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pasukiyo · 5 months ago

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I WANT YOUR VIDEO

college baseball player!leon x f!reader word count: 3,836 warnings: sex tape, oral (m receiving), unprotected p in v sex with seemingly creampie, hint of corruption kink, leon's kind of an fboy if you squint, brief spanking synopsis: you've just gotten a brand new video camera and leon intends to use it properly...

“Shit, shit, shit!”

She curses through gritted teeth as she repeatedly jabs her finger against the record button, sliding her hand through the handle on the side of the small device, hastily bringing the viewfinder to her right eye. She quickly finds Leon where he stands in his ready position at third base just in time, as the batter swings and hits a ground ball that heads straight for him.

She gasps and her breath hitches, and she holds it in her throat as the scene seems to unravel in slow motion. Leon scoops the ball into his glove and shuffles into his throwing motion, her camcorder follows the ball as it soars through the air towards the first baseman and into his glove.

The runner only hits first base a second after the ball hits the glove.

Leon’s won the game.

She moves the viewfinder away from her eye to throw both hands in the air, her cheer emitting more as a shrill scream as the bleachers erupt into an uproar of applause. She watches Leon as his face splits into a grin, jumping in the air and pumping his fist in the air as his teammates crowd around him, banging their fists on his back, their palms on the top of his head.

She laughs and aims the camera back down to them, watching through the viewfinder as Leon disappears behind a wall of cheering baseball players. The wall crumbles only for a moment as two men dump the contents of a water cooler over Leon’s head, his dark blonde hair flattening against his forehead and beads of water drip down his face as he lifts his head and hollers.

People begin to make their way down from the stands and towards the field, which she takes as her cue to cut the recording to make her own way down to the dugout. She does her best to slither her way past the sea of bodies before her and she rolls onto the tips of her toes, searching for Leon between heads. She huffs, pursing her lips as she decides to just wait for him to find her until she feels a pair of hands on her waist and she shrieks as she’s lifted up into the air.

Someone hollers behind her and she kicks out with her feet, squirming to try and get a glimpse over her shoulder.

“Leon!” She whines as she’s finally set onto the ground and spun around, a hand on the small of her back drawing her into his chest. A mixture of water and sweat drops from Leon Kennedy’s forehead to the tip of her nose and she wrinkles it, reaching up with her free hand to wipe it away. “Gross. You’re all sticky and sweaty.”

In a sea of dark blue, there seems to be a reflection of a star, one she’s become all too familiar with. She narrows her eyes at the mischievous gleam in his eyes as he scrunches his nose, nudging her forehead with his.

“Don’t give me that,” he whispers, drawing his mouth to hers. “You know you love it,” he says against her lips and she rolls her eyes, locking her arms around his neck. “You wish, Leon Kennedy,” she mutters back, unable to help the curving of her lips as Leon practically swallows them with his, groaning into her mouth.

The sheer force of Leon’s kiss nearly makes her drop the camera and after only a fleeting moment, she pulls away, hyper aware of the fact that they were most definitely not alone.

“You almost made me drop my brand new camera,” she complains, unraveling her arms from around his neck to fuss with her camera, willing the blood in her cheeks to cool down. Leon moans against the crown of her head, pressing a kiss to her skin.

“Wouldn’t want that,” he murmurs, pinching her chin between his thumb and forefinger. Their eyes meet again and her bottom lip quivers against his fingers because suddenly she knows what that roguish glint in his eyes earlier means. He leans in closer until their noses almost touch, “haven’t even gotten to put it to good use yet.”

They barely made it through the door of Leon’s dorm before he was already tearing her shirt off.

“Leon!” She moans as his kisses trail down her lips and to that delicate patch of skin on her neck that always has her knees wobbling. Her hands find his shoulders and fists a handful of his fresh, clean shirt as he backpedals towards his bedroom, kicking a foot behind him to open the door. He tugs her inside and kicks it back closed behind her, his teeth marking her neck, his forefinger lifting the strap of her bag away from her shoulder.

However, before he can absentmindedly toss it to the floor, he blinks, pulling away from her altogether. Her skin is warm and her vision has begun to blur but she blinks throughout, her brows knit as she watches him sift through the contents of her bag.

“What are you doing?” She pants and she watches as he finally fishes out what he’d been looking for. “A-ha!” He grins, holding up her brand new video camera. He begins trying to navigate all the different buttons and her spine stiffens at the sight— somehow, in her lust-drunken haze, she’d forgotten all about Leon’s intentions for tonight.

She’s not sure if the idea either turns her on more or makes her want to vomit.

Either way, there’s an ache between her legs and she swallows, trying to resist the urge to press her thighs together to quell it.

“Leon, you’re not seriously…?” She trails off as he finally finds the record button, pressing down on it, sliding his hand through the strap on the side, and holding the camcorder up to face her. She freezes when she realizes she’s being recorded and draws her brows together. “Leon!”

She lunges, reaching for the camera but he backs away and she can see his toothy, little grin peeking out from the side of the folded-out screen. With the camera aimed at her face, reaches out to cup her cheek, drawing her in for another kiss.

“What? Isn’t this what cameras are used for?” He murmurs against her lips and she rolls her eyes, peeking towards the camera from corners of her vision. Leon’s tongue swirls her mouth and she hums into his kiss, already feeling her opposition begin to fade. She pulls away just enough to whisper, “you’re a menace, Leon Kennedy.”

Her eyes flutter open to find he’s already staring, drawing her further into that dark, lustrous ocean of his that never fails to make liquid of her insides. His breath looms over her face like rolling smoke and she’s sinking with her head below his surface. Her gaze drops to his lips as they curve into a roguish, crooked grin.

“And you love it,” he mutters before her lips are enveloped with his again. She moans into his mouth as she cups either side of his face, bringing him in even closer to her orbit.

It's primal, the way he kisses her and she matches with equal fervor, fingers gripping locks of hair at the nape of his neck, pulling hard enough to make him groan into her mouth. His hand not preoccupied with the camcorder finds her hip, palming the flesh through her little denim shorts, grounding his bulge into her front. She mewls at the delicious friction as a flame kindles at her core and she pulls away, chest heaving with the weight of her breaths.

Leon watches through the viewfinder of the camera as she sinks to her knees before him, fingers hooking over the hem of his sweats. His entire body reacts when his cock springs free from his boxers as they, along with his pants, pool at his ankles. He watches through the little fold-out screen as she blinks up at him, as if she’s a saint, as if she’s nothing short of innocent.

She has to know what she’s doing. Leon still remembers that day a few months back in the batting cage, remembers the nervous, stuttering mess of a girl she was then.

It was back when she was just a silly girl with a silly little crush— she didn’t ever truly expect anything to come from it. She’d had little to no experience with sex or relationships for that matter, so she learned to keep her fantasies private, her feelings locked away inside a vault.

Or so she thought.

Until Leon stopped her after chemistry one day to ask for help. Everyone knew she was top of the class, and he’d seen the way she looked at him, sneaking glances when she thought he wouldn’t notice. But to find that she’d been writing his name in the very notebook she lent him?

He knew he had to have her.

And now he does, and now he’s got her on her knees before him, fist wrapped around his cock with a camera practically in her face. It was no secret that she’d changed over the course of the past few months they’d been together, and Leon took great pride in having done the honors of breaking the good girl.

Now she was his good girl, conditioned to suck cock like her life depended on it, and fuck, he could come just from that thought alone.

“Fuck,” he mutters beneath his breath as he watches her lick a long stripe from his sack, up his length, all the way to his tip through the viewfinder. She stares at him— or rather, the camcorder— through her lashes, even as she parts her lips wide enough to take in just the head, the tip of her tongue circling around the slit at the top. Leon’s breath stutters in his chest and he gasps, a gravelly “oh” slipping from his lips.

“Spit on it for me,” he rasps and she complies, gathering saliva on the tip of her tongue, spewing it onto the head. Her fist pumps up and down, coating the entire length with her spit and it’s pornographic, the way Leon throws his head back with a moan.

“The whole thing?” She asks, absentmindedly pumping her fist from the base of his dick to just below the head, tilting her head and blinking up at him as if she wasn’t trying to wring his release out of him. He has to sink his teeth into his bottom lip to control himself, snaking his hand not holding the camera around to the back of her head, taking a fistful of her hair between his fingers.

“You’re a fuckin’ minx, you know that?” He practically growls and her lips curve against the head of his cock, just before she dips her chin.

“You love it,” she uses his own words against him and then her lips part to wrap around him and oh, he’s already overcome with bliss. He has to pray somewhere in the back of his mind that the camcorder is still focused on her because he lolls his head backwards, squeezing his eyelids closed as she slowly takes him into her mouth.

He can feel every inch of him being drawn between her lips, all the way until he feels his tip brush the back of her throat and he can feel the way it tightens around him.

A filthy, rather embarrassing noise sounds from her efforts and her cheeks warm but Leon doesn’t care, if anything, it only turns him on more. She lifts her head up until just the tip is in her mouth and Leon grants her this one moment to gasp for breath before he’s guiding her back down his length, panting as every single inch of his cock sheaths inside her throat.

“Fuck!” He groans, peering back down at her through the camcorder’s screen. He can see her hand raise to wrap around his base just below it and she squeezes, pumping while she swirls her tongue against his tip, bobbing her head up and down as much of the length as she can take.

“Shit, that’s it,” he groans, watching as she takes him deeper, her nose against the little, coarse hairs around his base. “Just like that, pretty girl.”

She whines around him and comes up for air, lips glistening with spit, streams of tears spilling from over the side of her lids. She blinks back the water in her eyes as she gasps for breath and Leon, with his fingers still tangled in her hair, tug her back down into his cock. There’s a knot building in his sack that’s making him start to see white, his release so close he can practically taste it.

He almost loses himself in his bliss before he comes to his senses, pulling her mouth off of his cock by the grip in her hair, his cock twitching and slit crying with precum. He pants, cursing beneath his breath as she rocks back on her heels, a string of spit hanging from her bottom lip that she wipes away with the back of her hand.

It’s all so filthy and provocative yet so damn erotic. It seems fitting now that they were recording— this is exactly the type of shit you see in the porn videos.

She blinks up at him from her spot on the floor and he leans down, kissing her just so he can taste her, humming at the mixture of saliva and precum in her mouth. He pulls away, a bridge of spit stringing between their lips, and turns, stepping out of his boxers and sweats before walking towards his dresser.

She eyes him curiously, still panting as she watches him place the camcorder down on the top of his dresser, adjusting the position until he’s certain the lens faces the bed. Blood bites her cheeks and lava oozes at her apex as Leon makes his back towards her, tugging his shirt over his head during the journey.

“Off,” his voice drips with authority and he gestures with his chin towards her clothes. His shirt falls to the floor and he’s left naked, save for the silver chain that dangles just above his chest and she swallows at the sight before her, pressing her thighs together as she rises from her place on the ground.

Their gazes meet and lock as she grabs the bottom of her shirt— the one she always wears to his games that has his name and number on the back— and Leon greedily takes in the sight before him as she pulls the material over her head. Her denim shorts are the next to go and he, admittedly, watches her breasts over the top of her bra as she bends over to step out of her bottoms, tossing them aside.

She’s left in her underwear and her eyes boldly meet his once again, her lids heavy against them, a refulgent white flame in the backdrops of her pupils. Her hands reach around to her back to unclasp her bra and she watches as Leon eyes the way the straps slip down her shoulders, the length of her arms until her breasts are finally on full display. His breath hitches as the lace falls down to the floor and she hooks her fingers tauntingly around the hem of her panties, lifting it up and sliding her fingers back and forth of the expanse of them before at last, she pulls them down her legs until they’re both standing before each other, nude and burning like two stars in supernova.

She makes her way back towards Leon, wrapping her hands around the back of his head, drawing herself in until they were close, yet not close enough.

“What’s next?” She asks, a corner of her mouth curved in a smirk and Leon’s eyes narrow, the center of his stormy sea expanding until nearly his entire iris is veiled by shadow.

“You’ve had your fun,” he says before pushing her towards the bed. She lands with a huff on her stomach and her brows draw together as she peers at him from over her shoulder. “Now I wanna see you on all fours.”

Again, her core aches at the mere fact of how dominant he is and she can feel her arousal as it drips down her slit as she complies, lifting herself up until she’s on her knees and elbows. It’s a rather embarrassing position, if not risqué, at the least. Knowing she’s being recorded in this position only further makes her skin burn, as well as it makes insides melt, hot magma oozing straight down to her center.

The bed dips behind her and she mewls as Leon’s palm slams down onto one side of her ass with a loud smack, the sting deliciously lingering on her flesh. The nearness of him behind her makes her bones rattle and spine erupt in shivers as he runs his palm up and down the expanse of her back. She can feel the head of his cock against her ass, teasing her, taunting her.

“Leon…” she whimpers, wiggling her hips backwards in hopes of some sort of friction. Another slap against the other side of her ass makes her body quake and she yelps, balling her fists against the sheets. She catches a glimpse of him over her shoulder as he takes his cock in one hand, slowly pumping up and down his length, a quiet curse slipping from his lips.

“You’re so beautiful, you know that?” He purrs, reaching forward to trace the line of her jaw with his forefinger. He hunches over her body to press a soft kiss to the side of her mouth and she hums, feeling herself turn into a ball of malleable putty in the palm of his hands.

“Yeah?” She says and he chuckles softly, nodding, his nose against her cheek. “Yeah. So, so pretty,” he whispers and she hums again as he pulls away from her face, palm once again soothing over her back. His right hand rests on the left side of her ass and for a moment, it’s peaceful, for a moment, it’s quiet.

Then Leon bucks his hips forward and with one thrust, she’s full to the brim. Her lips part to make way for a loud gasp that fully permeates his bedroom and lingers, balling her fists so hard against the sheets, she could feel her nails digging into her palms.

“And so, so damn tempting,” he grunts as he pulls back his hips just to piston them back into her again. “A fuckin’ vixen is what you are.”

Bolts of ecstasy half her ability to make words as Leon sets his pace, his thrusts hard, forceful and fast. It’s truly pornographic— again, making it all too fitting that they’re being recorded— the way he fucks her. He’s like an animal and all this energy has been pent up inside of him for so long, too long. You would have no idea he just played a nearly three hour long baseball game.

He’s on a high— from making the last out of the game to being so lucky to have a girl like her on his arm— and he’s pouring every single ounce of that energy into her, into each and every single one of his thrusts. She has to dig her nails into the sheets to keep her body from being driven too far up the bed away from him.

His hands find her hips and he uses them as leverage to fuck into her harder, deeper. The sound of their skin slapping together permeates the bedroom, her eyes rolling into the back of her head and her toes curl as the tip of his cock repeatedly hits that spongy spot deep inside of her deliciously. Over and over and over and over again does he find that spot and it’s sooner rather than later that she feels herself burning, that kindling that had once been a small flame at the pit of her belly now fully blossomed into a wildfire, wreaking havoc across her ovaries.

“Le… Lee… Leon!” She cries, feeling tears brim and sting the outline of her lids as he mutters curses underneath his breath, making it his sole mission to utterly destroy her with his cock. “Slow down or I’m gonna… I’m gonna…! Oh, fuck!”

She hears him laugh behind her, bending over her body— all whilst maintaining his speed— to press a tender kiss to the center of her spine.

“That’s kind of the point,” he says against her back, lips curved into an impish grin against her skin. She can feel drool fall from her mouth down to her chin and she prays that the camcorder can’t pick this embarrassing detail up as she clenches around him, his dick having coaxed her so close to her peak.

Leon lifts away from her back and barks a curse when she tightens around him, his hips stuttering. “Gonna take me down with you, huh?” He growls, bucking his hips harder and harder and harder into her until she begins to crack like the shell of an egg, her orgasm spilling through the jagged lines like the yolk.

She succumbs to blinding white, hot bliss and she shudders, Leon leaning over her to wrap his arms around her waist as he, too, is overtaken by the sheer power of his release. “Leon!” She moans, either of their noises echoing off the four walls of his room and she hopes somewhere in the back of her mind that his roommate, Carlos, is not home to further be exposed to their coition.

Leon’s hips finally still and he simply holds her through either of their orgasms, his chest flush to her back. She can feel his dick twitch inside of her and she mewls, feeling his fingers brush through her hair, his lips finding her ear.

He presses a kiss to the shell before he whispers, “okay?”

It’s hard to speak through her panting but she manages to nod, her eyelids feeling heavy as they fall over her eyes. “Okay,” she replies and she simply lays there on her stomach, Leon on her back. The room smells of sex and perspiration but at its core, it smells like Leon, like home. His warmth is like the fire in a hearth on a cold winter's day and she hums as fatigue washes over her, lulling her towards a temporary slumber.

Leon groans from behind her and she feels him lift off of the bed, albeit reluctantly. Her nose wrinkles in displeasure but she does not lift her head, does not even open her eyes. She’s simply too tired, but before she drifts away to sleep, she hears a string of curses being said beneath Leon’s breath.

“Shit, shit, shit! How the fuck do you turn this thing off?”

a/n; teehee i'm so happy so many of you enjoyed the first baseball player leon fic, so here's a treat! wrote this up while freezing my tits off in the bathtub 😘

📹 if you enjoyed, please consider reblogging or even leaving a reply to let me know! it means the entire world to me 🫶

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darsynia · 4 months ago

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Forgiven (CEO Steve/f!Reader)

MCU MASTERLIST | STEVE ROGERS MASTERLIST | Ro Roll

Summary: Since dropping out of school to care for your sister, your daydream has been that a rich, handsome man will save you from drowning in debt. Until then (read: never), you’ll work hard at your new receptionist job and try not to ogle the impossibly hot construction guy working in the foyer…

Words/Warnings: 2,855 | none

As 5/7 of my Ro Roll birthday fics for @ronearoundblindly, forGIVEn is a fluffy meet cute between CEO Steve and f!Freader. Gif is by @ashilesun.

Excerpt:

“Something wrong, miss?”

You look up to see Foreman Eye Candy standing beside the desk looking gently concerned. One sandy blonde curl is plastered to his forehead with sweat, and you can see that his eyes are a gorgeous shade of blue.

From behind you, a hand lands on your shoulder with just enough pressure to guide you to your seat.

“Nothing of note, Sir, I’m sure!” your coworker says hurriedly.

“All right,” the man says, setting his left hand down on the counter. There’s no ring on his finger. ‘Sir’ Eye Candy (you’re going to hell for all of this) offers a kindly, “Have a good afternoon,” and right at that moment, both of the reception phones ring. There’s no time to process the oddness of what’s just happened, not until you’re back at home and making dinner for your sister.

“How was your hump day?” Jennie asks from the living room.

You nearly splash boiling hot water all over yourself.

FORGIVEN

“Thank God for the internship last summer!” your sister says (again).

“I do, I do,” you promise, looking at yourself critically in the grubby bathroom mirror. She doesn’t have to know you pick a new deity to mentally ‘thank’ every time. Today it’s Thor, because you need to bring electricity to your first day on the job.

You’re hoping to look professional but approachable for this customer-facing position, and it looks like the months of clothes thrifting before your internship last year are really paying off. Do you wish you could work in your field of choice? Sure, but working in the same company as a receptionist means you have both in-field and company knowledge. Once Jennie is back on her feet, you hope to be back on yours, too.

You step into the kitchen to check that everything is set up for your sister. “Are you sure you don’t want me to come back at lunch?”

“No mother hen-ing, you promised! I’ll be fine, and you’ll need your own lunch!”

Your watch beeps that it’s time to start walking to work, so you slip into your sturdy dress shoes and give the room a final once-over. Jennie’s cooler of food is near the couch, she’s got all of the remotes, and her walker is within reach. You’ve even put a pair of crutches in the umbrella stand and lashed the damned thing to the couch so she can’t knock it over. Her charger is at hand, the blinds are down, and the end table has her morning coffee on a coaster.

“Get out or I’ll start throwing things at you and you’ll be late from having to clean them up!” your sister teases.

“I love when you nag,” you tell her, shutting the door before she can retort.

Star Industries is honestly your dream workplace, even after pausing your mechanical engineering degree to take care of Jennie. After Tony Stark and his company spun it off as a subsidiary, Star really came into its own. The company has an inspiring mission: to ensure safe, affordable prosthetics for the people who really need them. Many customers are war veterans, just like the two men in charge. The COO even has one himself.

You’d filled out your paperwork after hours, so when you walk into the building, it’s a nice surprise to see how the morning light floods the lobby. The atrium of the building is made up of a multi-storey open space lit by tall windows, with the company’s logo laid out in the tile floor right as you come in the doors. The A in the word ‘STAR’ is, of course, a star, but it’s the missing ‘K’ from its parent company that catches the eye. Instead of upright, the K is laid on its ‘back.’ One stick figure’s front leg and another stick figure’s back leg make up the angled lines from the K--and they’re both wearing prosthetics.

The name badge you’re given has a smaller version of the same logo, and you can’t help but hope this isn’t the only time you’ll be representing the company. You fix it to your lapel and sit nervously at the desk beside the woman who will train you. It’s an hour before you come up for air long enough to notice there’s some renovation work going on nearby.

Honestly, ‘notice’ is embarrassingly underselling it.

The windows in the lobby are clearly designed to encourage shafts of sunlight that flood a particular area with a cheerful glow. You’ve managed to look over right when one such beam illuminates a man wearing rough work clothes, his head tipped back to drink out of a water bottle. He’s handsome as hell, with a face like Adonis and powerful muscles straining his sweat-damp t-shirt. The sunlight turns him into a golden statue, and you sure as hell would visit museums more often if the art looked like that!

Your phone rings and you answer promptly, tearing your eyes away from the construction worker just as he smiles at someone. The stammered greeting you offer to the caller could be chalked up to it being your first day, but that isn’t the reason at all.

Your first week on the job is equal parts satisfying and stressful. Satisfying because it turns out you’re a natural at taking zero shit with maximum politeness. Your stress comes from the renovations.

The work isn’t loud, and it’s not like you’re worried about safety or anything. Technically, your job isn’t affected at all… well, not because of your assigned work, that is. No, you’re the one affected, and it’s thanks to the man who seems to be in charge.

After that first day, the tarp that separated their construction from the rest of the lobby had been removed, meaning you could just look over and see him at any point throughout your day.

You’ve been rationing those glimpses for your own sanity.

Despite this, there are still details you’ve noted. One, he’s definitely the foreman. Everyone defers to the guy, but his leadership style seems to rely on trust and respect. Two, he has the most genuine smile you’ve ever seen. Paired with his looks, it’s a disastrous combination, especially given Reason Number Three: he’s an utter beast. More than once you’ve seen him moving things with ease that would take multiple other men to lift.

Today is Monday and the men were all at work before you arrive. Their project is taking shape; it appears to be a café with low counters, maybe a wheelchair-friendly gathering space? It would be on brand for the company, and certainly explains why you’ve been brought on as a second receptionist. The usual population in the lobby will certainly go up once it’s completed.

Before you sit down, you take stock of the wide welcome desk. Would anyone notice if you nudged one of the large flower pots to the left to mostly block your view of the café area? You decide to risk it. Foreman Eye Candy is a Distraction with a capital D, and you already love this job.

The morning goes smoothly--but by lunch you’re fairly certain you’ve memorized the pattern on the side of that damned pot, for as often as you’ve looked over at it.

When you come back from your break, the pot is back where it was before.

Your hands shake a little bit as you log back into your computer. Did a cleaning crew come through and adjust it? You’re not brave enough to ask the senior receptionist for fear she’ll question why it was moved in the first place. It’s probably a fluke, you decide.

Without your makeshift barrier, you find yourself looking over at the Foreman way too many times before you’re done for the day, but he’s smiled at least twice in your direction, so that’s something.

On Tuesday morning, you choose discretion as the better part of valor and scoot the pot over to obscure your view again, even taking the time to nudge its closest neighbor a little, to even up the spacing.

After lunch on Tuesday, both pots are moved back, and Eye Candy is smiling. You doubt the two are related.

On Wednesday you bring in one of those Newton’s Cradle desk toys with permission from your coworker at the desk. It’s altruistic, distracting the children when their parents show up to ask questions. Because your area is recessed a bit, you risk setting the item on a little paper sorter to make it level with the visitors’ side. Completely incidentally, that placement blocks some of your view of the café under construction.

You come back from lunch to find the shelf moved to the other side of your computer monitor.

It’s so disconcerting that you stand there staring at it in shock for a long moment, long enough to attract attention.

“Something wrong, miss?”

From behind you, a hand lands on your shoulder with just enough pressure to guide you to your seat.

“Nothing of note, Sir, I’m sure!” your coworker says hurriedly.

“How was your hump day?” Jennie asks from the living room.

You nearly splash boiling hot water all over yourself.

Chanting ‘it’s Wednesday, that’s called ‘hump day,’ there’s nothing that implies you’ve been thinking impure thoughts, pull it together!’ in your head, you answer something non-committal and continue with dinner.

That night you have a dream that Sir Eye Candy walks over and smiles at you, illuminated by one of those rays of light straight from heaven.

On Thursday you arrive at work to find the pots have all been moved farther back along the decorative part of the receptionist’s desk, much too far to move any of them without notice.

As if he’d been waiting for you to see the change, you make brief eye contact with Sir Eye Candy. He does a little nod of acknowledgment before turning to move the large sign for the café. By himself.

“Am I awake?” you whisper to yourself, unable to look away from how effortlessly he moves under heavy strain.

“Keep staring at the boss like that and the rest of his crew will never let you hear the end of it!” your front desk coworker Marcia jokes.

Your cognitive function flatlines as you try to process the word ‘boss’ while at the same time watching the man in question wipe sweat off of his brow. “It’s obvious he’s the foreman,” you mumble, dropping your phone so you have to look away to pick it up. If the screen cracks, you deserve it.

“Oh, honey, this is his side gig. Pet project. Maybe even a vacation, knowing Rogers,” Marcia chuckles.

The name ‘Rogers’ finally gets through to you, in context to ‘the boss.’ Steve Rogers.

Sir Eye Candy is CEO Eye Candy.

“Wait…”

“There it is!” Your coworker gives you the kind of look only busybody aunts and elder coworkers can pull off. “Word is his gym is closed for a few weeks, so he pulled some strings to move this project up. Nice way to start a new job, yeah?”

You’ve been ogling the CEO. “Should I put in my two weeks’ notice?” you whisper. Dismay doesn’t even cover it. You’re practically mortifie--

“I’d advise your manager not to accept,” a nearby voice says. “If anything, I probably ought to call myself into an HR meeting. I’ve been quite distracted this past week.”

It’s CEO Eye Can-- Rogers. All you can do is mutely look up at him, watching the amused look on his face turn into a stern one.

“Have you been messing with my plant display?”

It’s not at all what you were expecting him to say, and you’re still befuddled by the idea he was distracted by you, so you stammer out an admission that yes, you did move his pots.

The phone rings, and after a subtle gesture from Rogers, Marcia takes the call.

“Sir,” you begin, noting the way his posture straightens on hearing the title. You lick your lips in nervousness, and god, his eyes go straight there. HR would be having kittens.

“Go on?” Rogers’ voice is resonant. Everything about this feels like a rom-com, and you are totally worried you’ll screw it up.

“Forgive me for staring?” you offer. You’d meant to say something less obvious, but it’s too late now.

“Yes, well. I’d like to go over your conduct at a lunch meeting, if, that is, you--” he breaks off, lifts his chin, and clears his throat. “In a half hour.”

“I-- Of course--” You’ve answered too late, he’s already walking away and calling out to the crew. Stunned, you look over at Marcia. She’s grinning, but doesn’t look up, and you decide to take your cues from her.

Fifteen minutes later, the work crew wraps up. You see them file out in your peripheral vision, but if Rogers is going to play the Principal’s Office card, you’re going to play at being an obedient student.

This sends your mind on a complete irresponsible rampage, and you’re still tamping down the mental images when a gentleman in a suit walks up to the front of the desk.

Your welcoming smile is already in place when you lift your head to greet him, but it widens into surprised happiness to see that it’s Rogers. At the very last minute you stop yourself from acting like he’s picking you up for a date, even though you very much hope that’s what this is, HR be damned. Every fairytale has a villain, after all, and villains are made to be thwarted.

“Can I help you, sir?”

The word choice is deliberate.

“You can. Marcia, do you usually cover for lunch?”

“I do.”

“Good. We’ll be prompt,” he says firmly, tapping the flat of his palm on the desk with finality. You take the cue, getting up and slinging your purse over your shoulder, but inwardly your stomach is a riot of sawdust.

Are you reading this wrong? All of your teenage aspirations to be swept off of your feet by a rich, handsome man feel like lead weights at the bottom of your shoes. Steve Rogers’ reputation is sterling, and despite your less-than-angelic daydreams, you don’t want to come across like a gold-digger. Even if you are strapped for cash.

Rogers opens the door for you. The front door. The front door of his business. It’s heady and confusing, even more confusing when a slick silver car pulls up and a valet hands him the keys.

“You look like you either need sunglasses or smelling salts,” he says gently.

“A neck brace,” you quip. “For the whiplash.”

His smile is sheepish as he opens the car door for you. “That’s fair.”

The car is cinematically nice inside, and you suppress the desperate desire to pinch yourself until you wake up as he gets in and adjusts the seat for his height. He doesn’t look over at you, which your adrenaline-drunk mind can’t decide is good or bad.

Then he does, and all you can do is smile back at him.

“A confession: I cribbed some of those lines.” Rogers eases the car out into traffic and lets out a long breath. “From Bu-- a friend of mine. Advice on how to be in charge and ask out a subordinate at the same time.” He stops at a red light and shoots a look over at you. “How’d I do?”

You kind of want that neck brace, but despite the trappings, you’re really enjoying who this man is turning out to be. “That depends. Do you want me to be turned upside down and sideways?”

That earns you a look akin to the one he sent you when you’d called him ‘sir.’ You shiver, and he notices. “I don’t think you want to know what his advice might be on the answer to that question! How about ‘maybe?’”

“Maybe is good,” you manage.

“Glad to hear it. What would you like? Italian? Deli?” Rogers looks over and catches his breath like he’d forgotten his wallet. “An invite to lunch without your employment on the line? I’m sorry about that. I got--” He looks back at the road, hands tight on the steering wheel. “--carried away.”

His candid mix of charm and command are sweeping you completely off your feet, tarnished halo and all. “I don’t think I have time to phone a friend for a better answer, but is ‘maybe’ still good?”

Your sister would walk her ass to the car to smack you if she knew you’d just told the CEO of your new company you’re a ‘maybe’ for a one-on-one ‘maybe’ date with him. You suspect his friend would be facepalming, too.

“Your job isn’t on the line, I promise. I’d never misuse power like that--” He breaks off from his serious tone, looks down at his suit and the fancy car you’re both sitting in, and chuckles. “All evidence to the contrary.”

The whole situation is absurd, unrealistic, completely romantic, and everything you’ve always wanted.

You’re going to wake up any minute now.

Rogers looks over and raises his eyebrows. You realize with embarrassment that he wants you to either tell him where he can stuff his lunch invitation, or where the two of you can go eat.

“I got carried away too,” you rush to say. “Yes to lunch. No maybes in sight.”

“You’re forgiven,” he smiles.

to be continued...

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x f!reader #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fic #fluff #CEO AU #meet cute #captain america x reader #captain america #steve rogers #mcu #mcu fanfiction #marvel #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers x you #captain america x you #captain america x f!reader #humor

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arminsumi · 9 months ago

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❀ 𝐈 𝐖𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐊𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐘𝐨𝐮 | 𝟓 Gojo Satoru / Geto Suguru

Falling in love despite a language barrier.

𝐂𝐡. 𝟓 | 𝐖𝐜. 𝟒𝐤 | 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐱 | 𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Summer with you felt fuller and brighter than any other.

Waving sparklers in the humid night air. Sore feet after walking for hours. Mesmerized by the feeling of life whirling around you. Winning a squish mallow from a claw machine and watching Satoru and Suguru rock-paper-scissor fight over who got to keep it. Listening to Satoru and Suguru’s murmured conversations, and feeling giddy when you got the gist of something they said. Feeling your heart throb and ears perk up when they mentioned your name. Laughing embarrassedly into a pillow when you tried to speak Japanese and got everything wrong — Satoru's enamored smile.

It felt like you were in a rush to enjoy everything sometimes, because your return flight date loomed in the back of your mind. Suguru was nervous to show you Japan in a light that you'd never forget, and Satoru was just oblivious to all the sight-seeing and festivals because you were far more captivating.

On the train ride deeper into the city, Satoru sat thigh-against-thigh with you. The both of you were very consciously aware of contact, the press and the warmth. At your left, Suguru leaned close, the fabric of his t-shirt grazing your arm giving you butterflies.

Heads together, all three of you took turns in Satoru's diary; writing your names, scribbling, doodling, until the page was filled from corner to corner.

They talked about Nanami, who was going to meet you for the first time.

Suguru giggled at something Satoru said, so you asked what he was laughing at.

"Satoru's scared that Nanami is going to show off his English to you." he said.

“Oh?” you smiled.

("... and!") Satoru added dramatically, interrupting Suguru, ("He better not flirt with her.”)

Suguru went completely red in the face and laughed.

("Satoru, You're acting very boyfriend-like.")

("... oh, am I?")

("Yes.")

Satoru stopped talking, went redder than Suguru, and sat back in his seat like he was contemplating himself.

"What?" you asked, looking between them.

"Nothing." Suguru feathered, covering his face to hide his smile, "Nothing at all."

*****

Even you were taken aback by Nanami's English, because he spoke more elegantly than you did — so you can just imagine what expression Suguru had when he watched the two of you interact for the first time at the festival.

"Satoru's my senior at work, even if he doesn't act like it." he said. Satoru looked at him suspiciously as he spoke.

"Ohhh, I see." you nodded, "Then, you two met at work or...?"

"No, we went to high school together.” Nanami said.

You nodded again, "Ah."

"... he talks a lot about you." Nanami said, "Talks my ear off at the water cooler about this girl who lives on the other side of the world — with the biggest stars in his eyes. It's nice that you two could finally meet."

You smiled, "Yeah... this summer has been amazing."

"Have you ticked everything off your bucket list yet?" Nanami asked.

"Yes — though, I missed Tanabata." you said. “Maybe next year.”

The two of you kept talking. When you laughed at something Nanami said, Satoru threw a jealous look at him. Then he and Suguru talked under their breaths.

(“Are they flirting?”) Satoru asked suspiciously.

(“They are not.”)

(“It feels like they are.”)

(“… you really are acting like a boyfriend, Satoru…”)

*****

A blue night sky deepened as you three walked across the street crossing, closer to where residents were gathered and some dancing around a raised stage.

"I wish I could experience December here, too." you sighed dreamily.

"Why don't you?" Nanami asked.

"... the flights are too expensive." you replied.

"... what a shame. A romantic like Satoru would be over the moon to spend December with you." Nanami said. "Maybe next year, you two can go as a couple."

You acted shyer after realizing Nanami assumed you and Satoru were dating, and it was incredibly funny because Satoru misinterpreted your shyness to be a response to Nanami's flirting — so he interrupted the conversation right there.

Suguru stifled a laugh. He didn't say anything, just watched you three like it was a sitcom.

("Nanami, you look a bit taller. Did you grow?") Satoru teased, physically comparing heights with him — which he only ever did when they were kids.

"..." Nanami stared at him. ("Why are you like this?")

Suguru was trying so hard to contain his laughter.

While Nanami and Satoru went back and forth with each other, Suguru grabbed the chance to have his own moment with you.

He talked a bit louder over the singing and drumming, right into your ear, as you watched, captivatedly, at people performing bon odori around the stage.

All you remember was feeling like Suguru’s voice was in your chest, truthfully you can't remember what he was explaining to you about the festival.

Then he went quiet and stared at you softly.

A weird, familiar feeling took residency inside his chest, and he thought;

(Oh... It's been a while since I last fell in love.)

But even if you had paid attention to him in that moment, would you have noticed the tenderness in his eyes?

Suguru got startled out of his love-struck daze by Nanami, who was leaving early.

("Satoru finally got on your nerves, huh?")

("Yes… no, not actually. I've just got sore feet.")

Satoru teased playfully, ("You just want to go home and take a bubble bath and listen to jazz like the old man you are.")

("Satoru, you're annoying. That's absolutely what I'm going to do, though.")

Nanami said goodbye for the night.

The sky blackened and the crowd thickened with more people, so Satoru took your hand in his and kept you close.

After an hour, the three of you headed out of the festival and went in search of a quieter place. Suguru observed you and Satoru holding hands. He stared and stared, then forced himself to snap out of it.

Satoru was quietly thinking, then said dramatically;

(“He was totally flirting with her!”)

And to this Suguru burst out laughing so hard, like all the laughter he held back earlier came out. A man with a laugh like that was definitely popular with boys and girls in high school, you’re certain.

(“How do you know?”)

(“… it sounded like it!”)

(“I can’t believe you’re such a jealous guy.”) Suguru shook his head, bearing a big smile, (“You even got jealous at me for flirting with her.”)

Satoru shrugged guiltlessly. 「僕は僕！」

“What is going on?” you asked laughingly.

Suguru could hardly translate or speak as he had a laughing fit on the street.

*****

When you walked out of an alleyway into a busier street and saw the neon glow of lights of a 7-Eleven, and a cyclist going by, and inhaled the night air, and heard all the city noises, and felt all the city feelings, this feeling whirled around you.

"Life feels different here." you commented, looking around you.

"... oh really?" Suguru hummed sarcastically.

You nudged his arm. "Don't be sarcastic. You know what I mean, don't you?"

"Yeah, of course. That feeling... like a spark...?" he teased, just to see the look in your eyes.

He spoke to Satoru, and Satoru said something and Suguru chuckled and translated for you, " 'You'll miss that feeling when you leave for home.' "

"... I'll miss you two more."

Hearing sentence made his heart fluttery. When Suguru translated it, it just didn't feel the same as hearing it in your voice. It made him wonder just how much he was missing out on by not knowing your language. What feelings were being lost in translation?

*****

The three of you headed out further, getting a bit lost in the city for fun.

The hot night called for ice cream, so Satoru and Suguru rock-paper-scissor fought for who would go to buy some.

"... 最初ぐう... じゃん拳ぽん... あいこでしょ... あいこでしょ... !"

Satoru pulled a funny face after losing that made you and Suguru laugh. He went on his way to the convenience store, navigating through a detour, stopping to pet a cat on his way back, and meanwhile... you and Suguru were left alone together, with that spark clearly fizzing between your chests.

*****

At the park, the two of you lazed in the grass, side by side, while waiting for Satoru to return from the convenience store with ice creams.

Eyes directed up at the sky, propped on his elbows, hair messy after a long evening. Suguru momentarily closed his eyes in bliss at the soft breeze fanning by.

Next to you, Suguru stretched out his long legs and stared deeply at the moon. It was blazing. The longer he stared at it in silence the more this feeling struck him.

He took a sideways glance at you, and you were obliviously enjoying the cool night breeze.

(Does she have a clue about how I feel right now?) Suguru thought softly.

"月が綺麗ですね..." he murmured romantically.

"Hm? What does that mean...?"

He turned his head to look at you, totally smitten.

"... the moon is beautiful, isn't it?"

"Oh. Yeah, it is." you agreed. "I haven't seen a moon so bright in a while."

Suguru chuckled dreamily.

(She's a clueless angel.)

No thoughts passed through either of your heads as you leaned into each other.

His features were too fuzzy to make out in this lighting, but you saw a hint of a tender expression on his face.

He inhaled deeply and got so high on the sweet, humid night air that he leaned into a kiss without thinking his action through — but it's alright, he only grazed his still lips over yours. He only hovered. It was just a sweet, shared breath if anything. Just a ticklishly light touch of lips grazing lips.

No thoughts. Just that spark in the air and heartbeats thumping quickly in your fingertips.

Then immediate realization hit him. He pulled away and apologized like he was shocked at himself.

"I'm so sorry." Suguru stressed, "I didn't mean to — I —I wasn't thinking."

"It's okay, don't apologize." you replied softly, unable to say more.

(What does she mean, "Don't apologize"? What does she mean…?)

Suguru began to ramble, and you watched his lips move as he spoke each syllable. His lips felt tingly, wanting— desperately — for a kiss.

He wanted to kiss you, but he couldn't.

"It's just — I haven't — you know, it's been years since... um, anyways. I don't even know what I'm saying anymore." He became out of breath, talking too fast.

Suguru drew in a breath like he was going to say something more, but then stopped speaking altogether because Satoru returned — with a plastic bag of convenience store ice creams swishing at his side.

“Hey hey.” he greeted the two of you, and sat down on the grass.

Satoru didn't sit between you and Suguru, rather, he sat in front of both of you, stretching his legs out onto the soft grass like a cat.

「顔赤いよ・・・」 Satoru wiggled his brows at Suguru.

You watched Suguru as he patted his hands against his hot cheeks to cool them.

Satoru giggled naughtily.

You looked between them and watched them have a small exchange, never learning what they said to each other in that moment. But you could gather Suguru's embarrassment and Satoru's teasing and mild jealousy.

Suguru grumbled to himself on the way home.

(We could have shared a movie kiss...)

*****

You fell asleep before Satoru — almost as soon as your head hit the pillow. He looked down at you for a moment, his gaze catching onto your parted lips, his ears picking up on your soft breathing.

(I hope you're dreaming of me.) he thought hopefully.

He stared for a bit, daydreaming.

The longer he stared, the more his face reddened and his heartbeat quickened. Eventually he crawled into bed next to you, keeping a distance but wishing so badly that he could cuddle you.

He was thinking about how unfair it was to be himself; to have to contain himself when he was such a romantic and emotional man, and not just that; a man in need of touching, kissing, cuddling. He felt a need for all of that more that night than at any other point in his life.

Satoru timidly inched closer and lifted his face to plant a kiss on your cheek. Just a tiny kiss. His lips hovered over you cheek, then over your lips. But he held back.

He pulled away slowly and smiled shyly to himself.

That satisfied his heart enough, he could calm down and sleep.

But in the other room, Suguru moved around sleeplessly in his bed like a hopeless insomniac.

*****

Curled into his pillow, cheeks warm, fist to lip and knees hugged, Suguru was daydreaming of how that moment could have gone differently if he had just kissed you.

And his daydream played out like a film, one full of scripted kisses, shot from every angle, replayed over and over to satisfy his little heart — the poor thing was beating in panic at his growing feelings.

Yes, he knew he liked you, but not like that. Not until now. Now that feeling was nearly in full throttle.

*****

Suguru's daydream of kissing you went on until it got light outside.

He thought, thought, thought. But a daydream wasn't enough to satisfy his need to kiss you. With a suppressed sigh, he rolled onto his side, hugged his ribs, and blinked his stinging eyes at the room as it lit up a dawn blue.

The room became lighter and lighter.

He leaned up in bed, blinked, then reached for his phone and opened yours and his chat. And he scrolled up into the texts that gave him butterflies. He stared at the blinking cursor, then typed out;

I wanted to kiss you.

Then he stared at your profile picture, and promptly erased what he had typed.

Instead, he wrote it in his notes app, as if it was his most guilty secret.

Then he cuddled back into his fortress of pillows, begged his mind for a dream of you, and fell asleep at 7 AM, sleeping a weak 3 hours before waking up again.

*****

You and Suguru were awake earlier than Satoru, who was still softly sleeping. The roar of early morning traffic reached the 7th floor, and the sunrise teased its appearance through the buildings.

Suguru watered the balcony plants in his flip flops.

And he did it lazily, in his baggy pants, with unbrushed hair. It was quite a sight to see, so you stared. He could feel your eyes on him and his heartbeat quickened.

He watered each plant with a cup of water, complaining that he keeps forgetting to buy a watering can for his ‘lil guys’.

Names were assigned to each plant, written on paper on toothpicks.

“… you named a plant… Dave?” you questioned.

“… what? It’s funny.”

He watered ‘Dave’ and looked closer, nearly nosing into the plant.

"Oh my god... he’s wilting." he genuinely panicked. "I swear I'm doing everything I can to keep him alive, it's like he just wants to die… keep it together, Dave."

You laughed and hovered over the plants with him. Suguru was frowning at his other plants as they looked unhappier than usual.

"Suguru, you're such a plant dad." you said.

His frown lifted, he looked at you and then his sweet smile lines showed up on his cheeks.

"Thanks."

When he made eye contact, and that something sparked in the air between you two. It sparked bigger than it ever had before.

"You look tired..."

I can't believe she notices that. How sweet.

He shrugged in response.

"I was thinking about you..." he trailed off.

You widened your eyes and went silent.

"— your flight." he lied and you knew it.

"... yeah, it's gonna be a long flight home." you swallowed hard, looking so deeply into his eyes that you got dizzy.

"You know what's weird? Right now, in this moment, it feels like you'll never leave." he said softly.

The following silence heightened the tension between you and him. He felt the urge to kiss you again. He felt it bad. His self-restraint was slipping, he couldn't discipline himself.

(A kiss is just a kiss, right?)

When you licked your lips, that’s when Suguru started to lean his face in. As his gaze flitted between your lips and your eyes, his heart panged.

He hesitated, you hesitated, he stuttered, you stuttered. He kissed you like a nervous mouse.

You were shocked even though you knew it was coming.

Even if the kiss lasted just a split second, that was long enough to catch a glimpse of heaven.

Suguru pulled back and looked at you unsurely.

"えーと" his lips twitched. "I — I'm — I — uh." he forgot how to speak completely, so stunned that his mother tongue and English tongue got tangled together.

You stared into his eyes and that's what got him, he went in for another kiss, this time harder – lips smacking together like you just needed each other. And as he exhaled against your face, you could feel all his passion.

His heart fluttered when you kissed him back with almost the same intensity. The heat and softness of someone else's lips was exactly what he needed at this time in his life, just to kiss someone who he really liked.

Gasping into the kiss, Suguru held onto your cheeks like you were his baby. When he ran out of breath, he pulled away and breathed a little heavier.

"I'm so sorry, I — " he said breathlessly.

" — no, it's o—o-okay." you stammered, feeling a bit out of it.

Both of you were digesting the moment when suddenly a bleary-eyed, sleepy Satoru came out onto the balcony, holding Mint against his chest. He was squinting and blinking at the morning sun.

Suguru immediately switched to nonchalance and acting as if nothing just happened. But his shoulders were stiff.

("Mint looks especially evil this morning.") his voice quivered a little.

("... you mean fluffy?") Satoru replied, petting Mint between her fuzzy ears.

("No, evil.") Suguru joked, ("She's a devil in dis—guise.") he choked on his words.

Satoru looked at him strangely and thought;

(Huh, Suguru doesn't usually choke on his words.)

Satoru stared at Suguru, looked at you, then looked back and forth between you and Suguru.

The air was thick.

"What?"

"What...?"

("What happened?") Satoru asked.

Satoru's sixth sense was insane. Like it was some scene in a comedy movie, he forwardly asked;

("Why do I feel like I interrupted something?") he said.

Suguru raised his brows and made a funny guilty face. You looked between them with wide eyes.

"I'm gonna go make some coffee..." you said, and scrambled to your feet like you were desperate to escape this awkward tension.

"... I'm gonna tell him." Suguru said.

"You're bluffing..."

"Nah, I'm an honest guy."

You groaned funnily, "Then I'm gonna go hide behind the coffee pot..."

Satoru looked confused. Once you headed inside, it was just him and Suguru there on the balcony.

The traffic was roaring louder by now. For a while it was the only sound between them, besides your distant clanking in the kitchen.

A long silence dragged out and then Suguru's words abruptly popped into existence.

"(YN)にキスした・・・"

"は?!"

Suguru made a guilty grimace and scratched the back of his head.

("What do you mean you kissed her? When was this?") Satoru's voice got higher.

("Uh, like right now.")

They went back and forth for a while. You heard them and had no idea what was being said.

("Thief.") Satoru said, calming down after a while.

("How am I a thief?") Suguru got defensive.

("You stole her kiss from me!") Satoru pouted childishly.

("... I'm sorry. I couldn't help myself.") Suguru lowered his head, ("Are you mad at me...?") he asked worriedly.

("... No, I'm not mad at you... well, a little bit.") Satoru mumbled, ("I'm more jealous than mad.")

(“So…”) Suguru looked at his best friend wearily. How could he not be furious? (“This is fine with you?”)

(“You can get away with it. If it were Nanami, I’d be throwing hands.”) he joked.

Suguru still felt like he was a puppy that did something wrong, but Satoru just didn’t seem to be taking it as seriously.

("... I've got a plan, okay.") Satoru said suddenly, ignoring Mint's silent begging for cuddles. ("I'm gonna kiss her at the airport, right before she leaves — ")

Suguru laughed, ("Are you procrastinating — ?")

Satoru cut him off and said 「やるよ！！！」 with such intensity and conviction that it made Suguru burst out laughing.

Hearing Suguru's laughter from the kitchen reassured you that everything went over fine.

*****

He stood in front of you.

(できるよ・・・) I can do it...

Satoru swallowed hard. Discretely wiped his sweaty palms on his pants. Nibbled his lip. Tried to act natural in the airport, looking to Suguru for inspiration on being nonchalant.

You were testing the clock by waiting until the very last minute to get onboard.

Just like you were procrastinating to board your flight, Satoru was procrastinating to kiss you. The three of you exchanged a look.

"Oh.” Suguru realized, “Go ahead. I’m not looking. I'm a plant." Suguru joked, covering his eyes.

He gave you and Satoru space, he thought it was fair. If he had his moment with you on the balcony, then Satoru deserved to have a moment with you. Now he understood how all-consuming the desire to kiss someone was.

(It has to be now, when else? I don't know when she'll be back for her next visit, I could be waiting a whole year. The universe knows how impatient I am. I've got to have her lips right now.) Satoru thought anxiously.

His body stuttered.

You were thinking to yourself, is this the wrong moment to kiss him? Is there ever a right moment anyways?

"Satoru." you said in a tone of goodbye, and outstretched your arms to him.

He leaned down into your embrace like the awkwardly tall man he was.

You clung to each other's bodies for a while. Such a clingy hug already spoke volumes. But still, Satoru just wanted to go that bit further — to spell his love on your lips.

He wanted you to board that plane knowing what his love tasted like, to sit in your seat with lips freshly tingling.

Yes, he knew nothing in life ever played out like in movies or daydreams, so he was hoping just once it would.

Last-minute doubt filled him and he felt his mood drop.

(… maybe I shouldn’t.)

Just as he pulled out of the hug, you reached up, cupped his cheeks with conviction, and gave him the biggest kiss that he'd ever received in his life right smack there on his lips.

"...?" His knees buckled, and redness grew on his cheeks very quickly.

He blanked so hard, but only for a second or two, because he dreamily tilted his head off to the side and deepened the kiss.

(yeah, 恋している。)

You pulled back. He stammered, stuttered, totally stumbled. He was all over the place now. He couldn't form a thought now.

Even if someone would have told him that he was on planet earth, he wouldn't have believed them, because your kiss definitely sent him to heaven.

"は、はずかしいな・・・embarrassed, I'm embarrassed." He chuckled nervously.

Suguru watched as you two broke down into giggles, then he came over to you two again.

"You know, that was very cute and all," he said, spooking the life out of Satoru who was just totally in his feelings. "But even the last-minute procrastinators have boarded the flight by now."

"Oh my god!" you panicked, "Um, yeah! Okay, okay I'm gonna go... I love you two. I'll come back soon, I promise. I promise."

Hugging goodbye for the last time hurt, and seeing you get teary-eyed made it hard for them not to cry too.

You went through the gates.

Satoru felt like you tore a piece of him and took it with you, and his whole body wanted to chase after you.

You waved and gave heart hands to them as much as you could until you disappeared out of sight.

Boarding the plane felt like a dream. After stowing away your bag in the overhead cabinet, you took your seat and stared blankly, lips feeling tingly and alive with Satoru’s lingering feelings on them.

*****

It was all over too quickly. Satoru licked his lips.

Idling to the window to watch your plane take off, both of them felt like they were on the verge of crying, Satoru a little more than Suguru.

(まだいかないで。) Satoru frowned.

*****

At home, Satoru walked into his room and when he inhaled your lingering scent, god, he burst into tears so loudly that Mint got startled. Suguru came to comfortingly rub his back as he wept like a dog.

"悟、泣かないで。"

He didn't cry as hard ever again as he did that day, and he never even told you.

*****

It's hard to imagine that summer could have ever ended, but it faded away like a sweet taste fading on his tongue.

Satoru woke up the morning without you, and it took him a few seconds to realize that — he felt his fingers over the pillow and slowly opened his eyes.

(ああ、もう会いたい。)

Puffy eyes, dry lips, he reached for his phone.

You hadn't replied yet — still on your flight home, high up in the air. Probably staring out the window. Hopefully thinking of him.

He checked your live flight status, and laid on the pillow as he watched it, forearm concealing his frown, and he just stayed like that for half an hour. Watching that tiny plane move on the screen, over so many countries.

He zoomed out, and felt stricken, as if he just realized how far you actually were from him. And you weren't even home yet, home was still hours away.

"Wake up, princess." Suguru knocked on Satoru's door, then barged in after Satoru let out an I’m awake noise. "I could sense your damp mood through the door." He said.

Satoru groaned, "She's still in the sky..."

Suguru dove into Satoru's unmade bed. "Don't frown so much, you'll get ugly frown wrinkles when you're old."

"Mhm."

They were watching your live flight for a few minutes in silence.

"Let’s look through photos."

So, they both laid there, looking through photos, mumbling amongst themselves about little things and missing you like they've never missed someone before.

Then Satoru let out a long breath, rolled onto his back, and hummed happily to himself.

"I kissed her. I actually kissed her.” He said, thinking of you.

"... oh really? That's crazy. Me too." Suguru teased sarcastically.

"Shut up, you."

Suguru just teased further, "The only way you'll get me to shut up is if you book her a flight back to Tokyo and let her use her lips to silence me."

"She'll kiss me before she kisses you next time she visits." Satoru said confidently.

"... bet?"

"Okay, bet!" Satoru flared up, "I bet all my savings, because I know she loves me more."

"Then say goodbye to your savings."

They go back and forth, getting competitive.

"... I'll kiss her harder." Suguru said.

"No, I'll kiss her harder." Satoru said.

"I'll kiss her dumb." Suguru said.

"I'll kiss her dumber!" Satoru said.

Mint fluffed her tail and stared at her noisy, bickering owners. Then she leaped off and went on her way to the washing machine.

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

@miwanilla / @sukunasdirtylaugh / @coco-cat / @babydiamondblog / @mp3playerblog / @froufrousnowman / @lovesickramblingsofmine / @arminswifee / @instantmusico / @kaechannn / @sabo-has-my-heart / @yoonjinhusbands / @honey-i-will-come-back / @thirtykiwis / @satoruiloveu / @iamthedetective / @melaaaara / @xakilicious / @i-am-the-geek-overlord / @starrylibras / @beanluvsmilo / @kittytoru / @reese-is-right / @rains-mae / @c0pkiller / @baepsays / @hueanhdang / @fuck-imstillhere / @yourimaginaryfriiendd / @alwaysminhyuk / @andromidagalaxie / @vianna99 / @akumakitsune21 / @ducksdoughnuts / @itsnotmelo / @animechick555 / @hypernovaxx / @xkittiecatx / @ba-ks / @sleepy-waffle / @aphoenixnamed-angel / @polarbvnny / @satoryaa / @dedicatemyhearttoyou / @aiikuraa / @uno3 / @softnorth / @polarbvnny / @aphoenixnamed-angel / @boundedbyfate / @p1nkfluffysocks / @notahappyyoongi / @sullybrothersmate / @nissatamz / @bakugosbottombitch / @zhonglis-missing-wallet / @martothejay / @ringsofsaturnnnn / @givemeonereason / @rosariymchapter / @augustsosexy / @spicy-takimura / @li-m-ii / @strychnynegirl / @curvaliberate / @oyuki22 / @spicy-takimura / @li-m-ii / @euaphoria1 / @hexoolio / @notrlynicole / @maya-maya-56 / @elitesanjisimp

♡ 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠

I do not permit the copying/reposting/translation/plagiarism of my works. Do not steal what I've worked hard to create.

This is fictional work.

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fiapartridge · 4 months ago

Text

you don't go to parties | j. hughes 🎆🪩✨

“i don’t know who im looking for ‘cause you don’t go to parties anymore…” you don’t go to parties, 5 seconds of summer

pairing: jack hughes x fem!reader

summary: after ending your relationship with jack, he finally plucks up the courage to attend a party—and all he can think about is you.

warning(s): cursing, smut (like they have sex but it’s more heated & slow than trying to be super smutty), angst + fluff?? (in some aspects LOL), also noticing now that there was no protection so beware lol

author’s note: i don’t write smut so this is probably the closest ill ever get to writing it LOL but it’s much more for the plot rather than it trying to be super 18+, r-rated type smut yk

wc: 4.01k

not proofread

Glitter hung in the air, every room bathed in a purple glow as Jack hung by the wall, nursing a beer he had managed to snag from the cooler outside. The air was thick with the scent of perfumes and sweat, and the music thumped in his chest, yet he felt—detached, almost alone in the scheme of things.

The party was a blur of lights and sounds, of hookups and dancing. None of it held any interest for him, but his friends had practically begged him to come. They nagged him the entire summer to leave the lakehouse, to have a drink at the bar downtown, or even to just go on a drive with them, but Jack always came up with an excuse. “Can’t. Training for next season,” or “Gotta raincheck. Something came up.”

They knew what it was. It was obvious. He was missing you. You plagued his mind every second of every minute of every day. Jack knew he had messed up. The moments leading up to the collapse of your relationship replayed in his mind like a broken record—the arguments, the tears, the things he said that he couldn’t take back. The memories of you haunted him. He could feel you throughout the whole house.

You met Jack when you were 17. He hosted a draft party at the lake house the second he got back home to Michigan. Jack, being the cocky teenager he was at the time, made it an open-invite party. Sure, it wasn’t smart on his part but he was a clueless teen. He didn’t know better, but he thanks himself everyday knowing that that one decision led him to meeting you.

Your brother—one of Jack’s school friends—had been invited and asked if you wanted to come. You were hesitant at first. You had seen Jack around school, laughing loudly with his friends or pressing a girl up against the lockers, locking themselves together with heated kisses. You had always found him obnoxious, masking his stupidity with insensitive jokes and being portrayed as a “dumb jock.” But ever the hypocrite you were, because there you were, at that obnoxious, insensitive guy’s draft party. Go you.

Entering the house, you noticed the high ceilings and swarm of strangers that knew Jack better than you; who were probably wondering why you were even there, or who you even were. To your left, a group of friends talked animatedly on a set of plush couches, their drinks spilling out of their cups with every swing of their arms, and their makeup perfectly done on their face like they had hired professionals for this specific event. You felt out of place and, to your luck, your brother had abandoned you the second you stepped through that door.

Who knew you could be surrounded by hundreds of people, yet still feel so alone?

Weaving through the crowded house, you made your way to the backyard, which was just as packed as inside the house, except there was a slight breeze and it didn’t smell as terrible. String lights criss-crossed above the partygoers, creating a canopy of twinkling stars. A fire pit crackled in one corner, Adirondack chairs lining the perimeter as guests chatted all around you. The pool was lit within, its water glowing an intoxicatingly vivid blue. You stood there, watching the stillness of the water as everyone filled around you. The music thumped in your chest, in your ears, in your bloodstream, but you watched the water, and for a moment, you felt okay.

“I always wanna jump in at parties,” a deep voice said beside you.

You hesitated before speaking. “Why don’t you? It’s your party, isn’t it?” you asked, face-to-face with the man of the hour. His chestnut hair was cut short, truly showing how young he is. You wondered how he could do this: have eyes on him at all times, have so many expectations weighing on his conscience, being judged constantly. It felt—suffocating, to say the least.

“Do you know how many hockey legends are here?” he laughed, as if the building was swarmed with secret spies.

“And yet you’re standing here. Why’s that?” you asked, looking up at the boy.

And for the first time in your life, Jack Hughes looked at you. And it wasn’t in the gross, disgusted way he looked at clumsy kids in the hallway, or the way he looked at pretty girls like they were his next meal. He looked at you in earnest, an emotion you didn’t even know he was capable of possessing.

“Do you think I don’t know you?” he eyed you, his brow raising as you broke his—hate to admit it—intimidating gaze. You watched the water before you, crossing your arms over your chest as you began to feel that unwelcome, fish-out-of-water feeling again. Moving closer to you, his voice fell almost to a whisper as you felt chills run down your spine due to the proximity. “I know you’re the obnoxious girl that thinks she knows every answer to every question, who already judged every single person at this party without ever learning their names, who doesn’t like me, yet still came. Why’s that?” he asked, repeating the same question you had asked just moments before.

You felt bare in front of him, confused as to how he knew any of that stuff about you. Surely he was too busy making out with girls and slinging a stick around to pay attention to you. So why had he just read you like a book without you having to say a single word?

You shrugged. “I wanted to see what you were about, I guess.”

“Yeah?” he smirked, his tongue poking his cheek as you dared yourself not to look up at him. “How’d I do?”

“Not sure yet.”

He bumped his shoulder with yours, butterflies bumbling around your stomach. “Not just a dumb jock, you know. That’s all Luke.”

You scoffed quietly, a small smile playing on your lips as you lessened up the need to try to fight it. You were smiling because of Jack Hughes, and to be honest, you didn’t really mind it. “He asked me the difference between a square and a rectangle once,” you joked. You had some classes with Luke, and while you two weren’t best friends, you still talked to each other once in a while.

Jack laughed, watching Luke in the corner of his eye try to talk to a girl that was way too old for him. “You’re laughing,” he smiled, noticing you cover your face and still your giggles. “See, I’m not that bad.”

You rolled your eyes before looking up at him. He watched the partygoers on the other side of the pool mingling, his jawline sharpened and his moles scattering much of the surface area of his face. You hadn’t noticed much about his appearance until then, until you finally got a good look at him, at his personality.

You two sat poolside for a while, your legs dipped in the water as you talked about anything and everything. Occasionally people would pull him away to chat, but he would always come back to you, telling you all about the boring conversations, how much he hated networking at a party that’s supposed to be fun, how he hated being treated and expected to be like an adult when he was far from it.

He didn’t notice he was talking to you for so long until the party thinned and it was just you and him in the backyard. Cups littered all around you, his mom picking them up as she not-so-subtly eavesdropped on your conversation. His brothers were inside the house, watching you two from the kitchen window, and Trevor and Cole speculated who you even were while trying not to pass out on the couch in the living room.

For the first time in a while, Jack felt, I don’t know, good about himself? Like he wasn’t praised for doing such little things, or told he’s some amazing person just because he’s good at passing a puck around. Like he was able to talk, and someone was there to listen. And for some reason, he actually kind of liked being criticized by you. It showed that you paid attention; that you were real. He hadn’t met someone real in a while.

He remembered the time you had dragged him to a New Year’s Eve party at your friend Avery's apartment a couple years later.

He was wearing “2024”-shaped sunglasses that matched yours, and a shiny, gold, plastic fedora that made you laugh every time you looked at him. His arms were wrapped around you from behind as you entered the house, his lips planting a kiss on the crown of your head as you two separated to hug the group of people that stood near the door.

You talked to your friends, catching up on everything you guys missed in each other’s lives while in college. Jack snuck up behind you, kissing your cheek before slipping off your coat and placing it on the couch by the entrance.

The party was chill, much more relaxed than any of the parties Jack was invited to that night. You had urged him to go to them, knowing he would have much more fun with his friends, singing karaoke, getting wasted, and blasting music until they can’t hear anymore, but he shook his head, saying, “Parties are only fun if you’re there,” he shrugged. “Besides, how am I supposed to get my New Year’s kiss without you?”

The two of you mingled for a while, sharing nostalgic stories about high school and the time Jack had confused “pads with wings” with pads and chicken wings. The living room was filled with soft music and the hum of conversations. Jack kept close, his hand finding yours every now and then as if to ask if you were okay, if you needed food or a refill on your drink, if you were tired and wanted to go home—you were always his first priority.

As the night progressed, the countdown to midnight drew closer. People began to gather in the living room, excitement buzzing in the air. Dick Clark’s New Year’s Rockin’ Eve played on the television as Jack pulled you to a spot where you could both see the screen. His arm wrapped around your waist, and you leaned into him, sniffing his cologne and laughing when he caught you.

Before you knew it, the countdown began and everyone started chanting along.

“Ten, nine, eight…”

You turned to Jack, his eyes locked on yours, a charismatic smile playing on his lips. Even after dating for five years, he still managed to make you nervous. You had hoped that that feeling would never go away. You want to be nervous because of Jack Hughes every single night—forever.

“Seven, six, five…”

The room seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you standing there.

“Four, three, two…”

Jack’s hand gently cupped your cheek, his palm warm and tender against your skin as you leaned into it.

“One! Happy New Year!”

Cheers erupted around you, but all you could focus on was Jack as he leaned in—not too slow, not too fast—capturing your lips in an impossibly better-than-the-last, sweet, honey kiss. Your hands were in his hair, his were glued to your hips, and it was perfect. And for a moment, it was just you and him, sharing the first kiss of the new year.

When you finally pulled away, grins were etched to your faces. You still couldn’t believe he was yours.

“Happy New Year,” Jack whispered, his forehead resting against yours.

“Happy New Year,” you echoed.

Jack’s head rested against the wall behind him, his eyes closed, the music muffling around him as he thought back to the first time he said “I love you.”

It was your 18th birthday and you were celebrating it at the lake house. Knowing Alex, Trevor, and Cole, they planned this huge rager for you, inviting nearly half the neighborhood—and then some.

After you said your hellos and knowing that the party could continue without you, you wandered upstairs, finding yourself in Jack’s room as you sat on his bed; his gray cover soft under your fingertips as you brushed over the fabric. You just needed a minute.

Before you knew Jack—like, really knew Jack—you hadn’t had a birthday party in years. It wasn’t like your family didn’t care about you, or your friends didn’t want to celebrate you. Everyone in your life meant something to you, and you meant something to them too. You just couldn’t go to parties to save your life. You would walk in, see all the girls that are prettier than you, all the guys that act like you don’t exist, you’d get in your head, get overwhelmed, and leave quickly after. This just wasn’t for you.

And because Jack knew you, he knew you would be upstairs.

The door slowly creaked open, causing your head to rise, and a sigh to fall from your lips—just Jack. He smiled at you, shutting the door softly behind him as he sat beside you on the bed. You two sat surrounded by the soft glow of dim lamps, and the distant thumping of music that had seeped through the floorboards beneath your feet.

His heart pounded in his chest. He knew you were beautiful, but sometimes he’s just so amazed by you, like you’re a new person every single day. Like there were new discoveries to be made, like he could never get bored with you. To Jack, you were everything. And who needs anything else in the world if he had everything sitting right beside him?

His hand rested on your thigh, his thumb running up and down the exposed skin. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

You furrowed your brows. “For what?”

He shrugged. “For the party. I know you didn’t want it.”

“It’s not that I didn’t want it,” you murmured, sighing. “It’s just—I’m not Trevor, or Cole, or the number one overall draftee, Jack Hughes,” you smirked, bumping your shoulder with his.

He shook his head. “No one’s telling you to be. We could’ve watched a movie,” he suggested, grinning. “Or gone on a shopping spree, or went on a drive. You don’t have to do anything for anyone else, especially on your birthday.”

“I like parties when you’re there—and no one else is,” you laughed as Jack scoffed, a smile pulling at his lips.

“I like those parties, too.” He went silent for a minute, just the hum of music playing from the outside filling the room as you focused on his thumb on your thigh. “I know I’ve been busy with hockey and everything lately, but I don’t want you to ever feel like you’re not important to me, or that I’m not thinking about you, because I am—all the time. You’re the most important person in my life.”

Your heart swelled at his words as you squeezed his hand. “I know, J,” you nodded. “I knew what I was getting into when you asked me out,” you smiled, meeting his gaze.

He had been busy with his rookie season for the past year: being called a bust, getting injured over and over again, fans questioning if the Devils made the correct choice with him. He grew quiet during those months, more frustrated—with himself, with his game, with the people around him. You were worried for him, begging him to just talk to you about it. He shielded himself from everything and everyone. He almost lost you because of it, and he vowed to never do that shit ever again; to never get so close to losing himself that he ends up losing you.

He took a deep breath, his eyes never leaving yours. “You’re really fuckin’ cool, you know that?”

You rolled your eyes, that smile planted on your lips never fading away. “I know.”

Laughing, he smiled, a small, genuine smile that made your heart skip a beat. He pulled you closer, wrapping his arms around you in a warm embrace. “I mean it. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

You buried your face in Jack’s chest, breathing in the familiar scent of seasalt and ocean breeze. “Luckily for you, you’ll never have to find out.”

He kissed the top of your head, his chin resting on your hair as your cheek laid against his chest. “I love you,” he whispered, the words spilling out before he could stop them.

He felt you tense beneath him, pulling back slightly. His heart sped up. “What?”

He gulped before breathing in. “I love you,” he repeated, his voice steadier this time. “I think I’ve always been in love with you—you make it hard not to be.”

Your breath caught, a small smile encapsulating your blushy face. “I love you, too.”

Before you could say anything else, Jack closed the distance between the two of you, his lips capturing yours in a tender kiss. The music was gone, the thumping of your heartbeat was put to the back of your mind, every doubt and every worry you had for this relationship was dissipated immediately—nothing existed at this moment. It was jack, jack, jack, plus a hundred times more.

Jack’s hands found their way to your waist, pulling you closer, deepening the kiss. You responded naturally, your fingers threading through his hair, holding him close as if afraid he might disappear, like this moment was just a figment of your imagination.

Gently, Jack guided you higher up the bed, his movements careful and deliberate. He laid you down, hovering over you, his eyes filled with adoration. “I love you so much,” he whispered against your lips before capturing them in another kiss.

Your hands roamed his back as you tugged at his shirt, eager to feel his skin against yours. Jack immediately understood, pulling away just long enough to discard his striped tee before returning to you, his kisses growing more urgent.

As you pulled him closer, your own shirt joined his on the floor, your lacy red bra standing out against your skin. Jack’s breath hitched at the sight, his hands trembling as they traced the contours of your body, committing every inch and every curve to memory. He wanted to explore every dimple and every mole, every birthmark, and every faint touch that made you squirm. He wanted to know you, as thoroughly as possible.

“Holy shit,” he murmured breathlessly, praising you to the highest level. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”

Jack’s lips left a trail of kisses down your neck, his breath hot against your skin. He paused, his gaze meeting yours, a silent question in his eyes. He wouldn’t do anything unless you wanted to. You answered with a nod, your fingers tracing the lines of his jaw before pulling him back to you.

“I love you, Jack,” you whispered against his lips. “I want this.”

Jack’s hands moved with increasing urgency, his touch sending shivers down your spine. Roaming lower, they explored the curve of your waist before slipping beneath the waistband of your pants. His fingers found their way to your core, gently exploring, teasing.

A soft moan escaped your lips, your body arching against his touch. “Jack,” you breathed.

He kissed you deeply, his fingers moving with deliberate, tender motions, drawing soft gasps and breathless moans. “I love you…so much,” he murmured against your lips.

Your breaths became ragged, his name becoming the only thing left in your vocabulary. The room grew warmer, more intoxicating. Jack felt you getting closer to your high, quickly removing his fingers before you could reach it as you whined out, breathless.

He paused, his forehead resting against yours, his breath hot and heavy. “Are you sure you want this?” he asked again.

You nodded, your eyes locked with his. “I’m sure, Jack. I want you.”

With a shuddering breath, he captured your lips again, the kiss deep and all-consuming. His hands found the clasp of your bra, unhooking it, and letting it fall away. He stared at you for a moment, taking in your bare body before his lips began to trail downwards, worshiping every inch of you.

Your hands found the waistband of his pants, your hands working sloppily as you fumbled with the button. Paying no mind, he helped you, discarding his pants and boxers in one swift motion. Jack’s body pressed against yours, the heat of his skin against yours almost too much to bear. His kisses were everywhere, trailing down your neck, across your collarbone, and finally to your breasts, where he lingered, drawing soft moans from your lips.

You arched against him, your body pleading for more, for everything. "Jack, please," you whispered, your voice barely more than a breath.

He met your eyes, his gaze soft and safe. "I love you," he said again, his voice full of emotion. "Let me show you how much."

With that, he kissed you deeply, his body aligning with yours. The moment he entered you, it was like everything else fell away, leaving only the two of you, connected in the most intimate way possible. The rhythm of your movements, the gasps and moans, all blended perfectly, like this was right where you were supposed to be—with Jack, here, and in love.

His thrusts were slow at first, measured, each one driving you closer to the edge. The feeling of him inside you, filling you completely, was overwhelming. You wrapped your legs around his waist, urging him to go deeper.

“I love you, I love you, I love you,” he repeated against your lips, over and over again.

Jack’s thrust became more urgent, his breathing ragged, matching your own. His heavy grunts, as your fingers dug into his back pulling him closer, closer, impossibly closer, filled the warm room.

As your climax built, your hands weaved through his hair, needing to feel him, needing to be as close as humanly possible. Each thrust hit harder and faster than the last, bringing you closer to the edge.

“Jack,” you cried out, your body tensing as that unfamiliar feeling approached, the high almost too much to handle.

His face was buried in your neck, holding you tightly. “Y/N,” he groaned, pushing you through your high, his own release nearly there.

With a final thrust, the string you held onto so tightly, slipped from your fingers, a balloon inside you erupting at the feeling. You cried out his name once more, your body trembling with the force of your release. Jack followed, his own climax crashing over him.

You clung to each other, your bodies trembling with aftershocks. Jack held you against his chest, his breath ragged, and his heart pounding against yours.

As you laid entwined, the world slowly came back into focus. The sounds of the party were distant now, a faint reminder of where you were. But at that moment, it didn’t matter. You didn’t care about what was going on downstairs, who was missing you, or who was asking for Jack. All that mattered right now was the two of you, and it felt perfect.

“Don’t know if I said it enough, but I love you,” Jack chuckled, his arm wrapped around your small frame.

You smiled, your fingers tracing lazy patterns on his skin. “I love you, too, J. Always.”

Always.

Opening his eyes, Jack watched the crowd around him, his gaze instinctively searching for you. He didn’t know why he was doing it. There was no point—not anymore, not when he fucked everything up. Not when he let you slip from his fingers and leave his life entirely.

His eyes settled on a girl in the corner of the room, a red solo cup in hand, her cheeks a flushed mess, and he wondered why he was even at that party. None of these girls could hold a candle to you, not even if they tried.

Yet Jack watched the door, and willed for you to come, despite knowing you don’t go to parties anymore.

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