over anyway. He was comfortable with the arrangement. The funny part was, half the time you stayed at his place you didn’t even sleep together. Some of those nights consisted of sitting next to each other reading silently or cooking food or listening to music and playing games. You were taking the friends part of friends with benefits a little too literally.

And so you sat, on a Friday night, a drink in your hand. Spencer sat next to you, laughing along to the stupid show you were binging together. You stole a quick glance at him, admiring how handsome he looked in his casual state. And a few drinks usually meant the two of you would be rolling around in his bed a little later, melting into each other. Something in the whisky he kept on hand made sex so much more passionate.

Spencer loved to please you, sometimes more so than himself. And so as he came up from that sweet spot between your legs, he gave you that sly smile that made your chest hurt. That look had you rethinking the casualness of your relationship, it made you worry that one day it would end and you’d never be on the receiving end of that look again.

Later on you lay next to Spencer in his bed, still naked under the thin top sheet. He sat, leaning against the headboard with his whisky still in his hand. You lay on your stomach facing toward him, watching him quietly 

He notices your stare, putting down the glass on the bedside table. He strokes the hair out of your face softly asking you some trivial question about the sex you just had. No doubt trying to be funny. But when he doesn’t receive the expected response he panics. 

Obviously Spencer had thought about the not-so-permanent status of your relationship, but he was happy with how things were. He tried to push thoughts of you moving on from his mind whenever they came up, but his heart beat sped up as he looked at you now. Were you reconsidering this?

“Can I be honest?” You asked, sitting up slightly. He nodded slowly, cautiously. “I don’t know if I can do the friends with benefits thing.”

Spencer sighed and ran a hand through his hair, “Yeah… okay.”

“I mean I just feel like this isn’t a friends with benefits relationship anymore, and it scares me that I’ll be crushed one day when you tell me it’s over.”

He paused at this, looking toward you with his eyebrow raised slightly.

“When I tell you this is over?” He asked incredulously.

“Well yeah, one day you’ll move on right?” 

He laughed slightly and turned to lay on his side, facing you with a small smile. He didn’t meet your eyes as he looked down. Running his hand gently up the side of your body, lazily over the thin sheet..

“I’m not moving on.” You looked at him confused as he met your eyes.

“So… does that mean?” You trailed off waiting for him to say the words.

“We can actually start dating?” He finished with a smile. You returned his smile, leaning in to seal the deal with a kiss.

[maevebabyy]

OBVIOUS

megan skiendiel x fem reader

req! - "Maybe megan x reader (7th member) fluff where they’ve been having feelings for each other for a while but none of them dares to do anything about it, until they end up confessing to each other"

a/n - LETS GOOO FIRST MEGAN FIC

wc - 2.7k

“are you wearing my sweater?” you ask the chinese-american girl who was currently lounging in your bed beside you.

megan glances down at the oversized sweater she was wearing, the sleeves hanging past her fingertips. “mm, yeah. It’s comfy,” she replies, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.

you can’t help but chuckle at the casual response you receive from the younger girl. “mhm. you realize that’s the fourth one you’ve taken from me this week?”

she shrugs, a playful grin now spreading across her features. “what can i say? you have nice sweaters. plus, i think they like me better.”

“right, because sweaters have feelings now.” you roll your eyes, feigning annoyance.

at megan’s request, you were once again watching crazy rich asians. leaning back into your pillows some more, megan follows suit, her head resting comfortably on your shoulder.

it had become a ritual of sorts– megan would come over to your room, or vice versa, and you’d settle in and do an activity together. whether it was binge-watching a series, a movie night, or just scrolling mindlessly through tiktok together. sometimes you’d be doing separate activities, the silence comfortable between you two as you continued on with whatever you two did.

the other members knew about yours and megan’s comfortable little routine. often teasing you two about it but still giving you guys the space to enjoy your time together.

“y/n?” megan pauses the movie, pulling you aside from your thoughts.

you turn towards her, curious. “yeah?”

“so, my mom sent me two tickets to the aquarium downtown”

“mhm?”

“do you wanna go together next weekend?”

you don’t put much thought into your answer, you were willing to do anything with megan. “yeah, sounds like fun. why’d your mom send only two tickets though?”

the singaporean shrugs, grinning softly. “dunno, but do you wanna go friday or saturday?”

“let’s go friday.” you reply.

“cool, am i driving or you?”

“i’ll drive,” you chuckle softly, “you suck at parking downton”

megan feigns offense, sitting up slightly, “hey, i”m not that bad at parking.”

you laugh, shaking your head. “like that time you parked in front of a fire hydrant?”

“it was one time!”

-

as the day of the aquarium approached, megan’s excitement quickly transformed into a flurry of nervous energy. she stood in front of her closet, clothes strewn everywhere, while her roommate lara sat cross legged on her bed, watching with an amused expression.

“ugh, why is this so hard?” megan muttered, tossing aside a black graphic tee. “i literally have nothing to wear!”

“you know you can just wear whatever you want, right? it’s not like the fish are gonna judge you.” lara smirks, enjoying the panic in the room.

megan shoots a look at her roommate, her hands resting on her hips. “but what if i wear something too casual? or dressy? i need to look cute, but also comfy! this is a big deal!”

“relax, meg. It’s just a day out with y/n.” the indian girl leans back, grabbing a piece of popcorn from the bowl beside her. “just wear something that you like.”

“are you seriously eating popcorn while i’m stressing out?”

lara laughs at megan’s offended expression. “you’re getting so worked up over this, it’s funny. it’s y/n, megan. i mean, did you even clarify that you wanted this to be a date or does she think this is just another hangout?”

the ‘06 girl flushes at slightly at lara’s question. “i-i mean, i haven’t exactly said anything. i thought she’d maybe pick up on the hints!”

lara snorts a little, “yeah, keyword: maybe. you know that girl is as dense as a rock!”

“could i be more obvious?” megan groans, “i mean– i’ve stolen like half her sweaters at this point.”

“we steal each other’s clothes all the time, megan” lara grabs some more popcorn. “you need to be more forward. just tell her how you feel!”

“way easier said than done, lara” megan huffed, plopping down onto her bed in frustration. “what if she doesn’t feel the same way? what if i ruin everything? i don’t wanna ruin our friendship.”

“meg, are we talking about the same y/n? the same one who willingly lets you into her room anytime you want?” lara laughs, throwing a piece of popcorn at the girl to get her up. 

“yes, lara! who else?” megan huffs once more.

“oh my god, you’re so down bad for her” lara laughs once more, prompting megan to hold up her pillow threateningly.

“okay, okay!” lara throws her hands up in defense as she finally gets up from her bed. “let’s get this outfit situation sorted out.”

-

meanwhile, in your room, you had some soft music playing in the background– oblivious to the chaos happening in megan and lara’s shared bedroom.

manon sat in your gaming chair, scrolling through instagram on her phone.

“manon, what do you think?” you ask, holding up some baggy black jeans, a black shirt, and a blue/white zip up cardigan.

the swiss girl glances up from her phone towards you, “that looks good, what shoes are you gonna wear with it?”

“probably just my black forces.” you reply, “i’m gonna go change in the bathroom really quick.”

you head off into the direction of the house bathroom, chuckling softly to yourself as you pass by lara and megan’s shared bedroom– briefly hearing the commotion inside.

you go into the bathroom, pulling up the baggy jeans and slipping into the black shirt. as you put on the cardigan, you glace at yourself in the mirror. you looked presentable, you think.

feeling satisfied, you head back into your room, showing off the outfit to manon. “did the vision eat?” you ask, striking a pose.

manon looks up from her phone again, taking in your outfit. “oooh, okay, yeah, the vision ate.” she replies, giggling lightly. 

“mm, thanks. i figured i should i should at least look presentable since we’re actually going out somewhere.” you lay down on your bed, pulling out your phone to check the time. you’d be leaving in about ten minutes. “megan’s been looking forward to this all week.”

manon raises an eyebrow, a knowing smile creeping onto her face. “are you sure this isn’t more than just a friendly outing? you seem a bit extra for just hanging out.”

you roll your eyes, trying to play it cool. “it’s not like that… or maybe it is? i don’t know.” you chuckle, feeling a mix of nerves and anticipation.

“you’re both painfully so obvious, y/n.” manon giggles.

“shut up,” you chuckle, rolling your eyes. “this is just another hangout”

“mhm, hangout.” the ‘02 girl teases.

“yes, hangout.” you say stretch your limbs as you get out of your bed, grabbing your car keys off your desk. “anyway, we’re gonna go now.”

manon waves you goodbye, smirking softly, “mhm, use protection y/n!”

you flip her off before leaving your room, shaking your head softly at your friend’s antics.

-

you arrived at the aquarium, the sun casting a warm glow on the entrance as you stepped out of your car. the building was massive, which was to be expected considering it was the top rated aquarium within los angeles.

“damn, this place is massive” you chuckle, taking in the sight.

“it gets better inside” megan says happily, a wide grin plastered on her face.

“you’ve been here before?” 

“yeah, with my parents when i was younger.” she nods at your question, gently tugging you along towards the entrance of the aquarium. “c’mon, let’s go y/n!”

the moment you entered, the soft sounds of water splashing and the vibrant colours of fish swimming greeted you. the expansive lobby featured large glass windows showcasing a massive tank filled with dazzling marine life, instantly gaining your attention. families milled about, kids pointing excitedly at the various sea creatures, laughter ringing through the air. couples held hands, taking selfies with the colourful backdrop if the fish swimming by, and the atmosphere was alive with joy.

you and megan wandered in, her eyes wide with awe as she pointed out a school of colourful fish darting around. “look at them!” she exclaimed, tugging at the sleeve of your cardigan, her enthusiasm infectious. you couldn’t help but smile at how excited she was.

“yeah, they’re really pretty” you reply, taking in the sight of megan pointing at the school of fish. as you walked further into the aquarium, you both marveled at the vibrant displays of marine life– jellyfish floating gracefully, a gigantic tank filled with a variety of tropical fish, and even a shark (which megan pretended to kiss.)

after a while, you noticed the temperature inside the aquarium had dropped a bit. megan rubbed her arms, shivering slightly.

you notice the small action, and, without thinking, you slipped off your cardigan and draped it over her shoulders. “here, take this. you look like you need it more than i do.”

the younger looks up at you, surprise shrinking in her eyes. “you sure? i don’t want you to end up cold now.”

“it’s fine, really. i’ve got a t-shirt underneath,” you assured her, grinning as you adjusted your cardigan around her. the sleeves fell just past her fingertips, making her look adorably snug. “see? you look great.”

“thanks, y/n.” she smiled, her cheeks slightly pink, probably from the cold, as she pulled the cardigan tighter around herself.

you both continued exploring, the chill forgotten as you moved deeper into the aquarium. families and couples were everywhere, kids squealing with delight as they spotted turtles and sharks. the atmosphere was lively, yet peaceful, filled with laughter and soft sounds of water splashing.

as you wandered through the exhibits, the noise gradually faded, giving way to a more intimate setting. the path led you to a quieter section, where the tanks were surrounded by dimmed lighting. here, couples were taking their time, sharing hushed conversations and leaning into each other, completely absorbed in the experience.

“wow, it feels different back here,” you remark, glancing at megan, who was watching a mesmerizing display of jellyfish pulsating gracefully into the water.

“yeah, it’s nice,” she replies softly, her voice barely above a whisper. “i love how peaceful it is.”

you shared a comfortable silence, watching the jellyfish dance, their translucent bodies glowing softly in the dim light. the ambiance felt intimate, almost magical, as if the world outside had faded away. just then, as you turned to move on, you spotted an ice cream shop tucked away in a cozy corner. a sign outside read: “free ice cream for couples!”

you raise an eyebrow, curiosity piqued, “look megan, free ice cream. is that why there’s so many couples around?”

megan’s eyes light up, a playful glint shining though as she follows your gaze. “oh my god! they still do that?”

“do what?”

she turns towards you, a wide grin on across her face. “you get free ice cream if you kiss your partner in front of them! my parents did this for me when we went last time to get me ice cream. i can’t believe they still do this!”

another comfortable silence falls between you two, before megan breaks it first. “do you wanna get some ice cream?

you hesitated, a mix of nerves and uncertainty swirling in your stomach. “i mean… ice cream would be nice, but we’d have to kiss first, right?” 

the 06’s playful smile turned into a mischievous grin, “exactly! come on, it’ll just be a quick peck. it’ll be quick!”

you swallowed, the thought of kissing her sending your heart into overdrive. “i don’t know… it might be awkward.”

“it won’t be! it’ll be quick, y/n!” she insisted, leaning in a little closer, her enthusiasm spilling over to you. “plus, think about the ice cream!”

you chuckle, glancing back at the shop. contemplation apparent on your face.

megan rolled her eyes dramatically, playfully nudging you. “you think too much, y/n, it’ll be a quick kiss.”

the more you thought about it, the more appealing the idea became. megan said it herself right? it wouldn’t be awkward?.  after a moment’s pause, you finally relented. “okay. just a quick kiss, and then we get ice cream.”

her eyes sparkled with excitement. “exactly, just a peck, and then we can indulge.”

as you both walked toward the ice cream shop, you felt a mix of anticipation and nervousness. the cheerful attendant smiled knowingly as you approached. “hi there! to get your free ice cream, you just need to kiss!”

you glance over at megan, who was practically glowing with excitement. she smiled softly at you, letting you know that she’s ready whenever you are.

what if i mess this up? what if it’s too awkward? you thought, feeling your heart race as megan leaned closer. but her smile was so genuine, and the warmth of her presence made you want to lean in too. 

you leaned in, feeling the warmth radiating between you. you noticed her fidgeting with the hem of your cardigan, a nervous habit you had come to recognize, and you could feel your own pulse quickening. the air felt thick with anticipation, the faint scent of her vanilla perfume swirling around you. you could hear your heart pounding in your ears as you leaned in closer, the world around you fading away.

the moment felt electric, and as your lips brushed against hers– soft and tentative– you lost yourself in it. time seemed to freeze as you both leaned into the kiss, a sweet connection forming in that brief moment.

when you finally pulled away, both of you were breathless, a mix of surprise and delight evident on your faces. “wow,” megan breathed, her cheeks flushed. “that was… nice.”

you nod your head in response, still breathless. it was definitely not just a peck.

the attendant handed you both cups of ice cream, a now forced grin on his face, “i was only really looking for a brief kiss but here are your ice creams.”

you both nod sheepishly– feeling a little embarrassed, thanking the attendant as you grab your two cups of vanilla ice cream. 

you both wandered to a small seating area nearby, the ice cream shop fading into the background as you settled into a more intimate space. you sat side by side, eating your ice cream.

unsure of what to make of the silence between you two, you tease her lightly. “does it taste like how you remember?”

megan grins softly at the tease, “it tastes better, actually.”

you hum, savouring your ice cream, letting silence fall between you two again.

megan looked at you, her expression shifting to something more serious. “so… about that kiss,” she started, her tone slightly nervous.

“yeah?” you prompted, your heart racing again.

she took a deep breath, her cheeks still tinged pink. “i really like you, y/n. like, a lot more than just friends.” her gaze held yours, steady and sincere.

your heart soared at her confession. after months of dancing around these unspoken feelings you two were finally going to talk about it.

“i like you too, megan. I’ve been wanting to tell you for a while now, but i wasn’t sure how.”

a laugh of relief escaped her, her smile brightening. “so i was being obvious? i mean, stealing your sweaters, constantly going to your room for sleepovers…”

“trust me, i noticed,” you admitted, grinning, “i was just scared i was reading it all wrong.”

“i guess being direct really is the best way to clear things up” megan giggles lightly.

you chuckle along with her, “what made you decide this anyway? like, i mean, confess?”

“lara told me to woman up.” she laughs a bit louder.

you laugh along softly, “to be fair, i don’t think i would’ve tried anything unless you said something straight up.”

“i can see that now.” she giggles, taking another bite of her ice cream, then looks back at you with a playful flint in her eye. “so, what now?”

you consider for a moment, a smile creeping onto your face again. “honestly, probably the same exact thing we’ve been doing, except, more kisses and a label?”

“sounds perfect to me, y/n.”

a/n - rushed and not proofread 😭🙏

[kier-with-a-k]

No Surprises - M. S.

A/N: been a while since I wrote an angst fic yk... Gotta bring back the og!!! I had fun writing this... Low key got inspired by @ev1ldeadboy just posting lyrics of this song!

Warning: angst!

-Y/N's POV-

Empty.

That's what it feels like being in this relationship.

Life feels suffocating. He was supposed to be my escape. My paradise. The oasis in an endless desert.

It doesn’t feel like that anymore. It's not hate. But it’s not love either.

Indifference.

Indifference is what it feels like. It hurts, but it hurts more not knowing why it does. We don’t even argue? There’s no shouting, no slamming doors. Just silence. Heavy and sweet like syrup that's gone stale.

Matt is the kindest and purest soul I know but... fuck.

Is it me?

I keep asking that. Like an itch I can’t scratch. Like static in the back of my mind. Is it me who ruined this? Did I ask for too much? Or not enough?

Every morning I wake up and pretend. Pretend I’m fine. Pretend the stillness between us is peaceful and not a graveyard. He brings me coffee and smiles and I smile back and something about it feels wrong, like a dream where you know something awful is about to happen but can’t remember what.

A heart that’s full up like a landfill.

That's what mine feels like.

All these small things piled up—quiet disappointments, swallowed words, the way he doesn’t look at me the same anymore. The way I don't reach for him anymore.

I wanted a quiet life. No alarms and no surprises. But maybe peace built on pretense isn’t peace at all. Maybe it’s just another kind of drowning.

And still—he is kind. He asks if I’m okay. And I say, “Yeah, just tired.”

Tired of what?

Of pretending? Of trying to stitch life together with safety pins and forced laughter?

I don’t know how long we can keep living like this—two ghosts orbiting the same houseplant, watching dust settle in the corners of our shared silence.

No alarms and no surprises.

Just this numb ache and the hum of the kettle and a love that forgot how to grow.

Sometimes, I watch him from across the room and wonder if he feels it too—the stillness that used to be comfort now curdled into something hollow. He hums to himself while doing dishes, like he always has. His shoulders slope in that familiar way, the way they always have. Nothing has changed, and yet everything has.

He says things like “We should go away this weekend,” and I nod, but all I can think about is how tiring it sounds.

Packing. Smiling. Trying.

What I really want is to disappear into clean white sheets and never be asked how I feel again.

I think he thinks I’m unhappy with him. But that’s not it. That’s not fair. It’s deeper than that—like something inside me just went quiet one day, and never came back on.

I miss who we were. The nights we stayed up too late whispering about everything and nothing. The way I used to feel lighter when he walked into a room.

Now I just feel... still.

I don’t even cry about it. Isn’t that strange? There’s a kind of grief that lives under the skin. It doesn’t scream—it just stays.

A handshake of carbon monoxide.

That's what it feels like. Not deadly. Not yet. Just... dull and soft and constant.

Sometimes I wonder what would happen if I just left. If I packed a bag while he was asleep and walked out into the street barefoot. Let the cold bite my toes. Let something real touch me.

But I never do.

I stay.

Because he hasn’t done anything wrong.

Because I don’t know how to explain what’s missing.

Because I’m scared I’ll never feel differently.

And because some part of me still hopes—quietly, stubbornly—that one morning I’ll wake up and remember what it felt like to be in love.

Or at least, to feel something.

Even if it hurts.

Atleast it would mean I'm still there. Somewhere.

But days pass. Weeks blur.

We keep dancing the same slow-motion routine—wake up, coffee, smiles like clockwork. We ask each other how our days were. We nod. We laugh at the right times. But the laughter is thin, like tracing paper over something that used to be whole.

He kisses me goodnight, and I kiss him back.

And neither of us say anything about the space growing between us, like ivy in the cracks of an old building. Quiet. Persistent.

Until tonight.

He found me sitting on the floor in the hallway, lights off, phone buzzing somewhere I couldn't be bothered to reach.

“Are you okay?” he asked, voice soft. Like always. Like he means it. Like he still cares.

And maybe that’s what broke me.

Because he does care.

And I don’t know how to anymore.

I looked up at him, and something in me gave way—like a dam cracking under too much silence.

“I can’t do this anymore,” I said. Not loud. Not angry. Just... tired. Bone-deep tired.

He didn’t say anything at first. He just stood there, like he didn’t know whether to sit beside me or leave the room. Like if he moved, everything would shatter.

Then, finally, he asked, “What do you mean?”

And I couldn’t answer right away. Because how do you explain that love slipped away while we were busy being careful? That somewhere along the way, we stopped being a story and became a habit?

So I just said the only truth I could manage:

“I don’t feel it anymore. And I don’t think you do either.”

Silence. Again. But this time it wasn’t peaceful. It was a silence that confirmed everything.

He didn’t try to argue. He didn’t say I was wrong.

He just nodded. Slowly. Like the ending had already begun a long time ago, and we were only just catching up to it.

I went to bed alone.

And for the first time in months, I cried. Not because I missed him. Not because I doubted it.

But because sometimes the saddest thing isn’t the loss—it’s realizing you were never brave enough to stop pretending.

And now, the house is too quiet.

And the coffee tastes like nothing.

And the morning comes anyway.

No alarms.

No surprises.

Just the soft, cruel sound of something finally ending.

A/N: hope y'all enjoyed this!!! Let me know lol

TAGLIST: @sturnsblogs @thenickgirl @sturns-mermaid @sarahsturnn @jacksonsturniolo @certifiednickboy @nickssidewitch @fentiesturns @oopsiedaisydeer @messi10-fcb @nickscoconutwater @ed1tssturnn @lilyswirly

Deviders by THE @bernardsbendystraws

[strwbnnie]

‎✧ lovesick!chifuyu x hyperfem!bimbo reader : A jealous, pining Chifuyu finally gets the courage to approach you after watching you fraternize with Mitsuya ♡

black fem reader, chubby bimbo reader, reader is a fashion girlie! not really mentioned but chifu studies literature, semi-public sex (I think), kinda whiny reader, kind of a shift at the end. lovesick!chifuyu, reader is a maneater not a mean girl! (jk) Mitsuya & Takemichi make an appearance! There’s like one b*ji spoiler, standing doggy, slight choking, pussy eating, unprotected sex (wrap before you tap), excuse any mistakes, MDNI

author’s note: for my bby @prtttycocobuttvr 🫶🏾chile this has been in the drafts for idk how long 🥲 extra long for literally no reason, the bulk of it isn’t even the smut…the ending is so abrupt 😭 but I really needed this out my drafts

wc: 3.7k

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Every now and then Chifuyu thinks back to the day the two of you met.

He fucking hated you at first, he’s ashamed to admit. Was it really hate though? Could’ve been annoyance, jealousy maybe? A lil bit of both is what he’ll chalk it up to. It was love at first sight for him, meanwhile you never gave a second glance in his direction.

He started seeing you more as the weeks passed, the two of you had no classes together, but he still saw you around far too often. You smelled just like marshmallows or vanilla, something sweet that demanded his attention every single fucking time you strutted past him. 

It became a routine—class, cafe and lastly the library where he’d find you doing anything but reading. 

Once a quiet safe haven for him to relax with a good book, now overtaken by the clicks and clacks of you touching up your makeup, or the rustle of a potato chip bag while you sit there with your pink Hello Kitty headphones watching some Netflix drama, even the constant sucking and the jumbling of ice as you slurp down every drop of your boba coffee while waiting for your newest minion to finish your homework.

That day was supposed to be no different. You and one of your minions were heading to that same table, around the same time you always arrived. You looked so damn good too. You always did. 

He was obsessed with your new hair color, black girl blonde is what he learned it’s called. Ash blonde with dark chocolate roots and it’s just so damn pretty he’s losing his fucking mind. Your face is fresh and bare, no makeup aside from a dark blackish-brown lip liner and gloss. Lashes full and fluffy, you must’ve gotten them filled over the weekend.

His eyes are trailing your every move, waiting for the glimpse of your backside that never came.

“Hiiiii Mitsu & friends!” You leaned down to drape yourself over the lavender’s shoulders. Chifuyu tries to keep his cool, brows furrowed and eyes almost as wide as saucers as he watched this strange display. 

And friends? How fucking pathetic is that. Granted, he didn’t know your name either, often referring to you as “that pretty girl” when he spoke about you to Baji’s grave but fuck, that made him feel like shit. 

It’s the first time he’s heard that cute voice of yours and it’s when you’re greeting Takashi fucking Mitsuya?? You guys seem well acquainted and it burns Chifuyu up inside, when the fuck did you two get all buddy-buddy? And what the fuck did Mitsuya have that he didn’t? 

He wonders who initiated the first contact, wouldn’t be surprised if it was Mitsuya, he’d always had the confidence a loser like him lacked. He was also very good with women, unlike Chifuyu. Then again, you seem very bubbly and outgoing so it very well could’ve been you who approached him.

“Here are those fabric swatches I was telling you about. If you decide to use any just let me know! I have tons of rolls and I can bring you some yards.” You hand him a couple of squares of fabric. At least ten 4x4 squares that you took the time to cut and string on a little o-ring like paint swatches. So cute. 

“Thank you, y/n!” He smiles. “I’ll surely let you know.”

Just like that, you’re heading over to your table, minion hot on your heels. 

It’s a quick exchange, and it should’ve been harmless, but boy does it boil his blood. God, did you speak to everyone but him?!

“Y/N,” Damn, he learned your name, heard your voice and watched you diss him all in one sitting. It was insane. “You know her?”

“Yeah, we’ve only spoken a few times but she’s super friendly. She’s an exchange student from the states, a fashion major too, we have classes together.” Mitsuya spoke as he sketched out a few designs for a project. 

“This would make a nice jacket.” He shows Takemichi the blush pink corduroy square for him to feel. “Maybe pants too if she has enough. It’d look nice on Koko, he’s my model.” “It would! It’s nice and soft, like velvet! Koko’s super pretty too, it’ll look great.”

He steals glances at you every now and then. 

“Just talk to her dude, she’s literally so sweet.”

He doesn’t raise his head, still sketching away, but it’s clear who his words are directed to. Mitsuya has known him for quite some time, of course he knew how to read his pragmatic friend. 

“Yeah! Unless you’re scared.” 

He cuts his eyes at the crybaby blonde. Of course he wasn’t scared, just a bit apprehensive is all. 

He looks your way one last time.

Your back is to him and you have your MacBook open in front of you watching a recap of celebrity metgala looks. You’re enamored by your fashion content, even taking notes in your cute notebook with your adorable pom-pom pen. You’re too oblivious—too much of an airhead in your own dumb little world to notice that simp eye fucking you. 

Dude’s practically drooling while staring at your tits. It’s disgusting, enraging even. It boiled his blood, so much that he’s scooting his chair back to approach the both of you. Takemichi and Mitsuya watched him with careful eyes, since he didn’t say a word before he made his move. Fuck it, his pride was already shot and he didn’t have shit else to lose. 

You didn’t even notice him at first, both airpods in, now staring into your hello kitty shaped compact mirror while reapplying that sticky beauty supply lipgloss all over your plump pout. 

Before he could even stop himself he’s snatching up your homework sheet, scanning his eyes over this chump’s work. Wrong. Wrong. Most were either fucking wrong or incomplete! Complete bullshit and he was gonna let you turn that in?!? 

“Get the fuck outta here.” He’s speaks so calmly, it’s all the more sinister. 

The four-eyed geek is snatching up his bag and calculator so damn fast you’d think Chifuyu had a gun to his head. 

It pissed him off so bad! But why did it piss him off so bad? 

Probably because you’ve approached everyone but him as if he’s not one of the smartest people on this fucking campus. Probably fucked them all too, so why were you being so damn stingy with him? And why the hell was he so worried about it?

Chifuyu motions to sit down next to you, thighs spread with his hands clasped between them. He run’s his sweaty palms along his pants every now and then, trying to build the courage to speak to you. 

You give your lips one last smack, capping your lipgloss and shutting your compact. “Hey, you’re Mitsu’s friend! Do you know where…nevermind. I don’t even remember his name.”

“He said he had something to do, I don’t know. Doesn’t matter.”

“Oh okay. What’s up?” You finally give him your undivided attention, dropping your stuff into your little designer baguette bag, turning in your chair until you’re facing him. You’re almost instantly entranced by those striking eyes, iris’ the color of sea glass. The dark locks of his undercut styled messy and wild. He’s cute. Real cute. 

“I like you.” Chifuyu has never been one to beat around the bush, even though his heart was nearly beating out of his chest right about now.

“You don’t know me to like me, so if you wanna fuck me, just say that.”

You say it like it’s nothing. Must be used to it by now, constant fetishizing instead of genuine attraction. But the way he’d been pining over you was much deeper than someone who just wanted a quick fuck. You plagued his mind—his thoughts, all you.

He runs his tongue over his lips, not in a creepy way, but because he’s nervous and they’re dry. Either way you still notice it, it’s kinda hot honestly. 

 “I do. I mean I would, but I don’t want to-I don’t have to,” He’s stumbling all over his words and it’s fucking embarrassing. Word vomit, is what Mitsuya calls it, it starts and there’s no telling when it stops. 

“Regardless, I wanna know you–I think you’re so pretty, I like your style, the way you dress and stuff. And I’ll do your homework, if you want. Or I can actually show you how to do it, cus’ if you turn this garbage in you’re sure to fail.” Chifuyu tosses out. He barely wanted to do his own, so why the fuck was he offering to do yours? Was he that desperate for your attention? 

You’re twirling your hair around your finger, head tilted. You’d never had one of them offer to teach you, just always offering to do it just to be in your space. 

“Hmmm..so you wanna be my tutor. I guess, but what’s in it for me?”

The blackette could feel his eye start to twitch, there’s no way you were serious. “I’m doing your homework and tutoring you for free, what the fuck else do you want from me?” He scoffs. 

Greedy bitch. 

“Boy please, I can have any of these other guys doing my homework. You obviously want something from me and I just wanna know what you’ll offer me in return.” 

“I don’t want anything from you, I’just want you.”

You stare at him and he stares back, that adorable face of his morphed into a slight pout. He holds eye contact the entire time, it’s almost intimidating, but his aura is so light and genuine. 

He’s a strange boy, you’ve concluded, but it’s intriguing. 

“Why?” 

“I don’t fuckin know,” He truly doesn’t know, you’re just a dumb girl he happened to see at school. Not the first and definitely not the last, but you’ve been on his mind since he first laid eyes on you. “But I like you, a lot. I’ll do whatever you want.”

He was infatuated and he didn’t know why. 

You divert your eyes, tapping your puffball of your pen against the wooden table. “What if I want you to fuck me?” 

There’s a pause, you look at him and he looks at you before he sucks his teeth. “You’re joking.” Even still, he feels the blood rushing from his cheeks to his cock.

“You said whatever I want.” He needs to make sure he heard that correctly. Was it a test? A prank? Because you’re obviously just fucking with him. “But if it’s too forward, we can just study I guess.”

He’s silent and so are you but the way he’s boring into your soul makes you wish you never brought it up at all. “You serious?”

You nod, batting your fluffy mink lashes at him and as lame as it sounds, that’s all it took. 

Next thing he knew, Chifuyu was eating his crush’s pussy in one of the private study rooms. He’s almost embarrassed at how quickly he fell to his knees, eager to slurp on your pretty, plump cunt. 

The library is old. One of the oldest buildings on campus, hasn’t been renovated since it was built. A private study room was the perfect place—just a windowless, concrete box where no one could see or hear you leaned on your back with your feet in the air while he sucked on your pussy. 

Your clit is juicy and suckable, the pink nub catches his attention the minute he slid your panties down and spread your thighs open. 

He’s used to keeping his face stuffed in a book back here, now he’d much rather have his face stuffed between your thighs every second of the day. 

You’re a sight to see right now, tits spilling out from under your top, panties looped around one of your ankles and your skirt is flipped up and out of the way, away from the mess he’s making between your thighs. 

He’s so messy with it, spitting on it and slurping it back up, licking stripes up your sweet pussy until your clit is peeking out of its hood.

“So good.” He breathes out, spreading you wider. From your hole, all the way up and back down again, his tongue leaves no part of your cunt untouched. He’s dragging up one last time before sucking your cute little clit between his lips, running his hands up and down your plush thighs and belly. 

After a while you lean up and your shaky hands manage to pry those supple pink lips away from your clit, his lips leaving your pussy with a loud, wet ‘pop’. “Waittt, I never got your name.” You whined. 

As if names, or lack there of, had ever stopped you. But you desperately wanted to know his and you wanted to scream it when you came—which would be very soon if he kept sucking on your clit like that. 

He’s gazing up at you with those dazzling seafoam green eyes, silvery strands of your slick still connected to his lips when he pulls away from your pussy. 

“Chif-fuck...” He’s huffing and puffing trying to catch his breath, resting his head on your thigh for a moment. Your hand is running through his hair, back and forth petting motions until his breathing slowed. “Chifuyu. Matsuno..Chifuyu.” 

He rarely gave his full name, at least not to people he held no respect for. But you were different, he just knew you were. He’d never been this intrigued by another person since middle school when he met the infamous Baji.

“Chi-fu-yu. Chif-uyu.”

You test it on your tongue, wanting to get every syllable right. It makes him fucking melt, the sound of his name flowing from your glossy lips is so pretty. Fuck, he needed to hear you moaning, screaming and babbling it like a little slut. His little slut.

He wastes no time pressing his lips back to your pussy, licking thick stripes up and down, fat tongue relentlessly teasing your entrance and dragging back up to your clit.

“F-fuck how are you so good at this..” It catches you off guard. His head is sloppy and nasty, but not too wet with just enough teasing to drive you insane. It’s almost as if he’d been acquainted with your pussy before this, but you know there’s no way. 

You barely notice how your body subconsciously rocks against him, rubbing your pussy up and down his face, your clit bumping his little button nose every single time. 

Your question falls on deaf ears. 

The once bright-eyed boy is now staring at you, his eyes alarmingly low and glossed over as he loses himself. 

He’s too far gone now, lost in absolute bliss between your thighs—the taste of your gooey, sticky cunt, your moans, the feel of your thighs trembling. Pussydrunk wasn’t even the word.

He lets you use him. Lets his tongue hang slack against his chin for you to grind your puffy clit against it. His face is wet and sticky and he’s covered up to his cheeks in your slick. He can barely breathe, you’re rocking far too fast for him to get a breath in, but even still Chifuyu would eat your pussy until he was blue in the face if it meant pleasing you. 

Every inhale is laced with your scent and it’s like an aphrodisiac. Everything about this was so perfect. He can feel the shivers running up and down your body—you’re close, he knows it and that’s when he gets relentless. 

“G-nna cum for you baby..can I cum?”

Christ, the way his dick jumped should’ve been a sin. Chifuyu hums against your clit, groans his approval so his lips don’t have to abandon your perfect pussy again. You can feel every single lick & suck and even the puffs of air he breathes out of his nose as he slurps on your cunt, teasing your sensitive clit with the tip of his tongue.

“Oh fuck, I’m cumming Chifuyu. Mmm, I’m cumming. Chifu-” 

Your climax hits you like a punch to the gut, knocks the wind out of you and has you doubling over with your hands tangled in his dark locks, your trembling thighs squeezing against his neck. 

Your moans and pants are so sexy, he loves you like this. You don’t even realize you’re running from him until he grips your hips tighter, pulling you forward and holding you taut.

He’s desperate to drink up all you’ll give him, thick tongue gliding over your hole before he’s shoving it inside. Not a drop of your lovely essence goes to waste as you let him get his fill. 

The chime of the desk phone startles you and forces him to part from your cunt. He looks at you and you look at him, you make no move to get it forcing him to. 

“Chifuyu!” The librarian calls, he frequents this place so often that the two of them have gotten quite familiar. “Sorry to bother you and your girlfriend, but the library closes soon-“ She’s checking her watch. “In about ten minutes hun.” 

“Ah, okay! Thank you Miss and she’s not-” When he catches the dial tone he places the phone back on the receiver. 

“She says we have ten minutes until the library closes.” 

Before he can even finish, you’re already on your knees shoving his joggers and underwear down in one swift move. His dick is gorgeous—thick with a pretty pink tip. You’re not sure about the size, seven maybe seven and a half inches. Either way, it fills your mouth perfectly, big and heavy on your tongue as you lick the precum dripping from the tip.

The minute he feels your mouth on him he nearly loses all control, knees threatening to give. Chifuyu grips your jaw, popping his cock out of your mouth with an audible ‘pop.’

He notices a dip in between your brows. A frown? 

A pouty frown on your pretty face accompanied by a roll of your eyes. So cute. 

“Chifuuu,” You whining his name is tearing him apart inside, staring up at him with those doe eyes. “We only have 10 minutes. I wanna make you cum.” 

He’s pulling you back up, spinning you until your ass is pressed against his crotch. 

“I know pretty…I’m gonna fuck you.” His voice is breathy, desperate. “That okay?”

It’s soft but he hears it. The soft ‘yeah’ tumbling from your lips, the small gasps of anticipation as  you raise up on your tip toes to meet his height. He’s sliding his length through the junction of your thighs, coating himself in your slick.

It’s so good, this little crevice between your thighs and cunt feels like heaven. Like the warmest hug embracing him with every push and pull of his hips.

He has to force himself to pull away. He wouldn’t be able to face you again if he came from fucking your thighs. 

Blunt fingertips melt into the plush flesh of your ass, spreading your cheeks to watch as he slides past the tight ring of your entrance, a loud squelch greeting him when he bottoms out. 

You’re the epitome of enticing, a pretty bitch with a perfect pussy, and honestly he feels undeserving. He feels his infatuation for you growing deeper, except this is something he wants, no, needs forever.

He’s so gentle, stroking slow and stretching you out just right cus it’s a tight fit. 

Despite the wetness dripping down your thighs, you feel every single inch of him. The burn of the stretch, the slight ache as he kisses your cervix with every clumsy thrust. Your pussy feels so good around him, like it was made for him. Made to take his dick. 

“I didn’t—I didn’t think you’d be so b-big.”

Snaking his hands around your neck, he’s pulling you up so your back meets his chest, rolling his hips so the thick head of his dick mushes against the gummy walls of your g-spot. Your legs are trembling but he holds you up. Heavy breaths against your ear as his chin rests on your shoulder.

“Mmm, yeah? You don’t think much of me at all, do you? Think you’re too good for me?” 

“Noooo! I don’t think that.” He’s not letting up, stroke after stroke, until you’re creaming all over him, and even then, he still doesn’t stop. “W-would never… think that.”

The thick white fluids settling at the base of his cock, the slick gush of your pussy every time he fucked into you. It was driving you mad. 

“I don’t exist in your world,” Thrust after thrust. “But you consume mine, I want you so bad.”

Your brain is fuzzy, just barely able to make out what he’s saying. “I-ah want you tooo…y’know just h-how to handle me baby.”  

“Yeah,” He breathes out. “Of course I do.”

You’re not sure if it’s the sureness in his voice or the sweet kiss he presses against the bare skin behind your ear that sends you over the edge but your climax hits you like a train carrying the sweetest bliss. You don’t utter a word, just deep breaths and pants, a quiet belt of his name towards the end as you melt into him with every buck of his hips. He feels it—the spasms, the trembling, the cozy warmth you coat him in, an impromptu reminder that he’s unprotected inside of you. Still, he fucks you through it, just until he’s close enough-

“F-f-fuuuck.” The groan rips through his throat as he reaches his end, the grip on your neck loosens as he pushes you down and spills his seed all over the cheeks of your ass. 

He’s so unprepared it’s a shame, forced to use the inside of his turtleneck to clean the mess he made, even going as far as to place you up on the table and wipe between your thighs.

“Oh you didn’t have to- I have wipes..” 

“No big deal, didn’t wanna dirty your skirt. You made this, right?” He rubs the hem of the frayed pink denim, recall’s seeing a square of this same fabric on the ring you gave Mitsuya. 

“I-I did. How did you know?” 

 “I remember seeing you sketching it out. Glad it turned out nice enough for you to wear. It’s cute..” He trails off when you avert your gaze.

“Thank you. I’m glad too…” You trail off and you avert your gaze.

“Don’t go acting shy on me, y/n.” It’s the first time you’ve seen it, something akin to a smile on his cute little face, his eyes are as bright as stars as he stares down at you. It’s odd, almost as if the roles had changed.

“I’m not!” You whine. “It’s just strange, you’re strange Chifuyu.” 

[mapsthewanderer]

Caffeine, chemistry and Caleb VI

Synopsis: The café was supposed to be just another coffee shop. For a law student who enjoys her morning coffee and a shy newbie still learning the ropes, it should have been nothing more than part of the daily routine… But then there’s Caleb.

Details: 2000 words. Non-MC!Reader as the law student. Expect cringe, hot af barista Caleb, mission and romcom plot with the newbie.

Parts: intial, part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 7, part 8, part 9, part 10, part 11, part 12

Tags: @gavin3469 @unstablemiss @i-messed-up-big-time @mipov101 @zukini-01 @ariakamil

Ambushed by Academia | pt. 6

Caleb had looked so pleased when you walked in earlier. That smile—slow, crooked, like he’d been waiting for an excuse to light up—and just like that, you’d forgotten every last article of your notes. Forgotten your looming deadlines, your carefully calibrated emotional boundaries, and the way your heart was absolutely not supposed to skip at the sight of an apron and forearms.

And the way his eyes had tracked you through the room like you were the only person that mattered?

Obscene. Practically grounds for academic collapse.

Now, though—

The café lights are dimmed for closing. You’re squatting behind the counter—not because you work there, but because at this point, it feels like you might as well. Your blazer’s folded over a stool, your laptop’s wedged between stacks of drink sleeves, and your dignity is somewhere near the trash can labeled “compostable materials.”

And still—you’ keep coming back.

Because you’ve got to figure out what, exactly, is happening to your brain every time he says “Golden girl”.

… Or tugs your pony tail on his way out—grinning like it’s nothing, like you’re not going to be replaying it for the next six hours.

You help the newbie stack cups. They don’t protest anymore. You think they’ve accepted your presence as a natural part of the ecosystem.

They suggested K-pop to pull you out of the Taylor Swift spiral you were clearly mid-descend into. You vetoed it on principle. They vetoed your playlists out of spite. You both eventually settled on a random café mix—the kind with acoustic guitar so faint, the clink of ceramic and the flick of the newbies tongue piercing against their teeth sounded louder by comparison.

So to spare them the dental work—you brush a crumb off the bar and ask, “You got any plans this weekend?”

They shrug, sorting the last of the tip jar. “Might hit the farmers market before my shift.”

Mid-wipe, you pause. “Really.”

They glance over, catching the tone. “…What?”

You raise an eyebrow. “You don’t exactly scream artisanal tomato energy.”

The newbie sighs. “Okay, fine. I overheard Caleb on the phone.”

That makes you stop.

They keep their eyes on the cash tray. “Something about meeting someone there. It sounded… like a plan. Then he asked me to cover his afternoon shift.”

You blink. Once. Twice.

Chewing their tongue piercing, they confess: “I figured I’d casually suffer and then tell you,” they say, voice dry.

Nodding slowly, you set the rag down like it personally betrayed you. “And you’re going?”

Then, softer—trying to sound offhand but failing they say: “Maybe I’ll stop by before. Just to… you know. See the crowd. But chances of running into him are basically zero…”

The newbie shakes their head, fast. “I took the shift.”

You raise an eyebrow. “You took the shift?!”

“I panicked. He was being nice. I didn’t think it through. I’m a simp.”

You stare.

They flick their piercing against their teeth and mutter, “I am so mad at me.”

You lean your elbows on the counter. “So what now? You just… suffer in silence?”

“No,” they say, looking up at you with quiet desperation. “You go.”

You blink. “Me?”

“You peek,” they say, nodding like it’s a battle plan. “Just a quick loop. You don’t even have to talk to him. Just recon.”

You cross your arms. “And why would I do that?”

The newbie looks you dead in the eye.

“Because I’m working a shift I did not emotionally prepare for, and I need to know if he’s with her so I can spiral in peace.”

You stare. “You’re the worst.”

They smirk. “No, I’m relatable.”

Just then, the newbie’s phone buzzes on the counter.

Caleb: tell golden girl I hope her books aren’t killing her. can’t wait to make her a monday madness latte. we’ll invent something amazing for her, newbs.

You and the newbie both stare at it.

They look back at you.

You shrug, fingers slipping through your ponytail with casual ease. “Cool. He’s multitasking.”

“Emotionally or logistically?” they ask.

“Unclear,” you mutter. “Both feel illegal.”

You sigh. “Fine. I’ll go.”

They hold out a hand—tentative, a little amused. “For the case.”

You eye it.

Then give them a small high five.

It’s quiet. Awkward.

But it feels good.

——————————————————————————

Later that night

——————————————————————————

You’re at home.

Wrapped in a hoodie you pretend you don’t sleep in when stressed, laptop propped on your knees.

You open a fresh document titled:

To Market or Not to Market: An Objective Analysis of Strategic Stalking and Emotional Recklessness.

You start typing.

Pros of going to the farmers market:

Possible intel on Apple Girl.

Caleb in natural lighting.

Surprise outfit advantage.

Get closure. Or proof. Or content.

Cons:

Potential heartbreak.

Ethical… murkiness.

May buy shit I don’t want or need (f.i. apples).

Obvious spiral behavior.

I could… should be studying…

You close your eyes.

Then, in your mind, underline Caleb in natural lighting. Three times. In red.

Because unfortunately, that’s starting to feel like reasonable justification.

——————————————————————————

The weekend

——————————————————————————

You are not dressing up.

You’re just… choosing strategically.

You stare at your closet like it’s the witness stand. Everything feels like a statement.

Too casual? You’ll look like you’re trying not to try.

Too nice? Obvious.

Too “I just rolled out of bed”? Untrue, and you’re not a good enough liar.

You pull out your favorite blazer.

Then put it back.

You eye a button-down. Too stiff. You grab a cropped athletic zip-up instead. It’s fitted. Sleek. Slightly smug. The kind of outfit that says: yes, I studied commercial law for four hours this morning but I still have enough emotional bandwidth to look hot in daylight.

You pair it with high-waisted black pants and crisp white sneakers. Hair: tight braid. Lip gloss: faint shimmer. Jewelry: minimal, but coordinated.

You nod at your reflection.

Classy. Clean. Slightly intimidating. Entirely unnecessary.

You are a rational adult who just happens to be dressed like a walking case study in tactical thirst.

This is fine.

You toss a canvas tote over your shoulder, because you might buy produce, okay?

Totally casual.

Totally not a stakeout.

——————————————————————————

You walk through the rows like you belong here.

Like you’re not casing the scene for one (1) specific barista.

Like you came for kombucha samples and not evidence.

It’s bright out. Stupidly pleasant. People are smiling and holding hands and buying overpriced jam like they’ve never had a breakdown over a man with purple eyes, rolled sleeves and a dog tag.

Your sneakers crunch on gravel. Your tote bag is empty.

You’ve passed the honey booth twice now.

Still no Caleb.

You keep your pace casual. Normal. Totally not scouting like an undercover agent.

Your eyes sweep the crowd in slow, professional intervals. Like you’re assessing jurors. Or suspects.

Your phone buzzes.

newbie: did you go?

You glance around like someone’s watching you. Then type:

you: i plead the fifth.

newbie: i KNEW IT. i’m manifesting espionage results.

you: there’s a woman here with a floral dress and a baguette. she’s winning.

newbie: does she look like she ruins lives?

you: yeah

newbie: …apple girl vibes?

you: TBD

You pass a booth selling hand-stitched tea towels with puns on them. One says “You’re the apple of my pie.”

Bleh.

You keep walking.

But he’s definitely not here.

Yet.

You try not to care.

So you tell yourself that you’re just curious.

Collecting information. Restoring balance to the universe by confirming his romantic status through low-key surveillance. Completely normal.

You pretend to admire a display of lemons. They are aggressively yellow.

You check your phone. Nothing from him.

Your reflection in a mason jar tells you you still look composed.

You squint.

You do not feel composed.

You move on.

Past herbs. Past candles. Past a woman in a long dress buying tomatoes with main character energy.

Your tote bag remains empty.

So does your sense of purpose.

Your phone lights up again.

newbie: i’m emotionally holding your hand from behind the espresso machine.

You smile. Just barely.

Because no, Caleb’s not here yet.

But you’re not alone in this.

And you’re not leaving.

Not until you know something. Because until you see him, or her, or anything, you’re just a girl in a zip-up jacket, pretending to shop, and waiting for the truth to walk out of the crowd.

You’re halfway through pretending to examine a stack of organic zucchinis when you hear a voice behind you.

Familiar. Too familiar.

“Ah, my favorite overachiever outside the classroom context!”

You flinch.

You turn slowly—like a horror movie extra who knows what’s coming—and there he is.

Professor Litt. Infamous for bad jokes and a relentless obsession with “real-world application.”

And just your luck?

You’ve run into him in public.

The real world. Exactly where you didn’t want to see anyone who assigns 40-page readings for fun.

You blink. “Hi. Hello. Wow. Hi.”

Litt is wearing a straw hat and holding a bundle of radishes. You are not emotionally prepared for any of this.

“Didn’t expect to see you here,” he says cheerfully. “Shouldn’t you be in a library intimidating someone with civil code citations?”

You force a laugh. “Haha, yeah. Just taking a mental break. Nature. Veggies. Fresh air.”

You are absolutely sweating.

“Good,” he nods. “It’s important to have balance. Mind, body, stress-induced academic panic.”

Litt’s eyes flick toward your bag. “We all saw the forehead-to-laptop-case moment…” He lets out a quiet tsk of exaggerated sympathy. “Right in the middle of the WTO compliance slide, no less. Tragic timing.”

You open your mouth to agree completely and apologize for that episode—and then you see him.

Caleb.

Walking out from between two booths, just a T-shirt clinging to him in… Ways…

You can see the definition of his arms from here. The line of his abs pressed subtly beneath soft cotton. That stupid apple charm bouncing once, catching the light against his chest like it knows what it’s doing.

You freeze.

But he’s alone.

Which somehow makes it worse.

Because now your spiral has no villain.

Only opportunity.

Professor Litt is mid-sentence about the contractual implications of carrots when you drop behind a crate of leafy greens like your life depends on it.

“Whoa,” he says, stopping. “Is this a—? Are you okay?”

You pop up just enough to peer over the kale. “Yup! Sorry! Low blood sugar.”

He raises an eyebrow. “You’ve never dropped out of a cold call from me. Why are you ducking for cabbage?”

You wave him off. “Unrelated. Entirely unrelated.”

“Should I be concerned?”

“No, but if I die, please delete my search history and submit my latest outline. It’s color-coded.”

You duck again.

He blinks. “…Is this about romance?”

You peek back up. “I’m legally not allowed to confirm or deny.”

He leans in, whispering. “Is it that barista you wrote about in your contracts hypothetical?”

You stare at him, betrayed. “You read that?”

“It was very vivid.”

You hear Caleb’s voice somewhere nearby—low, casual, too close. You sink lower behind the kale, heart pounding like you’re in mock trial but worse.

Litt studies you for a second, then says, “Well. I suppose if you’re going to lose composure, it might as well be in a public venue full of root vegetables.”

You sigh into your hands. “This is the worst day of my life.”

He pats your shoulder, kindly. “At least you look fantastic.”

You peek over the kale one last time.

Caleb’s browsing apples now. Of course. Abs of temptation, and he’s staying on brand.

Professor Litt adjusts his straw hat like this is perfectly normal. “Well. I’ll leave you to your… fieldwork. Try not to faint in public. It messes with your grades.”

And then, mercifully, he walks off.

You crouch lower, heart pounding, surrounded by leafy greens and academic humiliation.

You fumble for your phone and text the only person who’ll understand.

you: he’s here. alone!! his abs are illegal. help!!!

The dots blink.

newbie: omg great intel! proud of you. is the necklace still on???

You stare.

Then sigh and type:

you: still on. ofc it is. this man is clinging to symbolism like it’s a tax exemption

You don’t even hit send before ducking back behind a crate of cucumbers.

Operation Spiral: still in progress.

——————————————————————————

Part 7

——————————————————————————

Writer’s note: Aaaaaaa I loved writing Litt’s scene—pure joy. People, I’m proofreading and editing like a champ over here! Another chapter’s coming this weekend, so stay tuned for more romcom chaos and feelings. I’m officially done being an adult—I just want to write, hike, doodle, and listen to music for the rest of my life, lol. Seriously though, thank you so much for all the lovely comments and feedback on the last chapters. It means the world! Okey then, thank you for reading 🫶🏻

[jjungkookislife]

For Peep's Sake

♡ pairing: hfth!jungkook x f. reader

♡ genre: established relationship, easter au, college au, smut [18+]

♡ summary: Easter weekend takes you back to the Jeons for a weekend of fun.

♡ wc: 4.1k

♡ warnings: alcohol use/mention, food mention, dirty talk, oral sex (f. giving and receiving), panties used as a gag, cum swallowing, quickie, unprotected sex in a car, spanking, creampie, shower sex, mention of cockblocking, roughhousing

♡ date: March 31, 2024

║ part one ║ part two ║ series masterlist ║

Spring break was wonderful with your boyfriend and friends.

You hung out by the pool, did body shots off of your boyfriend’s ridiculously hot abs, and spent some much-needed girl time with Grandmother Jeon and Park.

Getting back into the school routine had been tough and just as you were getting used to it, Easter rolled around.

“I am not getting in the car with him!” Jungkook stomped his foot, his arms were crossed over his chest and his glower was deliciously hot.

“Oh, come on!” Jimin rolls his eyes. “We always carpool. It’s tradition.”

“Yeah,” Seokjin chimes in. “I even have an egg-stra special playlist.”

Jungkook frowns as he turns to look at you. “What do you think, babe?”

You hate being put on the spot but Jungkook would rather spend that time with you without Seokjin barking out lyrics he doesn’t know and you can only imagine what Easter-related songs he could have found. Besides, Jungkook wanted to have his car this time around. He wanted to show you more of his town.

With Grandmother Jeon possibly stopping by, he knew the chances of riding around on his motorcycle were slim to none; though he had promised you a ride around the block whenever the opportunity struck.

“Seokjinnie,” you pout and Jungkook turns around to hide his snickering. You were laying it on thick.

Your tone draws everyone’s attention, and Seokjin immediately softens.

“Just this once can we ride separately? Next time I’ll make you a playlist,” you smile and Seokjin nods, easily agreeing. Being the only girl in the friend group had its perks.

“You heard her,” Seokjin chirps. “Let’s get on the road!”

Jungkook smirks when you wrap your arms around his waist.

“Good girl,” He praises as he takes your hand to bring it to his lips for a kiss. “Let’s get going, my love.”

“Where are you going?” Jungkook asks Jimin as you stand on the porch with your bag. Jungkook had been digging in his pocket for his house key when he spotted Jimin joining you on the porch.

“Mama Jeon probably has sweets and treats, where else would I be going?” Jimin asks with a raised brow.

“Uh, maybe your own house with your mom?” Jungkook retorts as he unlocks the door and calls out for his mother.

“Yeah, but Mama Jeon always has something for me. I’m her favorite,” Jimin grins as he waltzes into the home and to the kitchen to hug Jungkook’s mother.

Jungkook sighs as he kicks off his shoes and places them on the shoe rack by the door. You do the same before taking your luggage to the living room.

The walls are covered in Easter decor, from rabbits to eggs, to carrots galore. You smile as you take the room in, spying a photo of you and Jungkook on the mantel.

“Jimin!” Aera gushes as she hugs him tight. She sits him in a chair and places a plate of bunny-shaped cookies in front of him with a glass of milk.

“Mom, we’re here,” Jungkook announces as his mother hugs him. He takes the opportunity to flip Jimin off behind his mother’s back.

Jimin cackles as he reaches for a cookie, dunking it in his milk before biting it.

Aera releases Jungkook before she wraps her arms around you. “Oh, I’m so glad you could join us, sweetheart! I’ve missed you both so much!”

“Thank you for inviting me,” you say but she waves you off.

“You’re always welcome in our home whether Jungkook is here or not. We love you so much,” Aera hugs you again before she ushers you into a chair with brownie bites covered in pink frosting. Jungkook is the last to get a plate of cookies and milk, muttering about how he used to be the most babied.

You giggle, kissing his cheek before catching up with his mother while Jimin eats one of your brownie bites.

“I know you guys will only be here until Monday but Grandmother Jeon called just a while ago to announce her stay. You’ll have to share Jungkook’s room again. I hope that’s okay?”

“Sure,” Jungkook nods.

“I mean, the two of you practically live together anyway,” Jimin announces as he takes one last bite of his cookie.

You and Jungkook nearly snap your necks turning to look at him. Your death glares make Jimin blush before he scrambles out of his seat and heads for the door.

“See ya!”

Aera clears her throat and takes the dishes to the dishwasher.

“We’re gonna settle in,” Jungkook informs her as he takes your dishes to the dishwasher as you haul ass out of the kitchen.

You grab your bag and Jungkook’s as you head for the stairs.

Moments later, Jungkook is at your side taking the bags from you.

“Remind me to crack a rotten egg over Jimin’s head on Sunday,” Jungkook mutters as he leads you to his bedroom.

“I’m sure we can get the guys to help,” you say as you grab a change of clothes to shower before getting into bed.

Jungkook joins you after his shower, cuddling into your side.

“We can’t hide in here until dinner, Darling,” Jungkook whispers as you bury your face in his chest.

“Why not?” you pout as you cling to him, running your fingers through his hair.

“Because Grandmother Jeon will be here soon and she’ll want to see us,” Jungkook reminds you as he kisses your neck.

“But it’s okay,” you murmur as he sucks on your neck, making you moan as your eyes shut and he gets out of your arms to settle between your legs.

“Is it?” he whispers as he grabs your hips, tugging you to him.

“Koo!” you gasp as he kisses you deeply.

Your hands tug on his hair, moaning as he kisses his way down your jaw to your neck until he settles for the top of your breasts.

“I wish I could bury my cock inside you, Darling. Fuck you until you’re crying for more,” he muses as he leans back, smiling.

You’re left speechless and horny.

Your eyes are unfocused as you try to breathe normally.

Jungkook chuckles as he climbs off you, adjusting himself before going to the bathroom to splash cold water on his face.

You giggle as you stare at the ceiling.

You could never have enough of him.

“Where are my babies?” Grandmother Jeon asks as she steps through the front door with Luna in tow.

You and Jungkook leave the kitchen with his parents.

“Grandmother Jeon!” you greet as she hugs you first. Jungkook shakes his head as he pulls into the hug before you’re released.

Jungkook scoops Luna off the floor and holds her. He kisses the top of her head before she’s handed to you.

“Hi pretty girl,” you coo as Jungkook and his father grab Grandmother Jeon’s bags.

“The airport is the worst,” Grandmother Jeon frowns as she’s led to the living room couch. “The number of people trying to pet Luna while I’m trying to get her to potty is ridiculous. One man asked if she bit and then shoved his hand in her mouth. We were both so shocked! Who does that?!”

“Wow!” you exclaim as you set Luna on her lap.

“You know you can move in,” Aera tells her as she sits on the other end of the couch.

Grandmother Jeon waves her offer away. “You know I live for the fast life.”

Aera nods. “The offer stands.”

“Thank you, dear. You always were my favorite,” Grandmother Jeon informs her as she pets Luna.

“Shall we have dinner?” Jungkook’s dad asks as he comes downstairs with your boyfriend behind him.

The next afternoon, you wake up in Jungkook’s arms. You struggle to get free, giggling when he groans and searches for you but you’re too busy kissing your way down his rock-hard abs.

“Fuck,” Jungkook curses as your mouth wraps around his hard cock. “Darling!”

“Shh,” you hush him as you poke your head from under the covers, and your hand strokes his spit-slicked cock. “Gotta be quiet, baby. Or I’ll have to stop.”

“No, don’t stop,” he whines, his hips thrusting into your hand.

You pause, removing your hand and ignoring the whimper of your boyfriend. You take your panties off, stuffing them in his mouth to keep him quiet.

Jungkook groans, nearly cumming over himself as he tastes your arousal.

“Gotta keep quiet for me, baby. Can you do that? Can you be a good boy for me?” you ask, unsure where the courage came from but Jungkook was an absolute puddle for you.

“Yes, baby. I’ll be good. I swear,” he whimpers through the lace as you wrap your hand around him. You stroke him slowly as you get under the covers, your hot mouth welcoming him in.

He curses when your lips wrap around him, tonguing his slit to hear his muffled cries. Your hand moves between your thighs, rubbing your clit as you bob up and down on his fat cock, stuffing you full.

Jungkook curses losing himself to the pleasure as you feel him hit the back of your throat. He chokes on your panties, tears running down his pretty face as you hold it there for a while before swallowing.

Jungkook is sobbing as you swallow the load in your mouth, crying when you pop back up and swallow.

“Good morning,” you grin as you take your panties out of his mouth and wipe his tears away.

After you suck the soul of your boyfriend, you end up spending the day with Jungkook at Jimin’s place.

“So we’re heading to the Jeons’ tomorrow like always?” Namjoon asks for confirmation.

The Jeons always held the biggest Easter bash on the block. It was a yearly tradition.

“Yup, Dad’s grilling,” Jungkook confirms. “Gotta bring your eggs for the hunt though.”

“Duh,” Seokjin rolls his eyes.

“Not the flour-filled ones, you dick. Mom banned those,” Jungkook huffs.

Seokjin frowns.

“Anyway,” Jungkook rises from his seat. “We have dinner plans so we’ll see y’all tomorrow.”

Jungkook doesn’t allow anyone to say anything as he leads you out of Jimin’s home. He takes you to his car, giggling when you ask where you’re going.

“A family favorite,” he answers.

The drive to wherever is quick. Jungkook parks his car under the broken streetlight.

“Where are we?” You ask as you look around and see the orange neon lights and the boy beside a rocket who must be the restaurant mascot.

“Starbright,” Jungkook answers as he points to the large sparkling sign. “My parents came here before they met and continued to come here when they met and then brought me and my brother.”

“Koo,” you smile softly as you take your hand in his. You couldn’t be more in love with him if you tried. You knew he was your forever, there was nobody else who could ever compare to him.

Emotions overwhelm you as you climb onto his lap.

Jungkook is in awe as you easily find the lever on the side of his seat to make it slide back to give you more room.

“You have no idea how much I love you,” you whisper as you cup his face, settling on his lap before you kiss him. His hands grip your hips tightly as you grind on him while your tongue threads with his, tugging on his hair as you deepen the kiss.

Part of you wonders if Hoseok knew this would happen when he picked out your skirt and top. You didn’t care as Jungkook bunched your skirt at your hips, gripping your thighs as his fingers rubbed over the wet lace.

“Fuck, love,” Jungkook can’t control himself, losing it when he feels how wet you are for him.

“Please,” you whimper, not sure what exactly you’re begging for as Jungkook pushes your panties aside, his fingers rubbing your clit as you smash your lips against his.

Your hands are greedy as you unbutton his pants, tugging them down his thighs in the tight confines of his car. You tug his boxers down next, grinning when his hard cock smacks against his belly button.

“Fuck,” your mouth waters at the sight, nearly drooling as you take it in.

Jungkook chuckles. “This wasn’t what I had planned for dinner, but who am I to deny you?”

You smile as you wrap your hand around his length, lining him up at your entrance before sinking on him, nearly screaming his name for the whole block to hear.

Jungkook laughs, his hands gripping your hair to pull your face into his neck. You moan into his skin, eyes shut as his thick cock fills you deeply.

Jungkook groans when you rock your hips. You’ve grown needy and hungry just being on his lap.

He’s wearing your favorite cologne and it smells heavenly. You kiss his neck, leaving a tiny mark behind as his hands move down to your hips and then your ass. His hands are full as he helps you bounce up and down on him.

The car’s windows fog up, rocking with each thrust he gives you.

“Won’t last long,” you warn him with heavy breaths as you take his lobe between your teeth and pull.

Jungkook’s eyes flutter shut as fireworks explode behind them.

“Koo!” You whimper, nearly sobbing as he smacks your ass.

“That’s it, Darling. Be good for me and cum. Cream my cock, like you’ve been wanting to all day,” Jungkook encourages.

“Jungkook!” You gasp as you bury your face in his neck, kissing the little mole that drives you insane.

“Don’t think I didn’t notice how you kept looking at me with the guys. Staring at my hands, my lips, my cock,” Jungkook smirks as you clench around his dick. He curses as you cry out his name, creaming around him just like he wanted you to.

He follows soon after, grunting as he fucks you through his orgasm, filling you with thick shots of cum before he pulls out and fixes your panties.

“Can you be good for me, baby, and keep that inside you until we get home?” Jungkook asks as you both catch your breath.

“I can try,” you giggle as you climb off him and tug your skirt back down. You both fix your clothing, rolling the windows down as the cool spring air cools the both of you down and gets rid of the just fucked smell.

Jungkook exits the car first after rolling the windows back up. He jogs around to get to your door and help you out as your wobbly legs make him giggle.

“Oops,” he grins cutely as you take his hand and he shuts the car door.

“You’re splitting a chocolate milkshake with me for that,” you tease as he leads you toward the restaurant door.

Once you step inside, the retro decor makes you grin. There are red glittery booths with white tabletops. A jukebox sits in the corner blasting an old song you’ve heard your parents play when you were younger.

The menu above the counter is stained yellow with age and the cashier smiles at Jungkook widely.

“Welcome back, Little Jeon!”

Jungkook grins as he leads you forward and his smile disarms you as he proudly introduces you to the staff.

You hope you’ll be able to come by often with Jungkook at your side.

“No,” you whine when Jungkook kisses you awake the next morning.

You’d spent most of the night wrapped up in each other. He ate you out as a reward for keeping his cum inside all the way home and then you went down on him in your shared shower followed by another romp bent over the bathroom counter in the middle of your skincare routine.

Your thighs ached and your body begged you for more sleep but Jungkook’s kisses were just too good to ignore.

“I let you sleep as long as possible, Darling,” Jungkook whispers as he sits up in bed.

You grumble before sitting up, your eyes still closed and your hair messy.

“Koo,” you huff, hoping he’ll take pity on you and let you sleep another hour or two.

“We’ll miss breakfast,” Jungkook tempts you. “Seojun and Saraí made a lot of delicious stuff for today.”

“I’m up,” you groan as you rub your eyes. Jungkook helps you out of bed, grabbing the outfit Hoseok picked for you today.

It’s a beautiful light blue dress that reaches your knees with shorts underneath so you can roughhouse with the boys during the egg hunt. Hoseok allowed you to pick your shoes for this outfit, so you slide on your low-top canvas sneakers and quickly pull your hair into a ponytail.

Your makeup is minimal since you’ll be running around for the hunt and you can hear the ruckus from downstairs announcing the arrival of your friends and their families.

Luna barks echo throughout the house, and when you finally reach the first floor with Jungkook at your side, you're all smiles.

Grandmother Jeon grins as she spots you and Jungkook. Beside her is a large box filled with Easter baskets.

“There you are!” Minji exclaims as Luna sits on her lap, barking before Aera takes her to the backyard with everyone until only you, Minji, Jungkook, and your friends are left in the living room.

“Seojun and Saraí already got their baskets and Jimin got his basket from Sujin,” Minji explains as everyone turns to Jimin, who has already bitten the ears off a chocolate bunny. He smiles sheepishly as everyone turns back to Minji.

“Seokjin, Yoongi, Hoseok, Namjoon Taehyung,” Minji calls the eldest to her side. They each receive a basket with their name written on the front, stuffed full of chocolate and plastic Easter eggs.

They thank Minji profusely as they take their baskets and run out to the backyard to open the eggs and see what Minji has gifted them.

“And here you go,” Minji hands you a blue basket with your name embroidered on the front and Jungkook receives a purple basket with his name embroidered on the front and a cotton bunny tail on the back.

“Thank you, Minji,” you say as you run around the couch to hand her a basket you and Jungkook worked on before arriving at the Jeons.

“Ooh, for me?” Minji smiles as she takes the basket, opening the card the two of you got her. She thanks you again as Jungkook helps her out of her seat and leads her to the backyard.

Jungkook’s backyard is ridiculously huge. Tables line up one side of the patio with food and decorations. Three piñatas sit against the wall by the back door and Luna runs around chasing Jimin and Namjoon.

After lunch, you’re all instructed to head inside so the eggs can be hidden in the yard. Special eggs are hidden for Luna, so Jungkook’s dad, Dae, will chase her around the yard with her basket.

You sit on Jungkook’s lap while your friends ready their Easter baskets.

Jimin smirks as he places a few eggs in his Easter basket he’d hidden earlier in the day.

Seokjin eyes him warily, making a mental note to steer clear of him once the hunt begins.

Jungkook places his hand on your thigh, ignoring the idle chatter of his friends. “We could go upstairs while everybody is busy.”

“Don’t even think about it!” Hoseok exclaims as he sits down beside the two of you with a wide grin.

“We’re all here to have fun,” Taehyung adds as he squeezes between Jungkook and Hoseok on the couch.

“Up you go,” Seokjin helps you off Jungkook’s lap with a wicked grin. He drapes his arm over your shoulder as Namjoon takes a seat on your boyfriend.

“You guys go above and beyond to cockblock us,” Jungkook mutters as he shoves Namjoon off his lap and Yoongi cackles from his seat as he sips his drink.

Jimin is working on two flutes of champagne and Taehyung bites the ears off a chocolate rabbit before tearing open a chocolate egg.

“You’re gonna throw up by the end of the hunt,” Seokjin tells him as he takes the chocolate away.

“I’ve only had a few,” Taehyung pouts but before Seokjin can say anything else, Aera opens the door to the backyard.

“All right, kids! Get to hunting!” Aera shuts the door with a smile as you grab your baskets and head for the front door.

Unsurprisingly, Taehyung and Seokjin’s broad shoulders get stuck in the doorway in their rush to be first. Like the time at Jungkook’s place, Namjoon and Hoseok crawl between their legs to get outside first while Jimin uses Seokjin and Tae’s backs to jump over them.

Yoongi grabs his drink before he squeezes between the two almost-lovers, and heads for the egg hunt without spilling his drink.

“Oh, for Peep’s sake!” Jungkook sighs heavily as he lifts Seokjin out of the way, leaving Taehyung to run into the backyard while you pause to kiss Jungkook’s cheek and run outside with your basket.

A few moments later, Jungkook is at your side with his basket.

Namjoon and Jimin are already rolling around on the grass fighting for a green plastic egg, while Dae follows a barking Luna around with a filled basket and a second for backup.

Taehyung has stolen the eggs from Jimin’s basket, cackling as he heads for Seokjin. You watch from afar as Tae cracks an egg filled with flour on Seokjin’s head and laughs as he runs away.

“Don’t you dare!” Hoseok growls as Taehyung heads for him but changes direction to aim for Jungkook. You run in the opposite direction, catching up to Yoongi as he finishes his drink and crawls along the grass into some bushes to grab a handful of colorful eggs.

“These are mine!” Yoongi hisses as you approach. You flip him off and run alongside Luna and Dae.

“I’d look over there by the rose bushes,” Dae hints before Luna nudges him with her head to go in the opposite direction.

You take Dae’s advice and head for the rose bushes, mindful of thorns as you pull out a giant pink egg and toss it in the basket with the others.

Jungkook catches up to you, his hand on your waist as you pause to rest. Chaos is still unfolding in the backyard as Jimin tackles Hoseok to the ground and Seokjin has Namjoon and Taehyung in headlocks.

“Wow! Easter gets competitive around here, huh?” you ask as you watch in awe as Hoseok gets the upper hand and cracks a flour egg on Jimin’s head.

Sarai and Seojun chat with Aera and Grandmother Jeon, their baskets filled with eggs and treats.

You look down at your basket, noting you can squeeze in a few more eggs before calling it quits.

“It does,” Jungkook finally answers as he inspects your basket. “Looks like you did pretty well for your first Jeon Easter.”

“I got quite the haul, babe,” you grin as you lift your basket proudly for him to inspect.

“I’d keep that pink egg close,” Jungkook warns as he laces his fingers with yours. “Let’s go!”

You don’t get to ask why as Namjoon, Seokjin, Jimin, Taehyung, and Yoongi are charging towards you.

“Shit!” you screech as you try to keep up with Jungkook.

“Get to Grandmother Jeon,” He instructs as he lets go of your hand and runs toward your friends. You take off, arriving moments later as Minji makes you sit beside her while Jungkook wrestles Seokjin to the ground and all your friends fall on top of the two, baskets soon forgotten.

“Ooh, you got the pink egg. Open it,” Minji encourages as she takes the egg from your basket. You open it as instructed and see a check for $500 sitting inside. Minji takes the check, signs it, fills out your name, and hands it back to you.

“There you go.”

Aera rises from her seat, as she announces the hunt is over.

Dae and Luna sit near Minji, opening eggs to reveal dog treats of different flavors.

You pocket the check and head to Jungkook, cracking eggs filled with confetti on all their heads as you chase each other around the yard until you’re too tired to continue.

The eight of you lay in a circle on the grass, watching the clouds roll by in the afternoon sky. It’s been a wonderful weekend and you’re sad to see it end but you know there will be more ahead with all of them.

Jungkook rolls on his side to look at you, a smile on his lips. “I love you. Thank you for coming home with me, Darling.”

You lace your fingers with him, gently kissing his lips. “I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.”

© jjungkookislife - I do not allow reposts or translations of my work on any platforms, this includes Youtube. 

[unabashegirl]

Different 3 | College HS

Harry's quiet, routine-driven life changes one weekend when he meets Y/N through a mutual friend at her party. She comes from a superficial, materialistic world with absent parents who believe money solves everything. Despite their differences, something clicks that night, and Y/N can't stop thinking about him.

Author’s note: hello everyone, I am so happy you are all enjoying the last few written pieces that I’ve published.

check out my patreon (starting at $2) and get full access to all 25 chapters, various one shots and much more :)

masterlist

What are you doing right now?

He played with the corners of his phone’s cover as he looked down at the message that he had just received from her. They had been talking since the day after her soccer match. Harry unconsciously bit his bottom lip, thinking of a response that wouldn’t sound too nerdy or boring. He had been studying for a test. He was about to sit down and play some video games with his roommate. There was no chance he would admit that he was studying on a Friday evening.

Nothing much🫠

He wrote and deleted the words a few times; hating the way he sound and how uncertain he felt when he was around her. He finally stopped making any sort of assumption and pressed send. He placed his phone beside him before turning on the console. Right before he could grab the control, his phone beeped. Harry closed his eyes for a second and decided to leave it for a few minutes, so he would come across as desperate. That was until he realized he couldn’t concentrate on the game and gave in.

I am hungry

Do you want to come with me to pick up some food?

He smiled like a fool. He hadn’t seen her since that Monday. He wanted to ask her to spend some time together, but he had been too scared of being rejected. He wanted to be with her, but he thought he needed to be realistic. She was way out of his league. Y/N was too special to be with someone so ordinary as him. Although the thought of Y/N becoming his girlfriend made his skin get goosebumps and his heart rate rise.

Right now?

Yes. I’ll pick you up

Ok

Harry quickly freshened up and threw on a long sleeve shirt, some sweatpants, vans, and a beanie since it was starting to get colder. It was a Friday, and he still couldn’t understand how Y/N was free and more importantly willing to hang out with him.

On my way 🚗

“Where are you going?” Ganesh, Harry’s roommate asked, watching him freak out. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes. I’m just going out with a friend” He responded, just as he found the keys to the room.

I am here!😊

“Who is she?” He had never seen Harry so agitated and so different. He was always so collected and calm, nothing ever bothered him.

“No one you know” He lied and shut the room door.

“Hi!” Y/N smiled, turning down the radio as he got into the car. She wore sweatpants and a green t-shirt.

“Sorry for the wait. I couldn’t find my keys” He apologized just as she started the drive.

“What do you want to have?” She asked as she drove down the busy streets. “I could honestly eat anything. I am starving”.

“Anything would be lovely” Y/N nodded as she thought of where they could go and genuinely enjoy it. Somewhere, where they could sit and enjoy and nice conversation and a meal.

“I haven’t eaten anything today” The fridge at the apartment was packed with all sorts of food. Unfortunately, Y/N didn’t like to cook, not because of the act itself, but because of all the cleaning that had to take place afterward. She had made herself some coffee and a sandwich in the morning, but she hadn’t had dinner or lunch.

“When was the last time you ate? Harry asked trying to make conversation.

“This morning after class” She shrugged, “I don’t enjoy cooking. Do you?”

“I do” he admitted with a bit of embarrassment. “I find it quite enjoyable”

“Maybe I should invite you over, so you can cook for me” Y/N joked, but not really. She found it very romantic when a man cooked for a woman.

“How is your knee?”

“It’s just bruised and still sore, but no biggie”  Y/N decided to get some food at a nearby Panera. She was really craving some soup and a sandwich. Plus she found the place very cozy and nice. “Is here alright?” She asked as she parallel parked.

“Perfect” He couldn’t care less where they ate. He just wanted to spend some time with her.

“Would you like to eat here? Or we could pick up and go to mine? It’s just a few blocks away” Y/N offered in case he didn’t want to dine in.

“H- Here is fine” He instantly felt nervous about being at her apartment. Therefore, he preferred to stay at Panera. Somewhere where he knew that he would be able to form complete sentences.

They both got out of the car and Harry stood beside her. He got a whiff of her scent. She smelt like flowers specifically like lavender. He felt like a creep, but the scent was intoxicating. Y/N threw on a white hoodie and then locked the car.

They each ordered a cup of soup with half of a sandwich. Y/N ordered lemonade whilst Harry ordered iced tea. Y/N then took it upon herself to find them a comfortable booth where they could sit and converse. She chose one that was by the window and on a corner. It was nice a private.

“How was the rest of your week? Y/N asked as they finally sat down with their food.

“A bit hectic. I’ve got this test on Monday that has been keeping me up” He shared, dipping his spoon into his chicken tortilla soup.

“I know the feeling,” She said, “You’ve never told me the story behind your accent” Harry smiled and wiped the corners of his mouth.

“My mother and father moved here months after giving birth to me. My father is American, and my mother is very English and so am I. Although I’ve been more exposed to America’s culture, the accent is thanks to my mother. My parents moved back to England when I started college. It was that or getting the divorce” It was all very foreign to Harry. He rarely shared so much of his private life with anyone. He would even go to the extremes of leaving the room when his mother would call just so he could have privacy from Ganesh. Although, it all felt very different with her. He felt like he could tell her his darkest secrets and Y/N wouldn’t judge.

“But they are still together” She loved his accent. It singled him out of the bunch.  She found it very attractive how he could drag the last syllables of the words and how raspy his voice sounded.

“Yes.”.

“Oh! That’s nice”.

“What are you talking about? Your parents are still together too!” He pointed out, opening the bag of chips that came with the meal.

“Sure, but my parents are never home” Y/N shrugged, “Are you close to your mom?”

“Very much”

“I’m not. They spend a lot of time away, but I sort of get it. My father says it’s the sacrifice we pay to keep the type of lifestyle that we desire” Harry could tell that she didn’t believe her father’s words. He couldn’t blame her — neither did he.  He could tell that she had a very lonely life as opposed to what everyone thought.

“Would you like my pickle?” He asked as he pushed it away from the rest of his food. Y/N instantly burst into a giggle. It took Harry a few seconds to understand why she was laughing, but he caught on and joined in the laughter. “What is it with you Americans and your obsession with adding pickles to everything!”

“They are tasty!” Y/N stabbed his pickle with her fork and took it away from him.

“You eat weird things like,” he thought for a second, “Rice Krispies!” He exclaimed. “Whose idea was that?!”

“Take that back!” Y/N didn’t want to admit it, but her pantry consisted of them. Whenever she was in a hurry, she would throw two or three in her purse and call it day. Her obsession came from her mother not allowing her to have them when growing up. “They are so tasty!”.

“Absolutely not. Horrid”.

“Well, unfortunately, this has come to an end” Harry laughed at her exaggeration and finished eating his panini. “So, did you miss me?”

“Horribly” Thankfully he had swallowed all the food in his mouth when she had asked it. His cheeks had turned a tone or two darker and for a second he had thought he was going to be sick. Although, he was quite surprised and proud of himself for his honest answer and without any stuttering.

Y/N felt like her heart was about to burst out of her chest and that butterflies in her tummy. It had been a long time since she had ever felt this way toward anyone. She moves closer to him, to the point where their shoulders are touching. Y/N turned to look at him and was met with his big eyes that she had grown to adore.

“Do you like me?” She asked as she leaned close to him.

“I- I do” his stutter was back, but he didn’t care. He could smell her intoxicating scent again, and it was enough to drive him crazy. Her hand reaches up and to the back of his neck, where she tangled her fingers.

Their noses touched, and their foreheads met.

“Good because I like you too” Y/N whispered then pressed their lips against one other.

Harry closed his eyes as soon as their lips touched for the first time. She kept a hand on his chest for leverage whilst the other remained tangled in his hair. Her lips were just as plump and soft as he had imagined. His entire body froze for the seconds they share the kiss. He opened his eyes as he felt her pull apart, but before he could open them fully, she kissed him again. This time it was more long and affectionate. It was as if there was no concept of time. As if they were the only ones in this world sharing a kiss. They both felt invisible and nothing else mattered.

chapter 4

[magicalmutants]

II.

Warnings: none specifically, other than angst and some swearing. general warnings in the series masterlist!

A/N: last of the exposition chapters! Happy Sunday, my loves <3

prev. next

The summer heat isn’t as suffocating and clinging anymore. If you open your window at night, you can feel the cool late September breeze that teases the imminent arrival of autumn.

Your mom doesn’t ask about Suguru like she did for the first few weeks after he had gone, and you don’t bring him up either. It’s easier this way.

You fill your days with routine: school, homework, part-time shifts at the little convenience store nearby. You pretend you’re too busy to think about the part of you that seems to be missing. About him.

But then sometimes, you’re just doing homework and playing an album that reminds you a little too much of him and your phone rings, as if he can sense it.

Incoming call: Snake Boy 🐍

“You’re late,” you say, skipping the hello.

Suguru chuckles, “for what?”

“You said you’d call this weekend,” you smile at the sound of his laugh, “it’s Tuesday.”

“Oh. Right,” a pause, “my bad.”

You wait for him to say more. He doesn’t.

“So?” You prompt, “how’s uni?”

“Oh, you know,” you can hear the smile in his voice, “classes, questionable decisions, the usual. Satoru’s a handful, but I think you’d really like him. Tokyo’s sick. You should come visit.”

You press the phone tighter to your ear. You’ve really missed his voice,“Yeah?”

“He wants me to rush this frat with him— Satoru, I mean,” Suguru continues. “They throw these crazy parties — and I mean like, completely insane.”

You laugh, it doesn’t feel forced, “you are so not a frat guy.”

He laughs too, “that’s what I said.”

There’s something about the way he says it that makes the bitterness that lingers in your chest fester a little bit. There’s no real conviction. Like maybe he’s not so sure anymore.

You frown, “I can’t really picture you shotgunning beers and wearing khakis.”

“Maybe I’ll surprise you,” he jokes.

You’re not sure why it matters to you so much, but you want to believe he’s kidding.

He calls again a week later, voice buzzing with excitement about some house party he and Satoru are going to, and it’s the first time you feel like you’re listening to a stranger.

“Sounds like you’re forgetting about me,” you joke, trying to keep the insecurity out of your voice.

“I could never do that,” his voice softens. “You miss me?”

“Maybe.”

“Ouch.”

“I’m only kidding. Mostly.”

He doesn’t ask about home anymore. You’re not really sure if you want him to.

“Hey, Suguru?”

“Yeah?”

Ask him if he’s coming home for Christmas. Tell him he can stay with you. Your parents would say yes. Tell him you miss him. Ask him. Ask him. Ask him.

“Nothing, I gotta go. Have fun at the party.”

₊˚⊹ ࿔

October comes and goes, the air has more of a bite to it now and you keep the window to your bedroom firmly shut during the night. You’re staring at the pictures on his Instagram again, at the photos he posted two weeks ago. He’s wearing some dumb Halloween costume and posing with a guy he’s tagged as Satoru Gojo, as well as a bunch of other people whose names and faces you don’t recognize.

Incoming call: Snake Boy 🐍

You stare, unmoving.

Snake Boy 🐍: (1) missed call

Snake Boy 🐍: hey, you busy?

You begin typing by force of habit and he immediately calls back.

“Hello?”

You never call first anymore,” He sounds a little hurt.

You put the phone on speaker, placing it on your bed and begin to tug at a loose thread on the hoodie you’re wearing. His hoodie. It doesn’t smell like him anymore.

“Didn’t know I was supposed to. Is it a competition?” It’s meant to be a joke, but neither of you laugh.

A pause. Then, quieter, “are you mad at me?”

You hate how small his voice sounds when he says it. You hate that you’re doing this to him, but you don’t know how to fix it, how to stop.

“Of course not,” you say. “Just been busy. Senior year, you know?”

It’s a lie. He knows it. You know he knows it.

Liar. You’re waiting for his voice to ring out.

But he doesn’t call you on it, and for some reason, that makes your chest ache even more.

The silence stretches.

Eventually, Suguru exhales. “Okay. I just… wanted to check in.”

You swallow, looking away from the phone. “Yeah. Thanks.”

You say your goodbyes. You hang up first.

₊˚⊹ ࿔

The screen goes dark, but he’s still holding the phone to his ear.

Suguru finally pulls it away, staring at the screen for a second before letting it fall back onto his desk. He leans back in his chair, rubbing a hand over his face.

You were acting different. Again.

It was subtle—just little things. The slight delay before you answered, the fact that he’s pretty sure you ignored his first call. The way your voice felt distant, even though you were right there in his ear.

He doesn’t know what he expected. He knew things were weird. Knew you had been slipping away, one unanswered text at a time.

But this was the first time it had felt real.

₊˚⊹ ࿔

You lay on your bed, cheek pressed against your pillow, Suguru could feel you watching as he stared up at the ceiling. The low hum of music filled the room, soft and familiar, the same songs you’d been playing for years.

“You said you were taking a gap year,” you murmured, reaching out to toy with one of his soft, raven strands of hair, gently wrapping it around your finger.

He exhaled, “I know.”

“So what changed?”

He hesitated, “I just… I don’t want to wait anymore. I feel like I should take the chance, since I got in.”

“Why?” He could hear the frown in your voice.

He didn’t answer right away. Just tapped his fingers against his stomach, slow and restless.

“I want to get out of here,” his voice was quiet, but sure, “get away from my parents. Start over somewhere else, you know?”

You scooted closer to him. He knew you understood, probably more than anyone. You’d seen the way his mother’s disappointment latched onto him like a shadow, a curse. You noticed the way his father barely looked at him anymore, except to shout at him.

You rested your forehead against his shoulder, “I get it.”

“You’re not mad?” Suguru turned his head, finally looking at you.

You huffed a small laugh, and gave his hair a playful tug. “I mean, a little. But not really.”

A beat.

Then you nudged his side, “I’m proud of you, you know.”

“For ditching you?” He smirked, raising an eyebrow.

“For getting in!” You laughed before whacking his arm, “for knowing what you want.”

He let out a breath, his body relaxing just a little, “thanks.”

You sighed, pressing your face into his shirt for a second. “I’m gonna miss you, though.”

Suguru smiled, bumping his arm against yours. “You won’t even have time to.”

“Oh?”

“I’ll come back every weekend,” he said easily, “and you can come stay with me whenever you want.”

“You promise?”

Suguru made a gun with his hands and pointed it at you, “Swear on my life.” He smiled.

You rolled your eyes but smiled and returned the gesture.

The song changed. Suguru groaned. “Oh my God, this one again?”

You smacked his arm again, “shut up. It’s good.”

He laughed, and you grinned, turning the volume up.

August felt so far away.

It would be okay.

₊˚⊹ ࿔

Across the room, Satoru glances up from his textbook, “you good?”

Suguru forces a shrug, “yeah.”

Satoru eyes him, pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. “That the same girl?”

Suguru sighs, picking up his phone again, thumbing over the screen. Your contact stares back at him.

Angel.

His stomach churns.

Satoru watches him for a second longer, then turns back to his textbook. “Women, amirite?”

Suguru doesn’t answer. You’re not just some woman, but these days, the word friend feels like a lie too.

So he just sits there, phone in his hand, the call already over.

And for the first time, he wonders if you even want him to call again.

₊˚⊹ ࿔

The cold is relentless now. The streets are lined with dirty slush, the sky is dull and heavy, and the wind cuts straight through your jacket when you walk home from work. Christmas had come and gone. Then New Year’s. He didn’t come home. Does he still even consider this place home?

Everything feels slow. Unmoving.

At dinner, your parents talk about planning a trip for your spring break. Maybe visiting family, maybe a weekend somewhere warmer. You nod through the conversation, barely listening.

You don’t know why you check your phone so often. Suguru rarely texts anymore, and when he does, it’s short. Casual. The way you’d talk to someone when you had nothing real left to say.

Still, you check.

You’re lying on your bed, mindlessly scrolling through his page. He hasn’t posted since New Year’s and you’ve basically memorized the photo carousel at this point. Your fingers seem to move of their own accord as you tap through to Satoru’s profile. It’s public. You know this.

His profile picture has a little ring around it. You turn on airplane mode and click it to view the story.

It’s blurry and overexposed from the flash. It’s a shot of a group of guys, most of their faces familiar to you at this point. They’re standing on the frat house’s balcony, drinks in hand, laughing. Suguru is in the middle, hood pushed up, his head thrown back mid-laugh. The caption says “Bali for spring break? lfgggg.”

You stare at the screen, finger pressed on the photo to keep the story in place.

You shouldn’t be surprised. He had mentioned something about a trip once, weeks ago, but you hadn’t thought much of it. He never asked if you wanted to visit anymore. Never asked what you were doing.

You shouldn’t be surprised, but your chest still clenches painfully and you can almost feel the bile-like bitterness creep up your throat.

You exit the app and turn airplane mode off. Your phone buzzes.

Snake Boy 🐍: you still awake?

You plug in your phone and roll over, pulling your hood up over your head.

₊˚⊹ ࿔

“Yo, you in?”

Suguru glances up from his phone. Satoru is watching him expectantly, waiting for an answer.

“In what?”

“The trip to Bali for spring break? I’m calling to book the hotel and the jet tonight, I just gotta let my dad know numbers.”

Suguru hesitates. He wants to text you, see what your plans are, see if you want him to come home— or better— if you want to come to Tokyo. He knows he missed Christmas. He feels shit about it, but you barely answer these days. He tells himself you won’t care.

“Yeah,” he says, “I’m in.”

Satoru grins, “My man!” He claps him on the back, “that’s what I’m talking about!”

Suguru forces a smile, but when he glances at his phone again, something unsettles him.

Me: you still awake?

The message sits there, unanswered. He watches the screen, waiting for the typing bubble to appear.

It never does anymore. Even though he’s surrounded by people, laughing, planning, moving on, he’s never felt more stuck.

The sourness of your rejection makes his throat hurt. It reminds him of angry words and stinging cheeks. It makes him feel sick.

₊˚⊹ ࿔

“How do you like it?” The tattoo artist is sweet. She helps you to the mirror with the best lighting as your eyes take in the raised skin of your ribs and the little red snake that’s made a home there.

A smile tugs at your lips, “I love it,” you say. And you mean it.

“Cool, but you have to promise you won’t get a tattoo without me! You have to wait until I’m 18, too!”

“Okay, fine. The moment you’re 18, we’ll go together and get matching ones. Deal?”

“Ew no, not matching ones! But yeah, whatever. Deal! And we can’t tell each other what they are beforehand! It has to be a surprise!”

You’re not really sure why you got the snake. Maybe it was your way of telling him ‘fuck you.’ You kept your end of the bargain and you knew for a fact he definitely wouldn’t keep his. Hell, he hadn’t even talked to you since January. Being proven right gives you a twisted sense of satisfaction. You hadn’t forgotten about him. You hadn’t left him behind. See? I’m the better friend. I never forgot about you, not for a second. I said I’d never leave you and I didn’t.

You put your shirt back on and pay for the tattoo, but not before asking the artist to take a photo. You’re covering your the side of your left breast with your hand and showing off the shiny plastic over the tiny red snake. You consider sending it to him. You don’t.

₊˚⊹ ࿔

“Alright, let’s see it,” Satoru tosses his phone onto his bed when Suguru walks into their shared dorm.

He grins and gingerly lifts his shirt over his head, revealing the dragon made of black, minimalist line work that winds along his spine.

Satoru whistles, “damn, Player! Lookin seexxxyyy!” He waggles his eyebrows. “You’ve got the mysterious bad boy thing locked down!”

Suguru huffs a laugh, “that’s not why I got it.”

“Sure, man, sureeeee. About to issue a campus wide PSA to keep your girls inside today.”

Suguru rolls his eyes as he lets his shirt fall back down.

“What’s your favorite animal?”

“Guess!”

“Uhh… like a bear or something? Like Watermelon Lady?”

“Nope! A dragon!”

“Dragons aren’t real!”

“They are so! How would you know anyway? You’re just a stinky boy.”

“I’ve never seen one.”

“Well you’ve never seen a dinosaur either, but you believe in those!”

“I guess…”

Suguru smiles to himself. He wonders if you remembered the silly deal. He pulls out his phone and contemplates the video call button. He clicks voice call instead.

₊˚⊹ ࿔

The April breeze drifts in through your window and tickles your cheek as you stare at the envelope that has your name written on it in neat, black letters. You’ve been sitting at your desk and staring at it ever since your mother handed it to you when you got home from the tattoo studio.

You don’t know why you can’t bring yourself to open it. You had other offers already, schools in different parts of the country— hell, even a school abroad. This one is the better school for my degree, though. You know that’s not the real reason you can’t bring yourself to tear it open.

You didn’t expect the call, not really. You feel something when you see his name on your screen, but you can’t tell whether that’s good or bad anymore.

“Hello?”

“Happy birthday, Angel.”

Tears spring to your eyes immediately at the sound of his voice. Your nails scratch absently at your desk. You weren’t sure whether he’d remember. You immediately feel bad for thinking that. Of course he’d remember, he’d never forgotten. Not once.

Thanks,” you murmur, softly.

The conversation starts carefully, heavy with words neither of you are saying. It feels like you’re relearning the steps to an intricate dance that used to come to you like second nature. It never used to be quite this difficult to feel like he loved you.

He asks about home, you ask about school. He tells you about a trip he and Satoru are planning, and you pretend it doesn’t sting that he doesn’t ask if you want to come.

And then, somewhere in the middle of the quiet, it happens. Something shifts and the choreography is forgotten.

“I feel like I haven’t talked to you in forever,” Suguru says, trying to keep his voice light. “You’ve been totally MIA.”

Your jaw immediately clenches, “yeah? Back atcha,” it sounds sharper than you’d like.

He pauses. You hear a door open and close.

“I call,” he says finally.

“Not that much,” the words are out before you can stop them.

“Jesus,” he says your name right after and he’s never sounded quite this exasperated when he’s said it before.

a beat of silence, and when he speaks again, his voice is strained, “you ignore me.”

Your heart pounds and the room suddenly feels too hot. You scratch slightly harder at your desk, “I’ve been busy.”

Suguru lets out a humorless laugh. “Right. Busy.”

Liar.

He doesn’t say it, not anymore.

Something about his tone makes your blood simmer. You know you’re being unfair, this isn’t about him, not really. But the anger that you’ve been trying to contain for years is already pressing against your ribs, hot and hungry and desperate for somewhere to go.

“You’re the one who left,” you snap. Your cheeks flush and you immediately regret it.

(Wood splinters.)

The line goes quiet and for a second, you thinks he’s going to let it slide, like he always does when you lash out.

But then he exhales, and there’s something different in it this time—something tired.

“Are you serious?” His voice is low.

No. No I’m not, I’m sorry. I just miss you so fucking much. Everything reminds me of you and I don’t know how to make a place for myself in this town without you by my side. I don’t know what to do with myself, I feel like I’m in limbo and that you’re moving on and making a life for yourself that doesn’t have me in it. I wish you’d come home. Fuck your parents, come stay with me. They can’t have tainted everything about this place for you, right? I wish it could go back to how it was. I wish I was 15 and sitting on the roof with you. I wish I was 8 and playing in the pond. I wish I was 17 and in your bed.

You don’t answer.

He says your name, and for the first time ever you hate the way it sounds coming from his lips. “I have tried.” His voice rises slightly in frustration. In something raw. “I call. I text. I try to talk to you, and all you ever do is push me away.”

Well then try harder! You said you’d be home every weekend. You never came to check on me, not even once!

The words bunch up in your throat. “I don’t—”

“You do,” he cuts you off and there’s an edge in his voice that’s he’s never used with you. “And you know what? For someone who’s so scared of looking clingy and needy, you have a really bad habit of wanting people to beg for your attention.”

(Iron rots.)

Your nails still against the desk. You suck in a sharp breath, stunned.

Suguru lets out an exhale, and when he speaks again, his voice is quieter, but it wavers at the edges.

“I get it, okay? I know why you do it. But I never left you, not like that. You made me leave.”

Your grip tightens on the phone. You want to argue, to tell him it’s not fair.

You’re too old to be throwing tantrums, honey.

You’d spent so much time testing him, pulling away to see if he’d chase after you, tell you he loved you. At some point, you’d forgotten to keep checking if he was still behind you.

Now you weren’t sure he was.

“I don’t—” your voice catches, and you shake your head, even though he can’t see it. “I didn’t mean—”

“I know,” he says gently. And somehow, that makes it worse.

Silence stretches between you, thick and suffocating.

Say something. Say something, you idiot. Cry, for fuck’s sake. DO SOMETHING. Don’t let him hang up.

Finally, Suguru sighs, “Happy birthday,” there’s no warmth when he says your name.

You barely have time to process it before the call disconnects.

And just like that, he’s gone.

You sit there, the phone still held against your ear. You swallow. You reach for the envelope and tear it open.

Tokyo University is very pleased to accept—

A tear falls on the letter.

You stop reading.

[yomju]

Jealousy

"You're going on a date?"

Caleb asks, steadfast in your shared cookie dough mixing.

Earlier this morning, you told him how much you missed those brown butter chocolate chip cookies during a desert road trip last year.

After a few scrolls, Caleb jotted down the ingredients and left immediately for a grocery run.

“Easy enough. I’ve been meaning to use up our butter,” he said, noting the ingredients academically.

You broke your focus from studying to glance up at him.

“I’ll be back in a few, pipsqueak. Don’t burn the apartment down.”

“Wait, Caleb—Hey! As if, I have a better sense of smell than you. Remember when you left the gas on?”

You slipped a bookmark into your textbook and chased him down the hallway. It’s tradition to send each other off.

“Nooope, I don’t. You must be misremembering, huh? Maybe I should take you to the doctor.”

You punched his shoulder as he was shrugging into his jacket.

“Ha ha, very funny, Caleb.”

He chuckled and gave your shoulder a gentle push. You lingered in the space after his warmth left.

He does so much for you.

“I’ll start brunch,” you blurted.

He looked back, his gaze resting on you for a moment too long, mind drifting before he flickered back to the present.

“Who are you and what have you done to MC?”

He poked your cheek.

“Either something’s on your mind or you’re apologizing. Should I expect to see my borrowed clothes back in my closet?”

Your cheeks flushed, half embarrassment, half annoyance—but you didn’t care. You rose to your tiptoes, closing the distance, causing Caleb’s finger to gently curl.

“Maybe, and no. Your shirt’s mine.”

Caleb’s tone shifted, serious. “What’s on your mind then?”

He slid his index and thumb down your jaw, pinching your chin softly.

You didn’t want to hold him up, but the concern in his eyes was so gentle.

In a moment of bravery, you did the one thing you thought was best.

He tilted your face slightly from one side to the other, his gaze moving between your eyes.

The moment stretched—steady, comforting, suspiciously long. You softened.

“You, you dummy. You always do so much for me. I want to make your days easier too, okay?”

Before Caleb could react, you shooed him off.

“Now, off you go.”

Two succinct pats and a push on his back.

“Don’t forget my favorite brand of caramel!”

You hurried back down the hall to the kitchen, hiding the heat in your face and avoiding Caleb’s reaction.

He didn’t say anything right away, just shifted in his jacket and let out a couple of coughs.

“All right, all right,” he conceded. “Yes, chef. I’ll follow your lead today.”

“See you!” you called out.

Your phone lit up with an emoji:

:P Sent 11:27am

Forty-five minutes later, steaks were on the stove.

Your phone said to sear them on high for a minute each side.

What you didn’t expect was the smoke—thick and immediate, staining your lungs. You were quick enough to lift the pan and lower the heat. You blasted the fan and kept an eye on the smoke detector. The smell reminded you of when Caleb cooks: fragrant and savory.

What you didn’t expect was how different it felt to be the one sweating over the stove. A bead slid down the side of your brow.

Caleb returned in the middle of you flipping the steak, put on an old rock album, and started prepping dessert.

“What gave you that idea?” you asked finally, returning to his earlier question with one of your own.

He answered carefully. “Just routine observation and extensive pattern recognition.”

It was so nerdy you laughed. But when your chuckle faded, you realized Caleb hadn’t said more.

He was taking this seriously.

“You got dressed up and all. Mega departure from your shorts and band tee.” (His tee, specifically.) “Your makeup’s different.”

“You look good.”

You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear and thanked him.

You could’ve told him the honest truth: that because Caleb announced—last minute—that he was coming home for the weekend, you’d expedited your outfit plan from last night just to get his attention.

Funny how he jumped to conclusions.

You could’ve told him the complex truth: that the need to shed old skin had given birth to a new style. That old skin withered over the year you mourned him. (Still a sensitive topic.) That some twisted part of you wanted him to see you differently than when you were kids.

Or you could hold out on the stupidly simple truth.

You shook your head but opted to play along. Just a bit.

“You could say that, yeah.” You mock-glanced at your invisible watch while removing the steak.

“We’re going on this sunset cruise around the city. It’s gorgeous out, and they wanted to take advantage of the good weather.” You cracked four eggs and dropped bread in the toaster.

“We weren’t able to cancel, but I wanted to spend the morning with you.”

Caleb answered with a grunt, hands silently palming sweet dough.

You stirred the eggs, listening to the whirring in his brain.

The toast popped. A songbird’s muffled melody filtered through the apartment window.

You dressed the plates—eggs, steak, and a dash of chives—before the conversation resumed.

Caleb turned around, arms crossed, posture restrained but stern.

“Who is this guy?”

He leaned forward, sliding the cookie tray an inch with one hand.

“Oh, you know them,” you said innocently. “I don’t think it’d surprise you.”

He walked over slowly.

His height became intimidating up close, the space between you evaporating.

His voice dropped: soft, crisp, loud in the proximity.

“Is it Gideon?”

You almost laughed but held it in. Instead, you looked up at him and soaked in his boyish features. You thrived off the heat rolling off him. His biceps were tensed. That box-cut tank—your favorite. You let his confused expression simmer, enjoying the lavender light soaking through your kitchen window.

When you cracked a smile, Caleb’s eyes widened slightly.

“You keeping secrets from me now, pipsqueak?”

You poked his cheek.

“Nope, but you’ve been assuming all day. I couldn’t help myself.”

His eyebrows shot up.

Caleb coughed and dropped his shoulders. He looked away, reaching for a plausible cover-up. You missed his gaze, so you stepped on his toes playfully. A soft, fake “ow” slipped out, but he didn’t budge.

“You’ve met Tara, right? She’s my—”

“Coworker. At the Association,” Caleb finished, blowing air in your face. You laughed and swatted him away.

“Yup. It’s just a girl’s trip. We wanted to feel cute. I’ll send you some photos, and maybe we can go together next time.”

Caleb held himself back from saying you didn’t need to dress up to look like that.

“I—” he paused, searching.

You handed him a plate and a set of utensils. Then grabbed your own and made your way to the kitchen island, dying to know what he meant to say.

Caleb followed you like a dog. He sat beside you before finally speaking.

“I wanted to make sure the guy was good for you. If it was a date.”

You watched him pour two glasses of orange juice, slice a fresh orange, and decorate your glass the way you like. He set it down and rested his chin on his fist.

He was clearly falling back on the protective big brother act. Maybe it was the only move he had left. A small ache twisted in your chest, but you couldn’t complain—not unless you wanted to change the whole story.

“…Of course, Caleb. You’re always looking out for me.”

You avoided his eyes and sipped your juice. But Caleb must’ve wanted your attention—he cut a tender piece of steak and raised it to your mouth.

“Say ah,” he said, holding the pose. “Chef’s gotta try their own handiwork first.”

You turned your head with a pout. Caleb smiled.

“Nuh-uh, I already did while cooking. You gotta tell me if it’s okay. I worked hard!”

He laughed and gave in immediately. “You’re right.” He chewed, then commented, “Delicious. Thank you.”

You sighed, finally relaxing.

You ate in silence for a bit, music still humming in the background. Halfway through his plate, Caleb looked at you again.

“Were you serious about going together?” he asked.

“Of course, Caleb.” You chewed thoughtfully. “I know it’s not what we usually do. And yeah, it’s kinda tacky to act like tourists in our own city.”

“No,” he shook his head. “I think it’s refreshing. Gives you a reason to take in the summer. I’ve seen Linkon from the skies—I’m curious what it looks like sitting on the river.”

“Exaaactly,” you swirled your fork and let your voice soften. A sunset cruise with Caleb. Beautiful. But just as you are now—two people who grew up together. Who protected each other. Who care, deeply.

Your stomach twisted with uncertainty. You set your utensils down.

“Next week? I’ll come back for the weekend.”

You smiled at him with effort. In a spontaneous moment of courage, you leaned your head on his shoulder. He adjusted for your neck naturally.

“I’m so full,” you lied. “But yeah. Next week. Promise?”

Caleb pressed a soft kiss to your hair—a gesture that once comforted you as a child. Now, you wished you could return it.

“Promise.”

Neither of you said anything to burst the illusion. For now, you did the only thing you could:

You tucked this moment away, reverently and privately, into the non-existent hours of night.

[Also on Ao3]