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fanfic-ya-know · 16 hours ago

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Did You Get the Feeling?

Pairing: Bob Reynolds x Thunderbolt!Reader +platonic Thunderbolts (mostly Yelena) x Reader

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: reader is afab, mentions of a toxic relationship, language, alcohol consumption

AN: I have not stopped thinking about Lewis Pullman in weeks - it's becoming a problem. SO enjoy this little fic kinda based on this song I like. This is probably going to get a second part, so let me know if you guys are interested in that! And, as always, please send me your thoughts and/or requests!

It had been a few weeks since you'd decided to break up with your shitty ex-boyfriend, and the only person on the team who knew was Yelena. Honestly, it was a long time coming, but you weren't ready for all the drama that came with ending a relationship. So you took it slow. With Yelena's help, you mourned the loss of the man you had devoted the last three years of your life to. She helped you work through all the stages of grief before you even told your boyfriend. It wasn't super fair to him, but after all he had put you through, you didn't really care.

Eventually, you worked up the nerve to tell him it was over, and he reacted exactly how you thought he would. First, he was defensive, telling you how much you'd be missing out on. Then he started getting more aggressive, calling you a bitch, saying that you were probably cheating on him with one of the guys on your team. Not that you ever would, but the idea wasn't entirely out of nowhere.

The two of you had fights before about Bob, about how much time you spent with him, about how much you texted him, and how you would drop everything in a moment's notice if he needed you. You sometimes felt bad about your relationship with Bob, and, for a while, even pulled back from it, in an effort to appease your boyfriend. But when that turned into him complaining about how clingy you suddenly were, you realized nothing you could do would please him. That was the beginning of the end.

Now, here you were, listening to him ramble on about how you'd never find another guy like him and how he's actually better off without you.

"Great," you said, cutting him off. "Thanks for being so understanding." Then, you finished gathering your things from his apartment and left. You felt free. You felt like you could fly.

By the time you reached the tower, though, you felt like you needed a drink. Somewhere during the walk home, your ex's words had sunk in. Maybe you would never find someone else. Maybe he was the best you could get, and you just blew it. He put up with a lot of your shit and almost never complained about your job. And now you had just thrown three years down the drain.

When you stepped into your room, you dropped the small bag of things you'd brought back with you, which suddenly felt like it weighed a hundred pounds. It made a small noise as it hit the floor, and you simultaneously flopped face down on your bed.

You weren't sure exactly how much time had passed, likely only a few minutes, before you heard a knock on your door. All you could manage was a groan in response.

"Okaaaay, I'm coming in," Yelena announced before opening the door. You could hear her padding across the floor, and the mattress dipped beside you. Yelena started patting your head awkwardly, unsure of what to do in this situation. "Sooooo," she started, opting to retract her hand since the patting didn't seem to help. "How did it go?"

You let out a strange noise, something between a grunt and a groan that was muffled by your comforter.

"You know I am going to need more details than that."

"Fine," you sighed, rolling onto your back. You told her about how things had gone and how you were feeling. Yelena had been your go-to person for all of your relationship problems. Even though you would consider Bob your closest friend, it felt weird to talk to him about these things. You didn't think he would want to hear about it, and that he probably wouldn't know what to say. Not that Yelena was great with advice - her default being "then break up with him" for some time now. But she was good at listening, and she made you feel a little less crazy when you were upset about something.

"So let's go get a drink," she said matter-of-factly once you had finished. "I've been dying to get out of the tower, and I know Ava would want to come with."

"I don't know," you groaned again. "I don't want to make a whole thing of it."

"Then we don't tell anyone why," she offered. "We can invite everyone, because Alexi will throw a fit if we don't, and we call it team bonding or whatever."

You propped yourself up on your elbows and contemplated her suggestion. "Okay," you said finally. "But let's go somewhere chill, I don't want to feel underdressed, and I don't have it in me to try to look nice."

Yelena let out a small laugh at that. "Got it, I'll go tell the team." And with that, she left your room.

You flopped back against the mattress and pulled your phone from your back pocket, beginning the slow and painful process of deleting all of the evidence from your relationship.

A few hours later, you'd managed to drag yourself out of bed and put on a fresh set of clothes. You put on your favorite pair of jeans, a tank top, and your comfiest sweatshirt. You reapplied your mascara and ran a brush through your hair, but that was all you had the energy for.

Yelena had texted you the time to meet in the common area before heading out. By showing up on time, you had managed to beat everyone there. Everyone except Bob. He was perched in his usual chair, likely having been there for a while, just waiting for something to happen. Bob lifted his gaze from his book when he heard your footsteps approaching, his eyes lighting up slightly at the sight of you.

"H-Hey," he said, marking his place in the book and setting it to the side. "I was, uh, looking for you earlier, but Y-Yelena said you'd gone to your boyfriend's place. I didn't want to bother you, but I-" he swallowed, looking up at you and then back down at his hands sheepishly. "I, uh, I dunno, I'm glad you're back."

You got that warm feeling in your chest at his words, something that happened a lot when you were around Bob. "Yeah," your voice came out in the way that you reserved for him, soft, but not quiet, more breathy than you usually were. "I'm glad I'm back, too. I missed you."

Bob's eyes snapped to yours at the confession. He smiled at you, and the warmth you felt in your chest seemed to bloom in his as well, a soft pink blush spreading from below the collar of his sweater up his neck, reaching the apples of his cheeks and the tips of his ears. It wouldn't be that noticeable if you hadn't been staring at him so intently.

Your shared focus was broken by the sound of the rest of the team coming down the hall, chatting about the bar you were all heading to and how much you all needed this. Yelena caught your gaze and gave you a reassuring smile.

The team piled into the elevator together, Bob opting for one of the back corners, pressing his back against the wall. You followed him in, turning to face the front of the elevator as it filled up, and you ended up with your back bumping into Bob's chest. His hands instinctively grabbed your waist, steadying you as you stumbled backwards into him. "Sorry," you half-whispered over your shoulder.

The doors to the elevator closed, and you turned your face back to the front. Glancing around, you realized something. "Guys," you addressed the group. "Where's Walker?"

The whole elevator burst into laughter at your realization. "Oh, he is going to be so mad," Yelena said between laughs. Even Bob let out a good chuckle, his breath hitting the back of your neck where you had swept your hair to one side. You smiled at the feeling, both because of how good it felt to hear his laugh and because of how nice it felt to be this close to him without feeling guilty.

When John finally joined the group in the lobby of the tower, he did not look happy. "You guys suck," was all he said before the team filed through the front doors, Yelena and Ava leading the way to whatever bar they had picked.

Not much later, you found yourself dangling from a stool at a high-top table in one of the dingiest bars you'd ever been in, trying to keep your sneakers off the sticky floor as much as possible. You had all taken a round of shots upon arrival, save for Bob, who was nursing a Coke Zero with lime, and now you had a mixed drink in your hand. You had no intention of getting drunk, just wanting enough alcohol to keep the ache in your chest at bay, Bob's proximity somehow both helping and hindering your goal. The brush of his arm against yours was certainly adding to the fuzziness in your brain. You looked over at him, watching the way his throat bobbed as he sipped his drink through the tiny straw.

Bob turned to face you, slightly pulling you out of your trance. "Y-You okay?" He asked with genuine concern lining his features, a crease forming between his brows. He was so beautiful, and it took a lot of your focus not to reach out and touch him.

"Yeah," you breathed out through a smile. You shook your head slightly. "Sorry, just lost in thought. I think maybe I should slow down," you said, gesturing to the drink in front of you. You weren't sure what was in it, having trusted Yelena when she pressed it into your hand before she disappeared onto the dancefloor somewhere with Ava.

Bob nodded at your words. Then, his eyes darted to your mouth as your tongue poked out to wet your suddenly chapped lips. When his gaze returned to your eyes, a blush rose to his cheeks, realizing what he had just done and that you had seen him.

Then, as if on cue, Yelena appeared out of nowhere. "Y/N!" she shouted over the music. "Come to the bathroom with me!"

This made you realize just how close you and Bob had been, since you were able to hear each other without raising your voices. "Where's Ava?" You asked her, scanning the crowded bar for your other friend.

"She and Walker are trying to teach Barnes how to be a normal person at a bar in the 21st century," Yelena explained. "Now c'mon, I have to pee."

You turned back to Bob with an apologetic look and took Yelena's outstretched hand. She began dragging you away as you called an "I'll be right back" to Bob as you waded through the crowd.

When you reached the bathroom, Yelena pulled you into the stall with her. You stood awkwardly, not looking directly at her. "Don't hate me," Yelena said.

"Okay," you responded hesitantly.

"But I told Ava," she continued. "Because sisterhood or girl code or whatever." You sighed and looked at her expectantly as she zipped up her pants, knowing there was more. With this team, there was always more. "And she told Bucky, and I'm pretty sure Walker overheard."

"Okay," you repeated, resigned to whatever would come of them knowing all about your love life.

"Well," Yelena said, her story evidently not finished. "Bucky told Alexi, and you know he's just sitting at the bar now-"

"So now the whole place knows?" you clarified.

"Not Bob," she offered, as if it made any difference. And it kind of did. You wanted to be the one to tell him that you were newly single, to try to gauge his reaction.

You exited the stall so that Yelena could wash her hands. She looked up at you in the mirror. "I'm sorryyyyyy," she grimaced.

"It's fine," you reassured her with a chuckle and a shake of your head. You weren't surprised in the slightest.

You followed Yelena out of the bathroom, but you stopped in your tracks, surprised to find that Bob wasn't where you had left him. Confusion etched on your face, you scanned the room. Yelena turned and gave you a knowing smile. "He's probably with the others," she shouted over the music that was once again thrumming in your ears. Yelena grabbed your hand once again, carting you behind her, in search of your friends.

You finally found them near the back, gathered around a pool table. John and Bucky were in the middle of a game, and Ava was antagonizing them both, saying if they had let her play, she'd be destroying them. "Yeah," John scoffed, "that's why we didn't let you play."

Alexi had managed to find the only comfortable-looking chair in the entire bar and looked as if he was about to pass out in it. You winced at the thought of trying to get him home later.

And then there was Bob. He was standing near a high-top table, guarding your drink like his life depended on it. He had a soft smile on his lips as he watched the trio at the pool table.

"Helloooooo?" Yelena announced your entrance, and the entire team paused to turn and look at the two of you. "You guys said you were going to wait for me," she directed to the group fighting over whose turn it was.

Bob's eyes stayed on yours from across the space, and his gaze softened slightly. Shit. He knew. You were sure someone had told him while you were in the bathroom, ruining your chance to tell him yourself.

You crossed the room towards him, and when you got close, he picked up your drink and offered it to you. You took the sweaty glass from his hand without breaking eye contact, his expression soft, comforting, maybe even hopeful. You pause in front of him, a comfortable distance separating the two of you. You ached to be closer, taking a deep breath, eyes still searching his. Finally, you looked down at the drink in your hand and lifted it to your lips. Bob watched intently as you finished the drink, his own throat flinching in reaction as you set the glass back on the table. His eyes caught on the small drop of liquid left at the corner of your mouth, and they widened as you wiped away the drop with your thumb and dipped it into your mouth, sucking it clean. The sight felt vulgar. "I'm going to get another," you said, breaking his concentration. "Anyone want anything from the bar?" you asked the group, turning away from Bob. He let out the breath he didn't realize he was holding.

You listened as your teammates each gave you their orders, and then you turned to Bob, smiling sweetly. "Will you help me?" you asked. He just nodded in response, not trusting his voice.

You knew what you were doing as you led Bob through the crowd toward the bar, your hand in his larger one, fingers intertwined lightly. You'd gotten all the answers you needed from the look in his eyes earlier. And now, you were trying to give him the encouragement he needed to make the first move.

There was only enough space at the bar for you to squeeze between two of the other patrons and lean against the counter. Still, you held onto Bob, pulling him forward and placing your joined hands on the bar, forcing him to lean into you slightly and rest his chest against your back. You stood there a while, waiting for the bartender to take your order and bring you the collection of drinks. You paid and passed a couple of them back to Bob. Even with his help, it was a balancing act to carry all the drinks back to the group. By the time you returned, your sleeve was wet with John's spilled beer seeping into the soft fabric. He grumbled something about "of course mine is the one that spilled," but you weren't really listening. Instead, you tugged the sweatshirt over your head and laid it over the back of a chair, hoping it would be mostly dry by the time you guys left the bar.

You were more exposed than you typically liked to be in public, your tank top hugging your figure, and the neckline exposing the soft flesh at the top of your breasts. But the buzz from your first drink lingered, and your second held the promise of maintaining that fuzzy, slightly giddy feeling you needed. Bob’s stare, however, was affecting you far more than the alcohol. You could feel it - the way his eyes raked over your form, lingering on the swell of your breasts. When his eyes finally met yours, his blush darkened, realizing he’d been caught eye-fucking you. A flicker of gold flashed across his eyes, so quick, you almost missed it.

The rest of the night went smoothly. You and Bob maintained a safe distance for the most part, neither of you quite ready to break the barrier that was obviously crumbling between you. You laughed with your friends, almost forgetting why this outing had been planned in the first place. But as things wound down and your buzz dissipated, the ache in your chest returned.

Bob seemed to notice your mood shift as he made his way back over to you. The group murmured variations of the same sentiment: everyone was tired and wanted to go home. Bob picked up your sweatshirt from where you had left it and passed it to you wordlessly. You slipped the soft fabric back on, the sleeve now only slightly damp from the spilled beer. The moment felt tender, almost domestic.

Your group of friends trudged through the now nearly empty bar and out the door, the chill New York air hitting your face sharply. You winced at the feeling, and Bob turned at the sound. He watched as you rubbed your hands together, trying to generate warmth. He smiled softly, finding the sight adorable. He simply extended his arm toward you as you walked side by side, offering his right hand to you. Bob always ran warm, so you immediately accepted his offer, both of your hands clamping around his larger one. You intertwined the fingers of your left hand with his right and placed your right one over the back, sandwiching his hand between yours. It didn't seem to bother him at all, despite the stark difference in temperature.

You walked in near silence with your friends all the way back to the tower. Then, just like before, only now including John, you all piled into the elevator. Bob didn't move from your side, and you didn't let go of his hand. Your head lulled to the side, resting against his arm. You reached the residential floor, and everyone bid each other goodnight. It wasn't until you stood in front of your bedroom door that you finally detached from Bob.

"Thank you," you whispered, your throat feeling dry. You looked down at your hands, still tingling from the warmth of his touch. Your voice was so low that if it weren't for his enhanced hearing, Bob might not have heard you.

"F-For what?" he asked. You looked up to find his gaze already set on yours. There was a small crease between his brows as he looked at you, the question shown on his face. You wanted to reach up and smooth away the lines of confusion and worry and fear that seemed almost permanent in his expression. Instead, you twisted the ring around your thumb, a nervous tick you picked up for when you didn't know what to do with your hands.

"For walking me to my door," you shrugged like that was obviously what you meant, that you had only wanted to thank him for his chivalry, but you continued. "For tonight. For being so great."

Bob softened at your words, as he often did. "Oh." He rubbed the back of his neck and looked down at the floor. If not for the darkness, you would've seen the blush form on his skin. "Y-Yeah, no problem."

"I know someone told you," you said, finally deciding to address the topic that had hung in the air around you all night. "I wanted to tell you myself. I was going to, but I just didn't get the chance." You paused, thinking about your next words carefully. "I mean, it's no secret that things weren't going well for a while now, and I'm glad it's over. For a lot of reasons." Your words caught in your throat, suddenly feeling overcome with emotions. You searched Bob's eyes, you didn't know what you hoped to see, but what you found was quiet understanding. He was patient, letting you say what you needed to say without interruption, and you were grateful. "I guess what I'm trying to say is, thank you for being there for me." Another pause, not sure of yourself. "And I'm just going to need a little time."

Bob gave you a small nod and a smile, not the wide, open-mouthed one you'd grown to love. This smile was just a twitch, pulling up the corner of his mouth for less than a second. "That's okay," he breathed out, his eyes glassy with understanding, with what felt like love.

"Take as long as you need."

#Spotify #bob reynolds #thunderbolts #bob x reader #robert reynolds #bob reynolds x reader #bob reynolds x y/n #sentry

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tortillamastersblog · 21 hours ago

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Where Light Bends Wrong - Part 11 | Wednesday Addams

Pairing: Wednesday Addams x reader

Warnings: mentions of murder, dismembered bodies, and blood (very briefly)

Summary: You’ve kept your secret buried and your power quiet, until Wednesday Addams came to Nevermore and turned your whole world upside down.

Previous Part | Next Part | Masterlist

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“What’s the matter?” Enid asks.

I wipe away my tears, frustrated that I’m crying, and stuff my necklace into my pocket. “It’s all just too much,” I say quietly, avoiding her eyes with my own.

She moves closer and grabs my forearm to get me to look at her, but I can’t. I just can’t, and I can’t tell her what’s going on either.

I might have come to the conclusion that I can no longer keep Wednesday at arm’s length because we’re too deep into this whole murder thing, but Enid plays no part in any of it and it’s for the better if she doesn’t know.

I also can’t tell her about the book being stolen, because that would lead her to question why it’s so important to me, and I can’t just tell her what I am even though I would bet my soul that she wouldn’t tell anyone about it. Knowing is dangerous, and I’ve already got enough to worry about, I don’t want Enid’s safety being another thing on top of everything else.

“What’s too much?” she presses, and because I don’t want to lie I simply say, "Everything."

She seems to get that I’m not going to reveal anything, so she squeezes my forearm again and says, “I’m sorry. I wish I could make you feel better somehow.”

I look up then and shoot her a weak smile. “Yeah…me too.”

We sit in silence as my thoughts slowly stop spiraling. I’m still worried about everything, but I feel like I can breathe again because even though I didn’t tell Enid anything, she’s here right now and not being alone for once is helping more than I could ever have imagined.

“So… what happened with Ajax?” I ask after a while and when Enid frowns, still worried about me and my problems, I nudge her encouragingly.

“He stood me up,” she finally admits, her voice quiet and broken.

“Oh, Enid, I’m so sorry. What happened?”

I thought Ajax liked her? I mean, he even kind of confessed it two days ago? Or did I inhale too many paint fumes and hallucinate that entire interaction with him?

“We were supposed to meet up behind the greenhouse,” she says, sniffling again. “He seemed excited about it the whole day but then he just… He didn’t show up.”

I frown. That doesn’t sound like him. “Maybe he was just running a little late?”

Enid chuckles mirthlessly. “I waited forty minutes. That’s not running a little late.”

“You’re right. Sorry. Maybe something came up and he just forgot to text you?” I offer because like I said, it really isn’t like Ajax to stand anyone up. Least of all Enid because he has a massive cheeks-turning-red, awkward-smiles, weird-waves-across-classrooms crush on her.

Enid sighs and buries her hands in her lap. “It doesn't matter. I’m done with him.”

I can’t help but smile a little and nudge her. “Oh come on, don’t say that.”

“No.” She huffs dramatically. “I’m done. With him and every other boy.”

I roll my eyes playfully and nudge her again but drop it. There’s really no point in arguing when she’s like this. Maybe I’ll get her to talk to Ajax tomorrow, but for now, I’ll just let her sit with her decision even if it is a little over the top and childish.

We sit in comfortable silence for a few heartbeats until she turns to me with a renewed glint in her eyes.

“What?” I ask suspiciously, raising an eyebrow.

“The Rave’N is on Friday,” she says matter of factly.

“So?”

She scoffs. “So? Thornhill actually managed to hire a real DJ this year and the theme is going to be climate crisis meets extinction.”

I laugh softly and get up, dropping my necklace back into the wooden box which, after I got it out from underneath my bed earlier, is now perched on my desk. “I know. I’ve seen the flyers all around school for weeks now, but I’m not going.”

Enid gets up as well and pouts. “Oh come on. You’ve not been to a single Rave’N since being at Nevermore. Just come this year. Just this once. Pleaseeee. It’s going to be so much fun.”

I close the box and turn to face her with an unsure shrug. “I don’t know, Enid.”

The Harvest Festival was already a lot for me, and I can’t imagine myself stuffed into the Great Hall with every single student, with music blasting and everyone’s emotions running at an all time high.

“That is not a no.” Enid beams as though I already agreed to come, and bounces on her toes while grabbing my sleeve.

“Now, hold on.” I shake her off and chuckle slightly. “I don’t even have a date. Or anything to wear.”

“Your wardrobe situation won’t be a problem. We can just go shopping tomorrow afternoon. As for your date dilemma…” she wiggles her eyebrows suggestively and for a split second a pair of dark, calculating eyes comes to mind.

My ears tingle and my heart flips, surprising me, so I quickly push the image to the back of my mind because what the hell just happened?

I clear my throat for good measure and avert my eyes, hoping Enid didn’t catch onto where my mind just went.

Luckily, it seems she didn’t because she goes on as if nothing happened. “Yoko told me that Divinia heard Mina telling a friend she liked you.”

I blink, still too preoccupied with the image that popped into my head. “Huh?”

Enid lets out an exasperated groan. “Mina likes you!”

I frown. “She does?!”

“Yes!” she exclaims. “And I’ve heard that you caught Noah’s eye as well.”

Bewildered by all these people who seemingly have a crush on me, I shake my head and pinch the bridge of my nose. “Who the hell is Noah?”

I know who Mina is since we share a couple of classes and because she was on Enid’s team during the Poe Cup, but other than a few polite conversations here and there we haven’t really interacted before. As for this Noah person, I have no clue who that is…

“You know, Noah. That blond guy from Biology of Mythical Creatures? The one who lent you a pen last week?”

“Oh. Right.” I frown, remembering him. He is kind of nice and objectively handsome with his shaggy blond hair, his green eyes, and his freckles, but I’ve never really noticed him before.

Freckles… Doesn’t Wednesday have freckles? I’m pretty sure she does. I saw a drop of rain trail down the bridge of her nose earlier and she definitely has freckles although I’m sure they’d be more prominent if she wasn’t so pale.

“So?” Enid snaps me out of my thoughts, and my eyes widen when I realize what I was just thinking about.

What the hell is happening? Why am I thinking about Wednesday's freckles?

“I–I don’t know, Enid. I’m not really interested in either of them,” I stutter, feeling a blush creep up my neck. “And I think going to the Rave’N with one or the other would just send the wrong message.”

Undeterred, Enid keeps beaming. “Well then, the two of us can go as friends.”

I sigh and take a seat at my desk. “Yeah. Maybe. Let me think about it, okay?”

Enid’s a social butterfly, so I know if I don’t go with her, she’ll be just fine, but, like I promised, I will give it an honest thought.

“Okay.” She pulls me into a quick and awkward hug since I’m still sitting before getting a text that makes her giggle.

I raise an eyebrow, but she just brushes me off before leaving in a sudden hurry. I shake my head and smile fondly before turning in my chair and opening my laptop to distract myself by finishing an essay I have to hand in tomorrow.

I just finish typing the conclusion when there’s a tap on my window, making me furrow my eyebrows.

I turn in my chair and gasp when I see Thing perched on the windowsill outside. He wiggles his fingers in greeting and I hurry to open the window.

“Oh my God, Thing. What are you doing? Do you have a death wish?” I ask when he wiggles inside.

I’m not afraid of heights, he signs, making himself comfortable on one of the pillows of my window seat.

I gape at him incredulously. “You should be! You’d be mush if you fell from this height.”

He waves me off and I take a moment to gather my thoughts before asking, “What are you doing here anyway?”

I came to check on you.

I freeze. “Why?”

He twists as if eying me before signing, Am I not allowed to?

“I– No, of course, I was just…” Not used to anyone caring about me? People coming to check on me just because?

Yes, Enid worries over me sometimes but she doesn’t come to my room to check on me. She usually stops by when she needs advice or has to vent, which is honestly fine, but she never really checks on me because I don’t give her a reason to. Well, at least until now because I know she’ll be worried about what happened earlier even if she left all giddy and smiley.

So, Thing taps on his pillow and I take a seat beside him. How are you feeling?

“Fine,” I reply without thinking even though I am anything but.

Thing sees right through me and drums his fingers impatiently, so I take a moment before amending, “I… I don’t know. There’s just so much going on and I feel like I’m losing my mind.”

Thing moves off his pillow to tap my knee gently, encouraging me to keep talking. He knows I’m an Ægiryn, and he’s proven himself trustworthy more than once now, so I reluctantly go on.

“Apart from this whole monster-murder-shit that’s going on, the one book that contains all the knowledge about what I am has been stolen.”

The one from the Nightshades’ library? Thing taps and I nod, chuckling bitterly.

“Yeah. That one… When I came to Nevermore and Weems helped me figure out what I am, she had every book that even so much as mentions Ægiryns removed. Everyone except that one.” I drag my hands down my face. “I thought I was being careful when I took it, but apparently not careful enough. And now someone out there knows what I am… God, Weems will kill me when she finds out.”

I feel hot tears burning behind my eyes and quickly blink them away, wringing my hands.

You’re scared, Thing signs which makes me snort.

“Of course I’m scared. I am a living myth. My ancestors were literally hunted down for what they were.” Ice cold fear and dread coils around my insides. “Whoever has that book knew what they were doing when they took it, and now I’m left in this constant state of not knowing what’s gonna happen next. I don’t want to leave. I don’t want to run and hide for the rest of my life. I… don’t want to die because of what I am.” That last part comes out quiet and broken, and I avert my eyes, swallowing thickly.

Thing shuffles closer and drapes himself over my hands, stopping my anxious fidgeting. There’s nothing he could say in this moment to make me feel better because we both know it would be a lie, so he just stays where he is, letting the weight of my words settle.

His touch makes a single, stubborn tear roll down my cheek despite my repeated blinking in an attempt to prevent it, but I don’t reach up to wipe it away.

After what feels like half an eternity, Thing scuttles off my hands again to settle on my knee instead.

Why did you take the book from the library in the first place? He signs hesitantly which makes me deflate with shame.

“My necklace…The pendant. It’s been acting up lately and I’ve been hearing things I shouldn’t be hearing,” I admit, purposefully not getting into the fact that it’s Wednesday’s heartbeat I’m constantly hearing. “I wanted some answers and I was hoping to also find out more about what it means being an Ægiryn because until now, I wanted nothing to do with it. I didn’t want to know about it because being an outcast is what made my adoptive parents dump me here and never look back.”

I cringe because I didn’t mean to reveal that last part, but it’s too late to take it back now. Thing being Thing however doesn’t comment on it. He simply takes in everything I’ve said, sits with it, and then signs, If it’s answers you’re looking for, I think I can be of help.

That makes me raise an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

He curtsies as if to say yes and then taps, Addams’ have a long history with all kinds of outcasts.

A flicker of hope makes something loosen in my chest. He might be able to help. I might finally get the answers to all my questions. I can’t get my hopes up just yet though.

“Even Ægiryns?” I ask quietly, and when Thing curtsies again, I exhale shakily. He can help. I want to launch into an onslaught of questions that have been burning and simmering in the back of my mind ever since my pendant acted up, but then there’s a sharp knock on my door.

Thing scurries off my knee and hides beneath one of the pillows on the window seat and I get to my feet and cross the room to open the door. My heart almost stops when my eyes land on Weems of all people, and I subconsciously take a step.

“Good evening, Y/N. I hope I’m not interrupting anything, I just wanted to come by and find out how you were doing after you left the Weathervane earlier, and you didn’t show up to dinner,” she says calmly, folding her hands in front of her. I know she probably only means well, but I feel like she’s interrogating me, so I chose my next words very wisely.

“I’m better… I was just a little overwhelmed by all the people.”

“Hmm.” She eyes me with an unreadable look before saying, “Very well then. Enjoy the rest of your night and see to it that you get some rest.”

“I will. Thank you.” I’m about to shut the door again, but she places a hand against it, stopping me.

“Oh, just one more thing.”

“Yes?” I ask quietly, hating how exposed I feel under her watchful stare.

“You seem to have been spending quite some time with Miss Addams recently,” she states. I want to ask how she knows since we usually don’t interact in front of others, but then again, she seems to know everything that goes on at Nevermore, so I don’t. Asking how she knows would also prove her right in case she’s only baiting me, so I keep my mouth shut.

“I’m not going to tell you who you can or cannot be friends with, but I do advise you to think critically about people you surround yourself with,” she says, adding, “Especially those who think it’s okay to blow up statues in broad daylight.”

Wednesday blew up Crackstone’s statue? That must have been the commotion I heard earlier. It doesn’t exactly surprise me because of course she would do something like that, but I’m surprised I’m only now hearing about it.

“Uh, okay. I’ll keep that in mind,” I say, returning Weems’ tight lipped smile before closing the door. Once I’m sure she’s truly left, I turn around, and raise an eyebrow at Thing who emerges from his hiding spot underneath the pillow.

“Wednesday blew up Crackstone’s statue?” I ask, unimpressed.

Thing shrugs. She didn’t so much blow it up as I poured gasoline into the fountain and set fire to it.

“Oh my God, why would you do that?” I ask incredulously.

Do you know what Wednesday saw in her vision at the old meeting house? He signs.

“Not really, no, just something about her ancestor?” I guess, not knowing what her vision could possibly have to do with her, or rather Thing, blowing up Crackstone’s statue.

Yes, Goody Addams. She lived in Jericho 400 years ago when Crackstone was alive, he taps slowly and I take a seat on the edge of my bed, shrugging as if to say so?.

I don’t want to say too much because I’m sure Wednesday would hang, draw, and quarter me if she found out I blabbed about her vision, but to sum things up, Crackstone hunted down outcasts and burned them alive in the old meeting house. Goody was amongst them but managed to escape.

I uncross my arms and deflate, my irritation getting replaced by sympathy and understanding. “Oh… I didn’t know. I mean, I knew pilgrims aren’t exactly known for their acceptance of anything different, but I didn’t know they went that far.”

Thing hops off the window seat and climbs onto the bed next to me. Yeah, they kind of suck.

I let out a surprised laugh. “Yeah they do.” Then, after a moment of silence I add, “Crackstone deserved what he got,” which makes Thing tap my thigh in agreement.

I remember about all the questions I was about to ask him before Weems interrupted us, but once again, before I can ask, Thing freezes when he sees the time on the digital clock on my nightstand.

I have to go, he signs, suddenly in a hurry and jumping off my bed. He scurries to my door and vaults up to the doorknob, turning it before dropping back down to the floor.

“Wait!” I get back to my feet in a panic. “I have so many questions.”

I know, he signs, looking almost apologetic. But I have to go help Wednesday.

I glance at the time. It’s almost ten pm.

“With what?” I ask skeptically. He squirms which means she’s up to no good. “Thing…” I warn.

Nothing dangerous, I promise, he taps. I glare at him which makes him add, At least not physically, more like dangerous in the sense of if she gets caught she could get expelled.

“That’s not better!” I exclaim in disbelief and I have half a mind to force him to take me with them, but it’s almost curfew and after Weems’ visit, I can’t get caught sneaking out with Wednesday unless I want Weems to get even more suspicious than she already is.

I promise we’ll be careful, Thing taps my sock covered foot.

I nudge him and sigh, saying, “You better be.” And then, before he can leave I add, “Thank you…For coming to check on me.”

You’re welcome and I promise I’ll answer all of your questions soon.

I dip my chin in acknowledgement and watch him scurry out of my room, briefly wondering why he didn’t just come through the door in the first place before flopping down on my bed face first.

Today’s been a long day. I don’t fall asleep until almost one in the morning though when I hear the soft click of Enid’s and Wednesday’s door across the school, signaling Wednesday’s return.

I’m in the middle of doing pull ups on the doorframe leading to my en-suite bathroom when there’s a knock on my door.

I drop to the floor and flex my stiff fingers before telling whoever is at my door to come in.

It’s probably Enid, coming to bother me about the Rave’N again even though I’ve told her several times today that I have yet to make up my mind about going.

“Am I interrupting something?”

I whirl around and almost choke on my own breath when I see Wednesday standing in the doorway. Unlike me who’s dressed in a simple shirt and sweatpants, she’s still wearing her school uniform. It’s clean and crisp and so unlike how messy it looked yesterday when we got caught in the rain.

“I uh– No, not at all,” I stutter, wishing the earth would open up and swallow me because while she looks all regal and put together, I’m all flushed and sweaty. Yes, I have supernatural strength, but I’ve been going at it with my pull ups for over an hour in an attempt to burn off some nervous energy, but so far, it hasn’t worked and if she hadn’t knocked, I would have continued for only God knows how long.

Wednesday’s eyes drop to my arms for a moment, but when I clear my throat, they snap back up and I see a muscle in her jaw twitch before she says, “I was wondering if I could put up some pictures in your room regarding my investigation. Enid can’t stomach them and– Well, long story short, I had to get out my smelling salts and take the pictures down.”

My embarrassment momentarily forgotten, I wipe some sweat off my forehead and step forward, gesturing for her to come into my room.

She looks around the same way she did the first time she was here but her attention doesn’t linger on anything specific.

“Can I see?” I ask and when she simply stares at me after her eyes flicker to my arms again, I add, “The pictures?”

“Right. Yes.” She takes off her backpack and pulls out a manila folder, handing it over while keeping her eyes down.

I frown at her more-than-usual odd behavior, but don’t comment on it as I open the folder.

I don’t know what I was expecting, but when I see pictures of various bloody crime scenes and brutally dismembered bodies I cringe and snap the folder shut again.

“I–” I close my eyes momentarily, trying to purge my mind of what I just saw– “Where in the world did you get these?”

Wednesday takes the folder back and flips through the pictures herself, completely unfazed. “Thing and I broke into the county morgue last night. The monster’s latest victim is that man we stumbled upon in the old meeting house yesterday.”

“You broke into the mo– What?!” I shake my head and blink in disbelief.

Wednesday pulls out a picture, saying, “It’s really not that big of a deal. I helped my uncle break his girlfriend out of a mental hospital once. That was a big deal,” before handing it to me.

I take it, but don’t look at it right away since my mind is running a hundred miles a minute, trying to process everything.

“Do you see that?” she asks, stepping closer to point at something in the picture which makes me reluctantly snap out of my thoughts and look at the picture.

To no surprise, it’s a picture of the homeless man’s dead body. It’s not a crime scene picture though. It’s a picture taken in the morgue and I try not to focus on his dead, lifeless eyes, letting my gaze instead wander to what Wednesday is pointing at.

“His left foot it missing,” she says and I nod, frowning and looking up to meet her eyes.

“Maybe the medical examiner amputated it?” I suggests, but she shakes her head, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

“It was chewed off by the monster, see?” she points out the frayed edges of the wound, but I don’t want to look at it again, so without thinking, I put my hand over hers and push it down so she lowers the picture.

For a moment my hand stays on hers, her skin a little cold against mine, but then we both pull away at the same time and when I look up I see a flash of confusion in her eyes before a muscle in her jaw twitches again and she puts the picture back into the folder.

“Every person the monster has killed so far is missing a body part,” she goes on as though nothing happened, but her voice is a little quieter now. “And I’ll be damned if it’s a coincidence.”

She’s right. That can’t be a coincidence, but unless she asks the outcast who turns into the monster personally, there’s really no way of finding out why he or she has taken said body parts.

“Well, what do you want to do now?” I ask which makes her exhale exasperatedly.

“As much as it pains me to admit it, there’s not much I can do, but Eugene and I found the monster’s layer earlier.”

My eyes widen. “You did? Where?”

“Out in the woods. It wasn’t there, but I managed to collect one of its claws as evidence and hand it over to Sheriff Glapin for DNA testing. He knows about the monster too.” She pulls a paper out of her pocket and unfolds it to reveal a drawing of the monster with weird looking circles drawn around it. I realize the circles are supposed to represent the opening of a cave I’ve come across before which must be the layer.

The fact that Sheriff Galpin knows about the monster is not news to me, but I didn’t know he and Wednesday were basically working together.

I don’t comment on it though because for some reason, the only thing I can think of saying is, “I didn’t know you could draw like that,” which makes her roll her eyes impatiently and fold the paper back up.

“I can’t. It’s not mine. It fell out of Xavier’s sketchbook in the hallway this morning.” She pockets the folded drawing and clutches the manila folder to her chest.

“Xavier drew that?” I ask with a frown. As far as my knowledge goes, Xavier has not seen the monster before, so how does he know what it looks like, much less where it lives unless–

“He could be the monster, yes,” Wednesday voices my exact thought. “But until I have definite proof, it’s too dangerous to confront him.”

I hum in agreement, letting silence settle over us for a moment before I say, “Look, I know those pictures are important for your investigation, but you can’t put them up in my room. If Weems sees them, she’ll lose it. Why don’t you keep them in the Bee shed? I’m sure Eugene wouldn’t mind. He might be a bit freaked out at first, but he’s a good kid and you’re a fellow— What do you guys call yourselves? Hummers?”

Wednesday scowls, but it’s not particularly venomous. “Yes,” she confirms through gritted teeth. Then, she softens ever so slightly, knowing I’m right about the pictures.

I expect her to turn and leave since I can no longer be of help, but to my surprise she doesn’t. She tucks the folder back into her backpack and straightens up, meeting my eyes again.

“Eugene and I want to stake out the cave and identify the monster.”

I narrow my eyes. “Are you serious?”

“Very.” Before I can protest and say how stupid and dangerous that idea is, she averts her eyes and huffs. “But if things go sideways, we could use some help.”

My heart flips involuntarily and despite the situation I can’t help but tease a tiny bit. “Are you asking me for help?”

“Yes, but I’m starting to regret it,” she deadpans.

I chuckle softly which makes her look back up with an unreadable glint in her eyes. “Don’t. I’m sorry. Of course I’ll help.”

Surprise flickers across her face but she doesn’t voice it. Instead she just nod, once, and says, “Great. We’ll be doing it tomorrow night.”

“Tomorrow? But what about the Rave’N?” I ask.

She crosses her arms. “What about it?”

“Well, aren’t you going?” I ask which makes her scoff in disbelief. Right. What was I thinking? Of course Wednesday Addams doesn’t go the Rave’N.

“Are you?” she asks, raising an eyebrow. Something fiery flashes in her eyes, but I have no clue what it is, so I quickly shake my head.

“No. I mean, I was thinking about it, but I don’t have a date or anything, and I’m not a fan of crowds. The only reason I’d go is because Enid wants me there, but she’ll be fine if I don’t show up.”

Wednesday softens ever so slightly before nodding again. “Okay then.”

Then, she turns without another word and leaves, leaving me standing in the middle of my room, sweaty and slightly confused about what the hell just happened.

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Tag list: @sunshinez4 @protozoario @automaticpatroltragedy @mamas-evil-hag @theallseer97 @hellenheaven @iwshemj2 @jizzuo308 @trashcannotbealive @gloriousvariant @brocoliisscared

#x reader #wednesday x reader #wednesday addams x reader #wednesday addams #wednesday series #wednesday netflix

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mullermilkshake · 1 hour ago

Text

The missing mother

Part 18 <- Part 19 -> Part 20

Hae-in is missing. She's in the most unsuspecting place.

Yandere!Jinwoo Sung x Fem Hunter!reader Tags. - DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT Pregnant reader, emotional distress, restraints, needles, arguing (kinda), medical stuff, (TW) high risk pregnancy

<<< For more Dark/Yandere content, click this link to go back to the Masterlist! >>>

<<< Or back to this fic's Master list. >>>

I have only watched the anime and haven't gotten round to reading the manhwa yet. Please refrain from spoilers.

TAG LIST CLOSED

I wanted to make this chapter longer, but I felt the end was a good cut off point and didn't want to put just some filler in that didn't help advance the plot, but I hope you still enjoy it. 🤗

So, Jong-in disrupted Jinwoo’s moment with you, because he couldn’t find his bit on the side?

Because that’s all Hae-in was to him, right? Now the man had another hunter pregnant, he’d probably toss her aside too. Hae-in most probably saw her worth and disappeared with her baby to get away from all the dramatic shit.

Just like now, with Jong-in on Jinwoo’s doorstep, worse for wear and looking dishevelled after some kind of all-nighter, but in truth, he looked hungover.

“You can’t find her?” You asked, your hand holding your belly for comfort.

Jinwoo wanted to kick himself, he hoped at least this time, you would actually listen to him and stay in the bedroom. Of course not. He adjusted the door to keep Beru hidden, casually leaning against the door with an invisible huff he forced himself to choke down.

“I went to see her this morning, to check on her. But she wasn’t there, she told the doctors that she was going out for an early walk this morning like she's been doing the entire pregnancy, but she hasn’t come back. I’ve been losing my mind trying to look for her, I didn’t know who else to turn to. I apologize for how late it is.”

You lost your baby mama and now decide to make it our problem?

Jinwoo didn’t want you getting involved, not with Jong-in. Any time together was far too much in his eyes and a recipe for disaster.

“We’ll help you, right Jinwoo?” You watched him with cautious eyes, telling him a message with your expression.

Not asking. Telling.

“We’ll help, but you can stay at your place. I can use my shadows, so there’s no point in everyone going out at night.”

“You want me to just wait here?” Jong-in was ever the polite one, even if he was reacting to being turned away.

Jinwoo nodded nonchalantly. “Yeah. That’s exactly what I want you to do, there’s no point in getting worked up. I’ll find her.”

He would essentially still have to traipse out and look for her manually if Igris couldn't find her, he just didn’t want Jong-in sniffing about. The shadow he used initially was sitting nestled in Jong-in’s shadow, Not Hae-in’s.

You, however, must have caught on to that.

“Jong-in, can you wait outside for a moment?” You walked up and closed the door before he could answer, your brows together with a hidden scowl. “I know that you need to be close or something to put one of your shadows on people, just like you put Igris on me. What’s your deal? You’re coming off as really combative.”

He threw up his hands in surrender. “I’m not, I just don’t see the point in us all going out in the dark. Hae-in’s capable. We can’t treat her like she’s made of glass and fragile, neither of you are. So, I’ll go and look for her, I'll have my shadows patrolling the city, something will pop up eventually. It’s late and you’re exhausted.”

You yawned as he said that, but shook it off. “No, there’s something else. You always get tense around Jong-in and I just… I can’t tell what you’re thinking. Care to tell me why?”

What could he honestly tell you? That he was growing a type of hatred towards the man like a tumour, every second you were in his presence. Or that he'd thought of many ways to make him disappear or suffer just to put a smile on Jinwoo's face. Sometimes fantasising wasn't enough, and the only reason he hadn't done anything yet was because of you.

If you knew the sort of dark things he kept a lid on, you would leave him in a heart beat.

Yeah, none of those explanations were acceptable.

“Will you let me go do this if I don’t say anything?”

“No.”

Jinwoo whispered, forgetting that Beru still stood there, awaiting the drama so that he could finish his show. “Because he’s in love with you. You just never noticed.”

“Me?!” You matched Jinwoo’s volume, but shouted in a hushed tone to scold him. “He’s not in love with me, are you for real right now?! There’s no evidence to substantiate that, there never was.”

Were you for real?

"It’s there written on his face every time he looks at you, you just don’t see it. He was disappointed that he was never paired with you, he told us that he wanted that but settled for Hae-in.”

Okay, Jong-in never said that, but the only people currently in the room that recalled the conversation that day was Jinwoo, so who was counting?

You wanted to speak and you even stuttered a little, your mouth moving and closing into utter speechlessness. The cogs were turning in your brain, realisation perhaps? If an opportunity presented itself, Jinwoo had to take it. To drive the wedge that had already grown distant between you and Jong-in further than ever. To sever it completely.

“I’m sorry I’m naturally defensive around someone who's in love with my girlfriend.”

“But… Why is he so upset about Hae-in then? It doesn’t make sense- I saw yesterday that she was head over heels for Jong-in now, it was so obvious. Even with the other woman he's paired with. Why would you feel like that? They have literally nothing to do with us."

Jinwoo couldn’t exactly say that he was territorial and growing more and more possessive over you as time went on either. It took everything in his power not to lose himself like did in the beginning with the headquarters staff member.

Okay, Okay... The first guy really was a fluke. But I'd do it again.

He lied when you asked him if he’d kill for you. While it took him by surprise, it was more headway than he thought was possible this side of the pregnancy. You were still independent a lot of the time and owning your own thoughts.

Yet you still asked him.

It was a given that he would kill for you, but what he wanted to say to you, was that he would abstain from killing, which he had done since. It never made his impulsive thoughts easy to deal with, and despite it all, he managed it.

Because it was for you.

“I feel like that, because I’m in love with you. You’re pregnant and we don’t need the extra drama he’s bringing on our doorstep. I’ll go and find her, because it’s Hae-in. And it’s for you. Not for him.”

Was it a dick move to say that? Yes. Did it make him better in his head that you knew part of the truth now? Definitely.

Jinwoo opened the door before you even made a sound. Jong-in still stood there like a petrified deer in headlights. “I’ll go find Hae-in, you go get some sleep. I’ll let you know when I find her.”

The night should have long since been over. Jinwoo should have had you in sprawled in bed all fucked out after one thing leading to another, which it would have done had Jong-in not knocked. Then, Jinwoo would have laid in bed with your head on his chest, entangling his fingers in your hair waiting for the twins to move so he could feel it.

But Jong-in robbed that of him.

“Then I’m coming with you, you aren’t going on your own.”

Before Jinwoo could protest, you left the hall towards the bedroom, Beru still stood behind Jinwoo getting antsy but still remaining silent.

“Beru, go and watch your show.” He ignored the little happy dance Beru did and tried not to pay attention to the almighty thud on the couch.

He’ll trash the apartment at this rate.

Coming back to Jong-in, he didn’t seem to notice anything. But he was getting on Jinwoo’s nerves just standing there, not being his usual self, like he cared. “I’ll come with you-”

“It’s fine. Get some rest.” And he closed the door on him without another word.

When you emerged, you took note of Beru’s position on the sofa and Jong-in's lacking presence. “Where did he go?”

“He went back to his apartment. It’ll be better if I just go- Igris, come out here.”

Igris appeared on cue, wisping out of your shadow and kneeling at Jinwoo’s feet. “Go and find Hae-in, let me know when you do.”

The shadow vanished, Jinwoo took the opportunity to take a glance at the spyhole through the door to await Jong-in’s departure. He was no longer there, whether he did as he was told, or went back out to find Hae-in was another matter Jinwoo did not care to think about.

He just couldn’t stand the man. In the eyes of everyone else, including you, he’d done Jinwoo no harm. Even so, it was the potential to ruin everything that Jinwoo had worked for that turned his stomach at the man who otherwise did absolutely nothing.

“Alright, we’ll go together. But if it gets too much, you’re coming straight home.”

“Jinwoo, I’m pregnant, not unwell. I’m sure I’ll manage.”

There’s that attitude I admire. Shame it's coming at the wrong time. “Alright then.”

By the time Jinwoo grabbed his jacket, you were half way out of the door. He turned to Beru who was still in the same place, eyes peeled to the screen of two characters dancing, or were they fighting? He wasn’t sure, but he called to him like a father ensuring the teenager left in charge wouldn’t burn the apartment down.

“We’re leaving, keep the noise down and come back to me when your show is finished.”

“Yes, Sire!”

Hae-in was probably off somewhere to get some peace and quiet, you made weird comments about the facility from what you had heard. How noisy it was, the lack of privacy due to constant tests that Hae-in mentioned, poking and prodding her with large needles. whether it was entirely true and not an overexageration because of exhaustion and other contributing factors were to be revealed.

However, that could have been you last night had Jinwoo not thought on his feet. Never would he allow you to go anywhere. Never. Never.

By the time the elevator made its way up to the floor, you were already stepping in, anxiously biting at the dead skin on your fingers and tapping your feet like it was making the elevator move faster. “I knew it was a bad idea Jong-in letting her go to that place. She’s all on her own, it must be so lonely. Why didn't he fight for her?”

"Fighting requires effort. It depends how much pressure he's under from the association."

"You fought for me."

Jinwoo snapped his gaze at you, surprised at your forwardness, slipping your hand into his like a real real couple. It nearly made his heart explode. "I did. I always will."

You never let go, but you dropped the deep inhale too were keeping in your chest. "Why did all of this get so fucked up? I mean, from what I've seen of Hae-in, she seemed so calm and steady. running off like this is unlike her, I guess."

Anyone could pull there jerk reactions from a hat under the right circumstances, even docile hearted Jong-in. "What would you do if you were in her position? Where would you go?”

The question caught you off guard, Jinwoo saw it but how you watched him closely, your body closer yet you said nothing at first.

“I would… I’d go to the place I felt most safe if I was feeling lonely.”

“Which is?” He knew already, well, he hoped. Jinwoo wanted to hear it from your lips.

“Home... In the apartment. With you.”

"It's home to me, too.," Jinwoo smiled, he wanted to kiss you, and he almost did, but the pit of his stomach twisted.

It was Igris.

“He found her. That was too quick to have found her- hold on to me, I’ll exchange- I’m sorry, but it’s going to make you sick.”

“It’s fine.” You didn’t need telling twice, vigourously shaking your head like it would dispel the link from your brain to your stomach.

Jinwoo held you close whilst you clung to him, and he switched places with Igris.

What the- This is the association facility.

You let go immediately and heaved, hunching over the nearest trash can. A miniature one in the corner invited you, Jinwoo shook away his astonishment on Jong-in’s part and held your hair back. Moaning into the metal container made it echo, your groans of how unfair things were, something about your mana and that you really weren't ever doing that again.

Jinwoo's attention fell on the walls of the facility, cold and modernised with a blinding white artificial overhead light that barely peeked through the overwhelming stench of rubbing alcohol and bitter antiseptic. The linoleum stuck to Jinwoo's shoes, almost crispy from the overuse of cleaning substances and misused adhesives under the mislaid grey carpet that was just as dull as at the illness posters on the wall.

How the fuck did Jong-in not look in the place Hae-in was living in?

Idiot.

“Let me go! Stop it!” The room at the end of the hall.

It’s where you instinctively ran to, holding yourself and wiping your face with your sleeve as you did so. Jinwoo followed close behind and prevented you from entering into the commotion.

Hae-in laid in bed, restrained to the side bars in wide eyed tears mixed with the perspiration of an athlete across her forehead. She noticed you first before Jinwoo.

Well, this was anticlimactic, she was here all along.

“You came- you came! You have to get me out, they’re crazy!”

She tugged through gritted teeth, and hissed at the red swelling over her jittery wrists. Hae-in naturally relaxed a fraction in your presence, you rushed over and tried the restraints, noting the padlock on each cuff.

“Holy shit- Jinwoo, help me!”

“You have to get me out of here- I can’t be here anymore. I want to go back to the apartment, help me get back to Jong-in, I don’t want to be here anymore!”

Hae-in thrashed around at Jinwoo’s hesitancy. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to help her, it was because something didn’t sit right. If she was here the entire time, then why did Jong-in come to the apartment looking for her?

To get time with you? No. Jong-in’s had plenty of other opportunities to speak to you about other things and he hasn’t, he’s just picking odd times. There has to be something more to this.

“Jinwoo! Snap out of it and help me!”

Shit. The room stood still for Jinwoo, not for anyone else in the room. He came over and took a look at the locks, an easy break with his bare hands, he managed one with no effort.

“I’d stop that if I were you-”

“Oh, fuck!” You gasped and pawed at your chest, turning and slipping between Jinwoo’s arms. “Doctor, I didn’t see you there.”

She smiled, though it never reached her troubled eyes. “It’s alright, I get that a lot. I didn't mean to scare you.”

The dark pits under her eyes looked right back at Jinwoo, diabolical in nature to make her dishevelled appearance. A running theme tonight. She did her best to adjust her lab coat and smooth down her hair, but undid everything by rolling up her sleeves.

“Stay away the hell away from me!” Hae-in kicked off the bed covers into a slumped pile on the floor and yanked the digging chain on her other wrist.

“Hunter Cha.” The Doctor slipped a clip into her hair, rushing to open the medicine box on the wall. “Please. You need to calm down, this isn’t good for you or your baby.”

You blinked rapidly, they gaze between Hae-in and the medical professional. “What is going on, doctor? She’s hurting, you need to let her go. This isn't good for her.”

“I will, as soon as she calms down- we found her by the bay, wet and barely dressed, shivering to death. She’s extremely stressed and her pregnancy has become high risk, she needs strict bed rest or she could end up labouring early- Hunter Cha, you're putting your life at risk, your baby's life, please take a deep breath, your blood pressure is through the roof!"

She was distressed and sweaty, wiping away what perspiration she could from her forehead before preparing a syringe to which Hae-in recoiled at. She was hysterical, pulling at the restraint which could dislocate his arm at any time.

“Hae-in, calm down.” You said. “The doctor’s trying to help you, let her help you. You’ll pop a blood vessel like this!”

“No, no, no, no! Get that away from me- I don’t want it, I want to go back- let me go back!”

“Hae-in!”

The doctor came round to her free arm and tried to catch it swinging for her face. “I’m so sorry, I really am- your health is at risk, you need to listen me and calm down. I really want to help you.”

She snatched her arm at the first chance she got and held it to inject her, Hae-in amped the reaction like the doctor was radioactive.

Jinwoo was curious. Maybe he shouldn’t have asked. “Hae-in, what’s gotten you so upset?”

She was struggling for breath behind her distraught tears and wails. “They want- they want to take my baby away!”

What?

Part 18 <- Part 19 -> Part 20

Thank you for reading and all of the support on this fic! ❤️ Likes, reblogs and comments are appreciated and I appreciate you all! See you next time 🤗

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DISCLAIMER - Crossposted from my AO3 - I do not own any of the characters or anything from the anime or manhwa. This is a work of fan fiction and is absolutely not representative of the views or intentions of the original creator(s).

Also please don’t post any of my work without permission thank you!

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cesium-sheep · 7 months ago

Text

I was following up with arin about a couple important things and I know I have a habit of only messaging her if I need something or if she initiates because of old rules that don't apply anymore, so I tried to just chat casually with her after getting the information I needed and she was just like. "my week was fine. I'm going to bed." so it's like. oh. I mean she's probably just running hot because of The News and she's chosen not to vent to me which is a conscientious choice but it's a bit of a bummer. I know other people can't simply go "okay my shit, into the box, this conversation will be So Normal and I will Genuinely Care". even I can't for more than a few minutes at a time right now so like, fair. but it still kinda sucks.

#actually honestly it feels really harsh #but I know there's no point raising a fuss about it #because I know that feeling isn't just coming from one place #and I reasonably assume she's already trying as best as she can right now #so it's better to leave her to it and ride it out #and if it keeps being a problem down the line then I will bring it up.#but for now I will just miss my wife.#I don't miss her when she's just gone (unless I'm feeling really awful and I want her comfort)#but having a bid kinda slapped down like that does make me feel lonely.#especially since matt's not here and I'm gonna have to talk to him about christmas plans soon and he's not gonna like it #cuz I've spoken with his mom enough to determine that I Cannot do what he was asking last year and I suspect he'll want to try again anyway #really she probably just fell asleep.#she didn't respond when he said goodnight either

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supernovafics · 2 months ago

Text

𝐃𝐎 𝐌𝐄 𝐀 𝐅𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐑

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: 8.7k words

summary: in which you and steve randomly meet at a bar and realize that you two can help each other out with a similar problem

warnings: explicit language, mentions of alcohol/drinking, mentions of past bad relationships (very recent breakups), smut (18+), oral (f!receiving), protected p in v sex

author’s note: i genuinely can’t believe how long this ended up being lol hope yall enjoy though!<333

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“We could be the greatest wingwoman and wingman for you right now if you just let us, dingus.”

Steve rolled his eyes at Robin’s words. “I already let you guys drag me to this bar, isn’t that enough?”

Robin responded with a simple, “No, it’s not” before taking another sip of her drink, while Eddie said something about how if this were a year ago, they wouldn’t have had to force Steve to this bar because he would have suggested the idea himself.

“Monica changed you for the worse, man,” Eddie continued, and Steve only frowned at him.

Robin gave Eddie’s arm a quick whack. “Hey, we promised no Monica slander tonight. At least not right in front of him.”

Steve gave them both the most unamused look. “You guys really had to make a deal about that? To not talk shit about my ex?”

“Okay, don’t say it like that,” Robin told him. “It would actually be super warranted if we did wanna talk shit about her. She was super pretentious and she hated all of your friends; me and Eddie, especially.”

Steve couldn’t think of a rebuttal to that on the spot, so he ended up saying nothing. And then he reminded himself that Monica had brutally dumped him two weeks ago, so why should he even want to defend her to his best friends anymore?

“There’s seriously not one girl here right now that you could maybe be interested in?” Eddie asked, and Steve was grateful that the conversation was at least slightly shifting away from Monica.

But, he didn’t even take a quick look around the bar before answering Eddie’s question with an immediate “No” and hoping that the subject would change again.

Eddie groaned and then proceeded to finish what was left of his beer, and Robin sighed before saying, “If you at least talked to a random girl here, and just maybe flirted a little bit, don’t you think you’d feel a little less sad about the breakup?”

“I’m not sad about it, though,” Was Steve’s immediate response, and it was only kind of a lie.

It really wasn’t Monica breaking up with him that made him sad; it was more about him spending almost a year of his life with someone that he knew he probably shouldn’t have been with in the first place because of how incompatible they were. That hard truth was what made him feel sad and a little stupid. Actually, scratch that, a lot stupid. But things with her had become so comfortable and routine that it eventually felt easier staying than leaving.

Robin simply gave him a look before shaking her head. “You’re a terrible liar. Last night I saw you watching that one National Geographic documentary that you only watch when you’re sad. Which I still find kinda weird, but you’re my best friend and I love you and all of your weird coping habits.”

“Wait, which documentary is it again?” Eddie asked, laughing a little. “The one about the whales or the one about the lions?”

“Whales,” Robin answered. “And it's like three hours long.”

“I’m going to the bathroom,” Steve abruptly said before Robin or Eddie could say anything else.

He left his half-drunk beer with his friends and walked away from the high table they’d been occupying for the past hour and headed toward where the bathrooms were down a random hallway.

“Don’t try to sneak out the back. We have your location and we will find you,” He heard Robin say from behind him. “And don’t turn it off now that I just mentioned it.”

Steve laughed as he held up his hand, giving her a quick thumbs-up in response.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

There was only so much waiting and hiding you could do, so you decided to ask the first guy that you saw exiting the bathroom.

“Hey, are the two girls sitting at the end of the right side of the bar looking this way?”

Surprisingly, this random guy didn’t question why you were asking him that, or why you couldn’t check that yourself, or even question why you were so obviously hiding in this slightly secluded hallway where the terrible bathrooms were.

Instead, he stepped out of the hallway a little bit and took a peek around the corner for you, and then turned back to you after a second. “Yeah, I see two girls looking this way.”

“Shit.”

“Who are they?”

“My friends.”

The confused look he gave you was immediate. “Why are you trying to avoid your friends?”

You sighed as you leaned back against the wall behind you. “Because they’re trying to convince me that going home with a random guy tonight will help me get over my boyfriend who just broke up with me.”

The laugh he let out in response surprised you. It also made you feel equal parts offended and amused.

“Is my devastating heartbreak funny to you?”

For the most part, you were exaggerating; your breakup with Elliott hadn’t actually been all too devastating— no outward lying or cheating, just a lot of miscommunications and bad timings— but you kind of wanted this random guy to feel at least a little bad for laughing at you.

“Shit, no, sorry,” He said, and his cheeks reddened a bit in what you could only assume was embarrassment, and you suddenly felt kind of bad about getting so defensive. “I just laughed because my friends are trying to do the same thing for me, too.”

“Oh, sorry,” You said, feeling slightly worse now that you knew that you two were in the same boat. “Sorry about your breakup.”

He shrugged like it was fine. “How long have you been standing here hiding from your friends?”

“Five minutes, maybe,” You answered as you pulled out your phone to quickly check the time. Seeing that it was a little after ten thirty let you know that you’d actually been standing here for closer to ten minutes, but you didn’t correct yourself. “My plan is to somehow find an opening to slip out the front door, and then I’ll send them a picture from my Uber telling them that I left.”

“Solid plan.”

“I can’t tell if you’re being sarcastic or not.”

“Maybe a little bit,” He said, giving you a small smile, and it was then that you were realizing, or finally noticing, that this guy was cute; even in the shitty bar lighting you could tell that.

Maybe it was because of his sweet smile, or maybe it was the denim jacket he was wearing over a plain white t-shirt that suited him really well. Or maybe it was his hair that looked as if he got out of bed and pushed a quick hand through it and then proceeded to leave his home, and you meant that in the best way possible.

Either way, this guy was really cute and so clearly your type— even though you felt like you were in no place to consider anything romantic with anyone, you could recognize his attractiveness— and you were suddenly being hit with an idea.

“Wait, you said that your friends are trying to set you up with someone here too, right?”

He let out a sigh. “Yeah, they are.”

“And I’m guessing by that sigh that you don’t wanna do that?” You asked, and when he shook his head in answer, you continued. “Okay, I think we maybe can help each other get out of here. This might sound a little insane since we literally don’t know each other at all, but let’s just pretend we really like each other in front of our friends— like, be super flirty and whatever. And then we’ll leave here together, letting them think that we’re gonna…” The thought of saying the word suddenly made you feel awkward, so you didn’t. “Do what they want us to do.”

After taking a moment to process your sudden idea— you honestly wouldn’t have been surprised if the guy said no because it was pretty weird— he nodded. “That’s actually a really great idea.”

“Thank you. I’m known for my great ideas, actually,” You said, smiling at him as you reached out to grab his hand and intertwine it with yours.

If the thought of saying that you and this stranger were gonna have sex made you feel awkward, then abruptly holding his hand should’ve felt weird too, but surprisingly it didn’t. “Alright, let’s just act like we’re super into each other, I guess.”

“I’m Steve, by the way,” He told you.

“Oh, yeah, that’s probably important information to know,” You said and then proceeded to tell him your name too.

You led the way to your friends and the small corner of the bar where they were lingering by.

“Hey, guys, this is Steve,” You said and slapped on the happiest smile you could muster at the moment.

“Steve,” Danielle was the first one to say something after noticing your and Steve’s interlocked hands. “What’s your last name?”

“Harrington.”

And then Amy was jumping in. “How old are you?”

“Twenty-three.”

“What do you do?”

“I work at the record store down the street.”

“So, you’re a music guy?”

“Not really, I guess. My friend got me a job there.”

You decided to stop the interrogation before Steve got scared away by this back and forth questioning Danielle and Amy were doing. “Okay, okay, that’s enough of the interview. His friends are gonna think he ditched them or something.”

“You guys should come over to the table we’re at,” Steve said and then pointed in the direction of where his friends were with his free hand. “There’s enough room.”

You nodded at his words. “That’s a great idea.”

If Danielle or Amy were aware of this act you were putting on— how you were no longer rejecting their idea of you flirting with some guy to “get over” Elliott— they didn’t call you out on it. Instead, they agreed that going to the table with Steve’s friends was a good idea.

Quick introductions were made, and then the group settled into typical small talk. However, you and Steve deliberately fell into your own kind of “flirty conversation” and played it up for your friends, all of whom tried to pretend that they weren’t intensely watching you two, but they failed miserably at hiding their staring, which was exactly what you both wanted.

After a few minutes of exaggerated smiles and elated laughs, Steve leaned in close to your ear. “How long do you think we’re gonna have to do this?”

You softly giggled like he just whispered the sweetest thing to you and then leaned into his ear. “Follow my lead.”

You pulled back and then shifted so that you were standing closer to him, and he quickly took the hint and wrapped his arm around you.

“Hey,” You said, grabbing the attention of your friends and his, which was easy because they had already been half-listening to you and Steve anyway. “We’re gonna head out of here, so we’ll see you guys later.”

There was a mix of confused and surprised looks that crossed all over their faces for the briefest moment, and then Amy was the one to first say something. “Really?”

“Yeah,” You nodded. “I want to take Steve to my place to show him something.”

“Since I’ve never seen the second Home Alone movie, we’re gonna watch that,” Steve added. Out of all of the movies he could’ve said, you weren’t sure why he was mentioning a Christmas one in September, but sure, you’d play along.

“You’re gonna watch a movie?” Robin asked, somehow looking both skeptical and amused.

Steve nodded. “Yeah.”

“Yup,” You agreed as you reached up to lace your fingers with his hand that was around your shoulders and used that to push yourself even closer to him.

“Okay,” Eddie said, failing to bite back his grin. “Have fun watching a movie.”

“We will,” Steve told him and gave your hand a light squeeze.

“I’ll text you guys later,” You said to Danielle and Amy, who were looking at you with equally surprised but happy looks. After so many years of friendship, it was pretty easy to read each other, but you hoped that they couldn’t see through what you were doing; you hoped you were faking all of this well enough.

Neither of them said anything, though, and they instead nodded and said different versions of “We’ll talk to you in the morning,” which let you know that they were just happy that you were actually following through with what they wanted you to do tonight.

Steve pulled his arm from around you and just went to normally holding your hand, and you two said final goodbyes to your friends and then headed away from the table. You two stayed practically attached at the hip until you were out of the door. The cold hit you immediately, but it wasn’t too unbearable with your jacket on, although you still wished that you had opted for a better dress. You gave Steve a quick look as the bar door closed behind you both.

“Nice idea with the movie thing, even though Home Alone 2 is so random,” You said with a laugh. “They all definitely think we’re about to go have sex in my apartment.”

“I’ve kinda used that movie line before,” Steve said. “It’s been a while, but Robin and Eddie still know what it means.”

You gave him an amused smile. “Okay, so Home Alone 2 is code for ‘I’m about to go hook up with this random girl’?”

“No, I don’t use the same movie every time,” He laughed a little. “That one was just the first thing that came to my mind this time.”

You nodded as you slipped your hand from his and you reached into the pocket of your jacket to pull out your phone. You opened the Uber app and ordered a car so that you could finally go home.

“So, what are your plans for the rest of the night?” Steve asked as you slipped your phone back in your pocket.

“Head home and probably finish the bottle of wine that I had been drinking before my friends dragged me here, and then call my ex and leave very stupid voicemails.”

You didn’t mean to be so honest— if your friends had asked you that question, you would’ve lied and avoided any and all mentions of Elliott because you wanted to make it seem like you were dealing with the breakup just fine— but talking to Steve made you want to be truthful for some reason; maybe because you two were going through the same thing.

“That doesn’t sound like the best idea.”

“It’s not,” You agreed, but didn’t say that you wouldn’t still be following through with it.

Things became quiet as you two stood on this sidewalk, not at all as close as you two were when you were trying to play things up in front of your friends. There was actual space between you two for the first time in the last ten minutes, and you weren’t looking at him anymore, instead, you were focused on the quiet street. The faint sounds of all the noise coming from inside the bar managed to fill the silence, and you wondered if this was the part where you two were supposed to go your separate ways. Now that you helped each other get what you both wanted, what else was there to say or do?

You were about to mumble something along the lines of “Thanks for your help tonight,” but Steve was speaking before you could. “My ex texted me earlier.”

Weirdly enough, you actually felt a little relieved that he was keeping the conversation going. You honestly didn’t mind talking to him. There was something about this entire conversation that felt so simple and easy, even though you were talking about kind of shitty things.

You looked at him. “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

“My friends would say bad. And a part of me knows it’s bad too, but I don’t know,” He shrugged. “It’s kinda tempting.”

You understood what he meant completely, but you still gave him advice that you probably wouldn’t have taken for yourself. “Okay, well, if my opinion matters at all in this, which I know it probably doesn’t, you shouldn’t text her back.”

“And then, in that case, you shouldn’t drunk call your ex,” He reminded you.

“Why did you two break up?” You asked instead of outwardly agreeing with his words.

“She did it two weeks ago over the phone,” Steve told you. “She said that things were feeling “off” between us and maybe they always had been.”

“Ouch,” That word felt like an understatement to represent just how shitty breaking up with someone over a phone call was, but it was all you could manage to say right then.

He gave you a quick nod, breaking your gaze for a second, and then he threw the question your way. “What about you?”

“He wanted to move to California, and I wanted to stay here,” You answered. That was the short version of it; the easy version of it.

“Okay, that sounds pretty amicable,” Steve responded.

You almost simply agreed with him just to let this part of the conversation end, but it didn't feel right doing that. For reasons you couldn’t fully recognize just yet, you didn’t want to lie to Steve.

“It wasn’t,” You admitted softly. “The moving thing came up months ago, and if we were smart, we would’ve just ended things then, but we didn’t. I told him I didn’t want to move, and he said that was fine, but it definitely wasn’t fine. He started pulling away and being a dick, and we both became really shitty toward each other by the end of it until he finally broke up with me and then moved like he wanted to.”

“Okay, nevermind. That sounds like it sucked.”

“And yours seems pretty bad too,” You said. “Doing it over the phone is such a fucked move. Did you see it coming?”

“No, but also yes, which probably doesn’t even make sense,” He answered, and in your eyes, it did make sense, but you didn’t interrupt him to tell him that. “There was something that always felt “off” about us, but in the moment, it never seemed like that big of a deal. Looking back now, though, it’s so obvious that we were never gonna work, and I guess it’s kinda good that she ended it.”

“But, she texted you today,” You reminded him.

“Yeah,” He said and then sighed.

“I still don’t think you should say anything back to her,” You told him. “Now, after hearing that she broke up with you over the phone, she definitely doesn’t deserve a text back.”

“If you don’t call your ex tonight, I won’t text mine back,” Steve said, giving you a look that you couldn’t fully decipher, but you were still nodding at his words.

“Deal,” You said and then held out your hand for him to shake— because it felt like the obvious thing to do, even if the “deal” you two were making was a playful one— and he did. You didn’t understand how his hand was still warm after being out in the cold for the past few minutes, but it was nice all the same.

As if on cue, a car pulled up in front of the bar with the all too familiar Uber sticker in its windshield. You looked at it for a quick second and then at your phone to make sure it was the right car. And then after that confirmation, you looked at Steve.

“You coming?”

The confused look he gave you was immediate. “You want me to?”

You nodded and smiled at him. “Yeah, how else are we gonna make sure we both follow through with the deal we just made?”

“Makes sense,” Steve said, nodding back with a small, amused smile on his face, and then he followed you to the car.

You two sat on opposite ends in the backseat, and it was probably the first time all night that the silence between you two felt a little awkward.

“Can I read the text she sent you?” You asked, halfway through the ten-minute ride. “Sorry, if that’s weird, I don’t know why I’m so curious.”

“Not weird,” Steve told you as he tapped on his phone for a second and then handed it over to you.

You took a brief look at the previous messages sent between them, which was a lot of simple stuff, and then you focused on the most recent one.

I’ve been thinking about you a lot today. Maybe we can meet up soon and talk? Let me know when you’re free.

It was hard not to roll your eyes at the message. It felt almost too painstakingly equivalent to something Elliott had said to you the day he moved out of your apartment. His one final attempt to get you to change your mind and move to California with him, as if all the damage to your relationship hadn’t already been done.

You were about to hand Steve his phone back, but then you noticed something.

“Steve,” You said, looking at him in the darkness of the car. “Why is there still a heart by her name?”

“I haven’t gotten around to changing it yet,” He answered, which didn’t sound like the best excuse to you because you thought about how promptly you had changed Elliott’s contact name to “Asshole” once he left the apartment for the final time.

“Alright, let me do the honors for you,” You said as you deleted the red heart and then Monica’s name entirely and simply put “EX.” “Okay, here you go.”

You handed the phone back to him, and he looked at what you did and then laughed a little. “I don’t know why I thought you were gonna make it something a lot meaner.”

“It was tempting,” You started. “But, I don’t know her, so I don’t know what mean stuff would’ve been the most fitting.”

Steve nodded as he slipped his phone back in his pocket. “What’s your ex’s name?”

“Asshole in my contacts and Elliott in real life,” You answered and Steve laughed again and then said a quick, “Got it.”

You made it to your apartment building five minutes later and it took another five minutes, due to very shitty elevators, to make it to your actual apartment.

“Welcome to my place,” You said to Steve as you flicked on the light and then pulled off your jacket and hung it on one of the hooks by the front door, and slipped off your shoes.

“Did you just move in?” Steve asked, following suit and doing the same with his jacket, and then toeing off his shoes by the door as well.

The half-emptiness of your apartment didn’t really faze you anymore, but you understood how unfinished the place looked to someone who was seeing it for the first time.

“Oh, no, I’ve been here for almost three years now. When Elliott moved out, he took a lot of things, so it looks a little weird and half-decorated now,” You quickly explained, hoping that you successfully masked the sudden awkwardness in your voice because you now felt the tiniest bit embarrassed that you brought him here. “I’m still working on getting a new TV, so for now we can just watch something on my laptop if you want.”

Before Steve could say anything in response, you grabbed your laptop from where it sat on the small coffee table in your living room and then handed it over to him. “I’ll be right back; I need to get out of this dress. But you can put on whatever you want.”

“Okay,” You heard him say as you headed toward your bedroom.

It didn’t hit you how sort of insane this entire situation was until you closed your bedroom door behind you, and you were left alone for the first time since you met Steve near the bar bathrooms. Now, logical thinking was kicking in, and you considered just how much of a bad idea all of this was.

There was a guy who you barely knew in your apartment, and you had no plans on having sex with him, so this wouldn’t end up being a one-night stand kind of thing. So, what would happen instead? You two would simply talk and genuinely watch a movie, and then what?

Although you had no idea what the answer to that question was, it actually didn’t completely scare you. Because yes, this was kind of an odd set of circumstances, but you and Steve were going through the same thing, and that somehow made everything feel different. You weren’t nervous around him, and you hadn’t been all night; instead, things had felt weirdly easy, you realized. And you decided to keep leaning into that easy feeling and not overthink whatever this was or would be.

You slipped out of your dress and put on what was probably the most comfortable pair of pajama pants you owned and a simple t-shirt. When you stepped out of your bedroom and headed back into the living room, you saw Steve sitting on the couch, and a small, slightly amused smile tugged at your lips as you noticed what was playing on your laptop, which was opened up and back on the coffee table.

“Okay, I definitely didn’t expect you to put on a nature documentary,” You said as you sat down next to him, leaving a fair amount of space between you two. “I don’t know why I thought you’d put on something super boyish. Like, Die Hard or one of the million Fast and Furious movies.”

“Oh, I was planning on putting on Die Hard after this,” He said, and you immediately took notice of the playful tilt in his voice.

“An ocean documentary and Die Hard sounds like a solid double feature,” You joked back with a smile, and Steve laughed in response and then proceeded to tell you that this documentary was specifically about whales.

A comfortable silence began to linger as you grabbed the throw blanket that was folded on the back of the couch and spread it over your lap and then offered some of it to Steve, which he accepted— it was long enough to fit you both comfortably even though you weren’t right next to each other. And then you focused on the documentary and the Australian narrator talking about the vastness of the ocean.

“We can watch something else if you want,” Steve abruptly said about five minutes in. His words slightly surprised you because you had actually been finding the documentary pretty interesting so far and you hadn’t done anything to show otherwise. “My friends always hate when I put this on.”

You looked away from the laptop screen and at him. “How often do you watch this?”

“Whenever I’m not feeling great,” He answered, turning a little to look at you too. “Like, sick or sad.”

“Okay, and with your breakup, I guess this has been on repeat these past two weeks?” You asked, and the nod he gave you in response made you think that he was embarrassed by that answer, and you immediately wanted to make him not feel that way. “My personal sad go-to has been putting on this one reality show where people do dumb obstacle courses to win money. There’s like twenty seasons of that show and I’m halfway through it.”

“That’s what we should actually watch after this,” Steve said, giving you a playful smile.

“Yeah, and we can wallow in our collective sadness,” You nodded in agreement, which made him laugh. “And this will probably sound weird or just not even make sense, but I’m not even sad about me and him breaking up, because I know that it definitely needed to happen. I’m sad about basically wasting the last two years of my life with someone who didn’t end up being “the one” or whatever. Thinking about that feels so much worse than the breakup itself.”

Steve gave you a look that you couldn’t decipher at all. It was probably the first time all night that you felt slightly self-conscious under his gaze. You got the urge to look away from him and focus back on the whales on screen, but you didn’t.

Instead, your eyebrows furrowed. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Sorry, it’s just, I feel the exact same way pretty much,” He told you. “I’m not really that sad that Monica broke up with me, I just feel really stupid that we were even together in the first place. She didn’t really like my friends and would always make fun of my job.”

“Didn’t you say you work at a record store? What is there to make fun of about that?”

“She would say a lot of stuff about how ‘it’s a job that’s going nowhere,’ but then play it off like she was just joking.”

You were unable to hold back your grimace. “Wow, that sounds terrible.”

You noticed the embarrassed look cross his face and you felt the immediate need to change it.

“Sorry, sorry, I’m not judging,” You quickly told him. “Elliott called me a lot of mean things by the end, and I still stayed with him, so I know all about making dumb decisions in a relationship.”

Steve frowned at your words. “How mean?”

“So mean that you’re actually the first person I’ve even mentioned that to. It still feels way too embarrassing to bring it up to my friends,” You admitted, and it was then that you had to finally look away from him. “I don’t really get why it’s so easy to talk to you.”

“Probably because we’re basically strangers,” Steve said, and after considering his words for a second, you nodded. “And fuck him, by the way, for whatever mean shit he said to you. That sounds pretty terrible too.”

“That’s why I wanted to call him tonight and leave equally as mean drunk voicemails, but you talked me out of it,” You said, finally meeting Steve’s eyes again. “You’re right, though, it would’ve been stupid to do that.”

Steve shook his head. “Oh, when you said that, I thought you meant that you wanted to leave the sappy kind of drunk voicemails where you talk about wanting to get back with him or something.”

“Oh, no way. I was just gonna list off a bunch of bad things about him,” You responded. “Like, the kinds of things that when you’re dating the person, it just seems like a little quirk or bad habit that you can overlook, but in hindsight you’re like, why did I put up with any of that, y’know?”

Steve nodded understandingly. “Can I hear the list?”

“You sure you wanna hear me rant about my ex?” You asked him with an amused smile, and Steve laughed a little and nodded again. “Okay, he would always forget to turn off stuff before he left the apartment; the TV, lights, anything really. He never did the dishes and would always get a little annoyed when I asked him to do it. Oh, and he hated whenever I would beat him at any kind of games.”

“That’s a very solid list.”

“Also, he,” You started and then immediately cut yourself off, realizing that maybe you should have at least somewhat of a filter. “Nevermind, it’s stupid.”

Steve gave you a look. “Wait, now you have to say it.”

“He never…” You looked away from Steve’s curious gaze and instead focused on the blanket draped over your lap. You pulled at a random loose string as you said your next words. “He never went down on me.”

“Really?” He asked, and you simply nodded because it suddenly felt too hard to form words right then. “You were together for almost two years, and he didn’t do it once?”

You nodded again and then finally found your voice. “He said he wasn’t a “fan” of it. Meanwhile, he loved when I gave him a blowjob.”

It was pretty obvious that your filter was completely gone at this point; if it had ever even really been there in the first place when it came to Steve.

“Wow.”

You tilted your head at him. “I can’t tell what that wow means.”

“It means that he’s an idiot and you should’ve been the one dumping him, not the other way around, and also, once again, he’s definitely an idiot.”

You laughed a little. “Woah, who knew one word could mean so much?”

“Yeah, it has a ton of connotations to it,” Steve joked, smiling at you.

You both went back to watching the documentary on your laptop, but there was something about this part of the conversation that didn’t feel over yet. You didn’t feel like you could just go back to watching this whale documentary as if you hadn’t just admitted the most embarrassing thing about your sex life.

“Um, what about you, though?” You asked, and Steve looked at you again, a confused furrow to his eyebrows like he didn’t fully get what you meant by the question, so you elaborated. “What was shitty about your sex life?”

Steve was quiet at first, and for a second, you thought that maybe for the first time that night, you two had reached a question that was “too much,” or worse, there had been nothing bad about his sex life with his ex, so he had no answer to give you.

“Um, she always wanted to do the same thing,” Steve finally answered after what felt like the longest stint of silence ever, and you were completely confused by that response.

“What do you mean?”

“She only wanted to do missionary. Nothing else,” He explained. “And I know that it’s a classic, I get that completely, and it definitely is. But sometimes you just wanna change things up, y’know?”

You nodded instead of outwardly saying anything because you didn’t want to admit that aside from the lack of oral, your sex life with Elliott had been pretty good.

“So, almost a year of just missionary?” You asked, and Steve gave you a nod that seemed equivalent to the one you’d given him when it was you answering this kind of question. “What would you do if you could choose?”

You noticed his cheeks turning the tiniest hint of pink as he considered the question. “Oh, um, girl on top, I think. That one’s pretty good.”

You weren’t sure why you expected him to say something a little crazier, but you didn’t tell him that.

“Good choice,” Was what you said instead.

There was another lull in the conversation, and maybe that was where it should’ve finally ended, but there was something about it that still didn’t feel entirely over just yet.

“I could—”

“We could—”

Your and Steve’s suddenly spoken words stumbled over each other and made you both stop abruptly.

“What were you gonna say?” He asked.

You shook your head. “You can go first.”

“No, no, I’m a gentleman,” Steve told you, a small smile on his face. “So, ladies first.”

You rolled your eyes at him, but there was nothing serious behind it. “I was gonna say that maybe we could… Maybe we could help each other out. Like, show one another what the other was ‘missing out on’ while they were in their relationship.” You then rushed out your next words before Steve could respond to your previous ones. “What were you gonna say?”

“I was gonna say that I could do what your ex didn’t want to do for you.”

“Just me?” You asked, and he nodded. “Well, it wouldn’t be fair if you got nothing out of this.”

Steve gave you a quick shrug. “I wasn’t really thinking about me.”

You teasingly smiled at him. “Wow, you truly are a gentleman.”

He laughed. “I told you.”

“If we did actually do this, though,” You started. “I would also wanna do your thing too.”

“Yeah?”

You nodded. “Yeah. If you go down on me, I’ll happily ride you.”

Finally outwardly saying the words made you laugh a little; you couldn’t help it. None of what was happening right then felt exactly weird, but it was definitely… surprising.

“This is such an insane conversation,” Steve responded, laughing too.

“Oh, yeah, it definitely is,” You said, looking away from him and focusing back on your laptop screen for a second. “We could just go back to watching the documentary and pretend this never happened.”

“Is that what you wanna do?”

“Not really, no,” You admitted. Logically, your answer probably should’ve been the opposite, but you honestly couldn’t imagine saying yes to his previous question and actually pretending that this conversation hadn’t happened. “Do you?”

Steve shook his head. “No.”

“Okay, so it’s settled then. Should we shake on this too?” You asked, mainly joking with your words.

“Yes, definitely,” He said, playing along. “That’s the only way it will be real.”

You scooted a little closer to him, closing most of the space between you two on the couch, and then held out your hand. “So, deal?”

He grabbed your outstretched hand and shook it. “Deal.”

This was the second handshake shared between you two, but this one felt charged with something different than the one outside the bar.

Steve’s hand was warm against yours, and you were also noticing how soft it was too. Your eyes stayed on his, and even though you didn’t really know him that well, if at all, you still felt as if you somehow understood what was going on in his head because it matched exactly what was happening in yours.

With your hands still linked together, he pulled you closer, and then let go at the last second to find your cheek and slot his lips against yours. It was messy at first, a sudden clash of tongues and teeth, but it also felt really good, and it took only a second for you two to find your collective rhythm.

Steve was a great kisser, which surprised you because first kisses with people were never this good, and they definitely never felt this right. There were always some sort of growing pains as you navigated what to do and figured out what the other wanted, but that somehow wasn’t the case for you and Steve.

You definitely didn’t expect your first post-Elliott kiss to be damn near perfect, and you decided not to think too much about what exactly it meant that it was happening with Steve; a guy you’d barely known for two hours.

“You’re really good at this,” You mumbled against his lips.

“What? Kissing?” He whispered back in between each one.

“Yeah.”

Steve pulled back to look at you, a small, amused smile playing on his lips. “Thanks. You’re really good too.”

You suddenly started feeling shy under his gaze, so you quickly leaned back in to get him to stop looking at you so sweetly. His hand still holding your cheek kept you steady and further warmed your already burning skin, and you let out the softest sound against his mouth when his free hand slipped beneath your shirt and found your waist, giving the bare skin a quick squeeze.

You wanted to move out of this awkward side-by-side position and sit in his lap, but you also wanted to get off the couch completely, so you abruptly pulled away from him and stood up. Wordlessly, your hand found Steve’s again, and you led him to your bedroom.

The second the door was closed behind you both, Steve’s mouth eagerly found yours again, which made you smile into the kiss, as he walked you back toward the bed. The second the backs of your knees hit the foot of the bed, he gently pushed you down on top of it.

Before he could even ask or say anything, you were pulling your t-shirt off and tossing it somewhere to the side, and then doing the same with your pajama pants. The look he gave you as you now lay on your bed, half naked with only your bra and underwear on, made something stir in your stomach.

“You okay up there?” You asked after a moment, making your voice light and playful, and also trying to push away the feelings that were starting to make a home in your stomach.

“Yeah, I’m fine, it’s just… Fuck,” He let out a breath. “You’re really pretty.”

You had to turn your head and look away from him then, but you still couldn’t help but smile at his words as your cheek pressed into the blanket.

This was just supposed to be another case of two people helping each other out. This wasn’t supposed to be so sweet and nice and serious, right? You weren’t sure, but you could inwardly admit that you liked hearing him call you pretty.

You still weren’t looking, but you could feel Steve settle on top of you and lean in to press his lips to your exposed neck, making you let out a quiet moan.

He sucked on your skin, a sensitive spot on the underside of your jaw that had you mewling for him, as his hand moved down toward your cunt. He pulled your underwear to the side and slowly pressed his middle finger into your slick folds.

“Shit,” He mumbled against your neck. “You’re soaked.”

You let out a soft breath. “Like I said, you’re really good at this.”

He pulled away from your clit and out of your wetness completely and you let out a whine in protest, but then his fingers were hooking into the waistband of your underwear and dragging them down your legs. Your bra was next, and you sat up a bit so that he could unhook it and toss it to the side.

“Fuck,” Steve said, leaning back to simply just look at you for a moment. “You look so perfect for me.”

You were completely naked now, and he was still fully clothed, but you didn’t even feel shy under his lust-filled gaze because you really liked the way he was looking at you in this moment.

Before you could make any move to grab at the ends of his t-shirt to at least pull that off of him, his mouth was on you once again, pressing a quick kiss to your lips and then moving to your neck and continuing lower and lower.

Your eyes slipped shut, and you let out the softest sounds as he slowly trailed down your stomach and went to your hips and then to your inner thighs, teasingly pressing his mouth against your warm skin at every spot. You felt his hands hook around your thighs and pull you closer to him.

“Hey,” Steve said to grab your attention, and your eyes met his. Looking at him with his head between your legs and his mouth so close to where you needed him to be was probably the hottest thing you’d ever seen. “Tell me if you want me to do anything differently, okay?”

You nodded before softly saying, “Okay.”

Your head fell back against the bed when his tongue ran a long slow stripe up your slit. He stopped at your clit, circling the bundle of nerves before latching his lips around it and giving it a quick suck. The gasp in pleasure and surprise you let out in response was immediate.

After one too many rejections from Elliott, you told yourself that you didn’t like oral anyway, always reminding yourself of other times with past partners when it had been rushed and sloppy. But now you knew just how much you’d been lying to yourself because this felt fucking phenomenal. Steve’s mouth felt perfect on you, and there was nothing about this moment that felt rushed or half-baked, like he was just trying to quickly get to the next thing.

He slipped two fingers inside of you, pushing in as deep as he could go and his mouth went to your clit again. Your fingers threaded through his hair as he lapped at the sensitive bundle of nerves. Steve could tell just how much you were enjoying yourself with every tug on his hair and the contented sounds you were making above him.

His hand still on your thigh squeezed roughly as he started to suck hard on your clit, which pushed you closer and closer to the edge. It should’ve maybe felt a little embarrassing— how quickly he was about to make you come only from his mouth and fingers— but everything just felt so fucking good that you didn’t care how fast he was making the tight knot in your stomach feel as if it was going to explode.

“Steve, I- I’m gonna… Fuck,” You trailed off with a loud moan. Words were alluding in this moment as Steve continued his ministrations against your dripping cunt; his mouth on the most sensitive part of you and his fingers deep inside you, curling against an almost too perfect spot.

Your own fingers pulled a little harder at his dark locks, which made him moan against your clit and the vibrations from that abruptly sent you over the edge.

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” The words fell from your lips in a sort of whispered chant as your back arched sharply off the bed and you saw stars behind your eyes.

Steve continued exactly what he was doing as you came, your moans and whimpers sounding like music to his ears. He happily took and lapped at everything you gave him, absolutely loving the taste of you on his tongue. He continued to finger you and eat you out through your orgasm until he felt you become too overstimulated.

“Fuck,” You squeaked out when his tongue did one final teasing lick against the sensitive bundle of nerves. “Fuck, that was really good.”

Steve pulled away, and he sat up a little, smiling as he watched you come down from your high. “I’m sorry you’ve had to miss out on that for the past two years.”

You let out a breath of a laugh. “Thank you for the condolences.”

Your heart rate slowly returned to normal, and you turned to Steve, who was now sitting next to you, and you took notice of the obvious tint in his jeans.

You reached out to palm his hard length. “Girl on top is what you wanted, right?”

He let out a low groan. “Mhm, yeah, but only if you want to do that.”

“Steve,” You said so his eyes would meet yours, and then you proceeded to give him the reassurance that it seemed so clear that he needed. “I really want to do that for you.”

He looked at you so sweetly, and this time you didn’t look away, you simply just smiled back at him as you crawled into his lap.

Your fingers immediately grabbed the ends of his t-shirt to pull it up and off of him. “Let’s make things even, yeah?”

He nodded, and you shifted back a bit so that you could work on the button of his jeans. You then lifted your hips so that he could push his jeans and boxers down his legs and off him completely.

Your eyes became glued to his hard cock. You didn’t really know what you were expecting, but he was huge and you could feel yourself becoming wetter at the thought of him filling you up.

“You have such a pretty cock, Steve,” You whispered as you wrapped a hand around him and brushed your thumb over his slick tip. He groaned in pleasure, and one of his hands immediately found your hip in response, squeezing the bare skin.

A part of you wanted him to be rougher; you honestly didn’t mind the thought of finding Steve-shaped bruises on your skin in the morning. However, you didn’t tell him that because this moment wasn’t about you.

“Does that feel good?” You asked instead, voice soft and gentle, as if you couldn’t tell the answer to your question just by all the sounds Steve was making and by the way he was twitching in your hand.

“Perfect,” He groaned out, eyes meeting yours just for a second before he was looking down and watching as you kept slowly stroking him from base to tip. “Fucking perfect.”

You smiled and wondered if this was how he felt when the roles were reversed and you were the one who was a mess below him.

“Shit, I need,” Steve let out a strangled breath and his head fell back against the headboard with a soft thud. “Really need to be inside of you.”

You nodded, even though he wasn’t looking at you, and let go of him to reach over and grab a condom from your nightstand drawer.

Steve watched as you tore open the foil packet and slipped the condom on his cock; it was probably one of the hottest things he’d ever seen.

“Do you want me to turn around and take it that way, or like, how do you want this?” You asked, meeting his half lidded eyes as you went back to stroking his cock. After what he’d just done for you, you wanted this to be perfect for him.

“No, I wanna see you,” He said, free hand coming up to gently stroke your cheek.

You could feel your skin warm under his touch; somehow, that felt like the most intimate thing he’d done to you so far tonight. You nodded at his words instead of saying anything because you were pretty certain your words would’ve failed you anyway.

You lifted your hips so that you could line him up with your slick entrance and then your eyes met his as you slowly lowered yourself onto him, completely taking his cock inside of you.

Your and Steve’s collective moans filled the quiet air, and you were the one to break eye contact with him because your eyes were pinching shut.

Both of his hands shot to your hips to keep you from moving, which was good because you needed a moment to adjust to the feeling of being so full of him.

“Shit, I’m gonna fucking explode if you move right now,” Steve mumbled, looking down at how well you were taking him.

“That’s okay,” You told him softly. Your hands rested on his shoulders for a quick moment, and then they tangled in the hair at the nape of his neck.

He let out a chuckle and met your gaze. “I want this to last more than two seconds.” One of his hands came up to find your breast. “And I also want you to come with me.”

You hummed at the feeling of his fingers squeezing your already hard nipple. “Still such a gentleman.”

Steve laughed again, and that sound turned into a low groan when you lifted your hips ever so slightly and then sank back down onto him.

“God, you feel so good,” He rambled out. “Taking me so fucking well.”

His words sent a jolt of pleasure through your body. “‘M so full.”

“Yeah?” Steve asked teasingly, and you simply nodded, words failing you the moment he pushed up into you.

Whatever control you had was lost. You were technically riding him, but he was doing most of the work, and it seemed as if that was exactly what he wanted. He had a near-bruising grip on your hips as he guided your movements and hit all of the right places with each thrust.

Your face became buried in his neck when it all felt like too much. “Fuck, I’m so close.”

Your words were whispered against his soft skin, and you could feel his nod in response. “Yeah, me too.”

He slipped a hand between your bodies so that he could find your clit and you sucked in a breath when his thumb started circling it.

“I wanna see you,” He groaned when he felt you clench around his cock, and at first all you could do was hum against his skin in response. “I wanna see you come for me.”

You pulled back and met his gaze, hands finding his bare shoulders to keep you steady. It was harder to do than you expected because of how much you wanted to let your eyes slip shut and simply just take everything Steve was giving you.

“Hi,” You softly said to him instead of closing your eyes or letting your head fall back in pleasure due to his teasing strokes against your clit.

“Hi,” He gave you a smile that made your stomach flutter and his hand on your hip pulled you harder against his cock. “You gonna come for me?”

You could only moan in response and give him a meek nod, forcing your eyes to stay on his. The knot in your stomach was tightening and tightening, almost ready to completely unravel.

“Go ahead,” He said as he thrusted up into you. “Let go.”

“Ah,” You dug your nails into his shoulders the second your orgasm hit you. He looked at you so fondly, like he truly cared about making you feel good, and that only made you come harder, walls fluttering around his cock.

You once again buried your face in the crook of his neck, sucking the skin and leaving red marks that would be there later. You landed on what you would later realize was an especially sensitive spot on his neck because the second your tongue grazed over it, Steve was letting out a loud moan and spilling into the condom.

“Fuck,” He muttered as he came and his hands squeezed your hips to keep you firmly planted on his cock.

You pulled away from his neck to watch him come apart beneath you. It was probably the prettiest thing you'd ever seen— his blown-out pupils, his mouth slightly parted in a moan, and a few locks of his messy hair falling against his forehead.

Your and his movements slowed as you both came down from your highs. With his hands still on you, he shifted things so that you two were lying sideways on the bed. His softening cock slipped out of you in the process and you couldn’t help but quietly whine at the feeling.

You two became a tangle of limbs and warm bodies, and your arms circled around his neck to push yourself even closer to him.

“Was that good for you?” You asked, soft words hitting right against his ear. “You did like all of the work when it should’ve been the opposite.”

His fingers began mindlessly stroking the bare skin of your back. “No, that was really good.”

“Mm,” You hummed in response. “Okay, but it does slightly feel like I ended up getting a better outcome to the deal than you.”

Steve let out a laugh at your playful words as he pulled away from you, and it took a lot of willpower to not protest his actions and keep him close to you. He pointed at a door, silently asking if that was where the bathroom was, and you nodded in response and he headed in.

You got up from your bed and started picking up the clothes that had been haphazardly thrown around the room. You slipped on your t-shirt and underwear, and when Steve emerged from the bathroom, you handed him his shirt and boxers.

It almost felt a little comical remembering that when you first let Steve into your apartment, you inwardly told yourself that you weren’t gonna have sex with him, and this wouldn’t turn into a one-night stand type of situation.

And now here you two were.

However, weirdly enough, the thought of this moment following the typical one-night stand rules— Steve leaving right now and you two never seeing each other again— didn’t sit right with you.

“Have you really not seen Home Alone 2 before?” You asked Steve as he finished slipping on his t-shirt. The talk of that movie had been such a minor moment in the conversation at the bar earlier, but still, you remembered him mentioning it.

“No, I haven’t,” He answered.

“Me neither, actually,” You told him. Christmas movies had never really been your favorites. “Do you maybe wanna watch it now?”

You knew what your words meant— that you didn’t want him to leave yet, that you wanted him to stay a little longer— and he understood that too.

He gave you a small smile and nodded. “Okay. And this is probably the best time to also admit that I’ve never seen the first one either.”

You let out a laugh as you headed into your living room, where your laptop was still playing the documentary from earlier, and Steve followed right behind you. “Okay, double feature it is, then.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

let me know your thoughts<333

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine

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pucksandpower · 5 months ago

Text

Nothing to Prove

Charles Leclerc x Vettel!Reader

Summary: it’s a tale as old as time — every female sports fan has been told to “prove” her fandom at least once in her life — but the man quizzing you quickly learns the error of his ways

The Miami sun beats down relentlessly as you make your way through the bustling paddock, your destination the familiar red and white of the Ferrari motorhome. The air buzzes with pre-race excitement, mechanics and team personnel darting about like worker bees in a particularly colorful hive.

You’re so focused on navigating the crowd that you almost don’t notice the young man who steps directly into your path, phone held aloft. His grin is a touch too smug for comfort.

“Excuse me, miss,” he says, voice dripping with false politeness. “Mind if I ask you a few questions for my TikTok?”

You hesitate, torn between ingrained courtesy and a gnawing sense of unease. “I’m actually in a bit of a hurry-”

“It’ll only take a minute,” he insists, already hitting record. “So, tell me, what’s your favorite thing about Formula 1?”

The question seems innocent enough, but there’s something in his tone that sets your teeth on edge. Still, you decide to play along for now. “Well, I love the strategy, the technology, the way the whole sport pushes the boundaries of what’s possible-”

He cuts you off with a laugh. “Come on, be honest. It’s the hot drivers, right? That’s why most girls watch.”

You blink, momentarily stunned by his blatant misogyny. “Excuse me?”

“No judgment!” He says, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “I get it, they’re all rich and fit. But let’s see how much you really know. Who won the 1976 World Championship?”

You open your mouth to answer, but he barrels on.

“What’s the difference between understeer and oversteer? How many points do you get for fastest lap? Come on, if you’re a real fan, this should be easy!”

Your initial discomfort has morphed into full-blown anger. “Look, I don’t have to prove anything to you. My knowledge of the sport isn’t-”

“Ah, so you can’t answer,” he says, triumphant. “Just as I thought. Another pretty face here for the-”

“Is there a problem here?”

The smooth voice comes from just behind you, followed by the warmth of a familiar body pressing against your back. Strong arms wrap around your waist, and you instinctively lean into the embrace.

The TikToker’s eyes go wide as saucers as he takes in the newcomer. “You’re ... you’re ...”

“Charles Leclerc,” your boyfriend finishes for him, voice deceptively mild. “And you are ...”

The young man sputters, clearly thrown off his game. “I’m ... I mean... I was just asking your girl here some questions about F1.”

Charles’ arms tighten fractionally around you. “Is that so? Because from where I was standing, it sounded more like an interrogation.”

You turn your head slightly, meeting Charles’ gaze. His green eyes are blazing with a protective fury that makes your heart skip a beat.

“It’s fine,” you murmur. “He was just leaving.”

Charles raises an eyebrow at the TikToker, who’s looking increasingly desperate to be anywhere else. “You heard the lady.”

But the young man, perhaps realizing his video is about to become internet gold, rallies. “Wait! I mean, no offense, but how do we know she’s not just with you for the fame? Can she even name your teammate?”

You feel Charles tense behind you, but before he can speak, you’ve had enough. You step out of his embrace, squaring up to the TikToker.

“Carlos Sainz Jr.,” you say, voice hard. “Currently P4 in the championship. And since you’re so keen on quizzing people, James Hunt won in ‘76, understeer is when the front of the car doesn’t turn enough while oversteer is when the rear steps out too much, and you get one point for fastest lap if you finish in the top ten. Any other burning questions?”

The TikToker gapes at you, clearly unprepared for this turn of events. Charles, for his part, looks like he’s trying very hard not to laugh.

“I ... but ...” the young man stammers.

You press on, building up a head of steam. “Oh, and fun fact — my brother has four World Championships. But I’m sure you knew that, being such an expert and all.”

The TikToker’s face drains of color as realization dawns. “Your brother? You’re Sebastian Vettel’s sister?”

Charles can’t contain his amusement any longer. He laughs, the sound rich and warm. “I tried to warn you. You’ve awakened the beast.”

You shoot him a mock glare. “You’re not helping.”

He holds up his hands in surrender, still grinning. “Far be it from me to interfere with your righteous fury. Please, continue.”

The TikToker looks like he wants the ground to swallow him whole. “I ... I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize-”

“That women can be genuine fans?” You interrupt. “That we might actually understand and love the sport for its own sake? Or just that you shouldn’t make assumptions about people based on their gender?”

He winces. “All of the above?”

Charles steps forward, placing a hand on your shoulder. The touch is gentle, but there’s steel in his voice when he speaks. “I think it’s time for you to go. And delete that video while you’re at it.”

The young man nods frantically, fumbling with his phone. In his haste to retreat, he trips over his own feet, sprawling ungracefully on the ground. Charles moves to help him up, ever the gentleman, but you put a restraining hand on his arm.

“Let him sort himself out,” you mutter. “A little humiliation might do him some good.”

Charles chuckles, pulling you close. “Remind me never to get on your bad side.”

As the TikToker scrambles away, face burning with embarrassment, you allow yourself to relax into Charles’ embrace. The adrenaline of the confrontation leaves you feeling a bit shaky.

“You okay?” Charles asks softly, pressing a kiss to your temple.

You nod, letting out a long breath. “Yeah. Just ... frustrated. Why do people still think like that?”

He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “I wish I knew. It’s not fair, the assumptions people make.”

“It’s not just about me,” you say, turning to face him fully. “It’s about all the female fans out there who get treated like this. Who get quizzed and belittled and have their passion questioned at every turn.”

Charles nods, his expression serious. “You’re right. It’s a bigger problem than just one idiot with a TikTok account.”

“Sometimes I wonder if it will ever change,” you admit, feeling a wave of exhaustion wash over you.

Charles cups your face in his hands, his touch impossibly gentle. “It will,” he says with conviction. “Because of people like you who stand up and call it out. Who refuse to let ignorance go unchallenged.”

You lean into his touch, allowing yourself a small smile. “When did you get so wise?”

He grins, some of his usual playfulness returning. “I have my moments. Don’t tell anyone though, it’ll ruin my reputation.”

You laugh, the tension finally starting to dissipate. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

Charles leans in, resting his forehead against yours. “I’m proud of you, you know,” he murmurs. “The way you handled that ... it was impressive.”

“Yeah?” You ask, a hint of vulnerability creeping into your voice.

“Absolutely,” he says firmly. “You were brilliant. Fierce. Passionate.” His voice drops lower, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Incredibly sexy.”

You swat his arm playfully. “Behave yourself, Leclerc. We’re in public.”

He affects an innocent expression that doesn’t fool you for a second. “I’m always on my best behavior.”

You snort. “That’s what worries me.”

Charles laughs, the sound bright and carefree. It never fails to make your heart soar. He takes your hand, lacing his fingers through yours. “Come on, let’s get to the motorhome. I think we both could use a moment of peace before the craziness really begins.”

As you walk hand in hand through the paddock, you can’t help but reflect on the incident. It leaves a sour taste in your mouth, but there’s also a spark of hope. Because for every misogynistic TikToker, there are countless fans — of all backgrounds — who love the sport for what it is. Who appreciate the skill, the strategy, the sheer spectacle of it all.

And maybe, just maybe, standing up to ignorance one interaction at a time is how change really happens.

Charles squeezes your hand, pulling you from your thoughts. “What’s going on in that beautiful mind of yours?”

You smile, leaning into him slightly as you walk. “Just thinking about how lucky I am. To be here, doing what I love. To have people in my life who support me and believe in me.”

He brings your joined hands to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles. “The luck goes both ways, mon cœur. You make me better, on and off the track.”

As you approach the Ferrari motorhome, its bright red a beacon in the sea of team colors, you feel a renewed sense of purpose. There will always be challenges, always be those who try to tear others down. But with love, determination, and a refusal to back down from what’s right, anything is possible.

Even changing the world of Formula 1, one small interaction at a time.

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nereidprinc3ss · 7 months ago

Text

trolley problem

in which fem!reader has been gambling with her life and spencer reid is more than a little concerned

flangst, hurt/comfort warnings/tags: passive suicidal ideation from reader, she keeps risking her life, that really grinds Spencer’s gears, established relationship, existential dread, existential euphoria, lots of stuff about grief and death and self worth, not advocating for this, pretension from the author, blasphemy probably?, reader gets fuzzy from prescribed painkillers, arguing, hospital stuff, mention of sleep paralysis involving spiders, reader gets shot but she’s fineee, I pander to intro to philosophy takers, bau!reader, neurodivergent coded reader, if she’s not exactly like you I’m sorry, bean soup a/n: one day you’re in a writing slump literally the next you are in your notes app for six hours writing whatever the fuck this is but I think I love it even tho it’s weird and I hope u like it too!! btw this was gonna be called cotard's syndrome but then I never once talk abt cotard's but if u care that might be interesting context for the motif of not feeling human/alive, WC 3K

Spencer hasn’t spoken to you since the doctor left the room five minutes ago.

The air is antiseptic as you take it deep into the hollows of your lungs and trap it there for a moment, trying to optimize oxygen intake without actually having to breathe very often. Hospital smell is as universal as it is suffocating. It reeks of everything but death—flowers, blood, bleach, vomit. A humiliating, desperate scramble to defy the very thing that defines mortality. It’s pathetic. It reminds you of the worst instances of failure and loss and denial in your life. It curdles your blood. Literally rots you from the inside out.

You’ve had ample time to ponder that smell over the last few months because you keep ending up here, and some time ago you decided the institution of the hospital is inherently absurd. It’s stupid to think you could avoid the one absolute condition on your corporeal form: impermanence. It is the only thing that is promised, and people still waste their lives away running from it. It is the ultimate self-fulfilling prophecy.

So around the time you acknowledged that hospitals are simply monuments to the self-importance of man, you gave up on trying too hard to preserve yourself. You’ve seen death too much and too often. You’ve tried staving it off with prayer and the miracles of modern medicine, and it never matters in the end because it’s all magical thinking anyway. All the wallowing and the bargaining and pleading never got you anywhere.

You’ve accepted that from the moment you were born, you were marked for death.

But you’re not a complete nihilist. You’re not even totally resigned to the abject certainty of death—because you’ve found a loophole.

Everyone has as many chances at escaping death as other people are willing to offer them at the cost of their own lives. Not many people are willing to make that trade—someone else’s life for their own—but you’ve decided you are. Because if not you, then who?

It’s not that you don’t see the value in your own life, as Spencer keeps making it sound. It’s just the opposite. You understand that you’ve got an extremely valuable resource, and you don’t just have to sit on it. There are things you can do. Choices you can make. Ways to defy death.

Just… not yours.

Or maybe you’re just in deep denial.

Either way—this is a philosophy your boyfriend intentionally refuses to understand. He gets mad, or some kind of upset, every time you try to explain it. Usually he ends up leaving the room close to tears. You never feel good about it.

Right now he’s presumably trying to give you the silent treatment and not doing a very good job.

“Stop holding your breath. Why are you—stop that.”

Spencer’s frowning, skin sallow and milk-blue under fluorescent lighting. Purple seeps from around his eyes like spilled wine on a white table cloth. Your stomach turns.

“Sorry.”

He doesn’t tell you not to apologize. You don’t expect him to.

“Why are you doing that? Does something hurt?”

Other than your entire bicep being on fire due to the 9 millimeter Luger it recently came into contact with?

“Not really. I just don’t like the smell of hospitals.”

At that, he gets stony again. Like, Medusa stony. You feel a tightening in your chest that has nothing to do with a lack of air. His arms are crossed. A silk lined blazer drapes over your lap, and you wonder if he’s cold in just that white button up. It’s translucent in this light, like onion skin, or maybe something less organic—the folds and wrinkles look like fabric, but lots of things look like something they aren’t. In the Pietá, Jesus lounges dead on his mother’s lap, his cheek pressed to her arm like either of them have warm flesh, and her skirts drape from her knees and fall to the ground in delicate folds just like Spencer’s jacket and looking at pictures of it you swear you could find comfort there too—but if you wanted to make space for yourself next to Jesus you’d have to do it with a chisel and mallet. You’re starting to think that’s what it’s going to take with Spencer, as well.

“So stop walking into active gunfire. You’ll spend a lot less time here.”

Every deep sigh (of which there have been several) calcifies you further. Ironically, you never feel less alive than you do in a hospital.

“I didn’t walk into active g—”

“I’m not debating it with you. It’s not a discussion.”

“So you’re just going to be pissed at me for the rest of forever? I mean, if it’s not a discussion—what are you gonna do? Break up with me?”

You feel yourself dripping poison in the well. Even as you say it. As his head tilts toward you slowly and intently from his spot against the wall, and his warning gaze is cold and unforgiving and weighs 3.35 tons.

“Don’t.”

“Don’t what? Talk?”

“Don’t try and manipulate me by implying that there are no options between permissiveness and dumping you!”

“I’m not manipulating you. And I don’t need your permission to do anything.”

The first part is an incredulous scoff as well as a blatant lie. You are manipulating him. Chisel and all. At least, you were trying to. It clearly doesn’t work very well. His jaw clenches.

“Is this worth it to you? Fighting with me like we’re children solely so you don’t have to take accountability?”

“Accountability for what? I made a choice. I don’t regret it. You’re upset because I did my job.”

A beat.

Silence always makes you feel the gravity of your words.

“Do you believe that?”

His voice softens so much, so quickly, it splinters down the middle.

You’ve never been known for your light touch. For someone who sees eviscerated bodies nearly every day, and prides herself on her evolved understanding of mortality, you often forget other people are not, in fact, impenetrable marble—they are flesh and blood and bone, and you’ve splattered yourself in the evidence of that.

“What?” You murmur. You easily turn timid, when you’re afraid you’ve been too heavy-handed. Spencer’s seen you sob over the birds who hit the windowpane and never reappeared from the shrubbery—their delicate wings, their little beaks—he didn’t mean to, Spencer, and now he’s dead! He’s seen you spend forty minutes catching a spider with a cup and an envelope rather than smush it, even though you have reoccurring episodes of sleep paralysis wherein a giant arachnid is sitting on your chest, hissing and clacking its pincers. He knows you are, at your core, kind and good.

It’s a little scary for someone to know that about you. It’s a little scary when you see your own vulnerability reflected in their eyes and the way they speak to you, the way you see it in him now.

“Do you believe that the choices you make regarding your safety don’t concern me at all?”

“They’re… my choices to make,” you whisper, but you’re less sure than you were a minute ago.

“I’m not talking about that—I’m talking about how it feels like you are trying to kill yourself every time we’re in the field.” His voice shakes. You swallow. “You have been hospitalized for four serious injuries sustained on the job in the past five months. Every time I bring it up, you—you talk about life like it’s optional for you. Like you’re not only willing to give it up but are actively looking to throw yourself in harm’s way every chance you get. You think that doesn’t terrify me?”

There’s a small chip in the paint on the wall next to him roughly the shape of Africa.

“It’s not like that. I’m… I’m just having an unlucky streak.”

He snaps.

“Luck isn’t going to get between you and a bullet. Ever.”

“It’s my job, Spencer.”

“No. It is a risk of the job. Not a defining feature or requirement. But you keep running toward gunfire like you have a quota to meet.”

“Spencer, I’m not doing it at you. I’m not trying to get myself hurt.”

“Well it doesn’t really feel like you’re trying to avoid it, either,” he shoots back immediately, and you feel the anguish radiating from him until it lodges in your own chest, like it was always yours. Maybe it was.

You want to make it better, but you don’t know how, and even if you did, he’s pushing off the wall and crossing the room toward the door.

“Where are you going?” You call, a little too desperately for your liking.

“You need to eat something.”

Which translates roughly to he’s pissed and upset and he needs to leave the room. You’ve done this song and dance before.

However, food and an absence of him are contenders for the absolute last two things you want right now.

“Spencer, please don’t—”

But the door is already whooshing closed.

You stare at the grey and white checkered floor. Light bounces off the waxen reflection—some sort of parallel universe you can’t reach, perhaps. The whole room is desaturated. A mechanical humming threatens to drive you insane. It doesn’t feel like a place for living humans. You’re not convinced you are one.

When he comes back, maybe ten minutes later, nothing’s moved at all. In fact you’re not even sure you’ve been breathing.

The door closes as quietly as it opens.

This time, wordlessly, Spencer comes to you. You see his shoes first—his serious adult shoes. You wish he was wearing his Converse.

Then you see the bottle of apple juice he’s cracking open for you. Blue lid. Same kind you always get.

“You didn’t bring food.”

“You wouldn’t have eaten it.”

Fair enough.

You take the bottle with your good arm and sip shallowly—all that adrenaline and the subsequent interpersonal strife has left you nauseous. The drink is too sweet. It clashes with the tang of metal in your mouth.

Still, you drink enough to satisfy him, and then you’re tossing his jacket aside before balancing the bottle between your thighs so you can screw the lid back on. He doesn’t go back to the couch or his spot on the wall.

Spencer doesn’t pull away when you lean into him, but it does take him a moment to reciprocate. You’re still grateful all the same when he cradles the back of your head to his stomach like you’re made of porcelain.

“I don’t think you understand how upset I am,” he says quietly.

Only Spencer Reid could be furious with you and still hold you like this.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur.

“That’s not good enough. You need to stop risking your life like that.”

He doesn’t get it. Your brows flutter as they try to furrow but even holding that expression saps you. Maybe the pain meds are finally kicking in.

“I just wanna help people.”

“That doesn’t explain to me or justify your urge to do it at the cost of your own life. We all want to help people, angel. The whole team. That’s why we do what we do. But we don’t run into shootouts. We don’t split off and provoke people with guns when we’re unarmed and unprepared.”

“But it worked. She got away.” You feel a spark of fulfillment at the memory of Gloria Sanchez in JJ’s arms just before the ambulance doors had slammed you into your first cage of the night.

“We don’t know if he was going to kill her. He might not’ve fired at all if you didn’t go running toward him. That wasn’t strategic, it was reckless and irresponsible and you know that. I know you do. So something else is going on.”

The pressure in your nose that usually precipitates tears comes as a surprise.

“I just—if that’s how I can save someone, why shouldn’t I, you know? Why do they have less of a right to live than I do just because they’ve been deprived of the choice? If I have a choice, and they don’t, I should choose to… to help them. That’s my job.”

For a long moment, you listen to your own breath, muffled by Spencer’s shirt, and the mechanical humming, and something dripping, and the low, buzzy chatter of nurses far down the hallway.

When Spencer next speaks you get the sense he’s holding a lot back. His voice is taut enough it wavers slightly. Taut enough that if he weren’t speaking so quietly he might be yelling. It’s like pinpricks all over your body—not enough to hurt, but enough to make sure you’re paying attention.

“You can’t help anyone if you’re dead. Do you understand me?”

And yes, in theory, you do. But that doesn’t negate your original point. It only takes one life or death moment for you to utilize the most valuable resource you have. What happens after is no longer your concern.

“On the psych evals you helped develop it asks if you think it’s appropriate to sacrifice the one to save the many. The answer is supposed to be no. If you say yes you get flagged. The FBI frowns upon… lever-pullers. And that’s exactly what I’m doing if I let one person die when I could’ve potentially saved them.”

“Protecting your own life is not pulling the lever. What you’re doing isn’t smart or morally righteous. You’re just throwing yourself across the tracks, too. If you were to fail a psych eval right now it would be because you’re passively suicidal. And you know what? The FBI also tends to frown upon self-immolative delusions of grandeur and girls who like to play sacrificial lamb.”

“’M not a… sacrificial lamb…”

“No,” Spencer agrees quietly, stroking your hair. “You’re not.”

And you can’t react to the fragility in his voice, or the content of his words, and the fact that when he says it he means something different—you can’t do anything about it. You can only catalogue it. You can only know that he loves you, and feel a little guilty about it.

Some time passes. You don’t know how long he remains standing so you can doze against him. He does not smell like the hospital. He’s the antidote for whatever grief they distill from widows and orphans before aerosolizing it through the whole place.

“Baby?” He asks eventually. You know the lilt of it. He’s been thinking.

“Hm?”

He hesitates.

“Can we talk about you maybe taking some time off of work?”

“You heard the boss,” you mumble. “I can’t come in for at least a week.”

“I mean beyond that.”

You intend to respond, but by the time you open your mouth you’ve lost the prompt in all the brain fog.

“You’re so comfy,” you murmur dreamily. “Thank you for being mad at me.”

If he responds, you miss it.

You’re imagining the bed waiting for you at home, once the doctor is done observing you—warm, neatly made. Blankets woven with soft fibers. A mattress that will sink under your weight. You think of Spencer, who’s shaping himself to you, Spencer, who intentionally inhales when you exhale at night to make room for the rise and fall of your chest against his. You think of the imprint of his buttons on your cheek. You are both flesh and blood and bone.

Strange, pill-induced half dreams and visions and memories take over. You’re in that alleyway again. That man fires. You don’t blink or scream or feel.

Just before the bullet makes contact you’re standing in front of the Pietá. It’s massive. Spencer is there, too, holding your hand.

You can’t actually see him, only, you know he’s there. You feel his warmth, his presence, when he leans over to whisper in your ear. The way you know him goes beyond sight.

The Pietá—meaning the pity, in English—is 6’7” and six feet wide. It weighs 6,700 pounds. Michelangelo had to quarry the block of marble himself. He was only 25 when he finished. The Basilica keeps it behind bulletproof glass.

Jesus and Mary behind bullet proof glass.

God. Who’d try to kill Jesus a third time? He’s already dead.

Besides—they’re both made of stone. Bullets would probably just ping right off of them. Or maybe they’d shatter just like you did.

Probably not though. You’re not actually made of marble. You’ve no idea what it feels like to be a statue and get shot at. You sure know how it feels as a human, though—and it feels like shit. You don’t really know why you keep doing it. None of your reasons are good enough for Spencer, and he’s, generally speaking, pretty smart about some things.

Maybe you’re tired of being human.

Maybe you’re tired of sleeping on your arm funny and waking up to a hand in your bed that doesn’t feel like yours and remembering all the hands you’ve held moments before they couldn’t hold yours back. Or tired of those moments where you are being held and it’s so unbelievably perfect and then someone has to let go, or when someone you love hugs you goodbye and you realize that there will always be a final I love you, or simply getting older and watching potential life paths fall away like rotten fruit to the ground. Maybe life is sometimes so good it hurts and you can’t bear it. So you tempt fate. You walk a tightrope because even if you fall and it can’t ever feel good again—at least it can’t hurt either. At least you won’t lose anymore.

And yet.

It does feel good, sometimes. Sort of often, actually. Even when it’s awful.

Dead Jesus and Mary, with their marble skin and their bulletproof glass and their holiness and their virginity and all the other things they have that you don’t. Nobody can hurt them anymore. Not ever.

Maybe that’s something you envy.

But you doubt they’ve ever been so terribly, wonderfully alive as you’ve been, or as comfortable as you are like this, leaning into Spencer’s warmth and his softness, in the hospital, or the Vatican, or your dreams. Your bicep was ruined but it’s healing. You are capable of ruin and rebirth in the same lifetime. In the same day, in the same hour.

You doubt that in 520 years, behind bulletproof glass and unyielding, eternally flawless skin, they’ve ever felt as invincible as you do now.

You doubt they ever could.

#spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfic

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brokenmenswhore · 11 months ago

Note

I need more stuff with poly!maraudersxreader spicy stuff🤭

i am but your humble servant 🙇‍♀️

mean | poly!marauders

pairing: poly!marauders x fem!reader (james, remus, & sirius)

summary: the boys get jealous seeing you with a study partner, and you reap the consequences when you tell sirius he was being ‘mean’

warnings: smut (MDNI 18+), rough sex, use of the word daddy twice

a/n: is my sirius favoritism showing too much or no

────── ☾ ──────

“I don’t think I’ll ever actually understand this class,” you said, the library study session beginning to take its toll.

“You’re getting it!” Evan encouraged, “we just need to work on it a little bit more.”

“I appreciate your faith in me, but I think after four hours, I either get it or I don’t,” you replied.

“I don’t mind the time,” Evan said, “especially when I get to spend it with you.”

Your three boyfriends could hear every single word exchanged between the two of you, being that they were seated only two tables away, and the second they heard Evan’s statement, Sirius jolted upwards from his chair.

“Sit down,” Remus instructed, “what are you gonna do? Kill him in the middle of our entire year?”

“Yeah, Remus, I just might,” Sirius responded, but still sat back down, eyes never leaving the two of you.

“You have to trust her, Sirius,” James scolded.

“It’s not her I don’t trust,” Sirius said, nostrils flaring in a rage.

Evan was sitting much closer to you than the boys were comfortable with, but they had to trust that you would shut him down if he overstepped.

“Yeah, this has at least been fun!” you told Evan, “but I think I’m a lost cause. This library is beginning to feel like an asylum.”

Evan shrugged, “I mean, we could change the scenery if that’s the problem. There’s usually not anyone in the fifth year potions classroom after the midday class. It would be quiet, and we could be alone and really focus.”

Evan shifted his chair even closer to you, placing an arm around the back of your chair, and leaning closer to you.

“That’s it, I’m gonna kill him,” Sirius said, standing up and reaching your table before Remus or James could keep him at bay.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Sirius spat, hands on the table as he leaned in, standing across from you.

“Studying?” you replied as Evan backed off.

“Studying,” he mocked in a high tone, “tell him he better get the fuck away from you if he wants to continue breathing.”

“I’m right here, Black, if you have a problem, say it straight to me,” Evan retorted, standing up to meet Sirius’s eye level.

“Ok, Rosier,” Sirius cleared his throat, “I have a problem with you attempting to feel up my girlfriend and then get her alone. I also have a problem with the lack of bruising on your face.”

“Sirius!” you and Remus scolded in unison, the other two boys now next to Sirius, ready to pull him back if he decided to lunge.

“I didn’t do a single thing,” Evan protested, “but if you’re so insecure that you think studying means she’ll cheat on you, maybe she never really liked you in the first place. She could do better anyway.”

Sirius went to jump over the table, but Remus and James held onto one arm each, holding him back as Evan laughed.

“This is not worth it,” Evan told you, “I’ll see you around.”

“Evan, I’m sorry-“ you tried to say as he walked away, your attention turning to Sirius. You were angry with him for the way he was acting, but his fury far outweighed yours.

Remus and James dropped their grip on Sirius when he calmed down. Sirius glared daggers into you. “Just studying, eh?”

“We were just studying until you tried to attack him,” you retorted.

“Go to the dorm room now before I decide to make you feel sorry right here. We’ll meet you up there.”

“But I still-“

“Now.”

The rage in Sirius’ voice was not something to take lightly. When he was mad, making him angrier often ended badly. You retreated to the dorms, seated cross-legged on your bed with a textbook open as you waited for your boyfriends to arrive.

The door to the dorms swung open so hard that the door slammed open against the wall. All three of your partners entered the room, Sirius stomping straight over to you and wrapping a hand around your throat.

“Had a fun day toying with other boys, huh?” he asked.

“Sirius, please, I really was just trying to study,” you pleaded, eyes finding Remus and James and searching for help, “you guys should know that I would never do that to you.”

“I know, baby,” Sirius’ voice weakened, his anger breaking at your pleas, “I’m just mad someone else tried to take what’s mine.”

“I think he was trying to make us jealous, too,” Remus added, “and it worked.”

“Is that what the big issue is?” you asked for clarification, “you’re all jealous?”

“He got really close to you,” James responded, the candor in his voice hurting your heart.

“I’m yours,” you said, grabbing the wrist around your throat, “I’m all of yours, and yours only, you know that.”

“We know,” Sirius said, “I’m just so mad. I can’t calm down.”

“You need to release the energy, Sirius,” James said, “you’re never gonna get past this if you don’t.”

Sirius looked into your eyes, and you gave him a slight nod, signaling to him that he could use you to release the energy. He had a lot of pent up rage from the earlier incident that he needed to let out. He needed to remind you, and himself, that you were his.

Sirius crashed his lips onto yours, a hand still on your throat as he pushed you back against the headboard.

Remus threw the textbook in front of you onto the floor, pulling your legs from their position until they were out in front of you. He kissed up your thighs until he was under your skirt, kissing on top your underwear as you let out a small moan into Sirius’s mouth.

Remus moved your underwear to the side, immediately diving in between your folds with his tongue, causing you to gasp. Sirius pulled away from your mouth, allowing him to hear the noises you made. You whined as Remus shoved his tongue into your soaking wet hole, the intrusion catching you off guard.

“Shit, Remmy,” you whimpered.

“Gotta remind you who you belong to, dove,” James spoke, taking a seat on the bed next to you, “you remember?”

“I’m y-yours, shit, James, all yours,” you whined as Remus continued to fuck you with his tongue, your hand taking its place on his head, fingers entwined in his hair, holding him in place.

“No fair,” Sirius pouted, “why do you get to hear her moan your name when I’m the one who got mad in the first place?”

“Y-ou were mean,” you explained, breathing heavy, making talking difficult as ever, trying to give Sirius the reason you weren’t focusing your attention to him, despite your better judgement.

Remus heard you and immediately stopped his assault on your core. You tried to push his head back down in desperation, but he took your hands off of his head, pinning them to your sides.

“What the fuck did you just say to me?” Sirius questioned, tone low and dark.

“Nothing,” you answered, hoping they would let it go but knowing better.

“I was mean, huh? I don’t deserve to hear you moan my name then, is that it? You think you’re so big and powerful, punishing me because I was mean?” Sirius was growing angrier and angrier, his rage overtaking him again.

“I- I’m sorry,” you tried to backtrack.

“No, no, it’s too late for that now. If you think I don’t deserve to hear you, then I won’t do anything that constitutes a noise. You don’t want me, then so be it.”

“No, please, I do, I want you, please-“

“Tell it to James,” Sirius cut you off. He was mad at you for talking back to him, and mad about earlier, but he was strictly doing this to punish you. He knew you loved how he fucked you when he was mad, and he was threatening to deny you what you wanted.

“Jamesie, please, tell him that I w-“

“Uh uh,” James tutted, “you’re with me now, not Sirius. You don’t get to have him now.”

You pouted, tears threatening to spill as you looked up at James. He leaned over you, kissing your forehead before your lips, distracting you with his mouth before a hand lifted up your skirt and traveled beneath the waistband of your underwear, finding its home on your pearl.

James began to rub in circles, eliciting a moan in the kiss.

“Remus, I think you can go back now,” James spoke.

Remus kept your hands pinned at your sides but shifted downward, tongue reentering you as James rubbed you off, the feeling of two different men on your core driving you insane.

Sirius slumped down on a chair a few feet away, lighting a cigarette as he watched Remus and James overstimulate you as they held you down.

“Jamie, please,” you moaned.

“Please what, dove?” James asked, beginning to touch any part of your core he could, the pleasure becoming too much to handle.

“Please let me come,” you begged.

James looked at Remus, who made eye contact with him, but never left you alone. He shoved his tongue in and out of you, curling it upwards once inside, eyes focused on James as he waited for any signal to stop.

James, however, was always the nicest to you in the bedroom. Though he knew Sirius and Remus would usually stop now, he was making the call, and he hated denying you your pleasure, even if you were being punished.

He leaned in and kissed you, his touch quickening and hardening as Remus continued to taste as much of you as he could, causing your climax to hit you without warning. You squealed and moaned into James’s mouth, legs shaking as Remus licked up any remnants of your high before pulling away from you and standing up.

You attempted to catch your breath as Sirius took one last drag of his cigarette, extinguishing the flame and walking over to you, your cheeks flushed and chest rising and falling rapidly as you tried to calm down.

“See, you didn’t need me, did you?” Sirius taunted.

“I-“

“Still don’t want me?”

You furiously shook your head no. “No, nonono, I want you, please, I need you,” you begged.

“Even though I’m so fucking mean?” he spat, intentionally working himself up to an angry place again.

“Yes, daddy, please,” you replied, using the name for him that you knew he couldn’t resist.

Sirius growled, tugging on his jeans and crawling over you, lightly kissing your neck before meeting your gaze.

“Beg for me,” he demanded.

Your heart was beating so hard it made your chest sore. “Please, daddy, I want you.”

“I think he’s earned hearing his name, sweetheart,” Remus spoke from beside you.

“Please, I need you so bad, Siri, I-“

The second you spoke his name, Sirius pushed your skirt up to your waist and your underwear to the side, inserting his entire length into you in one quick motion, a move he loved to use when he was punishing you for something. Though he had been inside of you plenty of times, he was too large to simply just start fucking you without a warm up, unless, that is, he was purposefully being mean.

You let out a high pitched moan at the intrusion, always forgetting just how deep his cock hits within you.

He then pulled almost his entire length out of you before slamming it back in, your body jolting upwards at the feeling of his hips snapping against yours. He started to fuck you, fast and hard, leaving no time for you to adjust to him or his size.

“Siri, fuck,” you moaned.

“That’s it,” he breathed, “you’re all mine. You fucking belong to me.”

All three boys were possessive of you, but knew you ‘belonged’ to all three of them, not just one. However, when Sirius was mad, the other boys didn’t matter. They knew he needed to feel like you were his and only his. All the boys needed that one-on-one intimacy at times, but Sirius craved it all the time, and sometimes Remus suspected that he really did wish you were all his.

“It’s too much, can’t- I c-“ you started to plead, but Sirius didn’t care, continuing his ruthless pace that nearly had your head slamming upwards into the headboard with each thrust.

“You can, and you will,” Sirius spoke, “you’re all fucking mine. I don’t even want anyone else near you. You’re gonna take it like a good girl so that everyone can hear who you belong to, understood?”

You nodded, taking a moment to process that you had to speak. “Yes, Siri.”

“Good girl,” he said, one of his hands grabbing your throat as he snapped his hips at an almost violent pace.

“Siri, please, I’m gonna c-“

“You know you’re supposed to wait until he comes,” Remus reminded you, “or else it just isn’t fair.”

“B- but- I-“

“No buts,” Remus said, running a thumb over your cheek to collect the tears that were now falling, “you wait until Siri is ready, and then you come with him. He deserves at least that much.”

Your walls were clenching around his cock, and you fought desperately not to come. You knew you were supposed to wait and come in unison with whoever was fucking you, but you were overstimulated, and Sirius’s possessiveness was hot.

“That’s right, baby, you gotta wait,” Sirius cooed, “my girl only comes when I say she can. You’re my girl, aren’t you?”

“Yes, Siri, I’m yours,” you responded, your hands grabbing desperately at his shoulders to steady yourself, “all yours.”

Sirius ran a hand over your body, scanning every inch of you as he fucked you. “All mine,” he whispered, almost more to himself than to you.

Sirius’s thrusts began to become erratic and sloppy, his high approaching as his clock twitched inside of you.

“You gonna come with me, love?” Sirius asked, and you whined in response, signaling that you were ready.

Sirius tightened his grip around your throat. “Come for me,” he commanded, “for me and only me.”

Your walls clenched around Sirius one last time as you came around him, one final “Sirius!” leaving your lips as you did.

The feeling of you coming around him caused Sirius to reach his high, his final few thrusts sharp and deep inside of you.

He took a moment to collect himself and catch his breath before pulling out of you.

“You remember who you belong to now?” James asked, sweetly repositioning your skirt over you to allow you modesty as you calmed down.

“Mhm,” you began to feel tired, “I’m all of yours.”

2K notes · View notes

fgojous · 1 month ago

Text

silver springs ( satoru g. )

satoru's life was planned down to the very last detail. every clinical rotations, every exam, especially his future—laid out carefully like a surgical procedure. but then you came along—loud, sarcastic and seemed to have no remorse when your ice cold coffee was dripping down his white coat—and into his perfectly planned life. and now? he can't stop thinking about you. everything he had planned? yeah, that went sideways.

med student!gojo x pre-med student!reader

tags. romance, fluff, light angst (hehe), hurt/comfort, friends to lovers, slow burn, medical au, college au, age gap, banters (a lot), sexual tension, use of profanities, explicit sexual content, kissing/making out (like a lot too i think? lmao), unprotected sex (pls always use protection), little hair pulling, fingering, p in v, creampie, overstimulation (?), pillow talks | eighteen plus only!

word count. 13.4k

status. completed (one-shot)

note. i know! 13.4k is crazy but i love satoru sm can u blame me. anyway, i can't get enough of med student satoru, he drives me insane. this is kinda self-indulgent (cos yn is a pt student, and me too hihi). btw, satoru is 25 and yn is 20! <3 i think that's all i wanted to say. anyway, i love u <3

Satoru was—safe to say, pissed.

He hasn’t slept for hours. There’s his clinical instructor breathing down his neck. He’s still got to study after this.

Then you, wide your eyes wide, jaw slightly dropped, are just staring at him. Like you were sent by the heavens above to add to his problems today—maybe they said, it wasn’t enough, you had to come.

Fuck this day, really.

“Are you fucking serious right now?” his voice was low, irritation unmistaken.

You blinked, frozen in place, your caramel macchiato—wasted, dripping down his white—very white coat. Does this day get any better than this? You think not.

You stared at the man in front of you. His jaw was clenched and his specs are slightly askew, and there’s obvious irritation dancing in his sharp sapphire eyes, his long white lashes fluttering. Goddamn, he’s tall.

And you are pissing him off.

“Uh—what—you bumped into me!”

His figure was towering over you—his white messy hair caught a glimpse of the fluorescent light.

“Because you weren’t looking. You’re on your phone.”

Well, sorry, if you were stressing about your upcoming long test—but you were here in the hospital instead of studying, accompanying your mother. Maybe she thought it’d be better to string you along in the hospital on the weekends.

“And you’re walking too fast.” you retorted, your chest was brewing. “Can’t you watch where you’re going?”

His lips twitch, almost smirking. You’re so fucking… irritating. “Wow. Was it your mission to irritate me today?”

You scoffed, my god, you hate him already and you don’t even know his name yet.

You reached for a napkin from your purse, attempting to ‘alleviate’ this situation but you know that there is nothing you could do anymore. You were about to dab on his coat when he stepped back.

“Are you seriously going to dab it in?”

“Wow. You’re so grumpy.”

“And you are irritating.”

Yes. You get it.

“Then maybe you should get some more sleep?”

He paused, for a moment, before he laughed. He actually laughed.

Not that loud, but enough for you to ease a bit. He can’t believe that you still have something to say—and yet to say the one thing that he’s waiting for you to say.

“You’re unbelievable.” he muttered, he adjusted his glasses before peeling the coat off. “You owe me. Dry cleaners.”

You blinked, he’s only wearing his dark navy scrubs now, you see his badge clipped on his breast pocket.

Gojo Satoru | Clinical Clerk

His name lingered in your mind longer than it should be. Where have you heard that name again?

But you didn’t have any time to rack your brains out when he handed his white coat to you with care, like it’s something so fragile it almost makes you scoff. But you took it anyway, because taking it to the dry cleaners was the only thing that you could do now—and you know, it’s kind of your fault too.

“Don’t put bleach on it. I’m serious.”

“I know how laundry works.” you rolled your eyes, folding his white coat carefully in your arms.

“Really? You’re not just a spoiled brat who spills coffee on someone’s coat?”

You deadpanned, not bothering to answer him because seriously, you can’t argue with him anymore. You handed him your phone and his brows furrowed, “Your number. How could I give this back to you if I can’t contact you?”

He snatched your phone from your hand, “For once you were actually thinking.”

Oh my god, give me the strength not to wipe his coat on the floor right now.

You just watched him type in his number, he called his phone from yours so he could save your number.

“There.” he says, handing you your phone back. “I expect my coat to be sparkling clean.”

“Yeah, fine.”

He didn’t answer you anymore and just turned to walk away. But before he disappeared into the hallway, he waves over his shoulder.

“Talk about dramatic.”

Three days have passed before he reached out to you.

You had honestly forgotten about the coat—well, you blame the myriad of long tests and practical exams for the past three days. You’d gotten immersed in studying that you forgot that you had to actually give his coat back.

But it was already clean and hanging neatly in a garment bag, just forgotten for a bit.

And honestly? You didn’t know how to face him again without getting embarrassed. You may have been too much of a brat that day.

[grumpy med student | 6:57 PM] where’s my coat i need it

[grumpy med student | 6:58 PM] you’ve thrown it away, didn’t you?

You rolled your eyes, typing on your phone.

[You | 6:59 PM ] i can bring it to you right now, my classes have just finished.

[You | 7:00 PM] i had it cleaned, don’t worry. u asked for bleach, right?

[grumpy med student | 7:01 PM] stop fucking with me. meet me at the ER entrance in 20

You stared at the screen for a bit too long. How in the hell did he manage to annoy you with just a text?

But still, you were there twenty minutes later with his coat draped over your arm. You’re still wearing your white uniform, your ID badge hanging on a lanyard embroidered with the hospital’s name—you’re scrolling through your group chats to read about the practicals that were coming up.

“Huh.” you looked up at the voice, his face etched with surprise as he looked at you, “ You actually look so miserable.”

Your eyes fell on him and there he was with his navy scrubs with a stethoscope slung around his neck and the only thing missing was his white coat that was hanging from your arm.

“Thanks. I just came from a six-hour lecture.” you say, voice laced with sarcasm then you handed him his coat. “Here. We’re even now.”

“Didn’t know we study in the same university,” he says.

How could he even know when you’re in different buildings? And he’s already in med school?

“So, what are you?” He didn’t give you a chance to answer when he reached for your badge, “Physical Therapy, huh?”

You snatched it from his hand, “I’m leaving.”

He smirks, “Don’t trip and spill some coffee on someone else now, YN.”

“Try opening your eyes while you walk, Satoru.”

You stuck your tongue out at him and turned away. God, he was so annoying.

Your mother’s rounds were running longer than usual.

She keeps on insisting you wait for her at the hospital so you could have lunch together. With you, living in the dorms and your long, grueling classes eating up most of your days, this was the only time you get to spend together.

And she’s late. And you’re hungry.

Now, you’re in the hospital cafeteria, eating the chips that you got from the vending machine.

This is the only place you could think of where you could spread your books and notes. You can’t afford not to study right now.

Your mind was full of some terms you’re not even sure you’re understanding. You were muttering words, teaching yourself like it actually helps. You didn’t even notice a group of med students passing by your table until a voice cut through the noise going on in your head.

“Hey, Miss PT.”

You looked up at him.

He looked the same. Glasses perched on top of his nose, same navy scrubs except he was the one holding the coffee now.

“Are you planning to get back at me?”

Satoru stared right at you, eyes flickering between you and your notes, “As much as I’d love to stain your white uniform, fortunate for you, I’m not as clumsy as you.”

“Aren’t you too busy to irritate me right now?” you retorted, looking back down at your notes to… read?

Anything.

Just so you could look away from him.

Then you hear him laugh lightly—annoyingly, before turning away. You stare at his back as he walks away then you see him talk to a dark-haired med student who looked just as tired as he is before disappearing.

Then you look down, something caught at the side of your eyes.

Then you see a small chocolate bar on top of your open notes.

Huh.

You muttered a curse under your breath. How else are you going to go to your dorm when it’s pouring?

A heavy breath escaped your lips as you tuck your arm in your chest, watching the rain splatter down the pavement. The rain was cold, loud—and seemed like it would not stop any time soon.

“Let me guess, you’re trying to catch a cold to miss clinical exams?”

Your head tilted to the side quickly. That familiar voice grazing through your ears.

It has been almost a week since you saw him. He wasn’t wearing scrubs anymore. He’s just wearing his white uniform just like you are, a university hoodie for med students draped on his arm.

“Let me guess, you’re going to annoy me to death now?” you gave him a sarcastic smile, “What are you doing at our building?”

“Had to drop off something. Why? You thought I was looking for you?” a menacing grin tugging on his lips.

Does he really have to be this annoying? And unbelievably good looking?

You ignored his comment, “I don’t suppose you have an umbrella?”

“Nope.” he answered, you just sighed and looked away—you frown a bit as you saw some of the students from different programs were looking your way, you just shrugged it off, trying to wait the rain out.

Satoru stared at you, really stared at you like you’re a mnemonic that he was memorizing—you were hugging yourself, teeth clattering slightly, your hair strands stuck in your cheeks.

“Here.” you glanced back at him, your eyebrows furrowing.

“What?”

“Take it. Don’t want you dying from hypothermia over there.”

It’s his hoodie.

You looked at him and back at the hoodie again. You blinked once trying to comprehend what he’s offering you right now.

Is he really? This grumpy, annoying med student is offering you his hoodie?

“Are you going to take it or not? My arm is killing me.” he says, nudging it closer to you.

You sighed, taking it from him with slight hesitation, if you weren’t so cold right now—but you are, so you swallowed your pride, “Thank you.”

“Huh?” he leaned closer as if he didn’t hear what you said, but you know he did because there’s a smirk pulling on his lips right now. “Didn’t hear what you said. Come again?”

You leaned closer, whispering in his ear. “I said, fuck off.”

You slipped on his hoodie, it was annoyingly soft and smelled like him. That’s actually the first thing that you noticed—and you suddenly realized, you actually know what his scent is.

You actually know what Satoru Gojo smelled like even if you’re not around him that much.

And it pisses you off just a little how nice it felt around you.

“You know you’d have to return that to me, right?”

It’s been two days and you still have his hoodie.

You told yourself you’re going to return it. That’s why you’re here again.

In front of the emergency room entrance, in the middle of the day.

If anyone sees you, maybe you could say that you were going to see your mother.

Or, maybe because your professor had canceled his lecture for today and you had nothing else to do.

You’ve got about two hours before your next subject and you got time to kill. Your friends had already gone to the nearest mall and you had no energy to walk around right now.

That’s why you’re here.

That’s what you’re telling yourself because you’re seeing him so often these days, it’s almost becoming a routine and it weirds you out in a way that you can’t explain.

“Hey.”

You turned and there he was again, tall as ever, just a few steps from you..

“Your hoodie.” you say, lifting it. “Thanks.”

His eyes just flickered to the fabric on your arm then back to your face again. “You busy?”

“Not as busy as you.” you say with a mischievous grin.

He almost rolls his eyes, “Have you eaten yet?”

“No.” you answered, a teasing smile escaping past your lips. “Why? You want to eat with me?”

“You like hospital food?”

And that’s how you ended up in that cafeteria again, except you’re sitting across from him now and his hoodie was still on your arm. So, you set it down on the chair beside you—it’s just sitting there, waiting to be brought up.

You’re twisting the pasta with your fork, and stared at it like it hurt you—how could it look this… bland?

But that’s not what concerns you the most, it’s the fact that the silence between the two of you was more comfortable than it is awkward.

Like you had done this before—or, like this isn’t going to be a one-time thing.

Satoru was about to bite on his sandwich when he looked at you. “Do you always stare at your food like it has done you wrong?”

“Do you always sound this irritating when you’re chewing?”

“Yeah. There’s actually a class in med school for that.” he bites on his sandwich, not shying his blue eyes from you.

You stare back at him, sipping from your cup. “You think you’re so funny, huh?”

“I know I am.” his smugness didn’t escape past you. Annoying.

You huffed a breath, “Should’ve gone with my friends.”

“Uh-huh.” he agreed, nodding his head. “Then I wouldn’t have to sit here and endure this torture.”

You scrunch your nose, glaring at him and he just gives you a sheepish smile.

Isn’t he the one who invited you here? And now he’s acting like you’re the one who interrupts his peace.

You didn’t answer—but you glared at him enough to let him know that he’s an exhausting little prick.

When is the bickering ever going to stop?

You bite back your breath before finally bringing it up, “Aren’t you going to take your hoodie back?”

You couldn’t take the way his hoodie just stares at you. It’s too weird—like it’s really meant for you when it’s not.

It shouldn’t.

“You keep it.”

“Why?”

Satoru looked at you, “So you’ll have to return it again.”

So here you were, in your next class, wearing his damn hoodie because the air conditioning in this lecture hall was on full blast.

“Medicine.” you hear Maki say.

“Huh?”

She pointed at the back of the hoodie with her lips, “You’re wearing a hoodie from the college of medicine and surgery. You’re a med student now?”

“It’s not mine.”

“Then why are you wearing it?”

Yes.

Why?

Why are you wearing it?

It has been two weeks since you last saw him.

Not that you were counting.

Well, maybe, it’s because your mother hasn’t been begging you to eat lunch with her and you had no business being at the hospital.

Not that you were hoping for him to drop something off at your building again. My god, why are you even thinking about him now?

It’s because you were staring at his hoodie right now, just sprawled across the backrest of the seat of your study table. You looked away, reaching for your phone to check if he had messaged you—

No, what business does he have messaging you? You tossed your phone away and buried your face on the pillow.

This is so goddamn embarrassing.

The next day, you were about to finish your last class for the day when your mother had texted you and wanted you to come.

And, fuck, you couldn’t get out of your building fast enough. You were almost sprinting to the hospital.

Then you slowed down… why in the hell are you this excited? Isn’t he annoying to you?

So you walked—tried to walk normally, but you were clearly searching for that white hair as you walked through the hallway.

And then you paused, your heart gradually pounds inside your chest, until the only thing that you could feel was your heart trying to claw its way out of your ribs.

There he was, standing just outside the exam room, reading something on the charts when you sneaked behind him.

“Hey, annoying.”

Satoru pauses for a fraction of a second before looking at you, your eyes met, and he looked like he hasn’t slept for about a year.

“Hey.” he greeted you back, his voice was flat—tired.

You blinked, letting out a faint smirk. “Wow, don’t get so excited now.”

You could almost see that grin tugging on his lips but… none. He just adjusted his glasses and scratched the back of his neck. “Just had a long day.”

You searched his face. Yeah, he looked so tired like he hasn’t slept—which, really he hasn’t. But there was something else.

“Oh, you okay?” you swallowed thickly, clutching on your bag—where his hoodie sits heavy just like that feeling creeping up on you.

“Fine.” he says, “I gotta go back.”

Satoru didn’t give you any chance to answer, he walked past you—not a single grin or snarkiness. He didn’t even give you a second glance.

So, you stood there, words still stuck on your throat, standing there a few more seconds than you should have.

[grumpy med student | 11:58 PM] u still up?

You stared at your phone. The bright light from your laptop screen illuminating the frown etched on your face.

[You |11:59 PM] what do u think

[grumpy med student | 11:59 PM] studying?

[You | 12:00 AM] how else am i supposed to answer the long test tomorrow

[grumpy med student | 12:00 AM] what topic

[You | 12:01 AM] orthopedic conditions

You hated how much you stared at your phone, your conversation still open as if you’re really anticipating everything that he’s going to say.

Then three minutes passed and he still hasn't answered and you thought that he had vanished again. And that was it.

It was three days since he gave you the cold shoulder in the hospital, you were supposed to be mad at him for reasons that you don’t even know—or if you even had the right to, and now you’re just waiting for him to respond—

The shrill ringing of your phone cuts off your thoughts.

You looked at the screen and there was his contact.

grumpy med student Calling…

Don’t answer it, you say. Why is he even calling you this late?

Your fingers hovered over the screen, thinking it over, debating yourself if it’s a good thing that you talk to him right now.

But then you sighed, your finger clicking the answer button.

“Hi.”

You heard him breathe on the other side of the phone, “Sorry.”

“For what?” you were almost whispering, like you couldn’t believe that you were talking to him right now.

“Three days ago. I wasn’t in the mood.”

You didn’t say anything right away.

The silence filled with quiet breathing from either of you.

Why is he saying sorry, even though it wasn’t a big deal?

It really isn’t.

Right?

“Okay.” you say softly, and then it was his turn this time to stay quiet. Then you hear him shift, maybe from his bed.

“You still have my hoodie?”

Then your heart pounds. Because you were wearing it. You’re fucking wearing it. It’s wrapped around you, clinging on your skin along with his scent that still lingers in it.

“No, I threw it out.” then you heard him laugh, a breathy laugh that made you slightly insane. “Cause you pissed me off.”

“I said I’m sorry, didn’t I?” he paused for a bit, “Are you still mad?”

You huffed, “Am I allowed to?”

You hold your breath waiting for his answer. What kind of question is that?

“You are.”

You didn’t know how to respond to that. So instead, you say, “I’m hanging up. I’m studying.”

“Wait.”

“What now?”

“I’m studying too.” he says, you can hear shuffling on the other side, “Don’t hang up.”

An irritated groan came out of your mouth, refusing to lift your head up from your desk. If you could get just a minute of sleep you’d be fine.

But there’s someone pissing you off by nudging your arm. Repeatedly, to say.

You haven’t had the chance to sleep, thanks to a certain someone who called you at midnight and kept you talking until your brain turned to mush.

And the nudging doesn’t stop.

You finally lifted your head, your eyes stinging from the lack of sleep. “What?!”

Then you froze, just seeing who it was.

Satoru was standing there, looking down at you with an infuriating smirk on his lips—his eyes flickering down briefly to his hoodie that you were wearing. “Now, you’re the grumpy one.”

“And who’s fault is that?” your brows furrowed as you narrowed your eyes.

Then you suddenly realized, he’s in your building.

In your lecture hall.

Right in front of you—in front of your entire block.

You blinked—a little stunned as he placed a coffee on your desk, with a chocolate bar just like the one he left you last time.

Did he just come all the way here to give you a cup of coffee?

Your eyes darted around slightly, your block mates were already watching—whispering like you’ve brought someone famous. Because how often do you see a third year med student in his scrubs, dropping off some coffee for a second year pre-med student?

Exactly. Never.

Then all of it clicked into place like a perfect puzzle.

Satoru Gojo.

You’ve heard his name before. From all around the campus—from the whispers, he’s that med student your block mates were all talking about.

You just didn’t realize it was him. Took you a month.

“Now we’re even.” he says casually, “Bye.”

Then he left you there, with your mouth slightly open—and with the knowing looks that your block mates were giving you.

Especially the one beside you.

“Oh.” Maki smirks, “So, that’s Satoru Gojo.”

You blinked at her, mouth shut tightly.

“Didn’t know you were dating the med school’s golden boy.”

Dating?

Is she kidding right now?

Your eyes gaze upon the coffee he left for a little too long.

“We’re not—he’s… not—”

“Uh-huh.” Maki nods, now staring at the hoodie that you are wearing. “Sure.”

The one thing that you were wishing as of now was for the ground to swallow you whole.

“You’re being weird.”

There you were, elbows propped on the table, cheeks resting on your palm as you shamelessly stare him down.

It didn’t matter that he was famous in your university and everyone was talking about him, blah blah. It bothers you that it took you this long to realize.

Well, you really don’t pride yourself on engaging in senseless gossip, much less about some handsome someone you don’t even know—well, now you know.

Because you’re eating with him side by side, at the hospital cafeteria, with the shitty food.

“You know they call you the ‘golden boy’, right?”

Then he groaned, poking on his food. “So?”

“How come I didn’t know?” you murmured, “I mean, I always hear them talk about you, I just didn’t realize it was you. I just felt stupid?”

“It’s because you are.” and he said that with a straight face, you glare at him and he smiles, “Can you just eat?”

“Okay, golden boy.”

“Can you stop?”

You scrunch your nose and give him a little smile before snatching a fry from his plate, “Make me.”

“Ah.” he laughs—adjusting his specs before leaning in, “You really want to go there? I don’t think you can handle it if I do.”

It was safe to say that you’re flustered, you tried to hold your ground but something in the way he stared at you made your stomach churn in a way you hadn’t anticipated.

“Shut up.” that’s all you could say before pushing his forehead away using your index finger. “Just eat your food.”

─── MONDAY ───

[grumpy med student | 5:45 PM] i’m outside your lecture hall

[You | 5:46 PM] why? u miss me?

[grumpy med student | 5:46 PM] no. i’m just not irritated enough today, maybe seeing ur face would fix that

You purse your lips, trying so hard not to let a smile slip past your lips. Your professor was still on the last slide of her lecture, wrapping things up.

While you were already shoving things in your bag rather hastily for someone who ‘doesn’t care’ whether he’s there or not—and when your professor said the class was dismissed, you said a quick goodbye to Maki before stepping out the hall.

He was leaning against the wall, arms crossed—hair messy, specs looking unfairly good on him.

He looked up from his phone, “Took you long enough.”

You raised your brows, “Well, I’m sorry if my studies are a bother to you having your need to be extremely irritated today.”

“Apology accepted.” he says, pushing off the wall to step beside you. “Library?”

You started walking, side by side—not minding the looks coming your way. “Uh-huh.”

Maybe you could see now why they called him the golden boy.

It’s not just his looks, but the way he’s so focused—head dipped down on his books like his eyes were glued on the paper. He was scribbling notes, tapping his pen lightly—his lips parted slightly.

You could see why they’re talking.

He’s like an all-in-one package—the looks, talent, skills… the way his face looks intent but calm while he’s studying.

But for you, he’s just the grumpy med student who bumped into you and made you spill your coffee on him.

─── TUESDAY ───

[grumpy med student | 3:12 PM] i think my legs would fall of if i moved

[You | 3:12 PM] why

[grumpy med student | 3:13 PM] they made me stand for 6 hours straight. fuck it, i’m never moving from this gurney

[You | 3:14 PM] aw, poor baby. want me to carry u home? );<

[grumpy med student | 3:15 PM] yes baby

[You | 3:16 PM] fuck u

─── WEDNESDAY ───

[grumpy med student | 6:17 PM] bring highlighters, forgot mine. not YELLOW

[You | 6:17 PM] what’s your beef with yellow

[grumpy med student | 6:17 PM] hurts my eyes

[You | 6:18 PM] you know what hurts your eyes? lack of sleep

He looked up at you when you laid out a bunch of highlighters in front of him, “Don’t worry. Not one of ‘em is yellow.”

“Did you go around and ask a bunch of people for highlighters?” his eyes followed you as you sat in front of him.

You just shrugged your shoulders, opening your own notes—hiding a grin behind the paper.

─── THURSDAY ───

[grumpy med student | 6:45 PM] where are u? some freshmen stole our table. the fuck

[You | 6:46 PM] our prof is still wrapping up

[grumpy med student | 6:47 PM] get here fast

You roll your eyes as you read his text. Your professor ended the class and you stood up almost immediately.

“Going on a date again?”

You glanced at your friend, brows furrowing. “It’s not a date.”

Maki doesn’t know why you’re still fooling her, maybe because you don’t know yourself what this is.

“Oh. Okay. Say hi to Gojo for me.” she says, laughing before stepping out the door. And you just huffed out a breath before picking up your bag.

You walk slowly—just to spite Satoru, and to think about what really is this.

Well, you’re just studying together. There’s nothing wrong with that, right?

─── FRIDAY───

[grumpy med student | 4:45 PM] i forgot to tell u earlier, someone just came up to me and asked if MI stands for mild infection

[You | 4:46 PM] my god

[grumpy med student | 4:46 PM] haha right.

[grumpy med student | 4:46 PM] what time’s your out? lecture just finished

[You | 4:47 PM] i'm here at the 2nd floor lounge w my friends. why?

He didn’t respond after that, you didn’t think much about it. Maybe he got pulled into a case, or he thought it’d be better to annoy his friends other than you.

Not until Maki nudges you with her shoulder, looking at the figure walking up to your table.

And there he was, Satoru Gojo, gracing your building with his presence—still in his lecture uniform, his hands were in his pocket like he’s a walking drama that’s about to happen.

“I don’t think you belong here.” you say as soon as he sat beside you, in front of your friends who’s just looking at him with their jaw slightly dropped.

“Yeah? I was told I could find the most irritating person here. And, yeah. Here she is.”

Your eyes were flickering in between your notes and him.

Because for the past ten minutes, he’s been blinking slowly—nodding off just a little before snapping his eyes back open.

You try not to stare at him but it’s really hard not to.

Satoru shifts in his seat, his cheek dips down on his folded arms—and then, poof, out cold.

Seriously?

You pressed your cheek against your palm and let yourself stare at him. His white hair was messier than usual, his specs almost out of place—his lips are parted slightly, small huffs of breath shuffling out.

He looks so exhausted.

This is so stupid, my god.

Your eyes darted around the library to see if someone else is looking—but they’re caught up in their own world, so you extended your arm, reaching out for his glasses before removing them slowly and placing them neatly on the table.

You should’ve stopped there.

But your fingers lightly grazed his hair strands, brushing it gently out of his face.

It doesn’t make sense why—you’re here tucking his hair like you’re meant to do it. You don’t know why you keep meeting up with him when he’s just supposed to be a stranger you accidentally spilled your coffee to.

It’s like suddenly you’re looped in each other’s orbits and you can’t go on a single day without even talking to each other.

This is so stupid.

You sighed, leaning back on your chair and focused on your notes again.

Twenty minutes later, maybe more, he stirred.

You look up just in time to see him squinting his eyes against the light, he looked at you still a bit disoriented.

“You didn’t leave?” he mumbled—voice hoarse from sleep, now sitting up and stretching his arm.

“No.” you replied, “I’m afraid the librarian might kick you out.”

He lets out a soft laugh before rubbing the back of his neck. His eye catches yours—neither of you says anything for a moment.

You coughed a bit, handing him his glasses. “Here. I thought you might need it.”

[grumpy med student | 6:30 PM] cafe’s too loud

[grumpy med student | 6:30 PM] someone got our table in the library again

[You | 6:31 PM] find another place, we’re almost finished here

[grumpy med student | 6:32 PM] it's all packed

[You | 6:33 PM] are u sure

[grumpy med student | 6:34 PM] ?

[grumpy med student | 6:34 PM] yes im sure, u wanna go check it yourself?

[You | 6:35 PM] ugh so maybe next time?

[grumpy med student | 6:35 PM] how about my place? it’s quiet

You were having a staring contest with your phone again.

His place and quiet didn’t quite add up to you. Your brain was reeling its wheels trying to conjure every possible way going to his place for the first time ever might entail.

It’s not like this is the first time you’re going to be alone together. It’s just that—this feels different, too different.

[grumpy med student | 6:37 PM] unless you don’t want to, it’s fine we can study tomorrow

[You | 6:37 PM] no it’s okay

[grumpy med student | 6:37 PM] okay, i’m outside your lecture hall

And that’s how you ended up in his place, at the living room floor with your notes and books splayed on the coffee table and on the floor—just anywhere near.

His place was surprisingly clean. Not too clean, but enough to surprise you considering he’s too busy. There were a lot of medical textbooks near the coffee table, some takeout containers but that was it.

And there’s definitely his scent that lingers around the air.

It was silent between you two—it’s always like that, not awkward silence but comfortable. You were both flipping through books, handouts and whatnot.

You were scribbling left and right and sometimes mumbling mnemonics like you’ve lost your mind.

Sometimes he’d ask you some questions about anatomy because he needs to recall something—or when you’re spacing out, he’d nudge your knee with his and you’d flick your pen or a yellow highlighter to his direction.

Yeah, well, it was a mix of peaceful yet chaotic.

Satoru looked up from his book, arching his brow when you sprawled on the carpet, your handouts placed above your face.

“If I read the word vertigo one more time, I swear I’ll jump off the balcony,” you say, your voice a little muffled due to the papers that were covering your face.

“Neuro?”

“Uh-huh.” you replied, groaning.

“Okay, I get why you’re being so dramatic now. Take a break?”

You pulled the papers out of your face as you sat up, “Yes. Please.”

You lean the side of your body against the couch, elbows resting on the cushion as you look at him. “So, were you like this when you were in college?”

“Like what?” He removes his glasses, massaging the bridge of his nose.

“Uh—annoying?”

“Yeah, it’s innate.” and you both snorted, “It’s a gift, don’t you know?”

You waved your hand off, “But seriously, what were you like?”

He turned, mimicking your position. “Just like this but minus the parties. Kinda reckless. Uh, handsome?”

Then you threw your handouts at him.

“And you, after college are you going straight to med school?”

You hummed, because that was always the plan. It never changed.

“Yeah. That’s always the plan.” you answered, “So, you partied in college, huh? I could see it.”

He raised his brow, a smirk appearing on his lips. “Oh, yeah?”

“Uh-huh.” you narrow your eyes, looking at him carefully like you are analyzing him. “You’re wearing a backwards cap and oversized long sleeves with the first few buttons unbuttoned, probably holding a red cup—then there’s girls hovering over you, while you give your number left and right, did I nail it?”

Satoru blinked for a bit, then he suddenly laughed. “That’s oddly specific. What are you, a witch?”

You snorted a laugh, pointing at the small picture frame on his TV console. It’s a picture of him with his friends at a party—and he was wearing exactly what you had said.

Satoru blinked, looking at the photo then back at you.

Then he suddenly flicks your forehead—not too strong, but enough for you to glare at him. “You saw it earlier, didn’t you?”

“Ouch?!” you winced, a menacing smile slowly creeping up to your lips. “Even if I didn’t, I know you were like that.”

“Okay, miss psychic. But you were wrong about one thing.” he stretched his arms, and you could almost see the electrical field of smugness around him.

“And what is that?”

“I never gave my number to anyone.”

You raised a brow, “And why?”

“Because they wouldn’t stop texting.”

“But you gave your number to me.”

He stops for a bit.

“Yeah, because you have my coat. I was afraid you’ll throw it out of spite,” he smirks.

“You’re so annoying.” you roll your eyes, your lips trying to twitch into a smile. “So you never dated anyone serious?”

He hummed, like he’s trying to think of every girl that he dated and you almost threw a pillow in his direction. “Just the one. But we broke up after a year.”

You were about to speak when he did it first. “How about you? You ever had a boyfriend?”

You shrugged, “I had a boyfriend. First year. For just a few months. But it’s fine, we’re just friends now.”

You swore you saw his grin falter a bit—his jaw clenched slightly before speaking, “Ah. Dark-hair, looks like he hasn’t slept in quite a while, that guy?”

You blinked, “How did you know?”

“That day in the lounge,” he paused, “He was staring at you and he looked pissed when I sat beside you.”

Your brows furrow a bit then you laugh, “He always looks like that.”

“Right.” he paused, he was smirking but his eyes told a different story. “Totally normal.”

Both of you just stared at each other until you looked away and he cleared his throat like there’s something stuck in there that he couldn’t quite say.

“Okay. Break’s over.” he says, and just like that he’s got his specs on and a book on his lap again.

“Yeah.” you mumbled, and reached for your handout then you turned away.

The silence envelops the two of you again. All you could hear was his AC unit humming, his shallow breaths and the papers rustling. You were tapping your fingers on the carpet over and over again while you tried to read what was on the paper.

But all the letters all seemed mushed as you try to comprehend the look he gave you earlier.

What the fuck.

It was ten minutes until you spoke again.

“Satoru.”

“Yeah?” he answers, gaze not leaving the book.

“Let me try the Dix-Hallpike maneuver on you.”

Then he looked up—you were holding the book up to show him the illustration, his eyebrow creased. “You really think you could pull me down without dislocating my neck?”

You thought about it. He’s taller than you, probably a bit heavy. But, hey, there’s no harm in trying, right?

You squint your eyes, “Come on. I just want to practice. It’s for the sake of medicine and my future patients.”

He groaned, removing his glasses, then he stood up to sit on the couch. Thank god his couch is L-shaped, you have plenty of space for him because he is freakishly tall.

You had him on the couch in a long sitting position, then you stood in front of him. Your hands shake a bit when you hold his face on each side, tilting it gently.

Your heart was pounding, how can it not when this six-foot tall med student was staring at your face like you’ve got all the answers in the world—

“You’re shaking.” his voice was low.

“I am not.”

“You are.”

“It’s because you’re annoying, put your weight on me.” you say a little bit pissed, and he just laughs. “I’m going to lean you back now.”

And you tried, like, really tried but his muscle mass and gravity weren’t on your side. He leaned a little bit too enthused, his shoulders were also hanging because you hadn’t calculated the size of this couch.

This maneuver isn’t meant for this couch, really.

He burst out laughing and you did too, “You broke your patient.”

You were still laughing, hands clutching your stomach, he sat up. “Let me try it on you.”

“You don’t even know how.” you say, still giggling.

“I saw you did it, didn’t I? And lucky for you, I’m a fast learner.” he reached out to your book and read the section for a bit.

You just watched as he read for a while, a smile creeping up on your lips. “Okay, I’m ready.”

“Don’t break my neck.” you say as a warning.

“Yeah, yeah.” he says, tapping the couch for you to sit on. Then it was your turn.

Your breath hitched when he placed his hand, his palm on your jaw—his thumbs placed on your cheeks, and his fingers were supporting your neck.

Then he leaned you back, your head hanging from the couch—you didn't realize that he was too close until you felt his breath on your cheeks.

“So, tell me,” he says, his voice almost a whisper. “What signs to look out for when your patient is positive for this maneuver?”

“Uh—” you paused, your voice was close to cracking. “Nystagmus.”

“Good.” he mumbles, his breath getting heavy. “For how long?”

Then you tilt your head to look at him, he was still holding you. His thumb was brushing your cheeks.

“For… uh—seconds to minutes…”

My god, this felt like hours.

You could feel the air shift and all the nerves in your body had awakened.

Your gaze locked into each other and it just clicked.

Then he pressed his lips onto yours, not a sliver of hesitation like he was sure he wanted to do this.

The kiss felt inevitable.

Your eyes widened before you closed them, tugging on his shirt to pull him close—his hand moved to the back of your neck before pulling you up without breaking the kiss.

You could feel your body warm up despite the air conditioning being on low temperature—the nerve endings on your skin were working full-time as his fingers grip the back of your neck a little.

Then his back hits the cushion with a soft thud.

His hands settled on your hips—your weight hovering over him as you straddle his lap—he deepened this kiss, biting your lower lip—pushing his tongue in, making you whimper in his mouth.

Your hands travelled to his hair, grasping the locks in between your fingers. His hands were circling in on you now.

He was kissing you like he was being starved—like he wanted to devour you whole.

Then the kiss turned deeper, messier and louder—teeth clashing, lips biting, tongue delving inside just to taste every inch of your mouth—none of it was neat, he was kissing you sloppy.

Satoru groaned into your mouth when you moved your hips a little. You could feel him bulging underneath your clothed sex, he gripped your hips trying to keep you steady.

Then he pulled away—his eyes lidded, lips were swollen as you looked down at him, both your breaths uneven.

He didn’t say anything—just looked at you like he was memorizing the way your lips quiver as you breathe.

“We should stop.” he finally says, his voice rough.

“Why?” you ask softly, chest heaving—your hand still tangled in his hair, your fingers combing his soft locks.

“Because if we don’t,” he swallowed thickly, gripping your hips like he’s holding to what restraint he has left. “I don’t think I’ll be able to hold back anymore.”

Your ears pulsate, your face warms up as you stare at him.

God, you’re making him crazy.

The walk back to your dorm was silent. Not the tense silent kind of thing, where someone is about to throw a fit or cry.

It’s a ‘we-just-full-on-make-out-and-don’t-know-what-to-say’ kind of silence.

The kind that made your footsteps heavy on the sidewalk—you can’t even look at him, and you know he can’t look at you too.

Because he hadn’t said much since he offered to walk you back to your dorm—just took your bag without even saying a word, his skin brushes against you a bit and that was all, that was the last contact that you two ever made.

You were asking when the bickering would stop, and here it is. It stopped.

You used to walk like this together all the time. To the library, to the hospital cafeteria, to the café—bickering, nudging each other, making stupid jokes and annoying the hell out of each other and now it’s just… all gone.

You have no idea what else to do now. It’s like an itch on your brain that you can’t scratch. How are you supposed to act now? How do you even walk normally? How do you even breathe normally?

You swallowed hard, your brain was starting to irritate you. It’s screaming at you over and over again. You kissed him.

Nuh-uh, not just kiss, you made out with him. On his couch. With his hands gripping your waist. His fingers tracing your spine. Your lips clashing, molded into each other like it was the most natural thing in the universe.

You pursed your lip, huffing out a small breath that you wish he didn’t notice. Your thoughts were scattered, you couldn’t even think straight. You couldn’t find any right words to say.

And yet, you caved.

Your eyes looked forward, “You’re awfully quiet.”

“So are you.” he replies, then you look at him and he is staring at you.

And there he was calm. He always looked like that. Like this didn’t shake him.

Was he spiraling too? Is he pretending right now? You don’t know. You can’t even tell.

What now? What are you going to say? Are you going to ask him now what that kiss meant?

You looked away again. Wouldn’t it be better if he said something—maybe joke about it a little or annoy you, tease you—like he always does. But none of that was happening.

He stayed silent. And so did you, until you reached your dorm building.

“This is you.” he finally says, handing your bag to you.

You took it, and his fingers brushed into you again.

You open your mouth to say something but none of the words come out. Your throat felt like something big was stuck in it and you couldn’t spew what you wanted to say.

“Good night,” he said, and you just gave him a faint smile then you nodded.

What even is this? Why can’t you say something—

“Is this going to be weird now?”

He blinked, frozen in place but then he gave you a smile. Not that annoying, smug, teasing smile of his—it was a genuine smile, the kind that makes your heart squeeze.

“Only if you want it to be.”

You wanted to scream because how does he do it? How does he say it so casually while you’re here, like a ticking time bomb, about to explode?

Your fingers tightened around the bag that you were holding.

No, of course, you wouldn’t want it to be weird.

“I don’t want it to be.” you said, almost whispering.

Because that’s the truth. You didn’t want anything to change. Even if you’ve crossed that line. Even if you didn’t know what it meant for the two of you.

You don’t want to lose whatever this is.

He nodded, then stepped forward—placing a soft kiss on your forehead. “I’ll see you tomorrow, YN.”

You just swallowed hard. Your eyes followed his figure while he walked back to his place that was just a few blocks from yours.

Your heart was pounding inside your chest. It’s funny you realize this now—but you know, it’s the truth.

That he’s either going to be the one… or the one you’ll never recover from.

You just didn’t know which is which.

You both said you were just taking a short break.

But now you have no idea how long you’d been like that on the couch.

Your back on the armrest, while he’s above, pressing his body against you—your legs curled up beside him and the other, slightly on him. It was getting kinda hard to breathe—from the kiss but also from the fact that whatever this is, there’s no coming back from this.

Your grip on his hair tightens when his lips trailed down to the side of your lips, to your jaw down to your neck—sucking and licking, “Satoru—don’t… don’t put—mhm!”

Then he presses his lips on yours again, and you could feel him smile—his teeth grazing on your lower lip.

“You know we should be studying, right?” he says in between, breathing heavy, then he was on you again—biting and nibbling on your lips.

“Mhm—hmm.” you hummed into his mouth, pulling him closer, like there’s any space left in between. Your lips were probably swollen—wet, from all the sloppy kisses that he was giving you but you didn’t have any care in the world.

Your notes and books were long forgotten on the floor and on the coffee table.

Your hair was probably a mess, a few buttons on your white uniform were unbuttoned—his white shirt was wrinkled from all the tugging that you did.

His hand moved to your hair, gripping on it a bit to angle your head—you moan into his mouth, and he pushes his tongue, swirling it around then sucks your tongue in—

“Yo. You weren’t answering—oh. OH.”

You both froze, eyes now open and you’re becoming painfully aware that he’s still above you. Then you heard another voice coming in.

“Hey! We brought—my god, we’re so sorry!” Then you heard a soft thud on the floor.

You pushed Satoru off you so fast that you almost hit your head against his. You sat up, fixing your hair and buttoning your white uniform again—while Satoru, this dumbass, was groaning—his back leaned on the couch now.

“For the record,” the tall guy with a dark-hair tied loosely into a bun—the one you saw in the cafeteria, started speaking, “We knocked.”

Satoru was about to speak when a voice cut into the conversation. “Hey, what’s up?”

“What’s happening in here?”

And another.

Now, there’s four of them. Looking back and forth at you and Satoru.

“Hi. I’m Yuki!” the tall blonde girl cracked the awkward silence, she walked towards the couch where you were sitting, then she pointed at her friends. “That’s Choso. Shoko then, the one who interrupted you first was Suguru.”

You smiled at them, still catching your breath—pulling your uniform down slightly, “I—uh… I’m YN.”

Then her eyes widened, “Oh! You’re YN?! The YN?”

Was he talking about you to his friends?

“The YN that spilled a coffee on his coat then he bitched to us about it like a fucking baby?” Shoko—the short-haired girl nudges Satoru to move so she could sit beside you.

Satoru glared at her but he moved anyway. Then slowly they were placing the food here and there, Suguru even handed you a soda.

“He was so dramatic about it,” Choso says, “We almost kicked him out of the group chat.”

You whip your head to look at Satoru, “I can’t believe you told them.”

“What was I supposed to do? I was pissed off.” he says, groaning. “And you didn’t even say sorry!”

“Uh—what? Cause you’re the one who bumped into me like you’re walking with your eyes closed! And I did say sorry!”

Did you? That memory was kind of a blur now.

Satoru laughs, “Uh. If I could remember, the only thing you said to me was I needed to get some sleep.”

And just like that the whole room burst into laughter—they were watching with amusement as you bicker back and forth with their friend, like they haven’t caught you making out with him on this very couch.

They were very loud—but funny, and so comfortable with each other and yet, you didn’t feel left out. Not even for a bit.

Now you’re all on the floor, your back leaning on the couch and Satoru was seated beside you.

Yuki was looping you in on the jokes. Shoko was asking you how pre-med is now and then, Choso and Suguru were asking you a bunch of questions about anatomy like you were in a trivia game.

They like you.

And that made you feel overwhelmed—in a good way, maybe? How are you supposed to feel in this position anyway?

You didn’t even notice the embarrassment gone out of your body like it was nothing. The room was filled with jokes, banters—and god, Satoru’s laugh. His laugh was annoyingly good. It was driving you insane.

You were still laughing when you looked at him and he looked back at you with a faint smile etched on his face.

Then your eyes landed onto his, he was looking at you like there’s something brewing on his mind—like there was something that he wanted to say but he couldn’t.

“You okay?” you asked him, nudging his knee slightly.

“Yeah.” he slung an arm around your shoulder, “Good.”

You smiled and looked away because you can feel something shifted. You can feel something tiny—an ache, pressing onto your ribs that was supposed to be protecting your heart.

You just didn’t know what it was.

Your days felt the same but at the same time it wasn’t.

You were still talking.

He was still messaging you.

You were still studying together—not at his place, but at the library.

And he was quieter than usual.

He wasn’t nudging your knee, flicking your forehead or grumbling about his back-to-back rotations where they made him stand for hours again.

He was just… there. Reading. Writing something in his notebook. Not even sparing you a single glance.

“Are you okay?” you asked and he just hummed, you took a deep breath, “Am I annoying you?”

He stopped for a bit, still not looking. “No.”

You were expecting that his answer would be ‘yes, you’re annoying me. you always do.’ because… that’s how he’s supposed to answer you, right?

With a cocky grin and a teasing tone. That’s how.

Maybe he was just too tired. Maybe his instructor was too much. Maybe he was just… you don’t know what reasons you could come up with anymore just to justify him acting like this.

But still you brushed it off. Holding onto some stupid reason that you don’t even know.

But the next day came. He canceled lunch, saying he was backed up. Rounds were taking too long.

He said he’ll see you later at the café, that he’ll text you once he gets there.

But he didn’t.

But you let it slide, maybe it slipped his mind. Come on, he’s a third year med student, of course, he’s busy.

And for the next two days, he was silent. He wasn’t messaging—and how you hated that every single time you stepped out the lecture hall, you were wishing he was there, leaning on the wall—waiting for you.

But he wasn’t.

So, you’re staring at your phone for the whole lunch break. Contemplating whether to send him a text. Typing then erasing, then typing again—and the cycle just continued until you had the guts to press the send button.

[You | 12:32 PM] u still alive? haha

So, you waited. Until the lunch break finished. Until it was time for your one pm lecture.

None.

Then you check your phone.

[grumpy med student | 4:45 PM] just busy

It took him four hours.

Four. fucking. hours. It was starting to piss you off. Why is he acting like this? Why is he avoiding you like you’re some plague?

Was it something that you did? Was it the kiss?

Your mind can’t comprehend why he’s acting this way. You were good, right?

You were so good. Not just good. Everything felt right, everything was into pieces like a puzzle locked in together and now it shattered, and the pieces were missing.

You already felt like you belonged.

And suddenly, it’s just… this?

[You | 4:55 PM ] okay

And that was the last thing you sent him.

Then a week passed by agonizingly slow—just like this elevator ride up to your mother’s office.

There were days that you found yourself staring at your phone—reading the old texts, and his damn hoodie wrapped around you while you slept, just to fill a large chunk of space that he left.

You hated how much you noticed the space where he was supposed to be. You hated all of it because he wasn’t just ignoring you—he’s making you feel his absence, and no matter what you did—you can’t escape this raw, aching feeling that’s clawing its way to your chest.

Like it wanted to rip your heart and lungs out.

Maybe it was all too much for him? Maybe he regretted it now.

Maybe.

You looked at the elevator door when it opened—

Your breath caught in your throat. Your heart stopped beating for a short while before screaming inside your chest.

There he was—Satoru, standing in front of you, his hair was messy like he ran his fingers through it a lot of times, his specs still perched on top of his nose and a stethoscope was hanging around his neck.

You could see the look on his face—like you’re a ghost that he was trying to avoid. But then he stepped in and stood up a few inches away from you.

You knew this was going to happen if you went to the hospital. You know you’re going to bump into him—the problem is, you didn’t know what to say, you didn’t know how to act anymore.

This was the kind of silence that you hated—it was heavy with the words that you couldn’t utter. Words that you don’t know how to get out.

You wanted to say something.

Open your mouth but all you could do was look straight ahead.

Like he’s just some stranger who you share memories with.

You know he was about to say something by the way he breathed but then the elevator door opened again.

But you didn’t wait—didn't look back, didn’t spare him a glance and just walked out until you were out of his sight.

And that was the moment you realized—it was all gone.

The bickering, the coffee, the waiting outside your lecture hall so you could walk side by side to the library—the mnemonics, the late night calls and—the kiss.

It was all lost.

Just like that.

The cafeteria was just the same. It was a little more crowded than usual but it was just the same.

But instead of him, you sat across from your mother, quietly eating her food while her phone was buzzing nonstop, and she kept looking at her watch while you just poked on your food like it done you wrong.

“Sorry we can’t eat outside,” she sipped on her coffee, “The surgery took longer than I expected and I still have a consult after this.”

“It’s okay.” you answered softly, absentmindedly poking. You hadn’t said much since you saw him earlier.

You hated him for doing this to you.

“You alright?” your mom asked, staring at your face and you lift your head, giving her a faint smile.

You nodded, but something caught the side of your eye and it darted past your mother’s shoulder—to the table at the corner of the cafeteria, why is the universe playing with you today?

There he was, sitting with his friends, and he looked how he was earlier—except he looked like the skies fell on him.

She followed your line of sight, furrowing her brows a bit before turning to you.

“You know Gojo?”

Your ears pulsate with just a mere utterance of his name.

You looked away, “No.”

“I hear he’s a bit popular in the university,” she continued, giving you a look like she was looking out for your reaction, “Even here. One of the top students. Brilliant.”

You just hummed, and she just kept on talking about him—and you just wished she would stop. “He’s in his third year, right? His mom and I were residents together.”

You blinked, looking at her. “Okay. Tell me what happened.”

“It’s nothing.” you puffed out a small breath, and you avoided her gaze. “It’s really… nothing.”

She looked at you, gaze softening as she watched you push your food around. “Hm. Okay, you don’t have to tell me what happened.”

“It’s really nothing, Mom. It’s fine.”

She just chuckled, her hands cupped yours above the table. “If it was nothing then you wouldn’t be looking at him like that.”

Satoru doesn’t even know what he’s doing.

He bought food but he was barely touching it. It was hard to breathe when he knew that you were there—just a few tables from him.

He hated this. He hates himself—he always does this, when everything feels too good—too real, it terrifies him that he turns away.

Except, when he had done this before—he didn’t get hung up, he had protected himself before it got real, before everything went too deep.

He doesn’t just let anyone in, but then you came, you invaded his space—and this barrier between him and his emotions just came crumbling down.

“Satoru,” Suguru called him, tossing a crumpled tissue his way, “You good?”

“Yeah.” he just nodded, a bit distracted.

Yuki was ranting about her rotations when she suddenly stopped, squinting across the room, to the table where you were sitting. “Wait. Isn’t that Dr. LN?”

Shoko and the others followed her gaze, “Yeah. It is.”

“Isn’t that YN with her?” Choso says, turning away and suddenly, all of them were just staring at him—Satoru, like he had done them wrong too.

“What?” he asked, his eyebrows creased.

Yuki waved her hand first, “Wait. Before we get to Satoru’s stupid ass, why is YN eating with Dr. LN?!”

Satoru lifted his head—he couldn’t help but look in your direction, your chin was resting on your hand, you were looking at the food again like it said something that offended you.

He muttered, “Dr. LN’s her mom.”

“Whaaat?” Yuki shrieked and Shoko was taken aback too.

“You’re kidding?”

But he didn’t answer them. He wasn’t surprised at his friends’ reactions because Dr. LN is one of the top surgeons at the hospital, maybe it just shocked them that you’re her daughter.

Well, it wasn’t a surprise. You’re smart—just like her. You’re…

Fuck. Why can’t he look away? He made his decision, right? Why can’t he get you out—

“The fuck was that for?” his train of thoughts vanished when he felt Shoko smack his head. “Are you—”

“You’re a dumbass.” she hissed, and the other three hummed in agreement. “She’s the only girl that we liked. Like, ever.”

“I mean,” Suguru started, “No offense to your past trainwrecks.”

“She just clicked, you know?” Yuki said, sipping on her juice, “I mean, she didn’t even look nervous around us. She laughed with us, she never had that awkward silence, you get me? Like, you could feel her—ah, I’m rambling. Bottomline, you’re fucking stupid.”

He knew that—and that’s what terrified him, you fitted in so easily. You slid so easily in his life like you really belong there.

The problem was never with you.

He used to be content with what you two had—the endless bickering, the studying together quietly—all of it was enough for a person like him. Enough for him who didn’t have time, who couldn’t offer anything more.

Because what if he couldn’t give you what you wanted? What you deserved?

And it scared him when you two kissed for the first time. Because it felt like whatever you two had, could be something more.

But he wasn’t ready for more.

Not when his life was already hanging on a balance with the endless responsibilities, pressure, expectations—he couldn’t bring you into this.

He was hunched into the desk when Suguru placed a paper bag in front of him. He looked at him and frowned. “What is this?”

“Nurses said someone dropped it off. It’s yours.”

Satoru sighed then reached for the bag.

And his heart stopped.

It was his hoodie.

The one that he gave you so that you could have something of his, that you could return—so you could—he could see you again.

He knew what this meant. He knew why you gave it back.

Because he wasn’t going to see you again.

He just stared at it, barely moved, afraid that if he touched it, it would explode. It didn’t smell like him anymore—it smelled like you.

“You know, it’s the first time that I saw you like this.” he looked at Suguru who was leaning on the wall, staring right at him as if watching him come to his senses.

But he didn’t speak, he just looked away as if scared that the truth would hurt him. And it did.

It does.

“She was really good for you,” Suguru added, “I mean, granted that you ditch us for her like an asshole but still, she made you breathe just for a bit.”

Suguru didn’t say this just to be cruel. He was just telling the truth. Because that’s what he saw.

Satoru’s fists clenched, “I didn’t mean for it to get this far.”

“It’s too late for that, you know that, right?”

“And I told you before,” Satoru muttered, “I can’t do this. I don’t have enough time, space—”

“And yet you did.” Suguru pressed, “You made time. You brought her into your space. You let her in, man. She even met all of us. And I know you, you don’t do that.”

Satoru’s breath caught into his throat.

“And it was a mistake.” he says quietly, like he was trying to convince himself. But he’s too smart for that.

They both know it wasn’t. He never regretted it once. He’s just too terrified.

Because you weren’t supposed to matter. But then you started showing up in places where he was. Everywhere he went you were there. Everywhere he looks, he sees you.

Even in his thoughts—you were there.

You were in every goddamn thing that he touches.

And now all of it is just… just.

There’s no more lunch breaks where you kick his leg slightly under the table, no more yellow highlighters flying to his direction just so you could annoy him.

He would never see the crease in your brows again whenever you were muttering mnemonics like the world would end if you didn’t memorize it all.

He would never get irritated now that you’re not here to pester him about practicing something on him—and he’ll say yes anyway.

Now, there’s no more pretending that he wasn’t falling for you. Because he did, he fell hard and he crashed.

There’s no coming back from that.

He really fucked up, huh?

You were about to drift off to sleep when you heard a knock on your door.

You groaned, clutching the paper that was on your face. You hadn’t slept properly in days and of course—of fucking course, just when you’re about to, someone decides to knock on your stupid door.

Great. Just fucking great.

You removed every paper that was on you and set it aside.

You drag yourself up pulling the blanket over your shoulder to cover up the fact that you were only wearing your cami top and shorts—meaning, you’re not to be disturbed, god, it’s late.

You walk to the door, barely awake, cracking it open just to see who it is.

And it’s like a cold bucket of water was splashed onto your face.

Sleep? Gone.

Your heart? Gone. It exploded.

“What are you doing here?”

He was staring at you like you stole all air from him.

You looked around the hallway before pulling him in—shutting the door behind you. You don’t even know how he got in your dorm building—but here he is, interrupting your sleep, your life.

You turned to him, clutching the blanket around you, waiting for him to speak.

“The hoodie,” he whispered, breathing heavily, “You gave it back.”

“That’s what you came here to say? That I gave you your hoodie back?”

He parted his mouth like he wanted to say something. But he didn’t. He just stood there, staring at you like he’s afraid that you were going to slip away.

So you did, “I gave it back because it’s pointless. I gave it back because I know you weren’t going to talk to me anymore. I didn’t want to hold on to something that… that you clearly don't want.”

His heart dropped when your voice cracked.

“YN—”

“What?” your tone was sharp, like you were protecting yourself. “What do you want, Satoru? Are you going to show up again, act like I fucking matter to you and the next few days, ignore me?”

You laughed bitterly, tears cascading down the side of your eyes. You said you weren’t going to cry.

You didn’t cry in the past two weeks that he didn’t talk to you.

But seeing him here, in front of you, it’s like a dam broke inside of you.

“It’s not that—It’s not that I didn’t want to talk to you,” he muttered, trying to step closer but his feet wouldn’t move. “I fucked up.”

“You did!” you snapped, wiping your tears hastily, “So what was it? You were busy? You forgot I existed?”

“No.” he paused, “Because you weren’t part of the plan. You weren’t supposed to happen—I don’t fucking do this, YN. I don’t stay up late with someone, I don’t just eat lunch with someone because I want to—I… fuck.”

“So you just pushed me away? Because life didn’t go the fucking way you want it to?”

He just looked at you, every word that you were saying sits heavy on his chest.

“Because, God forbid, you feel something real?” your voice shatters, “You made me think, I mattered. Then you just up… and leave. You didn’t even say goodbye.”

And that’s what hurt the most. How easily he walked away like none of it meant anything to him.

You buried your face in your palms, sobbing—the blanket that was hugging you pooling on the floor.

“YN.” he stepped forward, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I fucked up. I’m sorry I was such a fucking jerk—”

“You are!” your voice was muffled, your shoulders shaking as you cried. Then you feel him—his arms circling around you to pull you close, the side of your head resting on his chest.

“I didn’t know what to do.” he almost choked, resting his cheek on your head. “I didn’t know how to deal with something like this. You weren’t just a distraction, you weren’t just a girl who flirted with me at a party—you were, you.”

You could feel his hand tremble by the way he held you, but you let him speak. “You were there almost every day. God, you were the first person I think about whenever I hear something funny or someone irritated the fuck out of me.”

“Then I got scared when I saw how easy it was for you to slip into my space, into the people I care about.”

You pull away from him, your hands wiping your tears. Your gaze finds each other.

“When I was watching you laugh with them… I realized that I care so much about you. And that scared me because I don’t want to lose you—I didn’t want that moment to end, and if I said the wrong thing or did something stupid then I would lose you for good? I could not let myself do that.”

“What changed?” you paused, “So, what? You’re not scared now?”

“No. God, I’m scared.” his eyes didn’t leave yours, “But I’m scared of not being with you at all—of walking away, then spending the rest of my life wondering what we could’ve been.”

You didn’t know what else to say.

Or if there is something else to say.

You were just standing there, his hands trembling on your hips—his lips flutter every time he took a breath.

“Kiss me.”

You say but you didn’t even let him react when you tugged on his shirt, pulling him close to press his lips against yours—your teeth grazing his lower lip to let you in.

And he did, he let you in.

“Fuck,” he muttered, breathing heavily before letting you jump into his arms, he carried you to your bed—pushing everything on the floor, the sheets under you rustles as he set you down along with the sound of the papers scattering on the floor.

And just like that, he was all over you again—on top of your body, pressing himself against you.

“I missed you,” you let it slip in between the kisses, in between the whimper into his mouth. “I miss you, Satoru.”

His fingers trail inside your shirt, skimming your waist up to your ribs until he reaches the underside of your breast.

He groaned into your mouth before pulling away, his kisses trail down to the skin of your neck, peppering you with desperate—hungry kisses, “You have no idea how hard it was to stay away.”

“Then don’t.” you gasp as he bites the skin just above your collarbone, “Just stay… with me.”

God, you’re driving him insane.

Then he was back on your lips again. His kisses getting frantic—desperate, he pushed his tongue past your lips—hot and heavy, swirling his tongue inside your mouth like he needed to taste every inch of you.

Because he does. Satoru needed you, he craved you.

You moan against his mouth, his fingers tracing the strap of your camisole before pulling it down—the strap falling flawlessly from your shoulders.

His hand gripped your shoulder—like he was making sure you were okay with his hands all over you, but you reached for his wrist almost immediately and placed it on top of your breast yourself.

Then he froze for a bit, both your eyes opened—until a startled laugh broke out of him—and next, you.

“I thought you were getting shy or something,” you say breathlessly, laughing softly.

“I was being respectful,” he brushed the tip of his nose against yours and yet his hand was still on your breast.

“Don’t you think that went out the window when you stuck your tongue down my throat?”

“Point taken.” he says before his mouth crashes on you again, licking your lips as he starts to knead your chest—he presses soft kisses against your jaw until he is down to your chest, pulling your cami top down with his teeth.

Fuck, he’s so hot.

You catch your breath as he takes your breast into his mouth, his tongue swirling on your nipple while the pad of his thumb brushes over the other.

Your fingers find their way to his hair—gripping it desperately, like you were aching for more, more touch, more of him.

He lets go of your breast with a pop, his eyes staring at you like he was burning your skin.

“Satoru,” you look up at him, your fingers tightened on his hair, “Fuck, please…”

“I know.” his breath stutters when he sees you part your swollen lips, “I got you, baby.”

His lips were back onto yours—greedy, breathless as his hands roam everywhere, he grips on your hips like he’s melding his hand onto your skin. His fingers trace the waistband of your shorts before pulling it down in a swift motion, throwing it on the floor.

His fingers dug into your thighs, coaxing them apart before moving his hands up, his fingers drawing the fabric of your underwear to the side.

You whine against his lips when he slid his finger up and down your folds, his fingers slick with your juices before sliding one finger in, “Mhm—fuck.”

“You like that?” he murmured, his voice was almost reverent—but the smirk tugging on his lip betrays him, your lips part—breathless moan leaches out of your mouth when he adds a finger.

Then he moves his fingers in then out—hooking it just enough to make you tremble and grip his wrist when he moves it fast.

His fingers coated with your wetness creates a hungering sound, he watches as you arch into his hand—and it makes his stomach curl in an animalistic way. He couldn’t even think straight, he was just watching your every gasp and shiver like he was memorizing it.

“Sa—toru! Mhm, fuck, more—please.” you moaned, tugging him close to pull him close just so you could feel him more, it wasn’t enough that his fingers were inside you—you needed more. “I want you. Please.”

“Ah.” he half laughs, breathlessly—almost moaning, his fingers still pumping in and out of your cunt, “You’re driving me crazy.”

“I know.” you lift your head a bit to reach his lower lip, you graze your teeth into the wet skin of his mouth, “Let me—ngh—drive you even crazier.”

“Yeah?” he groans, and you nod, your fingers reaching out for the waistband of his pants, until you reach the button of his pants—your hands reach inside cupping his hard dick with your palm, moving your hands agonizingly—slowly.

“Ah—fuck—” you whimpered when he stopped pumping his fingers—you didn’t even know how he rid himself of his clothes that fast, then he was on top of you again.

Maybe he was just that desperate—and fuck, you know you were too.

His body was hoisted slightly as he stroked his cock above you while pressing sloppy kisses on your mouth.

Then you pulled away, you watched with heavy-lidded eyes as he tilted his head back slightly—your fingers tracing the line of his abs—guttural moans came out of him like he came straight out of porn, his hand still pumping his cock.

You loop your legs on his waist, pulling him close—you both gasp as the tip of his dick almost dips in your cunt. “Impatient, are you?”

“Mhm.” you pull him more—his jaw clenches, eyes darkening at how maddeningly desperate you are.

“Fuuuck. You’re killing me.” he slides his tip up and down, just to tease you—and it loses his mind how you're faltering with even a small touch. He’s ruined.

You ruined him.

“Please—Satoruuu—OH.”

You both gasp when he suddenly pushes in, slowly—deliberately, like he wanted to relish in the way that you clench around him, walls hugging his dick so tight he might’ve come right there and then.

“Shit,” he groans, voice cracking while pushing in deep—until you take all of him, “You’re so—tight, ah, fuck. So good.”

You dip your fingernails into his shoulder, lips apart—your head tilted back slightly. Your eyes flutter shut as you take the abrupt stretch—the pleasure.

“Satoru—mhm, please. Need you to move, baby.”

He groans into your neck—the pet name added to the things cutting into his restraint, he gripped your hips trying to keep you still—god, he couldn’t move. He was getting overwhelmed with the way you feel soft and tight around him.

There was a hitch in your voice when he started moving, slowly—then deeper, faster—harder.

The shaky, uneven—heavy breathing fills the air. The sheets rustle just below you as the bed starts creaking but all you could focus on was how delicious his hips slaps into you—wet, sloppy thrusts fills your ear, making your body ache in ways you didn’t even know.

Your moans grew louder, air catches on your breath with every thrust that he makes.

“Satoru—ah. Fuck!” you close your eyes from the hundreds of pleasure coursing through your body.

He pulls back just a bit, to see your face.

“Look at me,” he breathes, and when your eyes meet his—he loses it. He was all over you—on your mouth, on your face, neck—pressing wet kisses while he rams you into oblivion.

And fuck, how it drove you insane when he gripped your hair and tilted your head just so he could lick your collarbone up to your jaw—then it suddenly hit you like a wave, his name left your mouth broken.

The muscles on your abdomen contract, toes curling into the sheets.

Your grip on him tightens as your thighs quivered, hips arching into him. “Sat—nggh—toru! Feels so good,”

“Fuck, you came?” he groans, his grip on your hips tightens as he fucked you into overstimulation.

You make him crazy. So crazy—he’s losing his mind—you’re going to make him lose his mind until there’s just a scintilla of sanity left on him.

Satoru cursed under his breath—hips curving slightly as he pushed in deep. Your name leaves his lips, strained—low. His hips stutter a bit before he collapses on top of you.

You could feel his chest rise and fall against yours, your breathing in sync.

“You’re heavy.” you muttered, and he just hums—sinking himself deeper against your body.

“I think I just went to heaven.”

You laughed, swatting his back lightly. “You’re so dramatic, you know that?”

“Well, I’m sorry—but you ruined me.” he groans—you let out a whimper when he shifts slightly, aware that he’s still inside you. You both winced when he pulled out, but still not getting off of you.

“I ruined you?” you arch your brow, he places his head on your chest—listening to your heartbeat like it was the only thing grounding him.

“Hmm. Completely ruined—like my coat was.”

You groaned, your fingers absentmindedly playing with his hair. “Are you ever going to let that go?”

He lifts his head and greets you with a smug grin, “No. I’d be annoying you with that forever.”

Forever, huh?

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