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imaginedisish · 5 months ago

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Close to You (Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader)

A/N: Oh my god. I got so carried away with this. It was not supposed to be this long. Anyway, here's the beach fic, y'all. This one is inspired by "Close to You" by Gracie Abrams...which is an absolute banger. Hope you enjoy!

Summary: The team goes away on a weekend beach trip, and your pining for Logan comes to a head when you're forced to share a room...

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI!!! SMUT!! Thigh riding, oral (f!receiving), fingering, Unprotected PIV (wrap it up!), cocky!Logan, softdom!Logan, soft!Logan, feelings, fluff, afab!reader/fem!reader, reader wears a bikini (no descriptions at all, though!), one bed trope (muahaha), friends to lovers, cursing, absolutely some grammatical errors bc this fic is so long, I think that's it!

Word Count: 6,577 this was so self indulgent

You step out onto the concrete and the salt in the air immediately coats your skin. The breeze is sticky and slightly humid, but it smells so good. You can hear the waves crashing against the sand, seagulls squawking above. Laughter on the boardwalk. Carnival music blaring from all the rides. It’s perfect—the sun is high, fluffy white clouds framing the endless blue sky.

“We’re going to have so much fun!” Jubilee cheers, closing the car door as she slides out of the Jeep.

Jean and Scott step out of their car, parked just up ahead, unloading their bags. “It’s so nice of the Professor to give us the weekend off!” Jean says excitedly, placing her bag down onto the sidewalk and wheeling it up to the porch of the house. “I can’t believe he rented this place for us.” It’s a yellow, two-story cottage with a lemonade porch, adorned with white shutters and a shingled roof.

Logan makes his way to the trunk of his Jeep, pulling out bag after bag. You rush to his side, reaching inside the trunk. “Let me help you,” you mumble as the rest of the team excitedly approaches the house.

Logan smiles and shakes his head, reaching for the same bag you are. His fingertips brush yours as he takes the bag away, your heart beating in your chest at the sudden contact. “Don’t worry, princess,” he huffs, smirking as he places the bag down in front of you. Heat rises to your chest at the nickname. “Don’t lift a finger. Go inside and check out the place.” He nods his head towards the front door and grabs another bag.

You smile, throwing your backpack over your shoulder, grabbing two bags, and carrying them to the front door in protest. “Gonna help you anyway,” you say over your shoulder. Logan chuckles as he closes the truck, grabbing the rest of the duffle bags and following behind you.

He meets your side as you walk through the doors. The walls are pale blue, and the bottom halves are lined with white shiplap. Beechwood covers the floors. The living room is light and airy, white curtains floating through opened windows. The kitchen is off to the side, and to the back is a large open sunroom. Just straight ahead are the stairs.

Jean and Scott settle some groceries on the counter as Jubilee, Kurt, Rogue, and Gambit head upstairs to see the bedrooms.

“Hey, guys?” Jubilee calls from upstairs. You can tell by the sound of her voice that something is off. “I thought the Professor said there’d be six beds.”

Jean puts away a bag of chips and steps back into the living room, following Jubilee’s voice up the steps, and disappearing as her feet hit the landing. “How many are there?” She asks, her voice muffled.

“Five,” Jubilee answers. “Three queens and two bunk beds, and Kurt and I took the bunks already.”

“That’s fine,” Jean says, shrugging her shoulders as she heads back downstairs. “We’ll all just be a little tight—closer quarters than usual.”

And that’s when it finally hits you. Three queen beds—and Kurt and Jubilee took the twin bunks.

You’ll be sharing a room with Logan.

You turn to him and find that his eyes are already on you. “You okay sharing, princess?” He asks, nodding to the steps.

You swallow harshly, trying to mask your nervousness, hoping Logan can’t hear the way your heart beats out of your chest. “Yeah!” You say, trying to sound enthusiastic. “Totally fine with it.”

He nods, smiling softly as he walks towards the steps, his bags in his hands. You follow behind him, the wood stairs creaking with every step you take.

Jean was not exaggerating; the upstairs of the house is extremely small. There may be four bedrooms—but bedroom is a generous title. Each room is only large enough to hold a queen bed, a single dresser, and a small nightstand on either side of the bed. There’s little to no walking room. One of the rooms—Kurt and Jubilee’s—has just a bunk bed and a nightstand, with a tiny wardrobe in the corner. In the center of the tight hallway is a bathroom with a simple sink, toilet, and a stand-up shower.

Logan steps into the first bedroom to the left of the stairs and puts his bags down on the ground. “You sure you’re okay with this?” He asks, watching as you put your bags down next to his. “I can sleep on the couch if you’re uncomfortable.”

You shake your head, walking over to the window and taking in the view of the ocean. “Don’t worry,” you say, watching kids run across the sand, trying to distract yourself from how close Logan is to you in this tiny room. “We’re adults.” You turn to face him, fighting the urge to let your eyes trail up and down his body. “We can share.” Or at least, you hope you can.

You can handle this for a weekend. You can force down your feelings—can ignore your massive crush on Logan for seventy-two hours. That’s all this is. A weekend trip. This is doable. You’ve been through so much worse than this.

“If you change your mind, you can let me know,” Logan says, reaching his arm out towards your shoulder. His knuckles brush against your bare skin, and you let yourself lean into his touch. He’s warm, solid, cozy—

“Let’s go to the beach!” Jubilee interrupts, Logan’s hand falling from your shoulder instantly. “We didn’t come here to sit in a house all weekend, did we?” She jumps away from the door and runs down the stairs.

“Kid has a point,” Logan says, shrugging his shoulders and nodding towards the door. “You ready to go?”

“Yeah,” you say, smiling widely. “Already have my bathing suit on.” Logan smiles back and grabs your wrist, tugging you into the hallway, down the stairs, and out the door.

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You’re sitting on the beach, watching as Jubilee and Kurt splash each other recklessly in the water. Jean sits in a chair, reading a book, while Scott lays on a beach towel, eyes likely closed behind his glasses. Rogue and Gambit walk down the shoreline, hand in hand.

Logan stands up from the beach blanket you share, tugging his beater up and over his head. “I’m going in,” he says, just to you. “Wanna come?” He reaches out his hand again, the same hand that tugged you the whole way here. You bite your lip, nerves building in your stomach again. “Come on,” Logan says, smirking. “I don’t bite.”

Your heart flutters in your chest, and you take his hand, standing up. You let go and tug your shorts down your legs. You look up at Logan as your fingertips find the hem of your tank top, his eyes trained firmly on you. Your stomach somersaults as you pull your shirt up your body, revealing your bikini top, knowing Logan is watching.

Logan’s throat bobs as he swallows. He nods towards the ocean, wordlessly grabbing your hand again and tugging you along.

The waves lap at your ankles, and you force yourself into the cold water. Logan seemingly has no problem at all, pulling you along from a few feet ahead. The water is already up to his hips. He looks behind at you, all wide-eyed and happy.

“You’re not afraid, are you?” He teases, squeezing your hand tighter. Your heart drums against your ribcage at the feeling. He’s never held your hand like this. You try to shove down your feelings, to brush away how having him this close makes you feel, but nothing changes. You want him all the same.

You take a deep breath and shake your head as the cold water barrels against the middle of your thighs. “No,” you protest. “I’m just freezing.”

Logan smiles wider. “You gotta get all the way in!” He tugs you further, pulling you closer to him so that you’re shoulder to shoulder. You can’t tell if it’s the icy waves or your proximity to Logan that makes your heart freeze in your chest, that makes you crave the warmth of his body. You want to be close to him. You want him to pull you into his chest and hold you.

“Do I have to?” You ask playfully, a half-smile turning up at the corner of your mouth.

He jokingly rolls his eyes. “Come on,” he says, dropping your hand and wrapping his arm around your waist instead. “I’ve got you,” he whispers. You choke on your own breath as he guides you further into the water. “You okay?” He asks.

“I’m fine,” you mumble, his fingertips pressing against the bare skin of your stomach. Goosebumps pebble your flesh. Finally, Logan guides you all the way into the water, up to your shoulders. It’s a surprisingly calm day—the waves easy and gentle.

Logan lets go of your waist and treads water, slipping underneath the dark blue current and coming back up—his hair wet, drops of water dripping down his face and neck. You can’t help the smile that spreads across your lips at the sight.

“Your turn,” he whispers, squeezing his eyes half shut as he swims towards you.

Your smile drops as you swim away. Logan grabs your ankle, pulling you towards him. You yelp as he tugs you closer. You turn around and splash him playfully, freeing yourself from his grasp as he wipes the salt water off his face.

You laugh, still backing away from Logan. He creeps forward, assessing you like an animal stalks its prey. “You’re not getting away that easy, pretty girl,” he huffs.

What was that? Your eyes widen as those last two words repeat in your head. You’re so distracted that you don’t notice him closing the gap between the two of you. Suddenly his hands are on your hips, dragging you into his chest.

His grip is like iron around your waist, keeping you in place, your hips pressed to his, your chests touching lightly. You don’t feel the coldness of the water anymore—you can’t feel anything except Logan.

“What am I gonna do with you?” He asks, his voice low and raspy. The world stopped long ago, his arms wrapping around your back now, pulling you closer. The playfulness of the moment disappears—this is something else, something more serious. Logan brings his face closer to yours, his lips just centimeters away. This is it, you think to yourself. The moment when everything finally changes—

“Hey!” A familiar voice calls from the beach. Logan’s eyes fall closed—an almost defeated look painting across his face. Your head whips to the sand, and the team is standing by the beach chairs. Jubilee waves you and Logan over. “We’re going to the boardwalk! Come on!”

Logan opens his eyes. You think he’s going to push you away, to let you go, but he only holds you tighter. “Give us a second!” He shouts, frustration clear in his voice.

But Jubilee crosses her arms against her chest. Scott chuckles and walks ahead with Jean. Gambit and Rogue look at each other knowingly, and Kurt teleports to the edge of the water.

“And just like that…” Logan murmurs, half to himself, half to you. “Moment ruined.”

You tilt your head, the implication of his words wracking your brain. “What do you mean—”

But Logan is pulling you along with him to the shore before you can finish asking for clarification. His arms drop from your waist, his hand grabbing yours to guide you onto the sand. He bends down, picking up your shorts and top from the beach blanket the team left out, and passing them to you.

“Thanks,” you mumble, your hands parting as he shoves his beater up and over his head. Once you’re dressed, flip-flops and all, you join the team and make your way up to the boardwalk.

Gambit is talking with Logan about something just ahead, trailing on and on, clearly irritating Logan, while Rogue falls back to walk with you.

“So,” she says softly, her eyes flitting between you and Logan. “What’s going on there, sugar?” She asks, smirking.

You furrow your brows, trying to hide your smile. “Nothing that I know of,” you say, somewhat honestly. This might be nothing—might just be a friend teasing another friend. A friend whose lips were just inches from yours, so close that you could feel his breath fanning across your face. A friend who dug his fingers into your waist to pull you closer to his—

“Nothing, huh?” She asks, snapping you back to reality. “Because I think he would’ve kissed you if Jubilee didn’t interrupt,” she whispers so only you can hear.

Heat rises to your chest at her words. “I don’t know. We’re just friends…” You trail off.

“We’ll see about that, sugar,” Rogue says, walking ahead, tearing Gambit away from Logan. Logan’s shoulders visibly relax once Gambit is gone, and he looks back at you, slowing his steps so that you can meet his side.

“Hi,” he husks, smiling down at you.

You smile back, the warmth of his hand suddenly spreading across your lower back. It’s gentle, the ghost of a touch, almost not quite there—more tentative than in the ocean when it felt like no one was watching. But it’s solid and centering all the same.

“Let’s go on the Ferris wheel!” Jubilee suggests, holding out the ticket booklet that Jean and Scott ran ahead to buy. She tears out tickets—three for each person. Jean and Scott hold hands and walk to the front of the line. Rogue leans over to Jubilee, whispering something into her ear that makes her eyes widen. She nods and pairs off with Kurt. Rogue turns around and winks at you while Logan isn’t looking.

You look up at him and see that he’s staring off at the sun slowly setting. Pink, orange, and red erupt in the sky, the colors blending, painting across the wispy clouds. “Looks like it’s just you and me,” you say as the others climb into the Ferris wheel gondolas in pairs.

Logan smirks, his eyes finding yours as you approach the front of the line. “Looks like it, pretty girl,” he husks. There it is again. Pretty girl. The ride attendant slows down the wheel, and you and Logan slip inside the gondola. You think maybe he’ll sit across from you, but he sits next to you instead.

The attendant closes the door of the gondola, and the ride starts up. Once you’re off the ground, Logan slips his arm around your shoulder, his palm warm against your bare skin. “This okay?” He asks, his lips at the shell of your ear.

“Y-yeah,” you stutter, your breath catching in your throat as his thumb brushes gentle circles into your arm. You let your head rest in the crook of his neck, and he leans against you, fitting together like puzzle pieces.

It’s silent communication—knowing, but not saying. You can feel his intention as his arm tugs you closer, his lips at the crown of your head. Your heart beats out of your chest—for the millionth time today—and you know he can hear it.

You reach the top of the Ferris wheel and look out at the ocean, the sun hitting the water, turning the blue waves to gold. “It’s beautiful,” you mumble, the current rippling against the shore, glistening vibrantly like the ocean figured out alchemy.

Logan chuckles softly. “I can think of something prettier, you know,” he husks, his lips still pressed into the crown of your head. Your heart thumps in your chest at his words. You lift your head, looking up at him.

His eyes meet yours, a soft smile playing upon his lips. “Logan, I—”

But the gondola comes to a sudden stop, and the door to the car swings open. You’re already back on the ground. The attendant crosses his arms, waiting for you and Logan to get out. Logan rolls his eyes, grabbing your hand and helping you back onto the boardwalk. The team is already off the ride, waiting for the two of you at the exit.

“Why don’t we play some games and then head back to the house for the night?” Scott suggests, his arm wrapped around Jean’s waist.

Jubilee smiles widely. “Yes! I wanna play the game where you throw the lobster into the pot!”

“Gambit’s gonna win chere a prize,” Gambit drawls, tugging Rogue into his chest. “The biggest one Gambit can find.” Rogue giggles, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

Jubilee and Kurt run off to the other side of the boardwalk, immediately finding the lobster-pot game. Jean and Scott follow behind, making sure they don’t get into trouble. Rogue and Gambit go out on their own, heading toward the ring toss game.

You and Logan are left alone. Again. Surely everyone is doing this on purpose. “What do you wanna play?” You ask, nodding towards the array of games lined up on the opposite side of the boardwalk.

His eyes meet yours, flitting down to your lips and then back up to your eyes. “Whatever you want, darlin’.” You smile, grabbing his hand and tugging him towards balloon darts.

You approach the booth, and Logan pulls out his wallet, handing a five-dollar bill to the woman running the game. She slides a cup of five darts towards you and Logan, and steps off to the side, away from the balloons. Logan watches as you grab a dart and throw, completely missing the balloon you were aiming for. You groan, rolling your eyes, and grab another dart.

“Here,” Logan rasps, standing behind you. He holds your hand in his, lining the dart up to a balloon. His other arm wraps around your waist, the front of his hips pressing into your back. “Like this,” he murmurs, pulling your hand back. You let go of the dart when he thrusts forward. The dart pierces a balloon, the pop echoing through the booth.

You look up at him, his face close to yours, and smile. He grabs another dart, his eyes still focused on you, and throws without looking away, popping another balloon. “Now you’re just showing off,” you say teasingly as your smile grows wider. He grabs another dart, aiming at a bigger balloon this time, and pierces it with ease.

“Gotta win you a prize, pretty girl,” he says, grabbing the last dart from the cup, and tossing it across the booth, directly into the biggest balloon on the board. It pops—of course—and the game attendant’s jaw drops.

She shakes her head, walking over to the bigger prizes. “Never seen anyone do that before…” she trails off, pointing to the giant plushies. “You can pick any of these.”

Logan’s arm sneakily wraps around your waist as he waits for you to pick between a giant fox, panda, or dolphin. “The fox, definitely the fox,” you decide.

The attendant grabs the fox and pulls it down, handing it to you. You squeeze it to your chest, Logan’s grip on your waist tightening. “He’s so cute!” You giggle, looking up at Logan, who’s guiding you towards the edge of the boardwalk. “Thank you,” you say softly.

He shakes his head and looks out towards the water. “It was nothing,” he says, his arm still around your waist as you lean against the railing of the boardwalk. The sun is falling behind the horizon, stars rising in the sky.

His Adam’s apple bobs in his throat as he turns to face you. “Listen…” He starts, his jaw working as his grip on your waist falls away, his forearms bracing on the railing. Your shoulder presses against his, the tension between you palpable. “I’ve been thinking…” But he pauses again, his eyes searching yours.

“We ready to head back to the house?” Scott asks, interrupting the conversation. Logan’s eyes roll into the back of his head, and he leans forward.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Logan mutters, thinking you can’t hear him, resting his head against the railing.

Jubilee grabs your arm, holding up her little stuffed teddy bear. “Look what I won!” Her smile drops when she sees your giant fox. “Oh my god, my bear is nothing compared to that! That thing is massive!”

You smirk, glancing over at Logan. “Wouldn’t have gotten it if it wasn’t for him.” Logan lifts his head and smiles sheepishly at you.

The moon rises high in the quickly darkening sky. You’re not quite sure where the day went. Everything happened so quickly—the hours spent on the sand, Logan tugging you into the water. It was perfect. Beyond perfect. And now it was time to head back.

The team treks down the boardwalk and onto the street, trailing a few blocks before arriving back at the house. You and Logan walk shoulder to shoulder the whole way there, leading at the front of the group. Logan grabs the key from his pocket, unlocks the door, and you all head inside.

Jubilee and Kurt run into the kitchen scavenging for snacks. Gambit and Rogue crash onto the living room couch.

“We’re gonna head to bed,” Scott says, Jean following him up the stairs. “Night, guys.” Everyone mutters soft goodnights in response, and a comfortable silence falls upon the house.

“Gonna steal the upstairs shower before they get to it,” you whisper to Logan, nodding to Jubilee and Kurt.

He smirks. “I’ll shower down here,” he says back. “See you upstairs?” He asks.

“Yeah,” you answer, suddenly remembering that you’re sharing not just a room with Logan, but a bed. You walk away and head upstairs, grabbing your pajamas from your duffle bag and making your way to the bathroom.

You turn on the water and undress. The shower is warm and relaxing, releasing the tension you had spent the entire day holding in. But the peace is temporary—your thoughts drift off to Logan. You imagine him sitting on the edge of the bed, shirtless, waiting for you to join him. Butterflies flutter in your stomach, and you try to ignore the heat growing at the bottom of your belly. Maybe you should’ve taken a cold shower instead.

You finish up in the shower, turning the water off and grabbing a towel. You reach for your pajamas, only to realize you forgot your bottoms and your bra. You step into your panties and shrug your oversized band t-shirt over your head. You push the bathroom door open just a crack, and seeing no one in the hallway, you make a break for it, tip-toeing to your room. You slip inside and shut the door.

Logan coughs from behind you, and you whip around. “S-sorry,” he stutters, standing up from the edge of the bed. He’s shirtless, just like you imagined he’d be, wearing only a pair of boxers. His hair is still damp from his shower. “I didn’t mean to—”

You cut him off. “No, no,” you assure. “It’s totally fine.” You’re worried you sound too eager, too focused on making sure he stays. You clear your throat nervously, stepping towards your duffle bag. You lean down, hoping your t-shirt is still covering your ass as you rifle through your belongings. You groan when you finally realize you forgot to pack pajama shorts. You stand up and make your way around to the left side of the bed.

“Everything okay?” Logan asks, following suit and walking to the right side of the bed.

“Yeah,” you say. “I, um…” You trail off, motioning towards your duffle bag. “I forgot pajama bottoms,” you finally spit out. “If you’re uncomfortable or—”

“No,” Logan cuts you off this time. “I’m not uncomfortable at all.”

You smile, climbing into the bed and slipping under the covers, and Logan does the same. He rolls onto his side and turns off the lamp—the only light on in the room. The space is engulfed in darkness save for the pale light of the moon pushing through the curtains.

You take a deep breath; you’re more nervous than you can comprehend. You could simply turn away from Logan, but you’re too anxious to move. Your stomach somersaults as his knee brushes against your thigh. You force your eyes shut, your heart beating rapidly in your chest.

“I can hear your heartbeat, you know,” Logan mumbles into the dark room, shuffling under the covers. “You okay?”

You swallow harshly, humming a soft mhm, too distracted to form a complete sentence.

“I know you aren’t telling the truth, pretty girl,” Logan whispers, his hand finding your waist. “I can sleep on the couch, if you—”

“No,” you protest, the words escaping your lips almost uncontrollably. “It’s f-fine,” you stammer. “I’m fine.”

He chuckles darkly. “Then what’s got you so worked up, huh?” Oh. He knows. He has to know. You can hear it in his voice.

“N-nothing,” you lie, your eyes fluttering open. Logan is closer to you now, his fingertips trailing down to your thighs, to the hem of your shirt.

“Relax,” Logan husks, his hand slipping back up your body and settling on your waist. He tugs you closer to him. “This okay?” He asks, and you hum a quiet yes. You can feel the tension thickening, feel it readying to snap. He breaks the silence. “Thought about this all day, you know.”

Your eyes widen at the confession. “Th-this?” You ask, your legs tangling with his.

“Being alone with you,” Logan rasps. Your shirt hikes up as he pulls you into his chest. “Wanted to get you alone earlier,” he says, his hand sliding back down your body, playing with the hem of your shirt before slipping underneath. His fingertips drag along your stomach.

You curse under your breath, Logan’s forehead pressing against yours. “Logan,” you whisper, his name the only thing you can think of. You’re sure he can smell the arousal building between your thighs.

“There’s no going back from this. You know that, don’t you?” He whispers, his breath hot against your lips. He’s so close, his thigh pushing between your legs, bumping against your core.

“Yes,” you sigh. “Don’t wanna go back.”

Your eyes flutter closed, overwhelmed by how close Logan is to you. “Good,” he breathes. “Because you have no idea how much I need you.”

His lips crash against yours, his thigh dragging along your core. You moan into his mouth, his tongue swiping across your lower lip. You part your lips, inviting him inside, his tongue tasting yours.

“Logan,” you whine, involuntarily bucking your hips, grinding down on his thigh. “N-need you too.”

“I know, beautiful,” he soothes, gripping your waist, rolling you onto your back, pushing you into the mattress. “Fucking thought about you all day, always thinking about you.” He slides your shirt up above your tits, drinking you in with his eyes. “Wanted you for so long, pretty girl.” He hovers over you, balancing on his forearm as his free hand explores your body.

Your eyes roll into the back of your head as he palms your left breast, pinching your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, and then doing the same to the other side. It’s dizzying having him this close. You can smell his body wash—notes of musk and pine and a hint of leather on his skin.

“Please,” you beg, not quite sure what you’re even begging for. All you know is how badly you want him—need him.

Logan buries his face into the crook of your neck as his thumb rolls over your nipple, biting down on your pulse point and sucking the sensitive skin between his lips. “Please what, darlin’?” He mumbles, continuing his assault on your neck.

“F-fuck,” you whimper, your hips rocking against Logan’s. “W-want you to fuck me.”

“Yeah? That what you want?” Logan teases, his hand pushing between your legs, his fingertips finding your clit through your panties. “What if I wanted to taste you first?”

“W-whatever you want,” you moan, grinding down onto his hand. “I’m yours.”

He lifts his head from your neck and presses his forehead to yours. “Whatever I want?” His voice is thick, cocky, almost mocking. “You’re mine,” he husks, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips, then to your jaw, your neck. “All fucking mine.” He crawls down your body, trailing kisses down the valley of your breasts, your stomach, stopping just above the hem of your panties.

Your hips lift off the mattress as his fingers hook into the waistband of your panties, and he tugs them down your legs, throwing them to the floor. He nestles between your thighs, his breath hot against your cunt. You tremble in anticipation, watching as he breathes you in, his jaw working. You can see in his eyes that he’s holding himself back.

“Are you sure you want this, sweetheart?” He asks, his voice suddenly soft, his cockiness replaced by genuine care. "Not gonna be able to stop once I start.” But you know he doesn’t just mean in the moment, right now—he means forever.

“I’m sure, Lo,” you whine. It comes out like a prayer, like a desperate cry, a guilty plea.

And then he buries his face into your heat, his tongue swiping through your folds. He grunts against you, flicking your clit before stroking his tongue through your folds again. “Fuck,” Logan groans, his face pressing harder into you, his tongue exploring your cunt. “Tastes better than I ever imagined,” he mumbles against you, the vibrations of his voice pulsing against your core. “So fucking sweet.”

Your hips jolt away from him as his tongue laps at your sensitive clit. His palms quickly slide under your legs, wrapping around your thighs, yanking you back to his face, and holding you down onto the mattress. “Don’t move, princess,” he chides, his nails digging into your flesh. “Wanna eat this pretty pussy.”

“L-Lo,” you stutter as his tongue draws tight, rapid circles around your clit. You’re already close, his teasing words enough to push you over the edge. But you know he’s nowhere near done—he’s only getting started.

His right hand loosens its grip around your thigh, his nails dragging down the curve of your ass and towards your folds. His fingertips prod your slit, spreading your slick. “So fucking wet for me, pretty girl,” he praises, his lips wrapping around your clit, his teeth grazing the bud lightly as he sucks. “Want my fingers?” He asks, knowing your answer, but wanting to hear you beg for him.

“Yes, Logan, please. Need—”

He’s thrusting two long, thick fingers deep inside you before you can finish your sentence. “Fuck,” he whispers, pulling out and pumping back in—down to his knuckles. He stills inside you, letting you adjust to him. “So goddamn tight.” His tongue laps at your clit. “Gonna have to work you open for me, hm?” He mutters, thrusting in and out now.

You’re so overwhelmed, your swollen clit already overstimulated. He wraps his lips around your clit again, sucking harder this time, his fingers unrelenting as they plunge deeper with every pump. His tongue draws long, hard strokes around your bud, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

It feels like a wildfire is spreading through your veins, a current dragging you under and holding you down. Warmth blossoms in your belly. “Doing so good for me, beautiful,” Logan praises, his fingers fucking into you. Your walls flutter around him at his words, sucking him in deeper. “Know you’re close, pretty girl.”

“Logan,” you moan, his tongue drawing those tight circles around your clit again. He’s adding more pressure, his fingers dragging along your walls, scissoring inside you, splitting you in two. “Please, need to come…” You trail off, your back arching off the mattress, your eyes rolling into the back of your head.

“Come for me,” Logan demands, his voice dark and filled with lust. “Wanna know what it tastes like.” His tongue presses harder into your clit, his fingers rocking in and out of your entrance. “Wanna see that pretty face when you let go.”

And then the tension breaks, white-hot heat pouring freely from the bottom of your belly. Your vision goes blurry as Logan laps at your clit, his fingers still pumping in and out, working you through your high. You moan his name, pleasure ripping through your body in intense waves.

His pumps relax, his fingers stilling inside you before he finally pulls out. His face is still buried against your cunt, licking long stripes through your folds. He’s savoring the taste of your release, drinking every last drop you have to give. “Can’t get enough of you,” he husks. “Could do this forever.”

He licks one last long stripe through your folds before lifting his face from your cunt. He’s a mess—your release glistening on his chin, his hair disheveled, his boxers all wrinkled. Your heart beats in your chest at the sight. All this, just for you.

Logan crawls up your body, hovering over you again, lowering down onto his forearm. “Wanna fuck you, beautiful,” he murmurs, his forehead pressing to yours. “Wanna know what you feel like.” His hand slips between your legs, his fingertips finding your swollen clit and giving it a gentle pinch. Your hips buck against him at the sudden sensation.

“Wanna feel you too,” you whimper, your arms wrapping around his back. “Want you inside me, please.”

And then he’s tugging his boxers down his legs, his erection pressing against the inside of your thigh. You can’t see—but you can feel just how massive he is. His tip slides through your folds, spreading your arousal.

“You know how bad I need you?” Logan whispers, his lips finding yours. He bites your lower lip and kisses away the pain. “You know how long I’ve been thinking about this?” And then he sinks himself inside you, down to the hilt with one smooth, fluid thrust. “Thought about this every day since I met you.”

Your muscles release and contract at his words. His hips stall, letting you adjust to the size of him. You feel indescribably full. He’s splitting you open, stretching you out, claiming you as his. His hips pull back, his cock sliding out, and he plunges back in, somehow deeper this time.

“Th-thought about you too,” you stutter, already too fucked out to form a coherent thought. “Always wanted you.” Logan sets a reckless pace as his fingertips find your clit again, working long, languid strokes into the bud, teasing you, leading you on.

“You feel so perfect,” Logan praises, rocking into you, his cock dragging along your walls. “So fucking warm, so tight. Made for me.” His lips are on yours again, his tongue slipping into your mouth, tasting you, swallowing your moans. “Never gonna want anybody else, pretty girl.”

His hips snap against yours, his fingers circling your clit faster now. “Just want you, Lo,” you choke, the tension building at the bottom of your belly, a fire burning through your bones. “Only want you.”

“I know,” he whispers, his voice suddenly soft, contrasting with the way he pounds into you recklessly, hitting that sweet spot inside you with every pump of his cock. “It’s you, just you.” You can hear the emotion in his voice, the sincerity, the desperation, the aching longing.

Your chest heaves against his. He’s fucking you to get closer to you, to be as deep inside you as possible. This isn’t just sex—this isn’t just some tension that needs to be broken. It’s an invisible string keeping the two of you tied closely together. Maybe it was stitched by the Fates centuries ago, laid out carefully, a plan to be executed. Maybe everything that led you to this moment was always meant to be. Because here you are now, his lips soft and hungry against yours, his words tearing through your resolve, his cock buried deep inside you, searching for a way to get deeper. And all you can think is…

This is it. This is what people mean when they talk about love—that word that changes its meaning every time you say it. The word with a definition that always escapes you. You know what it means now.

“Logan, I’m gonna…” You trail off, that fire in your belly spreading through your body as he rams into you, the sound of your skin slapping against his echoing along the walls of the tiny room. His fingers press harder into your clit, pinching softly, and then circling again.

His cock twitches inside you. “Me too, beautiful,” he hums, his pace growing sloppier, his cock throbbing again. “You’re so perfect,” he praises. “Love you so much, pretty girl.”

And then the tension snaps, electricity buzzing through your nerve endings, fire prickling your skin as you melt into him. “Love you too, Lo.” Your muscles contract and release, squeezing around him, coming undone.

Your walls clench around him again, and you know it’ll be the thing that pushes him over the edge. “Fuck, wanna come inside you,” he pants.

You wrap your legs around his waist, keeping him close. “Please,” you beg, and with one more thrust he’s painting your walls, filling you up and letting go.

You share one breath, panting, foreheads pressed together as Logan’s pumps slow, his cock stalling inside you. His fingers slip away from your clit, his arms reaching under your back as he carefully pulls out. You feel empty without him inside you.

“Y-you can stay inside, if you want,” you offer as Logan rolls you onto your side, pulling you into his chest.

He presses a chaste kiss to your forehead. “Is that what you want, pretty girl?” He asks, his lips pressing to your nose now.

“Yes,” you whisper. He swallows harshly as one of his hands slides down your body, hiking your leg up and over his hip. He lines his half-hard cock up with your entrance, his lips finding yours as he slides back in. Your eyes flutter closed at the feeling of being full of him again.

He groans as he bottoms out. “So fucking good,” he praises, his arms wrapping around your back again, tugging you into his chest.

You lay in comfortable silence, listening as Logan’s breathing becomes rhythmic. Your eyes grow heavy, and you bury your face into Logan’s chest. You can hear his heart beating.

“Love you,” he mumbles against the crown of your head. You can hear the sleepiness in his voice, the exhaustion.

“Love you too,” you whisper, your breathing matching his, like you’re no longer two separate people, but one.

He presses a kiss to your head. “So lucky I met you,” he huffs. You smile against him. “So lucky I finally figured it out.”

“Figured what out?” You ask, looking up at him.

He smiles down at you. “What love is supposed to feel like...” He trails off, and you watch as he chooses his next words. “What living is supposed to feel like.”

You can feel tears brimming in the corners of your eyes, and you do your best to blink them away. “Me too, Lo,” you whisper, pausing…

“Me too.”

tags: @wittyjasontodd @galacticglitterglue @silversprings-mp3 @zxaera @spiderset @alastorssimp @alsoprettyinpink @figsnpassionfruits @prettyseaveins @ilysmdovie12 @evasmlp @derbygracie @rammakela @fanfic-writing-barbie @pedrohoe04 @cosmiccandydreamer @movhoney @honeyfewr @ricefordays-blog1 @maniuplatour *as always, I'm so sorry if I forgot to tag you*

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theetherealbloom · 2 months ago

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Don't Stop Talking To Me, And Maybe Stay Here Forever

Summary: You join Pedro Pascal in Morocco while he’s filming Gladiator 2. Between the beauty of the Moroccan landscape, the two of you share intimate moments, from quiet rooftop dinners to playful photo-taking and teasing with the cast.

Or… “I'll hold you, I'll know you. I'll never leave out the back door. And I'd love to complete you, hope you get all you could ask for.”

I just read your latest pedro fic it was the BEST DAMN THING i’ve ever read, my heart is going to burst out of my chest from all the butterflies 🦋🫠❤️ will you write more for pedro? perhaps his gf could visit him in marocco or something while he’s filming gladiator and to meet everyone from set and maybe have some alone quality time? :3 just a suggestion 😌 anyways have a lovely dayyy ^^ — anon

Paring: Pedro Pascal x F!Reader

Warnings: Established Relationship, Age-Gap(ish), TOOTH-ROTTING FLUFF, Slight Angst, Swearing, Anxiety, Cheesy Dialogue, Cuddling, Romance, Kissing, Real People Fiction, Cameras, Social Media, Embarrassment, Teasing, Shower, Slight Nudity, Make Out Session, Celebrities

Word Count: 5.7k

A/N: Okay, so, we’ve all seen the photo dumps!??!! Yes! GREAT! I haven’t watched Gladiator 2 cause it isn’t out yet in my country, so there’ll be no spoilers here mhmhmhmhm. I’m just gonna make stuff up based on the pictures Pedro posted on his Instagram lol. And again, this is all made-up, fictional, self-indulgent vibes so pls no one come after me ahhhhhh T^T

Also lowkey, I can see multiple parts to this so… stay tuned.

Side note: I’m dyslexic and English isn’t my first language! So I apologize in advance for the spelling and/or grammatical errors. As always, reblogs, comments, and likes are always appreciated. Thank you and happy reading!

Songs: Packing It Up by Gracie Abrams, this is how you fall in love by Jeremy Zucker and Chelsea Cutler

gif by @a7estrellas

→ Next Chapter | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist |

OUARZAZATE, MOROCCO — DAY

The warm Moroccan breeze kissed your skin as you stepped onto the bustling set of Gladiator 2. Pedro’s laughter echoed from somewhere nearby, his distinct voice easy to pick out over the hum of activity. Your heart swelled just hearing it. He was always magnetic, but here—working, immersed in a world of creativity and camaraderie—he was luminous.

You adjusted your sunglasses, feeling both excited and slightly anxious. Meeting Pedro’s castmates felt like stepping into his other life, one where you weren’t the center of his world but a welcome visitor orbiting it. He’d reassured you endlessly. “They’ll love you. I mean, how could they not?” But still, nerves lingered.

“Mi amor!” Pedro’s voice cut through your thoughts. He emerged from behind a cluster of tents, his smile so wide it could eclipse the Moroccan sun.

“Hey, stranger.” You grinned, letting him sweep you into a tight hug.

He pulled back just enough to press a kiss to your forehead, his arms still firmly around your waist. “You made it,” he whispered, his lips brushing your temple.

“Of course, I made it,” you teased, tilting your head to look up at him. “I missed you too much to stay away.”

The day unfolded in bursts of joy.

Pedro introduced you to Coco Ullrich, Paul Mescal, and the rest of the cast. Everyone was warm and welcoming, their teasing camaraderie quickly drawing you in. Pedro stayed close, his hand finding yours at every opportunity, like he couldn’t stand to be too far away.

Later, you found yourself perched on a stool in the makeup trailer, Pedro sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of you. “Hold still,” you said, trying to fix his disheveled hair.

Coco stood nearby, laughing as Pedro playfully swatted at your hands. “I’m serious, guapo! You’ll go out there looking like you just rolled out of bed.”

“Maybe I did roll out of bed,” he quipped, grinning.

You raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t, but if you keep squirming, I’m going to make sure you look like it.”

Coco shook her head, still laughing. “I don’t know how you put up with him.”

“I have my ways,” you said, giving Pedro a mock glare.

Pedro leaned closer, his eyes softening. “You’re lucky I love you,” he murmured, his lips brushing yours before you could stop him.

“Pedro!” you protested, laughing as he pulled you into a full kiss, distracting you from your task.

“Hopeless,” Coco muttered, snapping a quick photo of the moment.

OUARZAZATE, MOROCCO — SUNSET

The Moroccan sunset painted the sky in hues of gold and rose as you, Pedro, and the cast settled onto the soft blankets laid out for an impromptu picnic. The sprawling desert seemed to stretch infinitely, its serene stillness a striking contrast to the chaotic energy of the set. A light breeze rustled through the palm trees in the distance, carrying the faint sound of laughter and the clinking of glasses.

Pedro sat behind you, his arms comfortably wrapped around your waist as you leaned back into his chest. His fingertips absentmindedly traced small, lazy circles on your bare skin where your shirt had ridden up slightly. It was a touch that grounded you, soothing and sweet, and yet it made your heart ache with affection.

“This is perfect,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper, as if saying it louder might shatter the fragile beauty of the moment.

Pedro leaned closer, his lips brushing your ear. “No, you’re perfect,” he said softly, his voice laced with adoration.

You turned your head to look at him, catching the warmth in his gaze. He looked at you like you hung the very stars above, and your cheeks flushed. “Cheesy,” you teased, though you couldn’t keep the smile off your face.

“Honest,” he countered, leaning down to press his forehead against yours. His nose nudged yours affectionately, and for a moment, the world narrowed to just the two of you.

Paul Mescal, lounging nearby with a bottle of something cold in his hand, cleared his throat dramatically. “Alright, lovebirds, can you save the smoldering for the cameras? Some of us are trying to enjoy the sunset without third-wheeling your Notebook audition.”

Coco Ullrich snorted from her spot on the blanket, where she was busy assembling a makeshift charcuterie board. “Please, Paul, don’t act like you’re not taking notes for your own love scenes.”

Paul shot her a deadpan look. “What’s there to take notes on? I’m already perfect.”

“Debatable,” Coco quipped, popping a grape into her mouth and grinning.

Pedro chuckled, his chest rumbling against your back. “Paul, don’t be jealous. You already found someone who tolerates you.”

“Oh, I’m not jealous,” Paul said, gesturing between you and Pedro. “I’m inspired. The level of clinginess you two have achieved—it’s an art form.”

“Clinginess?” you repeated, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes, clinginess,” Paul said, smirking. “He hasn’t let go of you since you got here. It’s like watching a koala in human form.”

Coco leaned in conspiratorially. “Do you think he’d survive a day without her?”

“Doubtful,” Paul replied, his tone grave.

Pedro shook his head, his arms tightening around you playfully. “Let them joke,” he said into your ear, his voice a low murmur. “They’re just bitter they don’t have their partners to hold them while they complain about the heat.”

You turned your head slightly to whisper back, “I think they’re projecting.”

Pedro laughed, loud and unabashed, and the sound sent warmth flooding through you.

“Alright, enough roasting Pedro,” Coco said, waving her hands. “Let’s focus on the important stuff—like this cheese board I’m absolutely nailing.”

“Coco, you put a block of cheese next to some crackers,” Paul pointed out.

“And yet, it’s still better than anything you’ve contributed,” she shot back.

You couldn’t help but laugh as they continued to bicker, the dynamic between the cast a perfect blend of teasing and genuine affection. It felt good to be a part of this world for a little while, to see Pedro in his element and to share these small, beautiful moments with the people who meant so much to him.

As the sun dipped lower, painting the sky with deeper hues of crimson and violet, Pedro shifted slightly behind you, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “You doing okay, sweetheart?” he asked softly, his voice meant just for you.

“I’m better than okay,” you said, turning your face to his. “This is one of those moments I’ll never forget.”

“Same,” he replied, his eyes searching yours. “But mostly because you’re here.”

Paul groaned from across the blanket. “Seriously, someone hand me a bucket. I can’t handle this level of sap.”

“You’re just missing Gracie,” Coco teased, tossing a cracker at Paul with a sly grin.

Paul caught it mid-air with a dramatic flourish. “She’s the love of my life, thank you very much. I’m thriving, just long-distance thriving.” His wide smile softened slightly, a dreamy look crossing his face.

Pedro chuckled, resting his chin on your shoulder as he held you closer. “See, even Paul can be romantic. It’s not just us being disgustingly in love.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Paul said, waving him off, though the grin never left his face. “But you two are setting the bar impossibly high. Stop making the rest of us look bad.”

Coco shook her head with mock exasperation. “Let’s face it, no one can compete with Pedro’s clingy koala act.”

“Hey, it’s not clingy if it’s mutual,” you chimed in, leaning back into Pedro’s embrace.

“Exactly!” Pedro said, kissing the side of your neck for emphasis. “This is just... efficient affection.”

“Efficient affection?” Coco repeated, laughing so hard she nearly knocked over the cheese board. “That’s the worst excuse I’ve ever heard.”

Pedro shrugged, utterly unbothered, his lips brushing your temple as he murmured, “Don’t let them ruin this for us.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” you whispered back, tilting your head to press a soft kiss to his jaw.

The first stars began to dot the darkening sky, their glow faint but steady against the fading hues of gold and rose. The laughter of the group blended with the soothing whisper of the desert breeze, wrapping the evening in a cocoon of warmth and love.

You let out a contented sigh, your fingers intertwining with Pedro’s. These moments—filled with jokes, tenderness, and the quiet magic of a Moroccan sunset—were the kind you knew you’d carry with you forever.

THE NEXT DAY

OUARZAZATE, MOROCCO – AFTERNOON

The afternoon sun hung low in the sky, casting warm golden light over the sprawling desert set. The faint hum of activity outside the large tent provided a calming backdrop as you and Pedro sat together, stealing a moment away from the chaos of production.

Pedro’s lap had become your designated resting place, his arms wrapped snugly around your waist as you leaned into him. You had been quietly chatting about the day—how stunning the desert looked on camera, how Paul had stolen one of Coco’s snacks during a break—when the warmth of the afternoon began to lull you both into sleep.

His hand moved lazily up and down your back, the motion soothing as his voice grew quieter, more relaxed. “You know,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your temple, “this might be my favorite part of the day.”

“Falling asleep during work?” you teased, your voice soft and playful.

“Falling asleep with you,” he corrected, his smile audible in his words.

It wasn’t long before exhaustion claimed you both, your head tucked under his chin and his cheek resting against your hair. The quiet hum of the tent became a comforting cocoon, and time seemed to stretch and blur.

The sound of muffled laughter stirred you from sleep, pulling you out of the warm haze. You blinked against the light, realizing you were still tucked into Pedro’s chest, his arms holding you close even as he began to wake.

“Don’t move,” a familiar voice called. You turned your head to see Paul Mescal standing a few feet away, phone in hand, his grin wide and mischievous.

Next to him, Coco Ullrich smirked as she aimed her phone at the two of you. “We’re documenting history here. You’ll thank us later.”

Pedro stirred, squinting at them through his grogginess. “Seriously?” His voice was raspy, a mix of sleep and disbelief.

Paul shrugged, grinning even wider as he showed Pedro the photo. “We couldn’t resist. Look at this. It’s like a promo poster for the most annoyingly sweet rom-com ever.”

Pedro glanced at the photo, then at you, and laughed softly. “We should use that for the holiday cards this year.”

You groaned, burying your face in his chest. “This is so embarrassing. They’re never going to let us live this down.”

Coco laughed, flipping through her photos. “Oh, it’s way too late for that. I’m sending this to the group chat and the PR team. They’ll love it.”

“Please don’t,” you pleaded, your voice muffled against Pedro’s shirt.

Paul tilted his head dramatically. “Why not? It’s just a little fun. Besides, you two are giving us all cavities with how sweet you are. We’re suffering.”

Pedro smirked, holding you a little tighter. “You’re suffering? Sounds like a personal problem.”

“Alright, alright, enough!” A gravelly voice interrupted, and you looked up to see Ridley Scott standing at the edge of the tent. His hands were on his hips, but the amused twinkle in his eye gave him away.

“Ridley,” you started, your cheeks flushing with heat. “I’m so sorry—”

He held up a hand to stop you, his smirk growing. “Don’t apologize. If anything, I should thank you. Pedro’s been suspiciously well-behaved since you arrived. But,” he added with a pointed glance at Pedro, “if this keeps up, we’ll have to rename the film The Gladiator and the Muse. Production’s going to take twice as long.”

The crew burst into laughter, and you buried your face back in Pedro’s chest, groaning. “This is officially the most embarrassing moment of my life.”

Pedro chuckled, his hand brushing gently over your back. “Embarrassing? Nah. You’re the best thing about being here.”

You peeked up at him, your cheeks still warm, and saw the sincerity in his eyes. “You mean that?”

“Every word,” he said, his voice soft. “You make everything easier, better… you make it all worth it.”

Your heart swelled, and a small smile broke through your embarrassment. “Okay,” you whispered. “I’ll try to believe you.”

“Believe me,” he said, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead.

Paul groaned, breaking the tender moment. “Someone get a camera crew. We’re turning this into a reality show. Lovebirds in the Desert.”

Pedro laughed, finally standing and pulling you to your feet. “Careful, Paul. You might not survive the sequel.”

Ridley clapped his hands, his voice carrying over the lingering laughter. “Alright, lovebirds, enough stalling. Let’s get back to work! Pedro, we’ve got a fight scene to shoot.”

Pedro gave you one last reassuring smile before winking. “Don’t go far. I’ll need more luck soon.”

You nodded, watching him head back to set, and felt a sense of warmth that no amount of teasing could dampen. As you stepped out of the tent, the desert sun shining overhead, you knew this moment—this strange, beautiful mix of chaos and love—was one you’d carry with you forever.

OUARZAZATE, MOROCCO – EVENING

The rooftop restaurant was like something out of a dream. Lanterns hung delicately from wrought iron fixtures, casting warm, flickering light over the table as the sun dipped below the horizon. The air was cool but pleasant, carrying the faint scent of jasmine from a nearby garden. Below, the city of Marrakech stretched out in an intricate maze of rooftops and twinkling lights, the hum of life soft and distant.

Pedro had arranged everything, from the secluded corner table to the small vase of your favorite flowers waiting when you arrived. He always had a way of making even the simplest moments feel like magic.

“Look at this view,” you murmured, leaning against the wrought iron railing as the sky turned from gold to a deep, dusky pink.

Pedro stood close behind you, his hand resting gently on the small of your back. “The view’s got nothing on you,” he said softly, the teasing lilt in his voice balanced by the sincerity in his eyes.

You laughed, shaking your head as you turned to face him. “That’s a terrible line.”

“Maybe,” he admitted, grinning as he pulled out his phone. “But it’s true. Hold still.”

Before you could protest, he snapped a photo, catching you mid-laugh as you tried to dodge the camera. “Pedro!” you groaned, your cheeks warming.

He chuckled, looking at the photo with a self-satisfied smile. “Perfect. Might frame this one.”

“Stop it,” you said, trying to grab the phone from him, but he held it out of reach, his grin only widening.

“Never,” he replied, his free hand reaching across the table to take yours. His thumb brushed over your knuckles, and his gaze softened. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

Your stomach fluttered at the way he said it—no teasing this time, just quiet, earnest affection.

“Now you’re just being unfair,” you muttered, trying to hide your blush.

Pedro leaned forward, his head tilting slightly as if to study you closer. “Not unfair. Just honest.”

You rolled your eyes playfully, but your heart was pounding. In a bid to regain some ground, you grabbed your own phone and quickly snapped a picture of him just as he brought your hand to his lips. The resulting photo was unfairly good—his lashes long, the lantern light catching the gold in his eyes, the softness in his expression making your chest ache.

“Got you,” you said triumphantly, holding up the phone.

Pedro laughed, his thumb brushing over your knuckles again as he met your gaze. “Now we’re even?”

“Now we’re even,” you confirmed, though your grin gave away how smug you felt.

The waiter arrived with dessert just then—a delicate plate of Moroccan pastries accompanied by a small bowl of honey and almonds. You both leaned forward at the same time, reaching for the same pastry, and burst into laughter when your fingers brushed.

“Go ahead,” Pedro said, gesturing gallantly.

“Such a gentleman,” you teased, breaking off a piece of the pastry and dipping it into the honey. You held it up to his lips, your pulse skipping when he leaned in without hesitation.

“Delicious,” he said, his voice low and warm. “But I think it tastes better coming from you.”

“You’re impossible,” you muttered, trying to suppress a smile as you took a bite yourself. The flaky pastry melted on your tongue, its sweetness perfectly balanced by the honey.

As you shared the dessert, your conversation drifted from playful teasing to the little things that filled your days. Pedro told you about a funny moment on set earlier when Paul had forgotten his lines and improvised something so absurd even Ridley couldn’t stop laughing.

“And then,” Pedro continued, his grin infectious, “he tried to blame me, saying my face was too distracting.”

“Well, he’s not wrong,” you teased, earning a dramatic roll of Pedro’s eyes.

“Oh, so now you’re on his side?”

“I’m on the side of the truth,” you said, popping an almond into your mouth.

Pedro chuckled, shaking his head. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Your smile softened, and you leaned your chin on your hand as you looked at him. “Probably still charming everyone who crosses your path.”

“Not like this,” he said, his tone suddenly serious. He reached across the table again, his fingers lacing with yours. “You make everything better. You make me better.”

Your throat tightened at the rawness in his voice, and for a moment, all you could do was stare at him, his words settling deep in your chest.

“You do the same for me,” you said quietly.

The soft music playing in the background faded into the hum of the city as the two of you sat there, the world narrowing to just this moment. Pedro brought your hand to his lips again, pressing a kiss to your knuckles before resting your joined hands on the table.

As the night stretched on, the two of you continued to talk about everything and nothing—your favorite childhood memories, the places you wanted to visit together, the little quirks you loved about each other.

When it was time to leave, Pedro stood and extended a hand to help you up. “One last picture before we go?” he asked, his phone already in hand.

You nodded, letting him pull you into his side. The lanterns glowed softly behind you as he kissed your cheek just as the camera clicked.

Looking at the photo, you smiled. It was perfect—just like this night, just like him.

L’HÔTEL MARRAKECH, MOROCCO – EVENING

The golden hues of the evening sun had long faded, leaving the hotel suite illuminated only by the soft glow of warm, ambient lighting. Laughter filled the room, bubbling up between stolen glances and playful teasing. Pedro leaned against the edge of the plush sofa, his hand resting casually on his hip as you doubled over with giggles at another one of his overly dramatic impressions.

“I’m just saying,” he said with a grin, holding up his hands in mock innocence. “If anyone here is getting an Oscar for Most Entertaining Human, it’s me.”

You rolled your eyes, swatting at him lightly. “You? Entertaining? Please. You’re just lucky I think you’re cute.”

“Just cute?” he teased, his voice dropping into a low, mock-hurt murmur. He stepped closer, tilting his head. “That’s disappointing.”

And just like that, with no warning, he took your hand and spun you gently into his arms. There was no music, no sound but the faint rustle of the curtains and the muted hum of life outside your window. But to Pedro, there was no need for anything more.

“Dance with me,” he whispered, his voice barely above a breath, pulling you flush against him.

“Pedro,” you started to protest, but the way he was looking at you—so earnest, so unguarded—stole the words from your lips. He rested his forehead against yours, his arms wrapping around you like he was afraid to let go.

“You are the reason I can breathe,” he murmured. His voice cracked slightly, raw and unfiltered. “The reason I can survive.”

Your chest tightened, and your hands gripped the soft cotton of his shirt as you closed your eyes. Slowly, the two of you began to sway, side to side, as if the universe itself had orchestrated this silent melody just for you.

“Pedro,” you whispered, tears threatening to spill as the weight of his words sank deep into your soul. “You don’t have to—”

“Shh.” He cut you off gently, his lips brushing the crown of your head. “I want to. You’re my safe place.”

Together, you moved as one, the world outside forgotten. The phones were switched off, the curtains drawn, and for a moment, it felt like time had ceased to exist. All that mattered was this—his arms around you, your head resting on his chest, and the way his heartbeat felt steady and strong beneath your cheek.

“What’s easy is right,” you whispered suddenly, echoing words your mother had once said. The truth of it struck you in that moment, how being with Pedro never felt like a choice—it was instinct. Like breathing. Like coming home.

Pedro smiled, his hand brushing a strand of hair from your face. “What’s easy is right,” he repeated softly. “Then I guess it’s easy to know... I’m going to love you forever.��

You laughed softly, though the lump in your throat made it difficult. “Forever’s a long time.”

He tilted your chin up, his warm, brown eyes crinkling at the corners with a quiet joy. “Not nearly long enough,” he said, his voice a low promise. “You’ll be my best friend until we’re old and gray. And even then, I’ll still love you.”

There was something in the way he said it—so simple, so sure—that your knees nearly gave out. But as always, Pedro was there, holding you steady, keeping you close.

This is how you fall in love, you realized. Not in a blaze of fireworks, but in the quiet moments where you let go and they hold you up.

“Do you know what you’ve done to me?” Pedro said after a long silence, his voice filled with wonder. “You make my stomach ache with hope. You make my hands stop shaking. I wake up smiling now, and it’s because of you.”

You bit your lip, your fingers tracing lazy patterns across his chest. “Pedro…”

“No, listen to me,” he insisted, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “Love isn’t supposed to be heavy. It’s not supposed to hurt. It’s supposed to be this. Us. A safe place. A hand to hold through every storm.”

His words broke something open inside you, and you nodded, letting the tears spill over. “You’re my safe place too,” you whispered. “You make me believe I deserve this.”

Pedro pulled you closer, resting his chin on the top of your head as he swayed you gently. “You deserve everything,” he murmured. “Every laugh, every sunrise, every stupid little joke I’ll tell for the next fifty years.”

You both laughed softly, the sound mingling with the quiet hum of the room. The world outside could wait. For now, all that mattered was this moment—this love that was soft, steady, and unshakable.

Right from your hips to your cuticles, you were everything to him, and he was everything to you. Wherever you both went, it was heaven. And neither of you ever wanted to leave.

Steam filled the bathroom, the warmth clinging to the mirrors and wrapping around the two of you like a soft cocoon. Pedro stood under the cascade of water, droplets running down his broad shoulders and soaking his messy curls. His eyes flicked toward you, a tender smile tugging at his lips as you stepped closer, your fingers gently reaching for the shampoo bottle.

“Turn around,” you said softly, motioning for him to face away from you.

“Yes, ma’am,” he teased, though there was a hint of shyness in his voice as he obeyed.

You lathered the shampoo between your hands, your touch careful and affectionate as you worked it into his hair. His curls were soft and damp beneath your fingers, the grays glinting like silver in the dim light.

“I love your hair,” you murmured, your voice reverent.

Pedro let out a small, self-deprecating chuckle, tilting his head back slightly. “The gray makes me look old.”

You paused, your hands stilling in his hair as you leaned around to catch his gaze. “Stop that. It doesn’t make you look old; it makes you look distinguished. And I happen to love every single one of these.” You tugged playfully at a curl for emphasis.

He gave you a sheepish look, his lips twitching as he fought back a pout. “You’re just saying that because you’re stuck with me.”

“Stuck with you?” you repeated, feigning outrage. “Oh, no, Pedro. I chose you—gray hair and all. And I’d choose you again. Every single day.”

His pout softened into a smile, one so genuine it made your chest ache. “You’re too good to me,” he murmured, leaning in to press a kiss to your temple.

“And you deserve it,” you countered firmly, finishing his hair with a rinse.

When it was your turn, Pedro insisted on returning the favor, his hands gentle as he massaged the conditioner into your hair. His touch lingered, his fingers tracing the nape of your neck as he marveled at you.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, his voice thick with sincerity.

“Even covered in soap?” you teased, feeling heat creep up your cheeks.

“Especially covered in soap,” he replied, leaning down to steal a kiss.

The shower ended with a flurry of soft laughter and playful splashes, the two of you wrapped in towels as you padded into the bedroom. Pedro pulled on a pair of boxers while you slipped into one of his oversized shirts, the hem brushing the tops of your thighs.

The two of you slipped into bed, the soft glow of the bedside lamp casting a warm, golden light over the room. The air smelled faintly of the lavender lotion you’d rubbed on your hands, mingling with the subtle hint of Pedro’s cologne that still lingered on his skin. He had one arm draped lazily over your waist, his other hand holding a book he’d claimed to be interested in, though his wandering eyes betrayed him.

A book rested in your lap, too, but you’d long given up on reading. Instead, you could feel his gaze flickering to you, watching you more than the words on his page. It was endearing, the way he thought you wouldn’t notice, how he never grew tired of studying you like he’d never quite figure you out.

“You’re not reading,” you finally accused, peeking at him over the edge of your book.

Pedro grinned, unabashed. He set his book down on the nightstand and scooted closer, leaning his head on the pillow beside you. “Can you blame me?” he said, his voice soft and teasing. His hand reached up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear, his knuckles grazing your cheek. “I’ve got the most beautiful view right here.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to fight the warmth rising in your cheeks, but the smile that stretched across your lips betrayed you. “You’re ridiculous,” you murmured, nudging him lightly with your elbow.

“And yet, you love me,” he replied with mock arrogance, leaning back against the headboard with a self-satisfied smirk.

“Unfortunately for me,” you quipped, though your tone was dripping with affection.

Pedro’s laugh filled the room, low and warm, wrapping around you like a blanket. You settled back into your spot, his arm tightening slightly around your waist, anchoring you to him. For a while, there was only the sound of pages turning and the occasional creak of the bed as one of you shifted.

Eventually, the books were forgotten, abandoned on the nightstand as the room grew darker, the soft click of the lamp switch plunging you into the comforting glow of moonlight spilling through the curtains.

Lying side by side, your head resting on Pedro’s chest, you let your fingers trace lazy patterns along the bare skin of his arm. But your mind wouldn’t quiet, and as the minutes stretched on, the thoughts bubbling inside you demanded to be voiced.

“Okay, but really,” you began, your voice breaking the comfortable silence. “Why is ‘llama’ spelled with two L’s? Wouldn’t one be enough? It’s not like we say ‘Llama-la.’”

Pedro let out a soft laugh, the sound rumbling through his chest beneath your cheek. He tilted his head down to look at you, his lips quirking into a smile. “Mi amor, I adore you, but it’s almost midnight. Go to sleep.”

“I can’t until I solve this mystery,” you said with mock determination, lifting your head to look at him.

He sighed dramatically, feigning exasperation. “Fine. Maybe the second ‘L’ is there to confuse aliens.”

You gasped, sitting up slightly. “That makes so much sense! Like, imagine aliens judging us for eating cereal with milk.”

Pedro chuckled again, his arm tightening around you to keep you close. “Cereal with milk is sacred,” he said, his voice heavy with playful conviction. “If aliens have an issue with that, I’ll fight them myself.”

You grinned, turning to prop yourself up on your elbow so you could face him fully. “Okay, serious question. If you could ask someone anything and be guaranteed the truth, who would it be?”

Pedro cracked one eye open, his other hand lazily resting on your hip. “I’d ask you why you’re so determined to keep me awake,” he deadpanned, his lips twitching with a suppressed smile.

You laughed, nudging him with your elbow. “I’m serious!”

“Alright, alright,” he relented, the mirth in his eyes softening as he considered your question. “I’d ask my third-grade teacher if she really lost my homework or if she just didn’t like me.”

You burst out laughing, the sound muffled by the way you buried your face into his chest. “That’s what you’d waste your question on?”

“Don’t judge me,” he said with mock indignation, his fingers trailing absent patterns on your back. “It’s haunted me for years.”

Your laughter subsided into a warm giggle as you tilted your head up to look at him. “Fine. My turn. I’d ask my mom if she’s proud of me. Like… really proud. Not just the ‘I’m your mom, so I have to say it’ kind of proud.”

Pedro’s hand stilled on your back, his gaze softening as he leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead. “She’s proud of you, baby,” he murmured against your skin. “And so am I. Always.”

The weight of his words wrapped around your heart, a comforting balm that eased the ache of self-doubt. You nuzzled closer, your fingers curling around his as you let the quiet stretch between you for a moment.

Moments later, you broke the silence again, your voice a whisper in the dark. “When I was little, I thought my toys came alive when I wasn’t looking. Like Toy Story. Honestly, I still kinda think they do.”

Pedro let out a deep laugh, his chest shaking beneath you as he pulled you even closer. “I wouldn’t put it past them,” he said, his voice warm with amusement. “Your stuffed bunny? Definitely a troublemaker.”

You giggled, your heart feeling impossibly light as his hand returned to its slow, soothing patterns on your back.

The conversation drifted into comfortable nonsense, the kind of midnight musings that didn’t need to make sense but brought a certain kind of intimacy only shared in the quiet hours of the night.

Finally, as your eyelids grew heavy and your words faded into murmurs, Pedro pressed a lingering kiss to your temple. “Goodnight, mi amor,” he whispered, his voice soft and steady.

In his arms, with the world outside forgotten, you felt safe. Loved. His heartbeat was the only rhythm you needed as you drifted into sleep, a love like no other holding you steady through the night.

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yaymiyas · 5 months ago

Text

THE HUSBAND

warning: female reader, saer being….saer, yan!isekai!crown prince

a/n: i was so burnt out so lets see what i come up with ….its short ik and yes im cooking up something w cynthia LET ME COOK 🫡🙄🔥🔥🔥🔥💯💯💯💯

the idea of divorce was swimming in the mist of your mind hours before you regained most of the movement in your body. you knew you had to get out of this situation in a peaceful but quick manner. in your mind, leaving saer should have been easy since he hated edina more than the devil himself. he saw her as a shit stain satan left on earth to torture him for all of his days. so why are tears running down his face…thats odd? from all of the tweets, forums, and blogs saer had close to no emotions for edina. he hated her through and through. in the original story, he would’ve cheered of joy if she simply asked to part ways. so why was he sitting in front of you crying? was the bacon too salty? was he remembering the good ol’ times with his late father? ever since you’ve transmigrated into this story, everything has been so weird. aside from you being close to perfectly fine after being fed poison, saer has became more careful.

in the book, saer was close to a bubbling idiot. every single assassination attempt was stopped by a maid because he was stupid. he always played it as cynthia and amanda favoring edina but that wasnt the full truth. he was just too obvious with everything he was doing. you actually kind of felt back for the dummy, no wonder gracie wants nothing to do with him. regardless of any of that, you actually started to feel a bit bad for him. it was obvious saer didnt know why he was crying or how to stop it by the way his face was balled up in red confusion. maybe it was out of guilt or for the plot, either way you wanted to help him. maybe he wanted to kill you but seeing a grown man cry really did break your heart.

“now, saer..”

gently pushing your hand out to cover his larger ones, you put on a voice of concern. you want to help the poor idiot but you also want to get out of this house alive. maybe playing the sweet docile wife could do you some good, maybe—

“ugh, stupid bitch get off of me.”

slapping your hand off of his, saer attempted to keep a face of pure disgust plastered for you to see. why on earth was he crying, and why on earth are you being so off-putting? at first, your new actions didnt really bother him. were they different? yes, but they weren’t unpleasant. but now...it was as if the poison made you utterly indifferent to his presence, which he told himself he loved, but the lord knows thats a lie. you quietly sitting there, dry-face, with a slight frown and uninterested body language, angered him. saer was crying purely for reactions. he thought that crying would help him close this conversation and make you jump up and beg for his forgiveness, but no. all you did was lift your grimly, beastly fingers to ‘comfort’ him. what a joke of a woman.

“im finished with my breakfast”

the scream of the chair was louder than your own thoughts, kicking you out of your own subconscious. what even was that about? you were TRYING to be the version of edina you thought he would like, second from you killing yourself right there and then. so why was he acting like you were trying to jump his bones? he is such a wicked man….such a sad excuse of a person. its such a shame his attitude is so sour, you were going to try to soften his walls to see if he would lighten up on the poisoning situation. how did he get it? who did he get it from?

“madam,”

lightly placing her hand on your shoulder, cynthia appeared. scaring you out of your thoughts, you straightened your back and put on the best fake smile you could. you knew cynthia didnt really care for you, as demonstrated by the bath she gave you earlier, but you thought that maybe you could melt this ice queen. her soft ginger coils shaped her face in all the right places, giving her olive skin the type of glow women in the real world would kill for. she had green eyes to match alone with it, making it easy to find yourself lost in them. cynthia was a beautiful woman; just how did she become a maid for this jackass?

“his royal highness has ordered for you to be sent to your room.”

#female reader #yandere #yandere x reader #x reader #yandere oc #yandere crown prince #yandere isekai crown prince #yandere anime #yandere male #yandere male x reader #yandere oc x reader

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the-winter-spider · 2 months ago

Text

I miss you, I'm sorry

Bucky x Reader AU

Word Count: 10k+

Warnings: Toxic, angst, smut

A/N: I love Gracie, and was like fuck it gonna toss something together based off my fav songs by her

The air feels heavy, even though the room is quiet. You sit cross-legged on your bed, your phone resting beside you, the screen dim and blank. The minutes bleed into each other, but you can’t stop glancing at the clock, as if willing it to rewind to before it all.

It’s been three days. Three days of no texts, no calls, no nothing. That’s how it always goes with Bucky. He’s there, and then he’s not. And every time, you tell yourself it’ll be the last time you wait for him to come back.

It never is.

You hate him for how easy it is to disappear. You hate yourself more for letting him.

The phone rings.

The sharp sound cuts through the haze of your thoughts, and for a moment, your heart skips. You snatch the phone up, seeing his name flash across the screen. The sight of it sends a rush of relief, anger, and something softer, something stupidly hopeful, all at once.

You answer, but don’t say anything.

“Hey.” His voice is quiet, gravelly. Tired.

You swallow the lump in your throat. “Hey.”

The silence stretches, brittle and uncomfortable. You can hear him breathing on the other end, steady and soft. It reminds you of the way his breath felt against your skin the last time he stayed over, the last time he let himself get too close before pulling away again.

“I shouldn’t have called,” he mutters finally, his voice tight. “I just… couldn’t sleep.”

You close your eyes. There it is again, the push and pull. The way he says he shouldn’t but always does. The way he drags you back into his orbit every time, knowing you’ll stay.

“What do you want, Bucky?” you ask, keeping your voice steady. It’s a question you’ve asked a hundred times, and you already know the answer.

He exhales sharply, like he’s frustrated—at you, at himself, you’re not sure. “I don’t know.” Another pause. “You were right, okay? About everything. I just…” His voice trails off, and you can picture him sitting on the edge of his bed, rubbing the back of his neck the way he always does when he’s trying to find the words. “I hate this.”

“Hate what?” you snap, the simmering frustration bubbling to the surface. “Hate that you always come back? Or hate that you can’t figure out what the hell you want?”

He doesn’t answer. He never does when you call him out like this.

The silence makes your chest ache. You shake your head, even though he can’t see you. “You can’t keep doing this, Bucky. You can’t keep pulling me back just to push me away again. It’s not fair.”

“I know,” he whispers. And he sounds so broken, so genuine, that it cracks something inside you. It always does.

You take a shaky breath. “Then why do you do it?”

“I don’t know,” he says again. His voice is quieter now, softer, like he’s afraid of breaking you more than he already has. “Because you’re the only thing that feels real. And I don’t know how to hold onto it without screwing it up.”

Your throat tightens. You wish you didn’t understand. But you do. He’s always been good at giving you just enough to stay, but never enough to feel whole. “Its not enough Buck”

“I know,” he says, his voice breaking slightly. “But it’s all I’ve got, you're all i truly have."

You sighed running your head through your hair “Do you wanna come over?”

“I’m already on my way”

You don't have to wait long. The sound of his motorcycle pulling up to your place makes your stomach do a little flip, even though you're still mad at him. You hear his heavy boots on the stairs, and then a soft knock at your door.

You take a deep breath before opening it. He's standing there, his hair tousled from the ride, his face tight and tired. He looks at you, and for a moment, it's like all the walls come down. He reaches out, cupping your face with his hand, his thumb brushing over your cheekbone.

"I'm sorry," he says, his voice rough. "I'm so fucking sorry."

And just like that, you melt. You lean into his touch, your eyes fluttering closed. His other hand comes up to wrap around your waist, pulling you close. He smells like leather and cigarettes and something uniquely him.

"I missed you," he murmurs, pressing his forehead to yours. "I hate not seeing you."

"I hate it too," you whisper back. "But you can't keep doing this, Bucky. You can't keep hurting me."

He makes a soft, broken sound. "I know. I'm trying, okay? I'm really trying."

The door closes softly behind them, the click of the lock echoing in the charged silence. Bucky's hand is still cupping your face, his thumb tracing the curve of your cheekbone. You lean into his touch, your eyes fluttering closed as you breathe him in. He smells like leather and smoke, like home and danger all rolled into one.

You press yourself against him, feeling the hard planes of his body through his clothes. He's solid and warm and real, and it's been too long since you've felt him like this. His hands slide down to your waist, pulling you flush against him as he claims your mouth in a hungry kiss.

You moan into it, your fingers tangling in his hair. He kisses like your fights- fierce and intense, like he's trying to claim every inch of you. You kiss back just as fiercely, your tongue sliding against his as you lose yourself in the feel of him.

He walks you backwards towards the bed, his hands roaming your body as he goes. He breaks the kiss only to yank your shirt over your head, tossing it aside carelessly. His mouth is back on yours before you can even blink, his hands cupping your breasts through your bra.

You arch into his touch, your nipples hardening under his palms. He groans low in his throat, his hips pressing forward to grind against yours. You can feel his hardness through his jeans, and it makes you ache with need.

He breaks the kiss again, trailing his lips down your neck as his hands work to unclasp your bra. It falls to the floor, joining the growing pile of clothes. He takes a moment to look at you, his eyes dark with desire as they rake over your naked breasts.

"Fuck, you're beautiful," he murmurs, his hands cupping the soft mounds. You gasp as his thumbs brush over your nipples, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through you.

He leans down, taking one of the hardened peaks into his mouth. You cry out, your fingers tangling in his hair as he sucks and licks and nibbles. Your hips buck against his, seeking friction, and he groans around your nipple, the vibrations making you shiver.

He gives the other breast the same attention, lavishing it with kisses and bites until you're writhing beneath him. Only then does he move lower, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along your stomach as he kneels before you.

His hands hook in the waistband of your jeans, tugging them down along with your panties. You step out of them, kicking them aside as he looks up at you from his knees. The sight of him there, kneeling before you like you're a goddess to be worshipped, makes your knees weak.

"Bucky," you breathe, and it's half plea, half prayer.

He grins up at you, a devilish glint in his eyes. "Patience, baby. I'm going to take my time with you."

And then his mouth is on you, his tongue delving between your folds to taste you. You cry out, your head falling back as pleasure crashes over you. He licks and sucks and teases, his hands gripping your hips to hold you in place as he devours you.

Your fingers tangle in his hair, holding him to you as he drives you closer and closer to the edge. Just when you think you can't take anymore, he pulls back, leaving you gasping and empty.

"Bucky, please," you whimper, and he chuckles darkly.

"Please what, baby? Tell me what you want."

"I want you," you pant, looking down at him with desperation in your eyes. "I want you inside me."

He stands up, pulling you flush against him as he captures your mouth in a searing kiss. You can taste yourself on his lips, and it makes you even more aroused. His hands grip your ass, kneading the flesh as he grinds his hardness against your bare core.

"Bed," he growls against your lips, and you nod frantically, tugging him towards the mattress.

You tumble onto the bed together, a tangle of limbs and desire. He breaks the kiss to sit up, yanking his shirt over his head and tossing it aside. You take a moment to admire the hard planes of his chest, the scars that crisscross his skin like a roadmap of his past.

He crawls back over you, his hips settling between your thighs as he reaches for his belt. You watch, transfixed, as he unbuckles it and shoves his jeans and boxers down, freeing him.

He settles back over you, his head brushing against your entrance. You shudder at the contact, your hips lifting to try and draw him in.

"Tell me you want this," he whispers, his voice rough with need. "Tell me you want me."

"I want you," you breathe, wrapping your legs around his waist. "I want all of you."

And with that, he thrusts into you, burying himself to the hilt in one smooth motion. You cry out at the sudden fullness, your nails digging into his shoulders as you adjust to the stretch.

He pauses for a moment, letting you get used to him. Then he starts to move, pulling out slowly before slamming back in. You meet him thrust for thrust, your hips rising to take him deeper.

The bed creaks beneath you as he sets a relentless pace, driving into you again and again. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, mingling with your moans and his grunts of pleasure.

"Fuck, you feel so good," he groans, burying his face in your neck. "So perfect."

You clench around him in response, and he curses, his hips snapping forward harder.

"I'm gonna come," you gasp, your body tensing beneath him. "Bucky, I'm gonna-"

But he cuts off your words with a kiss, swallowing your cries of pleasure as you come undone beneath him. Your body spasms around him, milking him as he follows you over the edge with a hoarse shout of your name.

He collapses on top of you, both of you gasping for breath as the aftershocks of your orgasms roll through you. He presses soft kisses to your neck, your jawline, your lips as you bask in the afterglow.

"I love you," he murmurs against your skin, and you hope it's just not the sex talking.

Later that week, you’re sitting at a bar with Natasha. She watches you nurse your drink, her sharp green eyes narrowing as you tell her what happened.

“He called,” you say, staring down at the condensation on your glass. “And like an idiot, I picked up, and he came over, we had sex and he was gone in the morning”

Natasha doesn’t say anything at first. She just leans back, crossing her arms. “What do you want me to say?” she asks finally. “That he’s going to change? That this time will be different?”

You shake your head. “No. I just…” You trail off, struggling to put the feeling into words. “I just wish I didn’t miss him so much. I wish I could stop.”

She sighs, leaning forward. “Listen to me,” she says, her voice soft but firm. “He’s not going to fix this. You know that, right? He’s not going to wake up one day and suddenly figure out how to love you the way you deserve. That’s not who he is, you have to know that babe…"

“I know,” you whisper. But the ache in your chest doesn’t go away.

Natasha exhales deeply, tilting her head as if trying to decide whether to push further. Finally, she sets her drink down and leans across the table, her voice quieter but no less serious. “So, what’s the plan? You gonna keep answering when he calls? Keep letting him come over, screw you and your head, and leave like nothing happened?”

You don’t answer, just trace the edge of your glass with your finger. The truth is, you don’t have a plan. You’re not even sure you want one. “He said he loves me, he's never said that before”

Natasha leans back in her chair, crossing her arms as she studies you. Her sharp green eyes narrow slightly, but there’s no satisfaction in her expression. She doesn’t look impressed, doesn’t look relieved, like you’d hoped she might. Instead, her face softens, just slightly, in that way that means she’s about to say something you don’t want to hear.

“Okay,” she says slowly, her voice calm but pointed. “And what does that change?”

Her question hits like a bucket of cold water, and you blink at her, your fingers freezing mid-trace on the rim of your glass. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, so what?” Natasha continues, leaning forward now, her elbows on the table. “He said the words. Great. But what does that actually mean to you? Did it make you feel better? Did it fix anything?”

You open your mouth to reply, but no words come out. The truth sits heavy in your chest.

“It’s not enough just to say it,” Natasha presses, her tone still steady but with an edge of frustration. “Love isn’t just words. It’s showing up. It’s consistency. It’s choosing someone, not just when it’s convenient, but every single day. Did he do that? Or did he just say what you’ve been waiting to hear and then disappear again?”

The ache in your chest tightens, and you look down, your fingers clutching the glass like it might hold the answers you’re searching for. “He—he’s trying,” you say weakly, but even you don’t sound convinced.

Natasha lets out a breath, her voice softening again. “Babe… I know you want to believe him. I know you love him. But this?” She gestures vaguely, as if to encompass all of it—your tears, the late-night calls, the endless cycle. “This isn’t what love is supposed to feel like. Love doesn’t leave you questioning your worth every time the sun comes up.”

The words settle over you like a weight, and you swallow hard, blinking back the tears that threaten to spill. You don’t want her to see you cry. Not here. Not like this.

“Nat…” you start, your voice barely above a whisper. But she shakes her head, her expression soft but unyielding.

“I’m not saying this to hurt you,” she says gently. “I just… I want you to be happy. And you’re not happy right now. You haven’t been for a long time.”

Before you can respond, the stool next to her screeches, and Sam slides into it, his energy a stark contrast to the heavy atmosphere between you and Nat. He plunks his beer on the table and gives you a once-over.

“Well, you look like someone stole your puppy,” he says, his tone light but his eyes sharp.

Natasha shoots him a look. “Not the time, Sam.”

“I’m just saying,” he replies, leaning back and gesturing to you. “She’s been sitting here all night, looking like a sad indie song, and you’re just gonna let her wallow?”

You glare at him, the frustration bubbling to the surface. “Do you have something to say, or are you just here to make jokes?”

“Both,” Sam says, taking a sip of his beer before setting it down. “Look, I love you, but this thing with Bucky? It’s killing you, and everyone can see it. Hell, you can see it, but you’re still pretending like it’s gonna work itself out.”

“Sam,” Natasha warns, but he holds up a hand.

“No, let me finish,” he says, his voice more serious now. “I’ve been where you are, okay? Hanging onto something that’s breaking you because you’re scared to let it go. But you know what happens if you keep holding on?” He pauses, meeting your eyes. “You lose yourself. And I don’t want that for you.”

His words hit harder than you expect, and for a moment, all you can do is sit there, blinking back the tears threatening to spill.

“I don’t know how to let him go,” you admit finally, your voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t even know who I am without him.”

Sam leans forward, resting his elbows on the table. “Then it’s time to figure that out. Because you deserve better than waiting around for someone who doesn’t see how amazing you are—not someone who only comes around when it’s convenient for him.”

After Sam and Natasha head home, you find yourself walking through the quiet streets, your hands shoved into your coat pockets. The city hums around you, but you feel untethered, like you’re floating between who you are and who you want to be.

Before you realize it, your feet take you to Bucky’s building. You stop at the corner, staring up at the windows. The lights in his apartment are off, but you know he’s there. He’s always there.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket. You pull it out, your heart sinking when you see his name.

Bucky: You up?

The message is simple, familiar, and infuriatingly tempting. Your thumb hovers over the screen.

You: Yes, just leaving the bar.

Bucky: Ill see you in 20.

You see his light flick on.

You: Okay.

You’re sitting in your apartment with Steve. He’d shown up unexpectedly, a bag of bagels in one hand and a concerned look on his face. Now, he’s watching you carefully as you pick at your food, the silence between you growing heavier by the minute.

“I heard about last night,” he says eventually, breaking the stillness.

You glance up, narrowing your eyes. “Natasha?”

“Sam,” he admits with a small smile, but his expression stays serious. “He’s worried about you. We all are.”

You sigh, leaning back against the couch. “I’m fine, Steve.”

“You’re not fine,” he says gently, setting his coffee down on the table. “And it’s okay to not be fine. But you need to stop punishing yourself for wanting more than what Bucky can give you.”

Your chest tightens, and you look away, your voice barely audible. “He’s not a bad person, Steve. He’s just… broken.”

“I know he is,” Steve says softly, his tone patient but firm. “And I know he cares about you, even if he’s too scared to show it. But that doesn’t mean you have to keep hurting yourself to save him.”

You open your mouth to respond, but the words get stuck in your throat. Instead, you ask the question that’s been clawing at you for days. “Is he seeing anyone else?”

Steve freezes mid-bite, his jaw tightening. “Yes.”

You nod slowly, your hands trembling as you set your plate down on the coffee table. “Are they… are they having sex?”

Steve’s shoulders sag slightly, and he shakes his head. “No.”

The relief you feel is fleeting, quickly replaced by another ache—something deeper, sharper. “He told me he loves me, y’know,” you whisper, your voice cracking.

That makes Steve freeze completely. He sets his bagel down, staring at you with wide, startled eyes. “He said that?”

You nod, the words pouring out of you now, unfiltered and raw. “He’s never said it before. And I didn’t know what to do. Because it felt… real. For a second, it felt like maybe this time was different. But then he was gone the next morning, like always.”

Steve leans back in his chair, his brow furrowed, like he’s trying to process what you’ve just said. “Did he mean it?” he asks finally, his voice cautious.

You let out a bitter laugh, wiping at your eyes. “I don’t know, Steve. Does it matter? He says one thing, but everything else he does just…” You trail off, shaking your head.

“It matters,” Steve says firmly, leaning forward. “If he loves you, that’s something. But love isn’t enough if he can’t show it, if he can’t make you feel it.” Steve is quiet for a long moment, his expression pained. “You deserve more than that,” he says finally. “You deserve someone who’s not afraid to fight for you. Someone who doesn’t make you feel like you’re asking for too much just by being yourself.”

-----------

The music is loud, pulsing through the crowded bar in a steady rhythm that matches the pounding in your chest. You're friends are off dancing their cares away, while you sit at a small table near the corner, nursing your drink, half-hidden in the dim lighting. The condensation from the glass drips onto your hand, but you barely notice.

Your eyes keep drifting to him.

Bucky is across the room, his arm slung casually around another woman’s shoulders. She’s laughing, tilting her head toward him like he’s just told her the funniest joke in the world. He looks… relaxed. At ease in a way you haven’t seen in a long time, and it’s like someone’s taken a knife to your chest, twisting it deeper with every passing second.

You force yourself to look away, staring into the amber liquid in your glass like it holds answers to questions you’re too scared to ask. But it doesn’t work. Your gaze flickers back to him, almost involuntarily.

They’re dancing now, swaying to a song you don’t recognize. His hand rests lightly on her hip, his fingers brushing against the fabric of her dress in a way that feels too intimate, too familiar.

And then he kisses her.

Not on the lips, but on her head, his lips lingering against her hair as she leans into him. It’s tender, effortless, the kind of gesture that feels natural, like it belongs to someone who knows how to love without hesitation.

Your chest tightens, and you swallow the lump forming in your throat, forcing yourself to take another sip of your drink. The bitterness burns your tongue, but it’s nothing compared to the ache spreading through you.

You tell yourself you don’t care. That this doesn’t matter. That he’s made his choice, and it isn’t you.

But the truth is, it matters too much.

You drain the rest of your drink, the cold liquid going down in one sharp swallow. You set the glass down harder than you mean to, the dull thud lost in the noise of the bar.

You glance over at him one last time, just to confirm what you already know. He’s still there, his attention focused on her.

But then his eyes shift.

He sees you.

For a split second, your gazes lock across the room, and the weight of his stare pins you in place. His hand pauses on her back, and something flickers in his expression—guilt, maybe, or regret.

You can’t tell, and you’re not sure you want to.

The heat of his gaze follows you as you stand, slipping your bag over your shoulder and making your way toward the door. The noise of the bar fades into the background as you weave through the crowd, your footsteps quick and purposeful.

You don’t look back, but you can feel him watching you, his eyes lingering like a phantom touch that burns even after you’re gone.

The cold night air hits your face as you step outside, and you inhale deeply, trying to push the ache in your chest away.

But it stays. It always stays.

That night, you’re curled up on your couch, a blanket wrapped around you as the city lights flicker through the window. Your phone sits on the coffee table, dark and silent.

Until it’s not.

The screen lights up, and Bucky’s name appears. The voicemail notification lingers like a ghost, and your hand trembles as you reach for it.

You press play, his voice cracking through the silence.

“I know I’ve screwed this up. I know I don’t deserve another chance. But I miss you, and I don’t know how to do this without you. Please… just call me, I’m sorry”

-------

You find him outside on the balcony, leaning heavily against the railing, his shoulders hunched like the weight of the world is pressing down on him. The cold night air bites at your skin, and the faint glow of the streetlights below casts shadows that dance across his face. He doesn’t turn when you step out. He never does. That’s the thing about Bucky—he always knows you’re there, but he’s mastered the art of pretending not to.

The sound of the sliding door closing behind you feels final, like you’ve just stepped into a space you won’t come back from. Your arms wrap around yourself, a weak defense against the cold—or maybe against him—and you take a hesitant step forward.

“I thought you left,” you say, breaking the fragile quiet. Your voice wavers, as unsure as the ground you’re standing on.

He finally looks over his shoulder, his eyes heavy and rimmed with shadows. He looks wrecked. Tired in a way that no amount of sleep could fix. “Almost did,” he says softly, his voice barely audible over the distant hum of the city.

You step closer, your chest tightening at his words, at the way he doesn’t move, doesn’t shift to let you in. “Why didn’t you?”

He shrugs, turning back to the skyline, his fingers gripping the railing. “I haven’t heard from you all week.”

The ache in your chest sharpens at his tone, a flicker of hope you hate sneaking in despite yourself. It’s always like this: just enough vulnerability to keep you tethered. You stop a few feet away, the space between you feeling like a canyon, impossible to bridge.

“This isn’t working,” you say, finally voicing the thought that’s been clawing at you for weeks. “Whatever this is. It’s not working, Bucky.”

He doesn’t react at first, just keeps staring out at the city, like it holds an answer he’s too afraid to look for. When he finally speaks, his voice is low and rough. “I know.”

The simplicity of his admission steals your breath. It’s not that you didn’t expect it. You did. You’ve been here before, standing on the edge of this same cliff, waiting for the inevitable fall.

“So why are we still here?” you ask, your voice trembling, tinged with a desperation you wish you could hide.

He exhales, dragging a hand through his hair. The motion is frustrated, exhausted, like he’s tired of his own indecision. “Because I don’t know how to stop,” he admits, his words cutting through the night air with brutal honesty.

You take another step closer, close enough to see the tension in his jaw, the way his knuckles turn white as he grips the railing. “Bucky,” you say, your voice soft but breaking. “I need more than this. I need to know if you’re ever going to stop running every time things get hard. Because I can’t keep waiting for you to figure it out.”

He turns to face you then, his blue eyes locking onto yours. There’s something in them—something raw and fragile and so heartbreakingly familiar. For a fleeting second, you think this is it. The moment he’ll finally tell you what you’ve been waiting to hear.

But then he looks away, his jaw tightening. “I don’t know if I can.”

The nausea hits you like a punch, twisting your stomach into knots. You take a shaky step back, wrapping your arms around yourself like it might keep you from falling apart. “Do you even want to try?”

His silence is deafening, an answer in itself.

You let out a bitter laugh, the sound hollow and sharp. “You’re unbelievable,” you whisper, more to yourself than to him. “I’m standing here, practically begging you to tell me you care, and you can’t even do that.”

“I care,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “You know I care.”

“Do I?” Your voice rises, anger bubbling to the surface, breaking through the pain. “Because it sure as hell doesn’t feel like it. You say you care, but you act like I’m something you can pick up and put down whenever it’s convenient for you.”

“Stop,” he says, his voice suddenly firm, his eyes snapping back to yours. There’s something desperate in his tone, something pleading that makes your breath hitch. “I don’t… I don’t know how to do this.”

“No, Bucky.” You shake your head, your voice trembling with fury and heartbreak. “You just don’t want to. And there’s a difference.”

The words hang between you, heavy and suffocating. He opens his mouth, like he’s about to say something, but then he stops. His eyes dart back to the city skyline, and you see it—the war he’s waging with himself, the battle between what he wants and what he’s too scared to reach for.

“Say something,” you whisper, your voice cracking under the weight of the moment. “Say anything.”

“I’m seeing someone,” he says suddenly, his hands gripping the railing so tightly you half expect it to snap. The words hit like a freight train, knocking the air from your lungs.

The world around you tilts. Your hands tremble as you take a step back. “Of course you are,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. The bitter laugh that follows feels like it belongs to someone else. “I’m done.”

You turn toward the sliding door, your heart pounding so hard it feels like it might shatter. Your hand trembles as you reach for the handle, pausing for just a second, hoping—praying—he’ll stop you. That he’ll fight.

But the silence stretches on, heavier and colder than the night air.

When you glance over your shoulder, he’s still standing there, staring down at the city like he’s already let you go.

Your throat tightens, but you force yourself to slide the door open and step back inside. The warmth of the apartment hits you like a slap, but it does nothing to ease the chill in your chest.

The door slides shut with a quiet thud.

And Bucky doesn’t follow.

You’d just moved into a new apartment, one that wasn't tainted with all the places he'd touched, places he'd been. It made things easier it wasn't the reason for your move but it helped. Natasha had decided you were both done unpacking for the night so naturally she had dragged you to a party. Steve’s place, of course. The apartment was alive with the energy of too many people crammed into too little space. Natasha had disappeared into a circle of friends near the kitchen, leaving you to nurse your drink in a corner. That’s when you noticed him.

Bucky.

He was leaning against the wall, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else. Dark hair falling into his eyes, a leather jacket slung over his shoulder despite the heat of the crowded room. He didn’t see you at first, but when he did, his gaze lingered just long enough to make your pulse race.

You told yourself you wouldn’t approach him, but an hour later, you were pressed against the wall in Steve’s hallway, his lips trailing down your neck, his hands gripping your hips like he couldn’t get close enough. It was messy, impulsive, and thrilling.

“We probably shouldn’t,” you’d whispered, your breath catching as his mouth moved against your collarbone.

He’d laughed softly, his voice low and rough. “Yeah. Probably not.”

Neither of you stopped.

There were moments after that—moments that felt like everything you’d ever wanted. Late nights in his apartment, the room dimly lit by the glow of the city outside. He’d lie next to you, his fingers tracing absent patterns on your arm as you talked about everything and nothing.

He’d tell you about his childhood, the things he rarely told anyone. The weight of his past. And you’d listen, feeling like you were peeling back layers of him that no one else had ever seen.

“You don’t have to fix me,” he’d murmured once, his voice barely above a whisper. “I just… I like being around you.”

You’d smiled, brushing his hair back from his face. “I’m not trying to fix you, Bucky.”

And in those moments, you weren’t lying.

But then there were the other moments. The ones where he pulled away so fast it left you reeling.

You remember the first time he didn’t text you back. It wasn’t just hours—it was days. Days of overanalyzing every word you’d said to him the last time you saw him. Days of your stomach twisting every time your phone buzzed, only for it to not be him.

When he finally did text, it was so casual it made you want to scream.

“Hey. You good?”

No apology. No explanation. Just like that, he was back. And you let him back in because you didn’t know how not to.

And then there was the jealousy. The way you’d catch him talking to someone else at a party, his body language so open and inviting in a way it rarely was with you. You hated how it made you feel, the bitterness that bubbled up, the way you wanted to pull him aside and demand to know if he cared about you at all.

But you didn’t. You never did.

“Do you even want to move on?” Wanda asks, her tone soft but pointed. “Or is this just who you are now?”

You blink at her, her words cutting through the haze of your thoughts. “I don’t know,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

She sighs, leaning forward to rest her elbows on her knees. “You deserve better, you know that, right?”

The door swings open, and Natasha walks in, dropping her bag on the counter. She gives you a look, one that’s equal parts sympathetic and exasperated.

“Let me guess,” she says, crossing her arms. “You’re thinking about him again.”

You don’t answer, but the way your jaw tightens is enough for her to roll her eyes. “You know he’s not good for you. Why do you keep doing this to yourself?”

“I don’t know,” you snap, harsher than you mean to. “Maybe because it’s not that simple.”

“Actually, it is,” Natasha retorts, her voice sharp. “You stop calling him. You stop answering when he calls. You stop letting him treat you like an afterthought.”

“Nat—” Wanda starts, her tone soothing, but Natasha holds up a hand.

“No, she needs to hear this.” She looks at you again, her expression softening just slightly. “I know you care about him. But caring about him isn’t enough if he doesn’t care about you the same way. At some point, you have to start putting yourself first.”

You glance away, her words hitting too close to home.

“I don’t get you,” you’d once said your voice trembling with frustration. “One minute you’re here, and it feels like—like maybe this could be something. And the next, you’re gone.”

He’d run a hand through his hair, pacing the room. “It’s not that simple.”

“Yes, it is, Bucky,” you’d said, your voice rising. “You either want me, or you don’t. So which is it?”

He’d stopped then, turning to look at you. And the look on his face—it wasn’t anger or indifference. It was fear.

“I don’t know,” he’d said finally, his voice breaking.

And that was the worst part.

“You’re spiraling,” Sam said. He wasn’t harsh about it, but he didn’t sugarcoat it either. “This isn’t love. It’s self-destruction.”

Even as you think it, your phone buzzes on the coffee table. The sound feels too loud in the quiet room, pulling everyone’s attention. You glance at the screen, and your heart skips when you see his name. Just his name—no message preview, no context, just him.

Wanda notices, her brow furrowing as she leans forward. “Don’t,” she says softly, but there’s a weight behind the word, a plea. “You’ll just end up back where you started.”

You stare at the screen, your thumb hovering over the notification. The silence in the room grows heavier, charged with unspoken tension. Your chest tightens as your mind races. It would be so easy. Just one tap, and he’d be there again. One tap, and you’d hear his voice, feel the pull that always brings you back.

“I just…” Your voice falters, your eyes flickering to Wanda and then to Sam, who watches you with a mix of concern and frustration. “What if this time it’s different?”

Sam lets out a bitter laugh, running a hand over his face. “You think this time is different? Come on. What’s he going to say that he hasn’t already said a hundred times before?”

“It’s not about what he says,” Wanda interjects, her voice gentle but firm. “It’s about what he does. And what has he done, really, except hurt you?”

You look back at the screen. The notification is still there, a glaring reminder of the mess you can’t seem to escape. Your thumb presses down slightly, not enough to open it but enough to feel the weight of the choice.

“But I love him,” you whisper. The words tumble out before you can stop them, raw and unfiltered.

Sam exhales sharply, standing up from the chair and pacing across the room. “Yeah, we know. Everyone knows. But does he love you? Because if he does, he’s got a real shitty way of showing it.”

You flinch at his tone, the harshness cutting through your defenses. “He does love me,” you say quietly, more to yourself than to him.

“Then where is he?” Sam snaps, turning to face you. “Why isn’t he here, fighting for you instead of blowing up your phone every time he feels lonely? Why is it always you doing the heavy lifting?”

Wanda places a hand on Sam’s arm, pulling him back gently. “Sam…”

“No, I need to say it,” he says, his voice softer now but still firm. “Love isn’t supposed to feel like this. It’s not supposed to feel like you’re drowning every damn day just to keep him afloat.”

The bar is too loud, too crowded, and too filled with memories of Bucky for you to feel at ease. But you’re here because it’s Steve’s birthday, and Natasha had insisted. And of course you came it was Steve.

You’re leaning against the bar, talking to a man you barely know. His smile is easy, his laugh smooth, and even though you’re trying to focus on him, you can feel Bucky’s eyes on you. From across the room, his gaze burns into your back, searing through your dress like a brand.

You glance over your shoulder, meeting his eyes for a split second. The tension in his jaw, the way his drink sits untouched in his hand—it’s the most emotion he’s shown all night. But it’s not enough to stop you.

If he wants to act like he doesn’t care, you’ll give him something to not care about.

The man beside you leans in, his hand brushing against your arm as he says something you don’t quite catch over the noise. You laugh, even though you barely hear the joke. You laugh because you know Bucky is watching.

It doesn’t take long for him to snap.

Before you realize what’s happening, his hand is on your wrist. Firm but not rough, his grip sends a jolt through you. “Let’s go,” he says, his voice low and clipped.

“Excuse me?” You pull back, glaring at him, but his grip doesn’t loosen.

“We’re leaving,” he says, not looking at you, not giving the man beside you so much as a glance.

“Bucky—” you start, but he’s already pulling you through the crowd, weaving between bodies with single-minded determination.

By the time you reach his apartment, you’re seething. He slams the door shut behind you, the sound echoing through the dimly lit space.

“What the hell is your problem?” you snap, crossing your arms.

“My problem?” he fires back, pacing across the room like a caged animal. “My problem is you acting like that guy meant anything to you!”

“Oh, and you would know what means something to me, right?” You take a step closer, your voice rising. “Because you’re so good at showing me how much I mean to you.”

He stops, his eyes narrowing. “Don’t turn this on me.”

“Why not? It’s always about you, isn’t it, Bucky? What you want, what you feel. You drag me into your mess every time, and I let you, because I—”

You stop yourself, your breath catching.

“Because you what?” he demands, his voice sharp.

“Because I care about you!” you yell, your chest heaving. “And all you ever do is hurt me for it.”

His face twists, like your words hit him somewhere deep. For a moment, you think he’s going to say something, that he’s going to explain or apologize or do something, but instead, he grabs a plate from the counter and hurls it against the wall. The sharp crash reverberates through the room, the pieces scattering across the floor like jagged confessions neither of you are ready to face.

You flinch at the sound, but the fire in your chest burns brighter, fueled by the chaos. “Oh, real mature, Bucky. Breaking dishes? That’s your solution? Just break things until you don’t have to feel anything anymore?”

He grabs another plate, his hand trembling as he grips it, his knuckles white. His voice breaks as he yells, “You think this is easy for me? You think I don’t know I’m screwing this up? That I don’t hate myself for it?”

“Then stop!” you shout back, your voice raw and cracking under the weight of it all. “Stop hurting me, stop dragging me back, stop—just stop!”

The plate shakes in his hand, and for a second, you think he’s going to throw it again. Instead, he slams it down on the counter with a hollow thud. His shoulders slump as he leans over it, his head bowed like he’s trying to hold himself together. His breathing is ragged, his hands gripping the edge of the counter so tightly you think it might break under the strain.

“I don’t know how,” he whispers finally, his voice so soft you almost don’t hear it. “I don’t know how to be what you need.”

The vulnerability in his voice slices through you, but it’s not enough. Not this time. The ache in your chest is unbearable, your heart breaking as you look at the man you love and realize he’ll never love you the way you need him to.

“Then let me go, Bucky,” you say, your voice trembling but resolute. “If you can’t give me what I need, let me go.”

He finally turns to face you, his eyes shining with unshed tears. “I can’t,” he says, his voice breaking like the plates he just shattered. “I don’t want to let you go.”

Your chest tightens, the pain twisting deeper with every word. “Aren’t you seeing someone?” you ask, your voice sharper than you intended.

He shakes his head, his jaw clenching. “She’s not you,” he says, his voice trembling. “They’re never you.”

The admission stuns you into silence for a moment. The tears you’ve been holding back spill over, hot and heavy. “Then why can’t you give me that, Bucky?” you whisper, your voice shaking with anger and grief. “Why can you give it to them but not to me? Why is it always me who’s left bleeding for you? It’s not fair—I give you everything! And you just take, take, take! What’s left of me after this?”

Your words hang between you, raw and unfiltered, and for a moment, he doesn’t respond. He doesn’t try to defend himself, doesn’t even try to apologize. He just stares at you, his eyes wide and desperate, like he’s drowning in the mess he’s made.

Then, without warning, he steps forward, grabbing your face in his hands. His touch is rough, almost frantic, his fingers trembling against your skin. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, his voice breaking. “I’m so sorry.”

And before you can say anything, before you can even catch your breath, his lips crash into yours.

The kiss is desperate and messy, his tears mixing with yours as he pulls you closer like he’s afraid to let go. His hands shake as they cup your face, his lips pressing against yours with a fierceness that makes your knees weak.

You hate how easily you give in, how quickly your hands find their way to his chest, clutching at the fabric of his shirt like it’s the only thing keeping you upright. The anger and pain and longing all bleed together in that kiss, every unspoken word, every broken promise, every piece of you he’s taken without giving anything back.

When he pulls away, his forehead rests against yours, his breath warm and ragged against your skin. “But I can’t lose you. Please… don’t leave me.” He whispers his voice trembling

Your heart shatters all over again. “Okay”

Bucky’s hands tighten on your arms, his breath warm and uneven against your face. His lips hover just above yours, his eyes searching yours for something—permission, maybe, or forgiveness he doesn’t deserve. You don’t give it to him, but you don’t pull away either.

Instead, your hands move on their own, sliding up his chest and curling into the fabric of his shirt. The tension between you snaps like a live wire as he closes the distance again, his mouth crashing against yours with a desperation that leaves no room for hesitation.

The kiss deepens, his lips parting yours, his tongue brushing against yours in a way that sends heat pooling low in your belly. His hands roam down your sides, fingers gripping your hips like he’s afraid you’ll slip away. You press closer, your body molding to his as the frustration and anger between you melt into something darker, hotter, and infinitely more consuming.

Bucky backs you up until your hips hit the edge of the counter, the cool surface biting into your skin through the thin fabric of your dress. His hands slide up your thighs, his touch firm and deliberate as he lifts you onto the counter. You gasp against his mouth, your hands tangling in his hair as he steps between your legs, his body pressing against yours in all the right ways.

“Tell me to stop,” he murmurs against your lips, his voice rough and breathless. “If this isn’t what you want, tell me now.”

You pull back just enough to look at him, your chest heaving as you meet his gaze. His blue eyes are dark, filled with a mix of longing and uncertainty that tugs at something deep inside you. “Don’t stop,” you whisper, your voice trembling with need.

That’s all it takes. He grips the hem of your dress and pulls it up, his hands sliding over your thighs, rough and calloused against your skin. His lips trail down your neck, his stubble scraping lightly against you as he kisses the sensitive spot just below your ear. Your head tilts back, a soft moan escaping your lips as his hands and mouth make you forget every argument, every broken moment that led you here.

His fingers find the edge of your underwear, his touch teasing as he looks up at you, waiting. You nod, your breath hitching as he slides them aside, his fingers exploring with a skill that leaves you trembling. He watches you intently, his gaze locked on your face as he learns every reaction, every sound you make.

When his name slips from your lips, low and needy, it’s like something inside him snaps. He lifts you effortlessly, carrying you to the couch with a strength that leaves you dizzy. The world blurs around you, your focus narrowing to the feel of his body against yours, the weight of his hands, the intensity of his gaze.

“You’re all I think about,” he says, his voice raw as he settles over you. “Every damn day.”

You don’t answer. You can’t. The only response you can give is the way you arch into him, the way you pull him closer, needing him as much as he needs you. And when he finally joins you, it’s slow and deliberate, every movement designed to pull you deeper into the storm of him.

The morning light seeps through the curtains as you stand by his window, fully dressed, the quiet hum of the city below serving as your only company. Bucky is still asleep in the bed, his arm draped across the pillow where you had been just hours ago. You glance at him one last time, your heart clenching in your chest. For a fleeting moment, you consider crawling back into bed, letting yourself believe in the softness of this moment.

But you can’t.

You quietly grab your things and slip out the door, the sound of it clicking shut behind you feeling heavier than it should.

By mid-morning, you’ve buried yourself in mundane errands—anything to keep your mind from circling back to him. You’re at the farmer’s market now, weaving through the stalls of fresh produce and flowers, the air filled with the faint scent of lavender and bread. You clutch a tote bag tightly in your hand, trying to focus on the vibrant colors of the fruit in front of you.

You pick up an apple, turning it over in your hand absently. It’s almost enough to distract you from the ache still lodged in your chest. Almost.

Until you see him.

You freeze, the apple slipping from your grasp and thudding softly onto the wooden table in front of you. Your breath catches, and the world seems to narrow until it’s just him, standing only a few stalls away.

His dark hair catches the sunlight, and for a moment, it feels like nothing has changed, like the night before never ended. His eyes are locked on yours, wide and filled with a mix of emotions you can’t quite place—shock, guilt, something softer that makes your chest tighten painfully.

For a moment, it’s just the two of you, suspended in time. Everyone else around you fades into nothing, their chatter and laughter muffled like the background of a dream.

But then your gaze shifts.

To her.

The woman standing beside him.

Her hand is clasped firmly in his, their fingers intertwined in a way that feels too familiar, too intimate. She’s beautiful, her expression warm and open as she looks up at him, clearly unaware of the storm brewing between his gaze and yours.

Your stomach twists violently, and the apple you’d forgotten about rolls off the edge of the table and hits the ground.

Bucky’s face changes when he sees you notice her, his eyes softening with guilt, his mouth parting as if he wants to say something, anything. But he doesn’t.

He just stands there, holding her hand, while your chest caves in.

You swallow hard, your throat tight as you force yourself to look away, your vision blurring with unshed tears. You clutch your tote bag tighter and turn, walking away without another word.

You barely make it out of the market before the tears spill over. You wipe them away furiously, your hands trembling as you duck into a side street, out of view from the crowds.

The weight of his gaze lingers on your back, like a hand reaching out but never quite touching you. You can feel him watching you, but you don’t dare turn around. You can’t.

You stop for a moment, your chest heaving as you lean against the wall of a brick building. The morning sun feels too bright, the world too loud despite the hollow silence pounding in your ears.

He didn’t follow.

You told yourself you didn’t want him to, but the ache in your chest says otherwise.

When you glance back toward the market, just for a second, you see him standing at the edge of the stalls, his hand no longer in hers, his face etched with something that looks like regret.

But he doesn’t move.

And neither do you.

With a deep breath, you wipe your face one last time, adjust the strap of your tote bag, and walk away. The weight in your chest feels unbearable, but your feet keep moving anyway.

The apartment is quiet that night, the silence pressing down on you as you sit by the window, staring out at the city lights. You tell yourself you’re not waiting for him, but your phone sits beside you on the windowsill, the screen dark but heavy with possibilities.

It’s almost midnight when the buzz breaks the silence. You glance at the screen, your heart stopping when you see his name.

The message is simple. “Please, can we talk? I miss you…I’m sorry”

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withwritersblock · 17 days ago

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That's so True pt. 2

~That's so True by Gracie Abrams~

Author's note: you guys really wanted a part two, so here we go! I am not super fond of how this ended BUT I had so much fun writing this so I hope you guys enjoy reading it! Summary: Luke tries to win Y/N back Warnings: implied smut, brief description of a broken ankle Word count: 12,696 Luke Hughes x fm!reader Part One

She walked into the house, well before the party started. She saw Mark and Ethan cleaning up the living room area. Only for it to get destroyed later tonight. “Y/N!” the two of them cheered as she entered the house. She rolled her eyes playfully as she shyly brushed a few pieces of hair away from her face.

“Hey guys,” she mumbled as she crossed her arms over her chest. Her gaze scattered around the house in search of Luke. Ethan met Y/N’s brief gaze, knowing what she was thinking. A soft chuckle fell from his lips before he let out a long huff of air.

“Hughesy’s in his room,” Ethan offered. Y/N nodded as she met Mark’s gaze briefly. His phone vibrated in his pocket, he smiled widely as he pulled it out. “Is that the red hair–”

Y/N walked away from them towards the hallway leading towards Luke’s room. She began to tune out whatever Mark and Ethan were saying. Carefully, she raised her hand up and knocked three times.

Luke let out a loud groan from inside of the room, which she assumed was his attempt of asking for her to come inside. Slowly, she pushed the door open to see Luke laying on stomach. His face was smashed into his pillow. His eyes opened slightly looking towards her direction.

She unzipped her jacket as she quickly pulled it off of her shoulders. She delicately rested it onto his desk. Y/N slipped off her shoes, tilting her head to the side. His cheeks were flushed red and he dark under eye circles. He looked like he hasn’t slept in days.

“What’s wrong, baby?” she asked softly as another groan fell from his lips. Her lips fell into a pout as she walked towards the bed. “Lukey,” she mumbled as she leaned down towards the bed. She ran her fingertips through his hair. He hummed.

“You shouldn’t be in here,” he mumbled, his voice was scratchy and hoarse. Her lips pouted as she continued running her fingers through his curls. “I’m probably contagious,” he muttered as his eyes opened, meeting her gaze.

Her hand glided along his upper back for a few seconds before she climbed over him. “Baby, no–go enjoy the party. I’ll be fine,” it sounded like it was painful for him to speak. Luke rolled onto his back, his lips were in a pout. Y/N laid beneath the comforter as she held out her arms towards him. “Go enjoy the party,” he sniffled, “I’ll be okay,” he mumbled.

“Will you–just–” she muttered as she waved her hands towards him. He sniffled before he rested his head into the crook of her neck. Their legs instantly entangled as his hands glided beneath her shirt. His hands were delicately along her side.

One of her hands ran through his curls as her other hand gliding up and down his bare back. His body erupted in goosebumps with her soft touch. His breathing was raspy as he was probably dealing with a chest cold.

“I’m going to get you sick,” he whispered against her neck.

“I don’t care,” she whispered as he pressed his lips against her neck briefly.

‘I feel like you should care a little bit,” he muttered back as he ran his thumb along the skin of her stomach.

“I want you to feel better, so I don’t mind,” she mumbled. He took a deep raspy breath as he lifted his head up from her neck. He leaned up on his hands as he looked down towards her. She raised her hand up and glided her hand along his flushed cheeks. Her lips fell into a pout, “You’ve got a fever, baby,”

His face scrunched together for a moment before he rested his face into the crook of her neck.

“Lukey,” she mumbled, “Let me get you some medicine,” she whispered. He let out a long drawn out groan before he rolled away from her body. He fell onto his back.

“Hurry back, I miss you already,” he mumbled as he brought the blanket up towards his chin. Slowly, she stood up from the bed, rolling her eyes playfully.

“Stay there pretty boy,” she teased as she slipped out of his room.

People were starting to enter the house for the party. So far the music was loud but it wasn’t party level yet. Y/N walked towards the kitchen smiling towards Mark. He explained something quickly towards the red haired girl beside him. Mark jogged towards Y/N.

“You and Hughesy joining us?” he asked hopeful. She took a deep breath as she began to dig into the medicine cabinet. The medicine that she has stocked for the boys because they were clueless.

“Luke’s not feeling good and has a fever,” she explained as she pulled out Ibuprofen from the cabinet. “I’m gonna make sure he’s okay,” she expressed as she met Mark’s gaze.

Mark nodded, “That makes sense he was slow all practice,” Mark expressed, “Do you want a drink?” he walked towards the fridge.

“Can you just grab two waters,” she asked. He nodded. Soon, he placed the drinks in front of her. “Thank you, Markie,” she let out with a soft grin. She took a hold of two tiny pills as she carried the waters back towards Luke’s room.

Slowly, she pushed the door open to see Luke was laying on the bed, the blanket all the way off of his frame. “Take these and drink this.” she instructed as he slowly sat up. She handed up the two tiny pills and the bottle of water.

He didn’t hesitate as he took the medicine and drank most of the bottle of water. She placed her water onto the night stand before she climbed onto the bed. She laid beneath the comforter and this time Luke instantly laid on top of her.

“Thank you baby girl,” he whispered against her neck. She hummed as he leaned away from her. “You’re like a sauna,” he muttered as he fell onto his back. He tossed the blanket low on his frame. His chest was rising and falling quickly.

Her lips fell into a pout, “What can I do?” she questioned. He shook his head slightly. Rolling onto her side, she took a hold of his cheek, forcing his gaze towards her. “I’m gonna kiss you,” she mumbled as she glided her hand across his flushed cheeks.

“I’ve got germs,” he muttered as he scanned her features.

“Will it make you feel a little better?” she questioned. He nodded as his gaze lingered on her lips. “Then I’m going to kiss you,” she mumbled.

“You’ll get sick,” he muttered as he reached his hand over and tangled it into her hair.

“It’ll be worth it if I can make you feel a little better,” she let out as she leaned towards him, kissing him delicately.

A soft hum fell from his lips. After a few seconds, she pulled away. Opening her eyes, she saw Luke’s eyes were still shut as he was breathing unsteadily. His lips were still curled upward. Her thumb glided along his flushed skin.

“Yeah, that–that helped,” he mumbled as he manuvered to lay on her again.

Mark sat in the living room, watching a movie with his new girlfriend Ava. Her legs were draped across his lap as he slowly gliding his hands up an down her thighs. Mark shifted his gaze towards Luke who was walking out of his room.

He looked ridiculous. His face was hidden in a black hoodie and his legs were covered by very lose sweatpants. Luke didn’t look towards Mark or Ava as he continued walking towards the kitchen. They shared shifty glances towards each other then to Luke.

“Is he okay?” she asked barely above a whisper, sitting up slightly.

“He’s not,” Mark let out softly as he shifted his gaze towards Ava. “He messed things up with Y/N and she like put the nail in the coffin,” he explained while gesturing slamming a hammer. Ava shot her head back, chuckling softly.

“I hear you talking about me,” Luke shot back from the kitchen. He was slamming the fridge door shut. Mark’s eyes widened as an awkward chuckle left his lips. “And she didn’t put the nail in the coffin, I’m gonna fix things,” he said as he walked passed them carrying a gatorade.

“And how are you going to do that?” Mark asked him, sitting up straighter.

Luke leaned against the doorway to meet Mark’s gaze. Luke had a sad smile on his lips as he took a deep breath. “I don’t know but I’ll figure someting out,” he let out simply as he walked back towards his room. He left Mark and Ava alone.

Luke instantly collapsed onto the bed, laying on his stomach. He took a long sip of his Gaterade. His phone was vibrating beside him. Luke forced his gaze towards his phone to see Quinn was calling him. He furrowed his eyebrows as he pulled the phone in front of him to answer the FaceTime.

“How’ve you been, Lukey?” Quinn answered the call instantly. Luke’s eyes widened slightly as he looked towards his eldest brother.

“I’m alright, why?” he questioned suspiciously.

“You haven’t called and you look like shit,” Quinn said while he rested his phone down. He began walking through his kitchen area. Luke didn’t reply as his mouth fell open, confusion written all over his features. “Dad also said that you and Y/N broke up,”

Luke dropped his head, a soft groan falling from his lips. “I said we stopped hanging out, we weren’t together,” Luke muttered.

Quinn let out a dramatic laugh as he walked back towards his phone camera, his mouth fell open. “Are you fucking kidding me?” Quinn asked while shaking his head slightly.

“What?”

“She wasn’t your girlfriend?” he asked while his eyebrows furrowed harshly together. Luke shook his head, before he laid onto his side, holding the phone close to his face. “You’re an idiot,” Quinn said as he placed a cutting board in front of him.

“I’m not an idiot,” Luke mumbled as he began to scroll through his camera roll. Quinn on FaceTime was in the corner of his phone screen. Quinn took a deep breath, preparing to give Luke a lecture.

Luke’s eyes landed on a photo of him and Y/N. He clicked it and it was a photo they took after one of his games. His face was sweaty as he pressed his cheek against hers. Her hands were squeezing his cheeks with a beautiful grin on her lips.

“Okay, I’m an idiot,” Luke forced out as he took a deep breath. “Jack’s been telling me that it’s ‘any minute now, Lukey, any minute you’ll get the call’ so I didn’t want anything serious,” Luke explained, mocking Jack’s voice.

“Why not? What’s wrong with serious?” Quinn asked as he began chopping an onion loudly. Luke continued to look through his camera roll, stopping and admiring each photo with Y/N.

“I didn’t want a girlfriend when I went to Jersey. I didn’t want to worry about anything holding me back,” Luke explained.

Quinn stopped chopping and placed the knife beside him. He took a deep breath before he took a hold of his phone. Bringing it towards his face, making sure Luke knows he’s serious. “You’re so fucking stupid. She was like perfect for you,”

She was laying in bed, a hoodie covering her frame. Her blanket was tugged highly up beneath her chin. She was sick, overwhelmingly sick. It was probably the worst she’s been sick in years.

There was a soft knock on her door and she forced out a barely audible, “Come in,”

She kept her gaze towards the TV that was playing New Girl. “Hey baby girl,” Luke mumbled as he walked inside, twisting the lock in the process. “I brought you some liquid IV and some soup,” he expressed as he walked towards her. Slowly, she sat up sniffling slightly. “I didn’t know what else to bring but I thought this was a start,”

“Thank you,” she forced out, she barely had a voice. His lips fell into a pout as he placed the soup onto her dresser before he kicked off his shoes. He took one of the water bottles from her dresser; that Lydia dropped off for her a few hours back. She was so bed ridden that she couldn’t get up to grab it.

“Oh baby, it’s kicking your ass, huh?” Luke mumbled as he began to pour the powder into the bottle of water. Shutting it, he quickly began to shake it. He placed it onto the side table. She hummed as she watched him pull his hoodie from his frame. Slowly, he climbed over her to lay beside her.

“You don’t have to stay,” she forced out. He let out a teasing gasp as he ran his fingers through his hair. Quickly, he laid onto his side reaching for her waist at the same time. She let out a huff of air as she laid down, facing away from him. He looped his arms around her waist, pulling her back against his chest. He pressed his lips against the side of her neck.

Her body fully relaxed with her back pressed against his chest. Luke glided his hands along her stomach as he dipped his hand beneath her hoodie. “I’m the reason you’re feeling like this, let me make you feel better,” he mumbled against her neck. She mumbled something he couldn’t hear, instead he continued to glid his hand along her skin as he shifted his gaze towards the TV in front of them.

She took a wheezing breath as she reluctantly sat up. Luke tried to keep a protective hold over her frame, but she carefully swung her legs to hang off the bed. “What do you need? What can I do?” Luke asked instantly as he followed her movements. She chuckled dryly as she reached towards the bottle of water beside her. He raised his hand up and ran it along her back.

She took a small sip, cringing at the taste before she placed it back down onto the side table. “They only had lemon lime left, I’m sorry,” Luke mumbled softly.

Carefully, she laid back down. This time she faced him. His eyes were flickering all over her colorless features. “It’s okay, I appreciate you,” she let out barely audible. He hummed as he glided his hand through her hair. He pulled her closer to him as he laid onto his back. Allowing her to rest her head onto his chest.

“Have you slept?” he asked softly as he continued to run his hand through her hair.

“No,” she muttered.

“Try to get some sleep, I’ll be here,” he mumbled as he pressed his lips to the top of her head. Slowly, she sat up; Luke trailed her movements. She took the ends of the hoodie on her frame and pulled it over her head. She tossed it to the floor as her body was now only covered by a tanl top.

“Too hot,” she mumbled as she laid facing away from him. He chuckled as he watched her movements. She scooted back, a soft smile on his lips as he wrapped his arm around her frame. His hand glided along her side, hearing her wheeze for breathing.

“Do you regret kissing me?” he whispered into her ear. A soft tight lip smile formed to her lips.

“Never,”

Luke rolled onto his back, keeping his phone rested beside him. He stared towards the ceiling for a few seconds. “How do I fix this?” he asked softly. “I mean–I tried but she won’t even talk to me. She won’t even come to the house to see Markie,” he explained.

“Well, what the hell did you do?” Quinn asked.

Reluctantly, Luke explained what happened for the last three weeks. He talked about how he realized he had fallen for Y/N. How he ended things over text and how Kaleigh’s friend practically jumped his bones the second she found out Luke and Y/N ended things. How he didn’t stop it. How his thoughts were consumed with Y/N as the other other girl’s lips were on his. How he thought that if he was kissing another girl, he would move on from her faster.

It was the exact opposite. He needed her more. He craved her more. He was in love. For the longest time, he didn’t know what being in love was like. Except, his level of happiness was so high with her around. His heart would be beating so slowly, almost as if he was completely content and his natural state with her.

Yet his heart would slame hard against his chest any time their lips connected, it was a blissful combination that he craved. He needed the surge of emotions and response, she gave.

“All I know is that I fucked up and I need to know how to fix it,” he expressed as he finally took a hold of his phone screen to see Quinn still preparing his meal.

“What is she doing today?” Quinn asked.

“Uh–pretty sure she’s got like an exhibition game thing today,”

“So, go,” Quinn expressed while dragging out the words.

“She doesn’t want me there,” Luke let out softly.

“Do you want to try and get her back or not?” Quinn let out frustratingly. Luke let out a dramatic groan.

“I’ll see if Markie and Ava wanna go,” Luke mumbled, “I’ll call you later,” he said before he hung up the phone, not giving Quinn an option to reply. Just as he was standing up from the bed, he heard a knock on his door. “Yeah?” he called out.

Mark pushed the door open and stepped inside. Ava stood awkwardly in the hallway. “I’m getting the house together to go watch Y/N play today. You wanna come?” Mark asked as he shoved his hands into his pockets. Luke grinned as he nodded.

“I was just about to ask you guys that,” Luke said excitedly.

“Of course you were. Is this a part of your plan to get her back?” he let out teasingly.

“Maybe,” Luke said as he tossed the hood off of his head.

Mark rolled his eyes playfully as he shut the door, “I’ll text you when we’re leaving!” he shouted through the door. Luke smiled to himself as he walked towards his closet to get a hold of a new set of clothes.

She was nervous. Today was her first game back after being injured four games ago. Of course her first game back was against Michigan State. Usually, the crowd was packed for the rivalry night. At least she was told. Tonight was her first time since she was a freshman.

The music was loud as both teams were warming up. Her eyes were dancing around the crowd, searching for her friends and family. It was an important game.

She stepped up into the drill, preparing to hit the ball over the net. The ball came into her direction and she leaped up and smacked over the net in the designated spot she was aiming for. Landing hesitantly, half expecting her ankle was going to bother her. It didn’t. She smiled softly as she walked towards the back of the line.

Her eyes landed onto the student section, watching it get more and more crowded. She searched for her friends but they were no where in sight. She took a deep breath as she switched her attention towards the Kendrick Lamar song playing in the background.

Quickly, she found herself searching again. Her eyes landed on her family sitting on the complete opposite side of the small arena. They instantly waved towards her. Seeing her for the first time in months. She grinned before the whistle blew, forcing them off of the court for the other team to warmup.

“Y/N!” her coach called after her. Her eyes widened as she took fast steps towards her coach. “How’s that ankle?” he asked her.

“Doesn’t hurt,” she said as she rested her hands onto her hips.

“Get it wrapped anyway,” he instructed, pointing towards the table with the athletic trainers. “And get ready, you’re starting,” he continued. Y/N nodded as she walked towards the table and smiling towards the trainer.

“Ankle?” she asked as she began pulling out the tape.

“Doesn’t hurt but he wants me to wrap it anyway,” she expressed.

“Smart, let me know if this is too tight,” she explained as she waited for Y/N to take off her shoe. She leaned back letting the trainer wrap her ankle as she looked up towards the student section. All of her friends and Luke were sitting front row. She smiled softly as she stared towards her friends.

Luke looked down towards her, waving subtly towards her. Her grin widened as she met his gaze. Mark and Ethan were talking about something while Luke kept his gaze towards Y/N. He held up a thumbs up before switching it down to a thumbs down. She gave him a thumbs up.

He nodded as he returned the thumbs up. Rolling her eyes playfully, she looked towards, Reagan. Reagan looked towards her suspiciously. “Shut it,” Y/N mumbled as she shut her eyes, focusing on the song playing throughout the arena.

“Who’s that grin for?” Reagan asked teasingly. Y/N chuckled softly as she glanced back towards Luke.

“My friends,” she let out cautiously. Reagan finished taping Y/N’s ankle, tapping the table. Y/N instantly began to put her shoe back on.

“Uh huh,” Reagan said while nodding her head slowly.

She hopped off of the table, jumping a few times; testing the tightness of the wrap.

After a few minutes, the arena lights went out as the hype video for the team began to play with HUMBLE. by Kendrick Lamar on the jumbotron. Y/N shifted her weight back and forth as she stared towards the giant screen.

The video was a lot of fun to film. It was one of the most important pieces of team bonding they did. They spent several hours dancing and screaming towards the camera. Kendrick Lamar’s music played on repeat for the whole time.

Dina and Y/N part was right before the beat drop to highlight the teams best plays from last season. The crowd started cheering loudly as the highlights started playing on beat to the song. This specific hype video was edited differently to show all of the spectacular plays they have made against MSU last year. Dina smacked Y/N’s arm excitedly as the video slowly faded as the crowd cheered loudly.

Luke was hanging behind the group, suddenly incredibly nervous that Y/N would’ve been pissed that he was there. Luckily for Luke, the game was only an off-season match up. Mark and Ava led the charge while the other roommates were in a cluster. Luke pulled the hat off of his head as he ran his fingers through his hair before he covered his hair again.

They walked into the student section, that was surprisingly getting full. Mark guided the group to sit front row, like they always do. Luke hesitantly sat down beside Ethan. Luke instantly searched for her number on the court. She wore the number four. His eyes landed on her waiting in line for a warmup drill. His lips curled upward as he watched her smile and laugh with her teammate.

“Oi Laser!” Mark shouted, forcing Luke’s posture to straighten and his eyes to widen. Y/N spun around, switching her gaze to the student section. She grinned widely as she scanned the crowd. Y/N met Luke’s gaze. Her smile faltered only slightly as she waved softly towards them.

“Laser?” Ava questioned softly.

“You’ll see,” Mark let out teasingly as he glided his hand across Ava’s lower back. “She’s killer,”

Luke chewed on his bottom lip as he watched them go back to their bench. The assistant coaches and interns were cleaning up the volleyballs.

Y/N and Dina stood on the sideline doing their long extravagant handshake. It was something they have done for nearly every game since the beginning of their last season. They stayed off of the court as the usual non-starters hit the court first. Luke kept his gaze on Y/N as subtly as he could.

She was smiling, happy. Nothing like the last time he saw her a few weeks back. But she always had a different aura during games. She was definitely her happiest while playing. Similar to how he was with hockey. Maybe that’s why they got along so well.

He watched as she shifted her gaze towards the student section; or towards him. He couldn’t tell. Their eyes met, at least he thought, she pressed her lips together awkwardly as she cheered for her teammate that achieved a point.

The first set ended with a win for the Wolverines, which meant Y/N was getting on the court. She was in the front row, anticipating the serve. The serve went over the net and immediately Dina bumped it towards their teammate Georgia.

Georgia set the ball towards Y/N. She was already up in the air as she hit it straight down split between two of the other teams players. It instantly it the ground, awarding a point to the Wolverines. The crowd cheered as the team got together high fiving one another.

“Fucking Laser!” Mark cheered loudly. Luke smiled as he clapped his hands together before he leaned forward, resting his arms against his legs. The following rally ended with a similar kill by Y/N. She was one of the nominees for freshman of the year in their conference, so it was no surprise to anyone in the arena that she was going to stand out.

Luke watched as she jumped up, attempting a solo block and succeeding. The student section instantly stood up clapping and cheering. “Stonewall,” Luke muttered as he smirked as he watched her dramatically hug Dina.

“She’s fucking insane, dude,” Ethan mumbled. All Luke could do was smile before he looked back towards the court.

The game was tight. They were tied at 2-2 sets and were in the middle of the last set. Y/N had a career night already. She totaled nine kills and fifteen blocks on the night. The team was currently on a timeout, they were all huddled together; drawing up a quick play to hopefully get the win. The Wolverines only needed one more point to clinch the win.

Luke’s gaze was on his phone, scrolling through his Instagram feed. He landed on an Instagram post that the volleyball team shared. It was a video of the kill that pushed the game to a fifth set. It was a dominating and badass. She hit it practically straight down between two of the the Spartans players. She fell back to the ground stepping backwards, a wide cocky grin on her face as her teammates all crowded her.

She looked so hot, Luke was getting all flustered the more he watched the highlight. She was incredible in more ways than one.

He shared it to his Instagram story with the word, “Yup,” and a blue heart beside it.

He lifted his gaze to see them line up, she was set up in her usual spot. Luke watched as Dina served the ball over the net. The other team had a play drawn up and instantly hit the ball in Y/N’s direction. She was already in the air, her hands up to block the ball. Her block attempt worked and the ball went back to Spartan’s zone. It caught them off guard and the ball instantly hit the ground again.

Y/N jumped in the air as the entire arena erupted into loud cheers. She had a huge grin on her lips as her teammates began to surround her. Luke shot up from his seat, cheering loudly.

“Atta girl! Let’s go, baby!” he cheered as he cupped his hands around his mouth. The crowd started to leave the stands towards the court. Y/N and Dina hugged dramatically.

Y/N eyes danced around the overwhelming amount of people on the court, until her eyes landed on her parents. She took fast steps through the crowd towards her parents. “Y/N!” her mom let out happily as Y/N excitedly gave her a hug before she gave her dad a hug.

“Awesome game, sweetheart,” her dad let out as she pulled away from the fast embrace.

“Thank you, I’m glad you guys were able to make it!” she said smiling widely.

“How’s that ankle?” her mom asked. Y/N shifted her weight back and forth, waiting for the adrenaline to wear off.

“It’s good!” she mumbled as she glanced behind her to see Luke and the roommates standing in a group a few feet away. She looked back towards her parents, “I’m gonna go say hi to someone really fast and I’ll be back!” she offered.

“Of course, honey, we’ll be right here!” her mother offered as she waved Y/N off.

She smiled kindly towards her parents before she began walking towards Luke. She met his gaze, he grinned once their eyes met. He stepped towards her, holding out his arms for her. Instantly, she wrapped her arms around him. He engulfed her body with his. He held her tightly to his chest.

“Great fucking game,” he whispered into her ear as he shut his eyes. She chuckled as she rested her head against his chest for a few seconds.

She pulled back, awkwardly crossing her arms over her chest. She began putting the majority of her weight onto her right foot as she was getting an overwhelming amount of pain in her left ankle. She winced slightly before she looked into his eyes.

“Thanks,” she mumbled.

“Hurting, huh?” Luke asked as he glanced down towards her foot.

She nodded, “It wasn’t for a while,” she mumbled as she attempted to put more weight back on her foot.

“Good thing, you won’t have a game for a few days.” he mumbled as he glanced behind her. She followed his gaze, looking towards her parents. They were watching them expectantly. She looked back towards Luke, smiling softly. “This is the first game they’ve been able to come see, right?” he asked softly as he stepped a little closer to her.

“Yeah,” she mumbled before she glacned behind herself again, “I’ve gotta go back,” she let out awkwardly, “I’ll see you tonight?” she asked softly as she subconsciously delicately took a hold of his arm. She dragged her thumb across the skin of his bicep before she pulled it away; suddenly aware that her parents could see her.

“Of course, yeah,” he mumbled as he stepped back, smiling towards her before he faced his roommates.

Luke loved watching her play. She was easily one of the best players on the team, maybe in the conference. She was a walking highlight reel and her celebrations were always one for the books. It was his favorite when she would have a cocky grin on her face as she would stare down the other players.

Ethan used to say they were perfect for each other on their shared love for over the top celebrations. He wasn’t wrong, most of their friends agreed.

Right now, the exhibition game was on the verge of ending as the third set was almost closed out. Y/N was subbed out as it was uneccessary to keep her in the game. Luke kept his gaze towards her as she looked back up towards him. This time she had a small smile on her lips.

The Wolverines were able to close out the game with a dominating win. The crowd cheered loudy as they instantly started to leave or head down to the court. Mark and Ava led the charge again towards the court to go see Y/N. Luke and Ethan hung back as they walked slowly behind them.

“Surpsised you joined us,” Ethan expressed as he shoved his hands into his pockets. Luke nodded as he pulled the hat away from his head as he ran his fingers through his hair before he placed it back onto his head.

“We agreed to be friends,” Luke said.

“Markie said you’re trying to win her back,” Ethan said while nudging him sightly. Luke smirked while stifling a laugh.

“That too,” he let out as the group approached Y/N and Dina. Y/N smiled towards the group, her gaze lingering on Luke.

“I didn’t know you guys were coming,” she offered as Mark wrapped his arms around her for a second before he pulled back.

“We were bored and wanted to watch you destroy,” Ethan chimed in.

“And you did,” Luke let out while meeting her eye. She pursed her lips forward as her and Luke’s eyes remained connected.

“Thanks guys,” she said as she forced her gaze towards the other people in the group.

“Do you want to go get dinner or something?” Mark asked her as he had a protective hold around Ava’s waist. Y/N’s eyes widened as she subconsciously looked over to Luke for a moment. Luke chewed on his bottom lip before he took a deep breath. He dropped his gaze shyly towards the floor.

She nodded as she adjusted the skin tight long sleeve on her body. “Just let me head home to shower,” she expressed.

“Did you drive?” Mark asked. She shook her head as she pointed behind her towards Dina. “Lukey, why don’t you take her back to her place to get ready,” Mark said with a teasing grin on his lips. Luke’s eyes widened as his lips parted slightly. His gaze darted towards Mark’s direction.

He would never admit it out loud, but he loved them together. Sure, he missed spending time with Y/N but he’s never seen her so happy before. She was the happiest when she was with him.

Ethan’s mouth dropped open as he shifted his gaze between Luke and Y/N expectantly. The other roommates all fought grins on their lips as they looked towards Mark. Ava smacked her hand against Mark’s stomach, almost to scold him.

“Only if you want to,” Luke mumbled out as he ran his hand over his nose. He avoided her gaze.

She looked towards Mark as she clenched her jaw. “Sure,” she drew out the word, creating a collection of muffled conversations between the group. “Let me grab my stuff,” she mumbled as she walked away.

Luke forced his gaze towards Mark, “Okay, just throw me in the deep end, thanks,” Luke said with a nervous laugh falling from his lips. The group began to laugh as he ran his hand across his chin.

“You’re welcome, Hughesy,” Mark said with a wide teasing grin. Mark smacked his hand against Luke’s shoulder. “Now’s your chance,” Mark mumbled as everyone began to leave the court; except Luke.

Luke shifted his weight between his feet as he forced his gaze towards his phone. He saw a handful of texts from Quinn asking how it’s going. He was always so nosy.

She walked back towards Luke awkwardly, shifting her bag in her arms as she looked up towards him. His heart jumped into his throat as he looked over her frame. “It was awesome to see you play again,” Luke expressed. She forced a small smile on her lips.

“It was great to play again,” she mumbled as she squeezed the bag strap on her shoulder. He tilted his head to the side as he slowly began to walk back out of the court. She kept her gaze low while she followed after him out of the small arena. Luke didn’t push anything or try any conversation as he guided her towards his car.

It was freezing outside as it was drizzling. Y/N sped up to walk beside him. He shifted his head to meet her gaze. “I promise I didn’t ask Mark to do that,” he expressed as he pulled his keys from his pocket.

“I saw your face, I sorta figured,” she let out while laughing. He tossed his head back as he unlocked the car. “It’s okay, I trust your driving more than Dina’s,” she mumbled.

Slowly, she walked back towards her parents. Y/N tried to hide the fact that her ankle was in overwhelming amount of pain. It was throbbing, it was creating a headache for her. Her mom had a small grin on her lips as she crossed her arms over her

chest.

“Who was that?” her mom asked teasingly once she stepped up towards them. Y/N’s eyes widened as she spun around to look towards Luke’s direction. He was already looking in her direction, he had a small smile on his lips. Awkwardly, he dropped his gaze towards the floor, pursing his lips forward.

“He’s my friend,” she let out as she looked back towards her parents, a small smile on her lips. She pressed her lips together as her eyes widened.

“Friend?” her dad asked. Rolling her eyes, she pushed her parents slightly.

“Can we leave please?” she asked softly.

“Where’d you park your car?” her mom asked as she wrapped her arm around Y/N. She took a hesitant breath as she kept her gaze onto her feet, limping slightly.

“Luke drove me,” she muttered, hesistantly.

“So the friend has a name,” her dad teased, “He was sitting with Markie, does he play on the team?” her dad pressed as he wrapped his arm around her as well. She hummed dramatically. “Is he one of Markie’s roommates?” he pressed again. She hummed again.

Slowly, she slipped away from their grasp. Wincing, she cringed at the pain shooting from her ankle. “Please stop asking questions,” she whined out. Her parents laughed as they let her walk ahead of them. “Can you guys buy me dinner already?” she asked while laughing. She pushed the door open and stepped outside to see the sunset cascading outside of the arena.

“If you tell us more information about Luke,” her mother teased.

“There’s nothing more to tell,” she let out while taking a deep breath.

“Then no dinner for our daughter,” her mother let out.

The entire drive to the restaurant, she kept avoiding the topic of Luke but her parents continued to press on about it. How was she supposed to explain to her parents that he was a friend who she was sleeping with nearly every day. How was she supposed to explain that she was falling in love with her friends with benefits.

They were immediately sat in the restaurant in a booth near the back. Y/N kept her gaze on her menu, scanning every option. Everything looked amazing. Her phone vibrated and flashed on beside her. Her nosy mother glanced down towards her daughter’s phone screen.

Y/N’s phone screen background was a selfie that she had taken with Luke. He was laying on her chest, smiling softly towards the camera with her. Her fingertips were gliding in his hair in the photo. Just so happened to have a text from Luke.

Her mouth fell open as she instantly stole her phone from the table, putting into her lap. “Just friends, huh?” her mother teased.

“What did you see?” her father asked while grinning teasingly. Y/N’s cheeks flushed as her body became overwhelming hot.

“A really cute photo of her and Luke as her phone background,” her mom teased while grinning widely.

“Please stop,” she mumbled as she tilted her head back, “I don’t want to talk about it,”

“Why not? If he’s your boyfriend, you can tell us,” her dad said.

“He’s not my boyfriend,”

“Oh I see,” her mother offered with a smirk toying to her lips.

“Mom,” she scolded.

“Are you being careful?” her mother asked.

“Mom!” she scolded while laughing nervously.

She sat still as she waited for Luke to pull out of the parking lot. He kept his gaze on his phone for a moment, texting someone. He chuckled softly as he placed his phone into his cup holder before he pressed play on the songs he queued up.

“Ready?” he asked softly. She hummed as she subconsciously lifted her gaze to meet his eye. He had a soft smile on his lips before he began to back out of his parking spot.

“Kaleigh said that you and Sophie aren’t seeing each other anymore,” she let out, swallowing harshly.

His eyes widened slightly as he took a shaky breath. “I’m not even sure we we’re seeing each other to begin with. She found out that we weren’t—um—together anymore and she saw an opportunity,” he explained. He took a deep breath as he tilted his head back against the head rest.

“Opportunity?” she asked with a smirk toying to her lips.

“She kept kissing me and then like a few minutes later ask if Jack was coming to visit any time soon,” he explained while chuckling. Y/N barked out a laugh as she shook her head. “When I sobered up, I told her to practically leave me alone and she listened,”

“What? Were you drunk for three days straight?” she asked teasingly.

“Yeah—yeah I was actually,” he said while laughing, “Not my proudest moment,” he mumbled as he clenched his jaw.

“I know,” she mumbled while forcing her gaze towards her lap again. “She was really hot,” she forced out trying to sound like a joke but it came out a little sad.

“She’s not really my type,” he said as he glanced towards her. Rolling her eyes playfully, she looked towards him. His cheeks were flushed red as he was biting his bottom lip nervously.

“Yeah and what’s your type then?” she let out while chuckling.

Luke pulled up toward a red light, shifting his head to the side to meet her gaze. He fought off a grin on his lips as he scanned her features. He ran his hand across from his nose as he took a deep breath.

“I like volleyball players,” he muttered shyly. She rolled her eyes dramatically as she tossed her head back.

“Luke,” she let out barely above a whisper.

“You asked,” he mumbled as their eyes met again. Her eyes softened, the longer their eyes remained connected.

“I know what you’re doing,” she muttered as her eyes lowered towards his lips. She took a deep breath as her body erupted with a wave of heat.

“Is it working?” he asked barely above a whisper. She shook her head as she forced her gaze forward. Luke smirked as he began to drive ahead. “You’re smiling, so it’s a start,”

“I’m a smiley person,” she teased as she crossed her arms over her chest.

“You haven’t been smiley around me for a few weeks,” he let out as he pulled up towards her sorority house. “As long as you’re smiling, then there’s a chance,” he teased as he put the car into park.

She tilted her head to the side, meeting his gaze. She took a deep breath while taking off her seatbelt. “Luke,” she offered as she raised her eyebrows. He hummed as his gaze dipped towards her lips. “Not gonna happen,” she mumbled as she opened the car door. He dropped his head while laughing.

“Okay,” he mumbled as he fought a grin.

“I’m serious,” she let out as she leaned her head back into the car.

He smirked as he scanned her frame, admiring her thighs briefly before shooting his gaze back up to meet her eye. “Sure,” he mumbled.

“Luke,”

“Just go shower, I’ll be waiting here,” he let out while chuckling. She stayed still for a moment as she continued to look into his eyes, “Unless you want me to join you,” he said mockingly. She slammed the door shut causing Luke to tilt his head back and laugh to himself.

~~~

It had been a few days since she last saw Luke. He wasn’t pushing any boundaries. Wasn’t trying to beg or do anything that would make her uncomfortable. But he was still trying to win her back in the most subtle ways possible. Sending her TikToks that he thought she would find funny. That was the plan. At least until she agreed to hang out again.

Mark was the first one to realize in the last three weeks that they were miserable without one another. Luke was feeling helpless and stupid over everything that he did after he ended things with her. While she was feeling sad. The only way to describe what she was feeling. She was sad and the only two times she looked like herself in the las few weeks were when she was in the exhibition game and when she was sitting next to Luke at the dinner that same night.

She continued to have a subtle sad pout to her lips when he was not around. Mark was tired of seeing it and was tired of the cat and mouse game the pair were starting to do. Especially since they keep talking to him about each other; he hated being in the middle.

Mark and Y/N were jogging outside, in the cold, trying to maintain fitness in the off season. Mark was slightly ahead, used to constant running while she was used to more short bursts of cardio.

“Have you spoken to Hughesy since your game?” he questioned, breathing practically normal.

She took in an urgent breath. “Texted a little,” she mumbled out.

“Have you forgiven him yet?” he asked as he began to run backwards to meet her gaze. She shrugged while she took another urgent breath.

“Thought you agr—agreed to hate him,” she said as she tilted her head back, squinting slightly as the sun blinded her.

“That was until I saw how fucking miserable you are without the nerd,” he let out while grinning.

“His tongue was down ano—another girl’s throat the next day after ending things with me. Of course I would be fucking miserable,” she stopped short, bending over trying to catch her breath.

“To be fair, I think it was her tongue down his throat,” Mark said while chuckling.

“Still,” she muttered as she began to jog ahead. Mark began to follow after her again. “You guys must think I lack a lot of self respect to go back to him after that,” she said pointing a finger towards him.

Mark’s mouth fell open for a second before he clamped it shut. He ran his fingers through his hair as he slowed his pace to match hers. Mark stared towards his feet, trying to find something to say to that.

There was so many things that he wanted to say, tell her that it doesn’t matter what anyone thinks. Even herself. Luke was so madly in love with her that he was afraid of something real. Mark wanted to tell her that, tell her that Luke meant it.

“You know guys are—like—dumb right?” he let out as he reached towards her, forcing her to stop running. She spun around meeting his gaze. “Luke doesn’t have a mean bone in that Gumpy ass body,” he began. Y/N rolled her eyes playfully as she took a deep shaky breath. “He was dumb but he wasn’t trying to hurt you,”

“I know! But just because he wasn’t trying doesn’t mean I’m not allowed to be upset,” she said as she frowned slightly.

“But at least let him make it up to you!” Mark urged as he jumped slightly.

“Why do you care so much?” she asked while dragging her tongue across her bottom lip.

“Because I want my best friend to be happy,” he said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “And that nerd made you so fucking happy,”

She fought a grin forming to her lips, she was definitely the happiest she’s ever been when she was with him. She was in love with him, she was sure of it. But she still hasn’t been able to get the image of him kissing Sophie out of her mind.

She took a deep breath as she ran ahead, “We’re not talking about this anymore, how’s Ava?” she switched the subject as she spoke loudly. Mark rolled his eyes playfully as he was following after her urgently.

“She’s amazing, doesn’t have a single jealous bone in her body,” he expressed happily.

“Finally, tired of being stared down for existing,” she uttered as she chuckled.

“That’s because Ava is hot and confident and sexy so she doesn’t need to be jealous,” he explained as he jogged ahead of her.

“She is hot—like—really hot, so don’t fuck it up,” she teased, “She’s like way too hot for you—”

“Okay, damn, rude,” Mark said while laughing. Y/N barked out a laugh as they were running side by side down the street back towards his house. “How’s that ankle?” he asked as they jogged up the stairs towards the front door.

“Back to normal,” she smiled as she pushed the door open. Her eyes landed on Luke who was sitting in the living room with his laptop in his lap. He lifted his gaze, smiling softly once he saw them walk inside.

“How was your run?” Luke asked as he kept his gaze on Y/N. Slowly, he trailed her frame, not so subtly.

“I thought it was fun but Y/N thought otherwise,” Mark offered as he jogged towards the kitchen. Luke placed his laptop beside him as he stood up. He walked towards her, their eyes connected. She ran her hand over her forehead before she dropped her gaze towards the floor.

“Haven’t been good at running since my ankle,” she offered.

Luke kept his gaze on Y/N as she laughed at something Dina said to her. She leaned forward as she rested her hands against the top of her thighs. Luke bit his bottom lip as he leaned forward staring towards her. He watched as she prepared for the play to start.

The other team sent the ball over the net directly towards Dina. Luke’s body straightened, completely ignoring what Ethan was ranting about beside him. All Luke knew was that Ethan was upset about something with Dina. He’s had a little crush on her for a while. Luke watched as Y/N hit the ball towards the back right corner of the court.

She came back down and instantly collapsed to the ground as all of her weight landed on her bad ankle. The whole arena gasped as she kept her leg limp against the ground. She had let out a loud sob as she kept smashing her fist towards the ground. Her entire leg felt like it was on fire from the pain.

Luke instantly stood up, leaning against the railing in front of him. He squeezed his hands tightly as he stared towards her laying there. His heart jumped into his throat. “Luke,” Ethan whispered as he stood up with Luke. He felt his body run hot as he felt his hands were starting to shake as he kept watching her.

“Come on, baby,” he let out softly.

Dina waved her hand towards her coach and Reagan, practically begging for them to come over to help her. Luke’s lip quivered as he continued to stare towards her not trying to stand up. He kept watching her fist hit against the ground, trying to switch her attention to something other than the pain shooting up her leg.

Reagan ran her hand up and down Y/N’s back while she was whispering something to her. Dina was leaned down beside her, glancing awkwardly around the court. Y/N finally rolled to sit up as she reached towards her coach and Reagan to help her stand up. They both looped their arms around her waist, helping her stand up.

“Come on, baby, put some weight on it,” he mumbled as he watched her delicately put her toe against the floor. Her entire body was on the verge of collapsing again. Luke dropped his head as his shoulders slumped. “Fuck,” he let out while taking in a deep breath.

“Excuse me,” he mumbled towards the people sitting beside him as he started walking out of the student section. He could hear Ethan and Mark call after him but he didn’t care. He continued walking down the stairs to turn and head towards the main level of the arena.

He walked up towards the doors that were blocked by a security guard wearing a bright yellow jacket. “Sorry, kid, you can’t go in there,” he alerted. Luke’s eyes widened as he looked towards him urgently.

“Y/N, the girl that got hurt, she’s my—she’s my girlfriend, please,” he practically begged. The security guard took a deep breath as he stepped aside. That was the first time he’s said that word.

“I’m not supposed to but go ahead,” he instructor. Luke muttered his gratitude as he quickly took a left to walk towards the corner where the athletic training table was at. Luke jogged up towards the table, watching her force her eyes opened slightly.

Her lips fell into a pout, “You can’t be here,” she mumbled softly. Reagan began to delicately untie her shoe. Y/N tossed her head back against the pillow, the delicate touch was even too much.

“He can stay,” Reagan expressed as she tried to losen the shoe as much as possible. Luke delicately ran his hand across the top of her head. Before he leaned down and carefully pressed his lips to her forehead.

“How bad is it?” he asked softly before he kissed her forehead again.

“She said she felt a snap,” Reagan offered as she slowly began pulled the shoe off of her foot. She winced instantly as covered her face with her hands. “I know, I’m sorry, I know,” she mumbled.

She pulled her hands from her face as she opened her eyes to meet his gaze. Her foot began to throb instantly as the shoe was completely pulled off of her foot. Luke wiped his thumb across her cheek, wiping a tear that was streaming down her cheek.

“Did I at least fall gracefully?” she asked, trying to lighten her own mood. Luke chuckled softly as he leaned down and kissed her lips swiftly.

“It was very graceful,” he muttered before he kissed her lips again for only a second. She smiled softly for a moment as if all of the pain dissipated. “It’ll be okay, baby, it’ll be okay,” he whispered as she continued to scrunch her features together as Reagan slowly unwrapped Y/N’s ankle.

“She’s still got it,” Mark offered from the kitchen as he walked back towards the living room. He tossed her one of the water bottles as he returned to the room.

“Course she does, it’s Y/N,” Luke offered as he tilted his head to the side while smirking slightly. She rolled her eyes playfully as she took a sip from her bottle. Shyly, she looked down towards the floor as she shifted her weight back and forth. Mark grinned as he looked back and forth between them.

“I’m going to my room,” he let out with a smirk toying to his lips. Y/N mouth fell open as her eyes widened slightly as she watched Mark walk away.

Luke dropped his head slightly as he awkwardly ran his hand along his neck. He took a deep breath as he lifted his gaze again to meet her eye.

“Can we talk?” he asked softly. She pursed her lips forward as she slowly nodded. He led the way towards his bedroom. He pushed the door open as he pressed his back against the door. She met his gaze as she walked into the room. Carefully, he shut the door behind them, locking the door in the process. He didn’t want Mark or any other roomates of his interrupting them.

She sat on the edge of his bed, awkwardly fidgeting with the label of the plastic water bottle in her hands.

“I’m really fucking sorry, Y/N,” he said as he kept his back against the door. His breathing had picked up as he watched her lift her head up to meet his gaze. Hesitantly, she placed the bottle of water on the floor as she continued to look towards him.

“Luke,” she mumbled.

“I know I hurt you and I’m so fucking sorry. I know you don’t want to hear it but I was so scared,” he let out as he clenched his fists a few times as he stepped towards her before he hesitantly leaned back against the door. “I never had girlfriends in high school, I never had anyone even like me long enough to stick around but you did. I was terrified of that,”

He kept his distance, not necessarily blocking the door to keep her inside but he needed something to lean against. “I know I messed up with ending things the way I did and with Sophie and I know that you probably can’t forgive me for that. But what if you at least let me try to make it up to you,”

“Luke,” she mumbled again. His eyes widened as he stepped towards her nodding.

“I’ve been called stupid a lot over the last few weeks for how I’ve treated you—if that’s any constellation,” he expressed. She rolled her eyes as a laugh fell from her lips. “Laughing, that’s a good sign, right?”

“Mark’s called you a nerd a few times,” she offered. His mouth fell open as he glanced behind him. Almost as if Mark was standing there.

“I am not a nerd, I am stupid but I am not a nerd,” Luke offered as he walked towards her.

“What’s your comfort movie?” she asked as her head tilted to the side, a smirk toying to her lips. His cheeks flushed red as he finally sat beside her. He kept some space between them but his eyes were still connected with hers.

“Okay, maybe a little nerdy,” he mumbled as his gaze dipped towards her lips.

“I want to forgive you,” she forced out as she dropped her gaze towards her lap again, “But I can’t get the image of you and Sophie kissing out of my head. Like it felt like you were cheating on me but we ended things. An—And it’s not like we were dating or exclusive,” she mumbled.

“I wanted to be together but I kept feeling like if we were serious and I left then I would be like the worst boyfriend of all time. And then I did all of that. I’m so sorry, Y/N, I really am.” he explained softly.

“I’m sorry too,” she mumbled as she pressed her lips together for a moment. “I should’ve said something about my feelings sooner maybe you wouldn’t have gotten so scared,” she expressed watching his eyes widened slightly. “I really think we could’ve been great,” she muttered.

His heart jumped into his throat as he took a sudden breath, “Could’ve? Like—you don’t want to try again, for real this time?”

“I don’t know, Luke,”

“One more chance,” he mumbled as his gaze dipped towards her lips. He admired the soft curve of her lips and thought on how much he would love to kiss them again. He had no idea how he managed to spend so long without her lips on his. He doesn’t want to go this long ever again.

“I don’t know if I can get the image out of my head,” she muttered as their eyes connected. He nodded as he chewed on his bottom lip for a second as he leaned back. He tilted his head back as he took a deep breath.

“Will you go on a date with me?” he asked softly.

“What?” she asked softly.

“Tonight, movie date. We’ll set up in here. Pick a movie and we’ll actually watch it or I’ll talk through the whole thing and we’ll start over,” he explained, a soft chuckle falling from his lips. She stared towards him suspiciously as she fought a grin forming to her lips. “We’ll start small because we’re used to this, right? So first date, here, right now,”

She took a deep breath as she smiled softly, “Right now?” she asked while chuckling. He nodded encouragingly. “I just finished a run. I’m gross and sweaty. I—we can’t,” she let out as she stood up.

He immediately stood up, “Counter argument, you can shower in Markie’s bathroom and put on the clothes I have here in my closet,” he said while walking towards his closet and pulled out a pair of shorts and a t-shirt of hers. He handed them towards her as she laughed.

“Fine,” she drew out the word for a few seconds as she stood up and began to walk out of the room. “What if I don’t come back,” she let out teasingly as she kept her hand on the door handle.

“You will,” he mumbled as he winked towards her. She rolled her eyes playfully as she slipped out of the bedroom.

She was laying on her bed with an ankle that was broken in two different places. Her season was done and she was angry. Everything was supposed to be great, her freshman season was supposed to be record breaking. At least that was the expectation put on her and now it didn’t matter.

She was frustrated and constantly in pain despite the amount of medication that she was supposed to take. The medicine made her feel dizzy and she would rather be in pain that feel unlike herself.

There was a soft knock on her door and she didn’t say anything. She tilted her head back against the headrest while clenching her jaw. The door was slowly pushed open with Luke stepping inside. He was carrying an iced coffee that he was only half-convinced was correct.

“How’s it feeling?” he asked as he twisted the lock before he walked towards her. She didn’t say anything as she kept her gaze onto the TV screen beside her. He stood at the foot of the bed, glancing down towards the dark blue cast on her foot. “Baby,”

“Please go home, Luke. I’m not in the mood,” she mumbled as her voice cracked slightly. His lips fell into a pout as he walked around the bed as he delciately rested the coffee onto the side table. “Luke, I’m serious,” she muttered, still avoiding his eye.

“I know, but I’m not leaving,” he let out as he leaned down and delicately pressed his lips against the top of her head. He glided his hand across her cheek as he forced her gaze to meet his eye. “I know how much this fucking sucks. Let me take care of you,” he mumbled as he scanned her features. Her lips quivered slightly as she tilted her head back.

“I don’t get injured, I haven’t even pulled a muscle since I was like eight,” she let out as she looked deeply into his blue eyes. He glided his thumb across her cheek. “I don’t get injured,” she mumbled again as he pulled her towards him, pulling her into an embrace.

“I know,” he mumbled as he held her tightly to his chest, “You’ll have an amazing comeback,” he whispered against her hair. She pulled back rolling her eyes playfully. A soft smile formed to her lips, “There’s my girl,” he whispered as he took a hold of her cheek again. “What can I do?”

She took a deep breath, “Maybe you could help me get in the shower but that’s like the least sexiest thing of all time,” she let out jokingly. He rolled his eyes playfully.

“You must think so little of me,” he let out teasingly before he leaned towards her kissing her softly. “I always think you’re sexy,” he mumbled against her lips, a teasing grin on his lips. She pushed him back rolling her eyes playfully,

“Okay, help me up,” she let out while laughing. He leaned down and took a hold of her body bridal style, “Not what I meant—okay—this works,” she laughed.

“Come on beautiful,” he muttered as he carried her towards her bathroom.

Luke quickly emerged from his own bathroom while dramatically towel drying his hair. He was waiting for her to come back for their impromptu first date. He tossed the towel into his laundry bin before he walked back towards his bed. He adjusted the sweatpants on his frame. He reached to the candle on his night stand and immediately began to light it. He placed it back down before he spun around and walked towards his closet.

He took a hold of one of his UMich hockey hoodies and instantly covered his frame. There was a soft knock on his door. His heart jumped into his throat as he walked towards it and carefully pulled it open.

He met her gaze as he pulled the door opened wider, “She returns,” he muttered as he allowed her to step inside.

“Almost didn’t,” she shot back as he shut the door behind her, twisting the lock in the process. He flipped the light switch so that only the candle and the soft lamp in the corner of his room illuminated the room.

“Do you have any movie ideas,” he asked softly as he pointed towards the bed.

“I know what we shouldn’t watch,” she let out teasingly as she climbed onto the bed. Luke watched her sit in her spot, she had sat up while leaning her head against the headrest. He mimicked stabbing his chest as he climbed beside her, keeping some distance. Luke didn’t want to push her. All he wanted was to spend time with her again.

“You enjoyed it,” he offered as he tilted his head to the side to meet her gaze. Her gaze landed on his lips as she took a shaky breath. A soft hum fell from her lips as she trailed her gaze to meet his eye again.

“Luke,” she let out softly. He hummed as his eyes flickered all over her features. “What’s gonna happen if you do get the call?” she asked softly, her body erupting in flames.

His eyes widened as he inched towards her. Hesitantly, raising his hand up. It ended up hanging up in limbo. He dragged his tongue over his bottom lip. “I don’t want to think about that,” he mumbled.

She took a deep breath while shaking her head. “Do you want serious or not, Luke? Because I’m not doing this with you unless I know,” she mumbled as she turned her body towards him.

“Of course I want serious,” he let out, “I need you,” he mumbled as he finally took a hold of her cheek. He looked deeply into her eyes, searching for some hidden answers between her dilated gaze.

“Promise me that if you get the call you won’t end it because you’ll be in Jersey,” she asked as she inched towards him.

He leaned towards her pressing his lips against hers urgently. She parted her lips as she allowed his tongue to slip into her mouth. Luke instantly began to climb on top of her as she slowly laid onto her back. Her hands began to glide along the base of his neck, desperate for him.

Luke pulled back, leaning his forehead against hers, “I promise,” he mumbled before he leaned down and began to trail his lips down her neck. Slowly, he began to suck and graze his teeth against the hot skin against her neck. A muffled hum fell from her lips as she tilted her head back allowing him more access of her skin. Her fingers ran through his curls.

“Luke,” she mumbled as she arched her back into him. He pulled back, staring towards the redden mark on her body. Usually, it was something he avoided doing but it’s been too long since his lips have been on her skin. He leaned down and kissed her urgently, his lips controlled the fast sloppy pace.

Her hands tugged at the shirt on his frame, craving the heat radiating from his skin over her frame. He pulled her bottom lip into his mouth sucking on it as he heard her breath unevenly.

Tilting her head back, her lip popped out of his mouth. Before he began to trail wet kiss down her jawline, towards her neck. Sucking and bititng against her skin every so often.

“This isn’t how first dates usually go, by the way,” she expressed breathlessly. He chuckled against the skin directly above her collarbone, sending an electric vibration all over her frame.

He took a hold of her shirt and began to pull it up her frame, arching her back she allowed him to pull it over her head. He tossed it towards the floor as he bit his bottom lip as he scanned her frame. It was as if it was the first time he’s seen her like this. He tilted back, tugging his own shirt from his body towards the floor.

She fought a grin forming to her lips as she trailed her manicured finger nail down the curve of his muscles. Tracing each line of his abs as she watched his body tense under his touch.

“We’re supposed to be starting over,” she mumbled as she continued to look over the muscle of his abs. He took a sharp breath as he slowly rolled away from her. Her eyes widned, “I didn’t say stop,” she pouted as she reached towards him.

He chuckled as he tilted his head to the side to meet her eye, “You’re right, though,” he mumbled as they laid facing each other. He rested his hand onto her waist as he slowly pulled her towards him. Her hands continued to trace along his skin. “I don’t want to stop,” he muttered as he leaned towards her. Slowly, he pressed his lips against hers.

“Then don’t,” she mumbled against his lips. He chuckled before he pulled back slowly. Quickly, she took a hold of his cheeks and kissed him urgently.

“Baby, are you sure that all of this is okay?” he asked as he pulled back. His gaze flickered all over her features. Carefully, he dragged his thumb across her bottom lip.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my entire life,” she mumbled before she desperately leaned towards him kissing him.

~a little ways down the road~

Today she had an important conference game against the Rutger Knights. It was an early game, something that she was not used to. She lined up beside Dina and the rest of her team as they began to jog towards the net and back towards the base line.

“Is Luke coming?” Dina asked as they began to set up one of their drills. Y/N took one of the volleyballs and began to toss the ball from one hand to another quickly.

“He can’t, he’s got a game tonight, remember?” Y/N let out as she kept her gaze on the ball in her hands.

“Not until tonight, he should be here!” Dina begged. Y/N started lining up to serve the ball over the net. She launched it and it hit the top of the net before it barely collapsed onto the other side of the court. She cringed as she jogged towards the sidelines to start her stretches for the game.

Dina’s serve was perfect like it usually was for her. She instantly jogged towards Y/N. “Did you even ask him to come to the game?” Dina asked while shifting her weight back and forth. Y/N jumped up and down several times. Before every game she always had anxiety that she would hurt herself again.

It was as if there was an overwhelming surge of anxiety every time that she would line up for the game. Usually the feeling would disappear halfway through the first set but every game was the same. She took a deep breath as she began to roll her ankles, letting them pop slightly.

“He told me that the timing wouldn’t work which is fine because I’ll see him tonight anyway,” she explained as she began to walk back towards the drill.

For the next five minutes, the drill was going perfectly.

Every hit and ever serve she had went exactly how she needed them to go. It’s been a long time since she’s felt confident before a game.

Her teammates hit the ball towards her. Instantly, she leaped up into the air and smacked the ball hard towards the back left corner. It was barely in but her coach hollered at her; praising her.

The ref blew the whistle sending her team off of the court. She groaned as she jogged back towards the sidelines. She stood on the side of the court, stretching her entire body as the other team started warming up.

“Hey,” Dina mumbled as she stood in front of her. Y/N’s eyes widened as she took a deep breath.

“Yes D,” she mumbled while laughing awkwardly.

“Turn around,” Dina said while smiling widely.

Y/N spun around to see Luke, his brother, and some of his friends standing near the stands. A sudden gasp fell from her lips as she instantly jogged towards him. Luke walked towards her, his arms were held outwards as he was waiting for her. She leaped into his arms as she wrapped her arms around his neck. Her legs wrapped around his waist as he wrapped his arms around the center of her back.

“I thought—” she mumbled as she glided her fingers through his hair. “I’ve missed you so fucking much,” she whispered against his ear.

“I’ve missed you too, baby,” he whispered as she pulled back, meeting his gaze. Leaning towards him, she kissed him urgently. He hummed against her lips as she glided her hands towards his cheeks. She pulled back as she opened her eyes to meet his gaze.

“You have a game later,” she mumbled as he slowly lowered her to the ground. He kept his hands loosely on her frame as he looked deeply into her eyes.

“I don’t know how often I’ll get to see you play in person anymore so I had to come and see you,” he mumbled. She grinned widely before she leaned towards him and pressed her lips against his. She pulled away as she rested her hands onto his chest. “Also these guys have never been to a volleyball game so I dragged them along,” he explained.

She smiled as he guided her towards the three guys behind him. “Hey Y/N,” Jack muttered as he awkwardly held his hand up waving discreetly.

“Baby, this is Johnny and Dawson, this is Y/N, my girlfriend,” he explained.

“Nice to meet you guys,” she offered as Luke kept a protective hold on her waist. “Hopefully we can put on a good game,” she expressed as she took deep breath. Luke leaned down and delicately pressed his lips to the top of her head.

There was another loud whistle. “Go get ‘em, Laser,” he mumbled as she looked up and met his gaze. Slowly, he leaned down and pressed his lips against hers briefly.

“I love you,” she whispered before she jogged back towards her teammates. Luke stepped back, watching her jog away. Luke had a soft smile on his lips as he continued to watch her.

“Laser?” Jack asked while chuckling.

“You’ll see,” Luke let out as he pointed towards the stands as he continued to admire his beautiful girl.

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