#i haven’t grown since middle school | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

theonottsbxtch · 3 months ago

Note

hey! please could you write a 🔥 charles leclerc

7 MINUTES | CL16

an: this celeb really has me writing for people i've never written for but here you go! rushed and not proof read lol i wanna go to bed

summary: 7 minutes in heaven, max's sister, what could possibly go wrong?

warnings: heavy make out session

wc: 3k

You were sitting on the edge of the couch, legs tucked under you, watching as the last of the sunlight fades beyond the horizon. The air still smells like autumn — damp leaves, bonfires, that kind of thing — and you can hear the muffled voices of the boys from the kitchen. They’d been drinking for hours, celebrating the end of the season. Your brother, Max , the life of every gathering, was at the centre of it all, recounting the race from last weekend like a war story for those who had missed his and Lando’s close race.

Inside the living room, the atmosphere was cosy but charged, the kind of energy that only came when the season was over and there was nothing left to lose. Someone had opened a second bottle of whiskey, and you were pretty sure it was Charles. He was sprawled out on the recliner, arm dangling over the side, his laugh loud and carefree. Across from him, Lando and Daniel were huddled together on the floor, passing around a bowl of chips like they were planning something.

Then it happened. Daniel’s eyes lit up, his smirk growing wider as he sat up straighter. "You know what we haven’t done in ages?" he said, voice slick with mischief. "Seven minutes in heaven."

You laughed, and so did a few others, but there was that undeniable flicker of curiosity that ran through the group of you that were in the room. This was a game you used to play in secondary school, maybe year nine if you were brave, but you’d all grown up since then. Still, the alcohol had loosened everyone’s reservations, and you could see the suggestion hanging in the air, waiting to catch fire.

“Oh, come on, we’re not twelve,” Max groaned, walking in at the perfect time but even you could see a spark in his eyes that said he was not really protesting.

Daniel shrugged, still grinning. "Exactly, we’re not twelve. So why not make it interesting?"

You could feel a ripple of unease and excitement in your chest as you glanced around the room. People were starting to perk up now, their curiosity mirroring yours. And before you knew it, Carlos’ empty beer bottle was in the middle of the floor, everyone forming a loose circle around it like it was an unspoken agreement.

Your close friend Lu, had chosen to go first, the bottle spun lazily, catching the dim light from the string of bulbs hanging above the living room. The room felt smaller now, more intimate, as if everyone’s breath was synchronised, waiting for fate to land on someone. Your stomach twisted, a mix of nerves and excitement, and you wonder if anyone else felt the same fluttering tension.

It slowed, dragging the moment out. The neck wobbled a few times, then finally came to rest, pointing directly at Lando.

She grinned, all too pleased with the outcome. “Guess I’m first,” she said, pushing herself up from the floor with the grace of someone who was not nearly as drunk as the rest of them. She casted a sideways glance at Lando, who just smirked and shrugged, ready for whatever came next.

You felt Max’s eyes on you from across the circle, and you shot him a quick look — the kind that said, This is ridiculous, right? But he just smirked, raising his beer in mock salute, clearly enjoying the chaos that was about to unfold.

“Okay, Lando,” Lu teaseed, leaning toward him with a playful tilt of her head. “I think you’re my lucky partner.”

Lando let out a fake groan, but there was a spark in his eyes as he got up. “You sure? I mean, I could take a rain check…”

Everyone laughed, the tension breaking slightly as Lando and Lu disappeared into the hallway, heading for the coat closet like this is still some high school party. But the tension crept right back in as the door closed behind them.

It had only been thirty seconds, but it felt like the room was holding its breath. You sat there, heart racing even though it was not your turn, and wondered what happened next. You’d known these people for years — grown up alongside a few of them, watched your brother and his friends live out their reckless racing dreams — but now the whole vibe had shifted. It was almost like you were all teetering on the edge of something new, something dangerous.

The minutes dragged on. The muffled laughter from behind the door made everyone exchange knowing looks, but no one said anything. Then Lu’d voice called out, “Time’s up!” and the door swung open.

Lu stepped out first, her hair slightly tousled, a grin on her face like she’d gotten away with something. Lando followed, looking slightly flushed but otherwise composed. “Well,” he said, glancing around the room, “that was... enlightening.”

Everyone laughed again, a little louder this time, but you could feel the anticipation growing. Lu took her seat, and Daniel leaned forward, reaching for the bottle with a mischievous glint in his eye. “Your turn, mini Verstappen,” he said, and suddenly all eyes were on you. When Daniel had offered this game, you briefly had the idea that he was trying to pester Max, making him watch his little sister go into a small room with one of the guys of the paddock. In a room where he couldn’t do anything to stop anyone. So when Daniel passed you the bottle, you knew exactly that was his intention.

You froze for half a second, trying to brush off the nervous thrill that shot through you. “Oh no, not me,” you started to protest, but you knew it was too late. The game had a life of its own now.

The bottle clinked as you gave it a half arsed spin, and you swore it felt like the world slowed down again. The air was thick with curiosity, everyone waiting to see who fate would pick this time.

And then it stopped. Right on Charles.

You glanced up, locking eyes with him. Charles Leclerc, your brother’s biggest rival, the one who you definitely should never get with, the one who’s always wound up your brother, who knew more than he let on. His brow quirked up, just slightly, and his lips curled into a soft, unreadable smile.

For a moment, the world felt too small, the air too warm. Daniel chuckled, almost as if he had planned it. “Well, this should be interesting.”

Charles stood up, and before you even realised it, you were on your feet too, heart pounding in your throat. You forced a laugh, trying to play it cool, but you could feel the weight of every gaze on your back as you followed him toward the hallway.

Then Max shot up, “She can’t go in there with him, come on mate.” He said looking at Charles then at the rest of the group whose eyes were too locked on you and Charles. “That’s my little sister.”

As you opened your mouth to reply, Lando stood up and looked at Max. “The rules are the rules, and unfortunately for you the rules mean your sister needs to go into that closet with Charles.” Lando then towards Max and pushed him back down onto the floor where he was previously sat. A small laugh went through the group as they looked back at you and reminded you to go towards the closet.

The door was barely closed when the silence hit. Charles leaned against the wall, arms crossed, his green eyes scanning your face. "So," he said softly, his voice cutting through the stillness, making sure no one could hear, "seven minutes."

You swallowed, leaning against the opposite wall, unsure of what to say. It felt like the world outside had faded, the only sound was the steady thrum of your pulse in your ears. There was something unspoken hanging in the air between you, a tension that had been there for longer than you’d like to admit, but neither of you had ever dared to acknowledge it. Until now.

“Well,” you said finally, your voice barely above a whisper, “what do we do with them?”

The air inside the closet felt thicker than it should, the dim light from the hallway casting just enough of a glow under the door to catch the intensity in Charles’ eyes. Your back pressed against the wall, and you could hear your own breath coming a little too fast, the silence between you loaded with all the things neither of you had said until now.

Charles took a slow step forward, closing the distance, his presence filling the small space. He was not touching you yet, but it felt like he was everywhere, the heat radiating from him making your pulse race. His eyes flickered over your face, searching for any sign of hesitation, but you didn’t give him one. Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was the game, or maybe it was something you’d been pretending not to feel for a long time.

His hand came up, brushing lightly against your arm, sending a shiver through you. Then, in a sudden, fluid motion, he cupped your face, pulling you toward him. His lips crashed against yours, firm but not forceful, and it was like every thought in your head vanished, replaced by the sheer intensity of the moment.

You responded immediately, fingers threading through his hair as you kissed him back, your whole body pressing against his as if you were trying to make up for lost time. The world outside the closet didn’t exist anymore — it was just the two of you, tangled up in each other. His lips are soft but urgent, like he’d been holding this back for far too long.

He pulled back just enough for a sharp breath, his forehead resting against yours. His voice was rough, low, like he’d barely be able to keep it together. “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do that, mon ange” he murmured, his lips brushing yours again, making your heart skip a beat.

You smiled against his mouth, your voice barely a whisper. “Then why didn’t you?”

His hands slid down your waist, pulling you even closer, and you could feel the warmth of his breath against your neck as he leant in again, his lips tracing a path along your jaw. “Didn’t think it was a good idea,” he admitted softly between kisses, his mouth now teasing the skin just beneath your ear, sending a jolt of heat down your spine. “Still don’t,” he added with a soft chuckle, but there was no trace of hesitation in the way he was kissing you now.

“Why?” you whispered, trying to suppress a moan as you tugged him closer, lost in the moment, your mind spinning, body pressed tight against his. The feel of his hands, the taste of whiskey on his lips, the way your bodies fit together in this impossibly small space—it was all overwhelming, intoxicating. Every kiss was hungrier than the last, his fingers gripping your waist like he was afraid you’d slip away, but neither of you were going anywhere.

“Because now I’ve had you once, I’m going to want you forever.” He replied in a raspy voice.

The sound of footsteps passing in the hallway broke through the haze for just a moment, but Charles didn’t stop, his kisses trailing down your neck as his hands tightened their hold on you, and you realised how badly you’d wanted this too.

The footsteps faded, but the sound barely registered. All you could focus on was Charles — the way his lips moved against your skin, the heat of his hands gripping your waist like he’d been starving for this. Each kiss felt more urgent, more desperate, and you let yourself fall into it, the thrill of finally crossing a line you didn’t know you’d been tiptoeing around for so long.

Your fingers slid under his shirt, grazing the smooth skin of his back, feeling the tension in his muscles as his breath hitched. That small reaction sent a surge of confidence through you, and you pulled him even closer, wanting more, needing more. He groaned softly, his hands travelling up your sides, fingers digging in as if he was trying to ground himself in the reality of this moment.

“I didn’t think you—” His words were cut off by another kiss, deeper this time, his hand cupped the back of your neck, pulling you in. You weren’t sure what he was going to say, but it didn't matter. The way his body was pressed against yours told you everything.

It was electric — the feeling of his lips parting against yours, his breath mixing with yours as the kiss deepened, growing more intense, more heated. You lost track of time in the tangle of it all, your bodies moving together like they’d been waiting for this, like this is what they were meant for. Every second felt like it was teetering on the edge of control, the space between you disappearing as if it had never existed in the first place.

Charles broke away, panting, his forehead pressed against yours again. His voice is ragged, low and strained with want. “You... really have no idea how hard it’s been, pretending like this wasn’t... exactly what I’ve wanted.”

Your breath caught in your throat, and you felt the heat rise in your chest as his words sank in. You reached up, tracing the edge of his jaw with your thumb, heart pounding in your ears. “Then stop pretending.”

Something shifted in his gaze, something raw and powerful. His lips crashed back against yours with renewed intensity, a fire now blazing between you, the last of any hesitation burned away. His hands roamed freely now, gripping, pulling, like he was making up for all the times he’d held back. Your back pressed harder into the wall, but you didn’t care. You were lost in the feel of him, in the way his lips trailed down to your collarbone, in the sound of his breath ragged against your skin.

Your name left his lips in a whisper, like a prayer, like it had been waiting there for years, and hearing it sent a thrill through you. You pulled him closer, fingers clutching the fabric of his shirt, wanting to feel every inch of him. His hands slipped under your shirt, his touch scorching as his fingers trail up your back, sending sparks down your spine as he played with your bra.

“You are heavenly,” he breathed against your neck, and you could feel the heat of his words, the truth of them, in every kiss, every touch. “Utterly heavenly.”

He’d said you hadn’t known how long he’d needed this but you did. Because now that you were here, with him, you realise you’d been wanting it too — maybe even longer than he had.

Just as his lips found yours again, there was a sharp knock on the closet door, startling you both. Daniel’s voice, muffled but unmistakable, cut through the haze. “Time’s up, lovebirds. Don’t make me open this door.”

You froze, breath caught, the spell broken for a split second. Charles chuckled softly, his forehead resting against yours again, his breathing still heavy. “Guess we’ll have to hit pause.”

Your heart raced as you untangled yourselves, but before you could step back, he pulled you in for one last lingering kiss, softer this time, like a promise.

“Don’t think this is over, mon ange,” he murmured, his lips brushing against yours. “Not even close.”

You grinned, your pulse still pounding as you tried to pull yourself together. “I’m counting on it.”

Charles let out a soft chuckle, his voice low and husky. "You should probably go first."

You glanced at him, raising an eyebrow. “Why?”

His eyes flickered down to himself, and he smirks, a little sheepishly. "Because if I walk out there like this..." He gestured toward his jeans, and you couldn’t help but notice the tension brewing once more. "Let’s just say it’s gonna be obvious what we were doing in here, and Max might not be too happy."

Heat flooded to your cheeks, and you bit back a smile. “Right.”

Charles stepped forward again, fingers brushing lightly against your arm, his gaze locked on yours. "Give me a minute, and I’ll meet you out there."

You nodded, still feeling the lingering heat between you, but you straightened your shirt and smoothed your hair as best you can, trying to act like you weren’t just tangled up with him in the small, dark closet. When you felt composed enough, you opened the door and stepped out into the hallway.

Immediately, all eyes were on you. Lando was leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, a grin on his face. “Well, well, look who’s back from heaven,” he said, raising an eyebrow as he took in your slightly dishevelled appearance. His eyes narrowed as he studied you, a knowing smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “You look... flustered, mini Verstappen.”

Your face burned, and you weren't too sure if it was from the kiss or from the fact that your brother’s friends could read you way too well. “Shut up, Lando,” you muttered, pushing past him, trying to ignore the heat creeping up your neck.

Just as you make it to the edge of the living room, Max’s voice cuts through, louder than anyone else in the room, as if he was just realising something. "Wait a minute. Where’s Charles? Why are you coming out first?"

You froze, and everyone turned to look toward the hallway. As if on cue, Charles stepped out a beat later, looking a little too composed compared to you, though he quickly raked a hand through his hair as if to play it off. His shirt was untucked at the back, and there was a slight flush to his face, but he managed to pull himself together.

Max narrowed his eyes suspiciously, looking between the two of you, arms still crossed. "You two weren’t... actually doing anything, were you?" He tilted his head, trying to sound casual but clearly fishing for answers.

Charles shot you a quick glance, his lips twitching like he was holding back a grin. "Don’t worry, man," he said, walking past your brother and clapping him on the shoulder. "We were just... getting to know each other better."

the end.

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roanofarcc · 5 months ago

Text

THE ALCHEMY

pairing. tyler owens x boone’s sister! reader

summary. the reunion of you and your high school sweetheart, years after your split, brings back all those long-lost feelings you tried to bury. (based off of taylor swift's "the alchemy")

warnings. ex-high school sweetheart tyler owens. fem!reader. reader was a pageant queen. bull rider tyler lives rent-free in my head (I need to write more bc oof...). a little bit of angst but with a happy ending!

word count. 5.3k || masterlist

‘What if I told you I’m back?... I circled you on a map… I haven’t come around in so long, but I’m coming back so strong.’

The sweet smell of rain filled your senses the second you stepped out of your car. The gray sky overhead spat little droplets onto the red dirt road, instantly causing the dirt to stick to your boots. You pulled your jacket closer to your body as the wind picked up.

“We couldn’t have met up at a gas station or something?” you shouted, cupping your hands around your mouth to draw the attention of the group huddled around a red pickup truck parked off to the side of an empty road, which was split between two freshly planted fields.

“Oh, shit!” A wide grin broke out on your brother’s lips as he rushed towards you. He tackled you in a hug that quickly became him hooking an arm around your neck as he brought his knuckles down against the top of your head, screwing up your hair. With a huff, you shoved him off, playfully punching him in the arm as you mirrored his smile.

“You could have at least told me we’d be meeting up in the middle of bumble-fuck,” you said.

Boone rolled his eyes. “Everywhere around here’s bumble-fuck,” he said. “We’re waiting for a storm to come through here and the closest building is school fifteen miles north.”

You didn’t get a chance to say anything else before it was Lily’s turn to tackle you in a hug, nearly knocking you to the ground. The rest of the Wranglers surrounded you excitedly, all talking over each other, but you had gotten good at following their chattiness from the years Boone had been a part of the internet famous storm chasing group.

“I can’t believe Boone finally talked you into chasing with us,” Dani said.

“He didn’t tell me you guys were chasing this weekend until I landed,” you replied, glaring slightly at your brother. “It felt too late to back out.”

“Damn right!” Boone said, slinging an arm around your shoulder. “You’re gonna love it; right, Ty?”

Compared to him in the group’s livestreams, Tyler Owens stood unusually quiet and lingered back in the group that swarmed you. Since you often tuned into their streams, he didn’t look too different, but it had felt like a lifetime since you’d seen him in person. The last time you met his gaze, he had just hit his last growth spurt as high school neared the end. He wore his tattered cowboy hat nearly every day and the same old pair of boots that you used to get excited about when you saw them discarded in your mudroom. The Tyler looking at you now was grown and broad, in a new hat and boots.

“Yeah,” Tyler answered, sending you a quick, unsure smile.

You returned it before turning to Boone. “Great. Can you help me with something first?” He nodded and followed you back to your car. You opened the driver’s side door and pretended that you really did need your brother’s help. “Did you not tell him I was coming?”

Boone sucked air between his teeth, his tell-tale sign that you were right, but he was going to try to lie about it. You glared at him, and he sighed. “No, not exactly. Not until this morning…”

“Boone!” you groaned. It was one thing being in awkward proximity to your high school sweetheart, it was another when he had no idea you were coming to crash his party. You two had kept it weird but civil, considering Tyler and Boone were best friends and had been since the day they met at the county fair, but you two had grown exceptionally good at avoiding each other, up until then.

“I’m sorry! But you already planned to come out this weekend and Mother Nature had her own plans. It’s been years, can’t you two just get along?”

It was more complicated than ‘getting along.’ You could get along with Tyler, probably pretty easily if you had let his presence slip from your mind since you ended things with each other before you split up for college. But you still found him stupidly charming through your screen; seeing him in person was a different ball game. You never outgrew the space you had carved out in your heart for him, and it was embarrassing.

“I’m sure we can get along just fine,” you said. “But that doesn’t make it any less weird.” For you, probably not for Tyler. He seemed to be doing rather well for himself. If you were being honest with yourself, he probably hadn’t thought about you in years, not too deeply anyway. You were just some girl he dated in high school and the sister of his best friend who never came around anymore.

“If it feels weird, just make that weird face you do when Grandad makes a bad joke and I’ll try to buffer it out.”

You rubbed your temples. “Fine,” you huffed, peering around the door at the group invested in their conversation. You looked at Tyler, standing with his hands on his hips and a small, genuine smile on his lips as he listened to his friends. You couldn’t help the memories the sight of him dredged up.

‘Call the amatures and cut ‘em from the team. Ditch the clowns, get the crown. Baby, I’m the one to beat.’

Cotton candy was sticky on your fingers as you plucked it from the stick. You resisted the urge to wipe them off on your brand-new dress, knowing your mom would have a fit even, though it was impossible to stay clean while doing your duties strolling around the fairgrounds, greeting guests, and getting pictures taken. A sash was placed across your chest, sparkly and bright, declaring you the winner of Fair Queen, a beauty pageant you’d been dreaming about since you were a little girl in 4-H, watching the pretty girls up on stage in their gowns and cowgirl boots.

You walked with pride, head held high to keep your crown upright and a smile stuck on your lips. Just as you finished your cotton candy, you spotted your older brother set up a picnic table. He was with another boy, the two talking excitedly to each other despite you never having seen the kid he was talking to before. He sat opposite of Boone, dressed in a dirty pair of boots and a hat that covered wild blond hair that poked out from underneath.

You absentmindedly fixed your hair, as you had been doing all day in the summer heat, before heading towards them. The blond spotted you first, sitting up a little straighter.

“Boone,” you called out, gaining your brother’s attention. He waved at you with a mouth full of pizza. You noticed the spread of food between the two boys. “You didn’t spend all of mom’s money, did you?”

He winced, swallowing his bite and slowly pushing a half-eaten basket of fries toward you. “I saved you these…” You narrowed your eyes, and he threw his hands up in defense. “You’re fair royalty! I didn’t know you had to pay for food!”

“I’m not the queen of England,” you said.

“Here,” the blond piped up, holding up a fresh slice of pizza. You looked at him, confused and a little dazzled by his soft smile and the smear of dirt across his cheek. You knew for sure he’d never hung around your brother before because you’d remember a face like that. The boys at school and that your brother hung around weren’t nearly as cute as the blond cowboy.

“What?” you said after a beat too long.

“You can have it; we can’t let the royalty starve, now can we?”

You felt heat rush to your face but played it off with a shake of your head. “No, it’s okay.”

“Technically, I think it’s yours. Boone bought it for me. Besides, I gotta get back. My dad will have my ass if I skip out on feeding the bulls…again.” The blond all but shoved the pizza into your hands.

Boone groaned dramatically. “Aw man, I was gonna say we should try to sneak onto the rides.”

The blond grinned, standing up and stretching his lanky limbs. He was a head or two taller than your brother, and you noticed the paper pinned to the back of his shirt.

“You’re one of the bull riders?” you asked, an impressed tone dripping into your voice.

The blond adjusted his hat before he tipped it in a nod. “Yes, ma’am. Tyler Owens,” he said, stretching out his hand toward you. A little too quickly, you shook his hand, matching his toothy grin.

“It’s nice to meet you,” you said.

“Right back at ‘cha, your highness,” he teased before turning to Boone. “I’ll be here all week. When I’m not practicing for the rodeo next weekend, I’ll get us those wristbands for free.”

Boone gasped. “You got a double agent carnie?”

Tyler laughed, patting Boone on the shoulder before he started walking away. You smiled sillily down at the slice of pizza in your hand, knowing there was no way that cowboy would leave your mind any time soon.

‘What if I told you we’re cool? That child’s play back in school, is forgiven under by rule.’

As terrifying as it was, you had to admit, storm chasing was incredibly thrilling. Boone had been doing it for years, but you never tagged along. You’d been taught to run away and shelter in the face of storms, but that didn’t stick for Boone like it had for you.

Racing down the backroads in the back of Tyler’s truck, you found yourself incredibly stressed and entertained at the same time. From the front seat, your brother hollered as he live-streamed, clearly having the time of his life.

Tyler stopped on top of a hill, throwing the truck into park before everyone rushed out to snap some pictures as the tornado raged on across the wide-open fields. The deep gray clouds were captivating, swirling around in a dangerous but beautiful display. It hurried further from where you stood, taking your anxiety along with it. You held your camera up to your face, capturing the moment in a way you’d never before.

You laughed in disbelief, riding a kind of adrenaline high that made you begin to understand why Boone loved chasing. “That was incredible!” you said, a little breathless.

“Did it live up to your expectations,” Tyler asked, appearing beside you. You faltered, seeing him face to face up close. He had the same smile, one that made him look freshly seventeen again. Only he was no longer the lanky kid who used to pick you flowers before every date and entertained your family game nights with zero complaints. It was a hard pill to swallow, especially standing in front of him, but you didn’t really know that Tyler Owens. The internet-famous Wrangler was worlds away from the rodeo star you used to know like the back of your hand.

“Yeah,” you replied, voice soft in the afternoon air. He turned his gaze out over the expanse of field that started at the bottom of the hill and stretched beyond what your eyes could see, staying quiet as the rest of the Wranglers excited chatted somewhere behind you guys. You didn’t look at him either, focusing elsewhere while your mind conjured up the pretty little memories of you and Tyler from high school against your wishes. “I’m sorry Boone forgot to tell you I was coming.”

Tyler was quiet for a moment, letting out something between a sigh and a chuckle. “I don’t think he forgot. I think he thought I’d tell him not to bring you.”

“Would you have?”

You felt his eyes shift onto the side of your face, and you turned your head. “No, ‘course not.”

Relief flooded your chest. You didn’t know why it was important to you if Tyler wanted you around or not. In hindsight, you had dated years ago, back when you were kids, so it probably hardly counted as a real relationship in his head. But it was more than that to you. As silly as it sounded, you’d always hold a soft spot for Tyler. That’s why you tried to avoid him face-to-face. It made you feel weird, plucking at the abandoned teenage heartstring you once tied to him.

‘These blokes warm the benches. We’ve been on a winning streak. He jokes that it’s heroin, but this time with an ‘e’.’

The fair week raged on in a wonderful storm of non-stop chaos and action. You were there every day, dressed up all pretty with a sash and a crown, grinning from ear to ear at every little kid who tugged on the skirt of your dress to get a picture and front row of every competition.

When you eventually got a little downtime from your queenly duties, you met up with your brother, who had resorted to hanging out at the grandstands. He didn’t technically need to be at the fair all day, every day like you did, but he was your ride. Instead of making trips back and forth, he used you as if free entry into the grounds and spent his days bouncing between the food stands and his new friend, Tyler Owens. When Tyler was busy practicing for the big rodeo on the very last night of the fair, Boone cheered him on from the bleachers.

“How’s he lookin’ today,” you asked, taking a seat beside Boone.

“A shoo-in for stayin on that son-of-bitch the longest, which I think is the point but to be honest I haven’t been paying that much attention. Did you know all elephant ears are half-price if you order a lemonade? It’s a steal,” he said before taking an obnoxiously large bite, letting the cinnamon sugar spill onto his lap.

You rolled your eyes before you turned your attention to Tyler. He was standing against the fencing, listening to the man beside him talk, who you assumed was his dad. He must have felt you staring because he turned around and squinted upward at you and Boone before a grin broke out across his face and he waved you over.

“Shit,” you hissed, smoothing out the skirt of your dress and the fabric of your sash. “Is he calling you or me down?”

Boone wiped his mouth. “You for sure. I was just down there, and he kept asking, ‘where’s your sister?’ ‘what’s she up to today?’” he said, a slightly mocking tone in his voice. Your heart quickened in your chest, a little flutter like a butterfly wing forming inside your stomach. “I told him you were so not interested in some wannabe cowboy; you’re welcome.”

Your eyes widened before you smacked your brother’s arm, hard. He nearly dropped his elephant year. “Shit! What the hell?”

“Why would you tell him that?”

Boone looked at you like you had grown two heads. “Those were literally your own words when mom asked you about any cute boys at the fair!”

If you weren’t in public, you’d strangle him. Of course you weren’t interested in most of the boys strolling around the fair with their high and mighty attitudes, but from the little you’d been around Tyler, he didn’t seem too much like them, and he was much cuter.

“Idiot,” you muttered before you climbed down the bleachers to where Tyler was.

“Afternoon,” you greeted him and the older man.

Tyler beamed. “See dad, I told you I met her. She’s even got the crown to prove it.”

Tyler’s dad chuckled and shook his head. “And here I thought my son was making up meeting the queen herself.” He extended his hand just as Tyler had when you first met him a couple days prior. “It’s nice to meet you. I hope my son hasn’t been causing you too much trouble.”

“No, sir. Not at all," you said.

“Good.” He checked the watch on his wrist and seemed to contemplate something. “Ty, you got an hour and a half. Buy her and yourself some dinner, but don’t be late, got it?”

Tyler nodded, a bit too enthusiastically. “Yes, Sir!” He snatched a couple of bills from his dad’s hands before he shoved them in his pocket. His dad wandered away while Tyler practically bounced on his toes. “How does a pizza sound?”

Between you, Tyler, and Boone, you finished off a whole pizza, comfortably seated at a picnic table. Your bother offered to buy everyone a pop, leaving you and Tyler alone. You propped your chin up on your hand and gazed at him from across the table.

“Boone says you’re a shoo-in for winnin’ the rodeo,” you said.

Tyler ducked his head and shrugged his shoulders. “My dad wants me to win more than anyone, I think. I don’t know if I will though.”

“Well, I’ll be rootin’ for ‘ya,” you said.

“Really?” He looked at you all stary-eyed.

You’d had plenty of crushes on boys before, but there was something about Tyler that settled differently in your chest. Maybe it was his tinted pink cheeks when he talked to you, or the little creases by his eyes when he smiled widely. Maybe the summer heat and crown on top of your head made you woozy with confidence and flushed with admiration. Whatever it was, all you knew was that in the very short time you’d known Tyler Owens, you wanted to keep on knowing him.

‘Cause the sign on your heart, said it’s still reserved for me.’

The Wranglers and you pulled off at a little motel a couple miles off the interstate, near where a cluster of storm cells were brewing over the next couple of days. Tailgating was all a part of the storm-chasing experience, according to the Wranglers, and you were happy to join them.

You sat on the tailgate of Tyler’s truck bed, watching with amusement as your brother shot-gunned a beer with Dani. She threw the can down first, earning a round of cheers. Dexter offered you a beer, and before you could decline, Tyler appeared beside Dextor, returning from where he had disappeared to.

“She’s not a beer drinker,” he said. “Unless you’ve had a change of heart?”

You were surprised he remembered. There had been countless summer bonfires where Tyler’s friend had tried to get you to drink a beer, and every time you tried it you didn’t change your mind about the taste. You’d hand it off to Tyler for him to finish.

“No, still can’t stand it,” you replied. Dexter moved on with the cooler while Tyler hopped up beside you, leaving a fair gap. He held out a pop that he must’ve gotten from the vending machine, offering it to you. “Thanks,” you said.

As the night stretched on, you found your attention drifting away from the Wranglers and onto the sky. It was stunningly clear, putting the stars on display. You rested back on your elbows, peering upwards. You had missed catching Tyler's curiosity until he knocked his shoulder with yours.

“What can we see tonight,” he asked, the same way he once had when you found yourself in a similar position as teenagers. Tyler would ask you about the constellations, but he often paid more attention to you than the sky. That wasn’t the case anymore, though; his eyes were actually fixed on the dark expanse of sky overhead, glittering with stars as far as the eyes could see.

You pointed out the ones you could see, tracing them with your finger until you had run through all of the ones you could make out. The two of you continued to watch them, listening to the Wranglers’ conversation in the background. It was unnervingly peaceful, something you hadn’t been in a long time. Even when you’d visit home, there were too many differences to make it feel fully like the home you had left when college rolled around. You knew that was the nature of growing up, things changed; they had to. But there was something about the laughter of your brother that you could almost pretend was from a room just across the hall, and the presence of Tyler beside you that made you feel seventeen again.

It lulled you into a false sense of peace that you were okay with. You weren’t sure when your eyes had fluttered closed, head resting on your crumbled-up sweatshirt as you lay in the bed of Tyler’s truck. The smell of spring and the hum of the wind put you into a light sleep.

It wasn’t until someone gently shook your shoulder that you woke up with a little start. It was still dark, but the parking lot had emptied of tailgaters. You rubbed your eyes, unblurring the world around you until the face of Tyler came clearly into view.

“Shit,” you muttered under your breath, a flush of embarrassment crawling up your spine. “Sorry.”

Tyler chuckled lightly. “You can still do that, huh?” You furrowed your brows, confused. “Fall asleep anywhere.”

“Oh,” you said, sheepishly sitting up right. “I guess so.”

He ran a hand through his hair, a smile softly playing on his lips that you found yourself looking at for a moment too long. He caught you but didn’t drop it. Instead, he outstretched his hand and nodded his head toward the building.

“Come on,” he said. “I’ll walk ‘ya to your room.”

You didn’t think before taking his hand, some kind of old muscle memory, but the second your fingers curled around his, you felt that stupid flutter reemerge in your chest. It made you feel childish; a crush you couldn’t kill despite having outgrown it. For a second, as he helped you off the tailgate, you thought you saw the same light blush that crept across his cheeks when he shook your hand the first day you met, but you wrote it off as a trick of the dim lighting.

When your two feet were on the ground, you both let go and you let him lead the way to your motel room. Boone had left your keys with Tyler, and he handed them off to you as you approached the door. You hesitated for a second.

“Tyler,” you rushed out. He hung back from where you stood, leaving a stretch of space that felt like a world apart. “Thank you for letting me tag along today.” You weren’t sure what else to say, how to voice the hot creep of old feelings refilling your gut.

He searched your face for something, before he said, “I’m glad you’re here.” That felt like a step closer, even though you two maintained the distance.

“Me too,” you replied. “Good night.”

“Good night.”

‘Cheers chanted ‘cause they said, ‘“there was no chance trying to be the greatest in the league.” Where’s the trophy? He just comes running over to me.’

The last night of the fair blew in with a light breeze and a clear sky. You and Boone had raced to the grandstands and sat as close to the front as you could to get a good view of Tyler’s bull ride. Energy swirled across the bleachers, painting you in jovial unease. You bounced your knee and kept a steady gaze at each bull rider who attempted to win the prize.

When Tyler’s turn came around, you weren’t sure you had ever cheered so loud for someone. He still wore his dirty pair of boots and hat that was nearly too small for his head, but he claimed they both were his good luck charms. Under the bright lights, he glowed with pure determination and pride. The entire time he was out there, you held your breath. It happened so fast. One second, they’re calling his number and the next he’s being announced as the winner.

You stood up alongside Boone, hooting and hollering at the top of your lungs as Tyler smiled in disbelief at his luck. Through the people lining the stands, you raced down toward the fence that circled the ring. The crown nearly toppled from your head as you climbed the fence just enough to stand tall among the crowd. The excitement that filled you was on par with your own win earlier that week.

The announcers stood in the middle of the corral, announcing the prize as you locked eyes with Tyler. He broke out in a grin when his eyes met yours, even bigger than the smile of a winner he already held. As he was supposed to stay with the announcers to claim his prize, he took off toward you instead.

He climbed the fence on the opposite side, meeting you eye to eye a couple of feet off of the ground. You threw your arms around him, a little unsteadily. Above the cheers from the crowd, you spoke into his ear, “You did it!”

Tyler pulled back just lightly, just enough to see your face. His eyes shined, stary and bright, chest heaving with excitement and adrenaline. For a second, he just stared at you, looking for something until he found it in the twitch of your lips and the reflective shine in your eyes. He crashed into you, kissing you quick and sweet.

All in a quick second, somewhere over the speakers the announcers laughed, the flash of a camera went off, and Tyler pulled away before racing back to claim his prize. You stood in a daze, fuzzy-headed and lovesick.

‘Honestly, who are we to fight the alchemy?’

You still had the photo of your and Tyler’s first kiss. You kept it in the locket he got you for your birthday. You never wore it; it never left your jewelry box. But for some reason, it had found its way in with the other jewelry you packed for your trip. How, you weren’t sure, but as you got ready for the next day, you found it. You traced your finger across the small heart, almost missing a light knock at your door.

It wasn’t until your name was called that you snapped out of your daze and rushed to the door to find your brother. Boone greeted you with a cup of coffee before he pushed his way into your room and jumped onto the bed with a tired huff.

“Ready for day two? Rader’s lookin’ like we’ll have some good ones today,” he said.

Sipping your coffee, you nodded. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

He opened his mouth to say something else, but his hand knocked against the locket you left on your bed. He grabbed it before you could, holding it up to the light before his face filled with recognition. “Holy shit, you still have this thing.” You knew he only recognized it because you had talked about it non-stop after Tyler gave it to you. But to confirm his suspicions, he popped the locket open to reveal the little picture of you and Tyler inside.

“I didn’t mean to pack it,” you blurted out. “I-I don’t…” You sighed heavily, plopping down next to him. Boone handed the locket back to you.

“You know, he asks about you, a lot,” he said after a beat of quietly contemplating. “He tries to be nonchalant about it, but I think he forgets that I’ve known him forever. He’s not nearly as smooth about it as he pretends to be.”

You fiddled with the necklace in your hands. A part of you didn’t believe your brother, even though he’d have no reason to lie. You opened your mouth to retort, brush off his words, but another knock echoed from your door. You kept the locket held in your palm as you opened it to see Tyler.

Wide-eyed, you faltered in a greeting. Boone beat you two it, appearing from behind you with a stupid smile as he patted your shoulder. “I’ll meet you two downstairs,” he said, slipping out of the door past the two of you quickly, but shooting you a smirk before he disappeared down the stairs and towards to parking lot.

The morning sun caught the metal locket, reflecting off of it and drawing Tyler’s attention right to the piece of jewelry. Before a greeting left his lips, he said, “You still have that?”

“Yeah,” you replied with a sigh. “I couldn’t get rid of it after…” You two broke up in what was disguised as a mutual split but didn’t feel as much. The second you were out of Tyler’s sight after the conversation that ended it all, you bawled the whole drive home. Your momma had tried to console you, and Boone threatened to beat up his best friend, but nothing mended the split in your heart. Even a college fresh start didn’t quite rid Tyler from your mind. He had always been there, a ‘what-if’ and ‘what could have been.’ Getting rid of the locket felt like a final nail in the coffin that you couldn’t, even after all that time, make.

He seemed touched by the sentiment, smiling softly down at the object in your hands. “I remember that old picture you used to keep in it,” he said. “The one of us at the rodeo. You know, my ma still has it on our fridge? She says it was because the only picture he had of that day, but I know she’s lying.”

You unclipped the little latch on the side of the locket and flipped it open with your thumb to reveal the same photo that existed inside. A rush of different emotions you couldn’t quite pinpoint flashed across his face he as stared at the photo. You two had been so young, so flushed with pretty emotions. Just two kids not sure what love was but found themselves at the start of it.

“I don’t know why I packed it,” you admitted. “I didn’t even know I’d be seein’ you until I landed, and Boone suckered me into chasing with you guys. I just…I’ve thought about this lot, an embarrassing number of times.”

“Thought about what?”

“Seeing you again. What’d I say to you. But, I’ll admit, actually seeing you in person again I…” You weren’t sure where the sudden rush of words found the confidence to leave your lips, but you knew they needed to get out. “I don’t know how you do it.”

Tyler stepped closer to you, lingering in the doorway. His brows were pulled in confusion, but his eyes shined with something between his usual starriness and softness. “Do what?”

“Just being ‘round you,” you sighed. “I feel like the girl in this picture again.”

You half expected him to look at you with pity, gently let you down in the way only he could. Maybe you could catch an early flight back home and spend the rest of your life avoiding the boy you fell in love with as a teen who never quite left you. You’re sure Boone would understand, and he wouldn’t suggest you go with them again. It would be fine, really it would be.

But Tyler didn’t. He reached out, brushing a thumb across your cheek before he let it rest cupping your jaw. There was a slight hesitance in his movement, giving you enough time to move away if your words hadn’t meant what he thought they did. But you stayed, and the second you smiled at him he closed the space between the two of you with a hot rush of feelings. His lips moved against yours with familiarity mixed with a newfound excitement as his hands held onto the side of your face like he was scared you’d slip away from him all over again.

It felt like something that only happened once in a few lifetimes; almost too good to be true but standing right there.

#twisters #tyler owens #tyler owens x reader #tyler owens x you #twisters fanfic #boone #boone twisters #glen powell #glen powell fanfic #taylor swift #ttpd

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love-that-we-were-in · 9 months ago

Text

pretty as a vine (sweet as a grape)

pairing: luke castellan x reader summary: luke castellan might be everyone's favorite councilor over the summer. he might be a little too sweet for you in the fall. word count: 1.7k warnings: none

authors note: thank you to @wlntrsldler for letting me steal this concept from you even if making luke a real tried and true loser was a struggle. hope y'all enjoy!!

It was rare to see Camp Half-Blood’s golden boy without his signature smile on his face; always ready to help, always ready to please.

You’d only had a handful of conversations with Luke Castellan, passing words in the height of hectic summer heat. Most of them in the middle of the night, when all the campers should be tucked away in the cabins, but you’d take the brief moments of quiet to wander the grounds with a lit cigarette hanging off your lips.

Luke would approach you every time, always the same way, a pink flush on his cheeks and a quiet, timid voice telling you that he had to enforce the rules, that he had to send you back to your cabin because it was past curfew.

You’d roll your eyes, lick your lips, wave the smoke obscuring your view of him away playfully and promise to head back after this one. He’d nod and walk away, and you’d pretend not to notice his silhouette hidden behind one of the trees, not quite obscured enough by the lack of lighting to go wholly unnoticed, waiting for you to make your way back to where you’re supposed to be.

He was sweet, too sweet, sometimes. Making sure you were safe, that nothing bad would happen to you even after taking his supposed leave. It was cute, really, how he acted around you underneath the starlight, always so nervous and flustered, like he’d never seen a woman before. You supposed, confined to the parameters of camp for so many years, he really hadn’t seen many of them.

It’s something you carry with you this year, watching as summer fades into fall, how camp suddenly empties. You’re not sure what to make of it, how still everything seems now, how the usual noise dampens into almost nothing and you itch for the hurriedness of July to return.

You’re lucky, really, to have spent so long exploring the world beyond camp, seeing what growing up had to offer as if it were normal. A lot of the kids you see now, they haven’t experienced a half of what you have, trading high school for battling dragons at someone else’s request, and it shows each year like clockwork.

If you’re honest, hidden behind the treeline near the lake, camp makes you uneasy like this. Less busy, less extreme - walking the thin line between a place to train and a place to live - and it has you more on edge than before. It could be that you’ve grown accustomed to the bustle of the Boston streets. It might just be that Luke has been hiding just beyond view since you lit your cigarette.

“I know, I know,” you say when he finally approaches. He stumbles, familiar flush blotching the skin of his neck, climbing the tips of his ears. “Just let me finish this one.”

He nods and you wait for him to walk away, follow his usual path back into the forest. He doesn’t, standing on the damp grass nearby without saying a word, and you look at him again.

You’re used to seeing Luke Castellan in different forms - it’s part of how he lives. Nervous and unsure and so confident with a sword that it’s a little insane that he’s the same person during training as is standing in front of you now.

He’s got this little dip to his shoulders, fingers tapping against his own thigh as you stare at him. His curls are slightly longer than when summer started, curling around his ears and resting just above his brows. He’s got a sweatshirt on, dark green and oversized, and his teeth sink into his bottom lip the longer you take to look away.

“You can head back,” you say eventually, flicking ash to the ground at your feet. “I promise to be good and go straight to bed.”

It’s not meant to be anything, merely an assurance. But there’s this way Luke reacts to it, how his fingers stop tapping in favor of clenching his first, how he breathes deeper for a few breaths, how he swallows around nothing, that ignites something under your skin. Makes you want to push that little bit further.

“You really need to stop coming out after curfew,” he mumbles in the end, tucking his hands into the front pocket of his sweater. It’s soft and a little warm and you wonder if it’s the humidity or Luke himself that’s responsible. “I don’t want to get you in trouble.”

“You’re sweet, Castellan,” you crush the butt of your cigarette out, brushing past him to start the trek back to your cabin. “It’s kind of adorable.”

You hear him suck in a breath. You don’t hear his footsteps directly behind you as you walk through the foliage. You kind of wish you’d turned around to see the blush rise on his cheeks.

Maybe you will next time.

Next time doesn’t come for weeks. It gives you space to observe Luke now, when he’s being pulled in fewer directions, when there’s lower expectations. You learn that neither of those things exist where Luke is concerned; that he has this inability to not be helpful, to not put himself forward when no one else will. He somehow takes up more responsibilities as fall gets underway, smiling wide when you know you’d be stretched thin.

It’s admirable, to a point, and you want to know how he does it.

A few years ago, you convinced yourself Luke was only on when the sun shone brightest. Watching him demonstrate a throw to a young Athena kid, you think he might be the sun itself.

“Nice arm,” is what you greet him with when the little girl runs off, ball in hand. He pauses his hands where they rest on the fabric of his pants, still slightly bent at the knees from helping and lips parted as he glances up at you. “She seemed happy.”

“She just needed some help with the technique.”

He shrugs and stands to actually face you.

Mid-afternoon at camp has never really sat well with you. Always slower, sun burning and campers left to fill their own time before dinner. You’ve never really known what to do with it; Luke squints at the grounds before you as if he’s searching for who needs him next.

“Do you ever take a break?” Is what you say when the silence drags on for too long.

Luke blinks, lips parting. A group of Hephaestus kids laugh from down by the lake. You wait.

“I go to bed at midnight.”

“And what time do you wake up?” You kick at the grass below your feet, taking in how Luke stumbles for an answer, brown eyes darting each way as if it’ll fall from the sky.

“The apollo kids really love watching the sunrise,” he chokes out in the end, digging his hands into his pockets. You wonder if he thinks it makes his nerves less obvious. “It’s a really nice sunrise.”

“Come watch it with me tomorrow.”

You say it partly for the reaction itself. That same quick breath Luke takes each time you say something that shocks him, the red tint to his cheeks, the tip of his nose, the harsh movement of his adams’ apple. You kind of also really want to see how Luke Castellan changes between day and night - if it’s a version of him you just haven’t read yet.

You don’t mention that you’ll have to force yourself out of bed, unused to early rising.

He nods, three quick nods like he thinks you’ll take it back if he’s not enthusiastic enough.

You smile then. “I’ll see you later, Luke.”

He meets you where he usually does, further north than anyone tends to go at any hour, let alone this early. There’s less hesitation to his steps than a few nights ago, your invitation dangling between you both something like a promise.

“I’m not gonna bite,” you say when he stops just short of the rock you’ve claimed. You glance over at where he’s just feet away, bright orange camp tee peeking out from his grey hoodie. “It’s too early for that.”

“Oh.”

There’s some shuffling before Luke is perching himself on the stone next to you. He’s close enough to touch from here, the makeshift seat just barely big enough for two people to share, and you take in how he tucks his hands into his pockets, makes himself take up as little room as possible.

Outside of his swordsmanship, you’ve never seen Luke take up much space at all.

“This is nice,” he says eventually, the sun starting to peer over the lake.

There’s something almost beautiful about what the sunrise does for him, you realise. Neither of you have moved, Luke’s gaze still locked on the horizon, but you’ve transferred your attention to him. You’ve seen the lake enough times. You’ve never seen Luke Castellan’s chest rising and falling with each steady breath, or the way his eyes turn a little gold when the sun hits them just right. How he relaxes in the autumn chill.

“You’re really pretty, Luke.”

It slips past your lips before it fully forms in your mind. His head snaps to the side, cheeks flushing and lips parted. You hadn’t meant to say it, too caught up in the slow start to the morning, but it’s out there and you don’t want to take it back.

“Such a pretty boy,” you mutter, shaking your head.

“I-“ Luke starts, before clearing his throat. You see his hands twitch in his pockets. “What?”

You twist on the rock underneath you, lifting your legs so they’re crossed, knees brushing the edge of Luke’s thigh. His eyes drop at the movement.

This should feel weird at camp. You’d fallen into the habit of flirting back in Boston, something to fill the gaps and score you a cigarette when you really needed help to get them. Never like this though - like the moment was delicate and its shattering was solely in your hands.

The ability to shatter Luke Castellan, Camp Half-Blood’s golden boy, rests on your shoulders in an early sunrise.

When his breath hitches as you push yourself closer, you think you’d like to watch him shatter in the sunlight.

Pretty doesn’t even come close when it happens.

#luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #percy jackson and the olympians #luke castellan x you #🖊️ abi writes…

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vinvantae · 9 months ago

Text

𝐈'𝐥𝐥 𝐀𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐖𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐘𝐨𝐮

Jenson button x childhood sweetheart!reader

Summary: The not so wordless agreement that you and Jenson would someday end up together is thrown into turmoil when he’s invited to your proposal party

Word count: 4.4k

Warnings: none

The snow fell across the fields like a blanket, tucking each blade of grass in for a dream-filled night’s sleep - it would usually be quiet this time of night, but the air was filled with the laughter of the children and teenagers alike who had begged their parents to take their sleds out and venture down the icy slopes. You yourself had been one of them, rapping your fists against the red wood of your neighbour’s door, rocking back and forth on your heels as you waited not so patiently for it to swing open.

“Hi John!” You grinned. “Can Jense come out? I know it’s late but we haven’t had snow like this in years and-”

John smiled and stepped aside, revealing Jenson sat at the bottom of their stairs - shoving his feet into his welly boots. “Looks like someone had the same idea as you, son.”

Jenson looked up from the black rubber of his boots to see his best friend - the tip of your nose and cheeks tinged pink, the pearly whites of your teeth lit up in a big grin. He matched it with a smile of his own, giving his Dad a quick hug before joining you out in the snow, taking your sled from you to carry over his own shoulder. You were wrapped in a big yellow coat, a hand-knitted scarf and a pair of gloves that looked a touch too big for your teenage hands - your boots already covered in a soft layer of snow from the small trek to get Jenson.

“Don’t go too far, and be back by midnight!” John called out. “I’m sure your Mum told you the same, young lady.”

“Yes, boss!” You laughed, arm locked tightly around Jenson's so as not to slip on the icy ground. Your best friend smiled down at you - leaning into you to share your warmth.

Jenson listened to you yap away about all the different things you could make out of snow that would be endlessly better than a snowman. He let his arm drop from yours, moving to loop around your waist so he could haul you in closer - using the cold as an excuse. You gestured towards the moving crowds up ahead.

“The big hill just by the forest is where everyone is, it’s got the best spot for sledging.”

Jenson hummed softly, and you looked up at him. “Yes, but I don’t want to go sledding with everyone. I want to go sledding with you.”

Your nose wrinkled up in a playful disgust, earning a playful shove - a squeak leaving your lips as you nearly slipped on the icy tarmac beneath your feet, but you knew Jenson would never let you fall. His surprisingly strong arm stayed around your middle - holding you close to him. As you looked at him once again, your cheeks warmed - his blue eyes twinkling with mischief.

“You’ve gotta stop looking at me like that, you know what happened last time.” You grumbled, jabbing his waist - breaking eye contact.

Jenson raised a teasing brow. “And who said that would be the worst thing?”

“Jenson.” You hissed quietly, not missing the girls who watched the two of you walking in the opposite direction to the rest of the town. You were well aware of the jealousy that sprung from your friendship with him - you’d been in his life since you were infants, but as the two of you had grown up - Jenson had quickly become established as one of the most handsome boys in school. “Don’t say another word.”

“You know I don’t care what they think.” He grumbled. “I don’t want them…”

You looked up at him, the mischief in his eyes had since faded - replaced with a warm tenderness that you knew he had reserved for you. “Jense…”

“I know, I know.” His sigh was wistful. “I’d give it all up for you, you know that.”

You took his face in your gloved hands, brushing your thumb across his cheeks. “I would never. Racing is your dream, and we’re only kids. You’d hate me in the future for stopping you from chasing your dreams.”

He watched your gaze flutter across his face, trying to get a read on how he felt - but in his silence you spoke again.

“Hey, if you've gone and got all those big racing dreams of yours… and you still want me…”

Jenson’s hand came to rest on top of yours, gently removing it from his face so he could lace your fingers together. “I’ll always want you.”

You laughed, although there was little humour in it. “Jense, we’re only 16. When you’re an adult you may feel different, especially when you’ve got all these beautiful women throwing themselves at you once you’ve won a race…. I would be over the moon if you still wanted me but I’m not going to be disappointed if your feelings change.”

He gave you a sad smile. “…I’ll always want you.”

His forehead came to rest against yours, skin surprisingly warm despite the freezing temperatures. You went to protest again but his lips captured yours in a sweet kiss, you allowed yourself to indulge in a moment of weakness - letting your arms slide around his neck to keep him close.

Letting him go was the right thing to do, being hung up on a girl he knew back home was only going to hold him back. He deserved the right to explore and be free whilst he travelled the world, you’d never ask him to give that up.

Oh, but he wished you had.

He wished you had when he was invited back home after a race season nearly 12 years later by your mother, insisting he had to be at this party. Neither of you were 16 anymore - he was 28 years old, had just come 18th in the championship and felt absolutely miserable. But you? You seemed to be absolutely thriving.

Job of your dreams, beautiful home… and William. Fucking William.

The two of you had been together for almost 3 years now, he was some hot-shot CEO of his own company - money coming out of his ass, private jets, cars. And you knew he spoiled the shit out of you, every time you came to a race to support Jenson - William had insisted on paying for you to have the best experience, despite Jenson offering to do the whole lot for free.

And when he pulled up to the address your mother had given him, he thought his jaw was going to fall through the floor. Sure, he’d seen mansions in his time - but this was a whole different level.

It had a fucking maze in the garden for crying out loud. With a fountain in the middle? Who did this guy think he was? He reluctantly gave his car keys over to the valet, before following others inside - all of a sudden feeling drastically underdressed in his sports coat. He was more than grateful for the champagne that was offered to him as he desperately sought out someone, anyone he knew.

The two of you had grown up together, he thought you had the same friends but he couldn’t recognise a single face. Despite the two of you staying in near constant contact, he suddenly felt like he really didn’t know you at all. The girl he knew would scoff at all this, one of your favourite activities when you came to races past - before William - was making fun of all of the rich people, flaunting their wealth but now you were one of them.

He stepped out onto the back patio, eyes finally landing on your parents - chatting away without a care in the world, your father adorned with a watch and a diamond necklace draped across your mothers neck that he knew they couldn’t afford.

“Jenson! You made it!” Your Mum’s face lit up at the sight of him - she stepped away from the other couple she was with to wrap him up in a tight hug. “Oh she’s going to be so happy you’re here.”

“Have you seen her? I don’t feel like I know anyone here.” He chuckled awkwardly, giving your Dad a hug as well.

“Oh I’m sure she’s just making some finishing adjustments, we need her to look perfect.” She grinned.

Jenson frowned. “What’s the occasion?”

Your mum gasped. “Oh, I was sure William would have told you!”

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “William and I aren’t exactly best mates. I think he only tolerates me because I’ve been around for so long.”

Jenson didn’t miss the look your parents exchanged before your Mum placed a gentle hand on his forearm, giving him a sorry smile. “William is proposing to her, love.”

In that moment, he could’ve sworn his heart stopped - he didn’t know you and William were so serious. He always thought that he was just a distraction until the two of you were both in a place where you were ready to commit. It had almost happened when he got 3rd place back in 2004, but you were so close to a big promotion and you wanted to focus on that. You always wanted to be able to give the other your full 100%, be in a place in life where you were secure - maybe he should’ve just said fuck it and let himself be selfish.

He wasn’t mad at you for dating William, he could never be. But were you really about to marry him? The garden went quiet for a moment, so he looked over his shoulder.

You slowly walked down the stairs into the garden - a long dress in a deep blue hugging your figure, long sleeves to protect you from the cooler weather - a slit in the side allowed you to walk elegantly, your hand still resting against the cold stone of the railing. Jenson wasn’t sure he’d ever seen you with such professional looking makeup, nails to match your dress too. Beneath the jealousy, he felt the urge to tease you - wind you up for becoming one of the posh people you’d always claimed to loathe.

But you looked nervous as you started greeting everyone - eyes flickering around the party, you looked beautiful too, of course, but he recognised the look on your face - he’d only seen it a few times through your life but this was probably the worst he’d seen it. Fear. Did you know what was happening…? And who were you looking for?

William practically led you around the party, his hand never straying from the small of your back - which Jenson could now see was nearly exposed from the low back of your dress, adding to the elegance of your look. Jenson considered going over, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Instead, he loitered around your parents - not really letting himself join in on the conversation either, just keeping a watchful eye on you.

But that didn’t last too long either, the clinking of a champagne glass and microphone feedback filled the garden.

“Evening all, thank you all for joining us.” William had led you to the middle of the patio, his hand still on the small of your back.

“I’m sure she’s loving being the centre of attention like this.” He mumbled, earning a gentle elbow to the side from your mother. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

“Oh, shush. You had your chance.” She snipped at him.

He went to protest but instead shook his head and turned back to the scene in front of him - you were fiddling with the tips of your fingers, trying to avoid eye contact with the onlooking crowd but still glancing up as if you were looking for someone. Is she looking for me?

“As you know, I’ve been lucky to spend the last 3 years with this wonderful woman at my side.” William spoke with a confidence that demanded attention, Jenson wanted to tear his eyes away but he just couldn’t. “She came into my life at just the right time, and I can’t wait to see where the rest of our time together takes us… so…”

Your whole body froze as William sank to one knee, fishing a small velvet box from his suit pocket. “William…”

Jenson wasn’t sure if anyone else heard the tone of your voice like him, or if he’d just made it up - but it sounded like a warning.

“Would you make me the happiest man alive, and do the honour of being my wife? Will you marry me?”

You risked looking at the crowd one final time, and when your eyes finally met the blue you’d been searching for - you practically felt the tension melt away. Jenson tilted his head a little, raising his brow - you didn’t miss the way the corner of his mouth tugged up into a teasing smirk and you had to bite your lip to stop yourself from returning it. You didn’t miss the way your heart skipped a beat at the sight of him, how in that moment you wanted nothing more than to rush across the garden and have him wrap you up in his arms.

“…well?”

“Oh.” You suddenly remembered the man currently on one knee in front of you. You tore your gaze away from Jenson to look down at him, a sorry smile on your face. “…I’m… I’m really flattered, Will, I am. Uhm, maybe we can talk about this in private?”

The silence of the crowd was replaced with whispers, although he stood behind him - Jenson could see William’s entire body stiffen and his ears turn a dark pink with embarrassment. “…yeah, uh… yeah okay.”

William passed the microphone to someone before walking off, leaving you standing alone - you mumbled apologies to everyone before doing your best to catch up with him, holding the bottom of your dress so as not to trip over your heels. Jenson finally felt like he could breathe again; whilst everyone else was upset and shocked by the scandal before them - he felt relieved, you did still want him.

“…maybe inviting you was a bad idea.”

Jenson looked to your mother, who was still staring straight ahead. “You can’t tell me you didn’t know that there was a chance she’d say no. This was her choice… this has nothing to do with me.”

She shot him a look. “I saw her face when she realised you were here, Jenson. You had your chance with her, why can’t you let her move on?”

“I’ve not had my chance with her… don’t you see that? I’ve been waiting until I can give her the life she deserves and-“

“She doesn’t need to wait, William can give her that.”

Jenson scoffed. “This isn’t the life she wants… I know William wants her to quit her job and play the pretty little housewife but that’s not who she is. You know that, I know that. And proposing to her in front of all these people? Most of whom I’m not convinced she’d even met before today? Her worst nightmare.”

“Jenson.”

“You didn’t have to invite me… but you did.” He stood his ground. “If you wanted this to happen then you should’ve kept me in the dark, but you know deep down, just as well as I do, that William isn’t the one for her. I love your daughter, more than he ever could.”

Before she could speak again, your father placed a hand on her shoulder - bringing her attention to him. “What’s done is done. It’s her choice at the end of the day… and she didn’t say no, they might be working it out as we speak.”

Your mother rolled her eyes. “Yes honey, because that’s how all happy marriages start - with an argument.”

As the two of them bickered back and forth, Jenson decided to make himself scarce and track you down - weaving through the crowds who were still speaking in hushed tones. Poor William. What was she thinking? How embarrassing.

He ignored them, pushing his way inside - listening out for the two of you and seemingly you hadn’t gone far. A nearby door slightly ajar, a raised voice coming from inside.

“This is so embarrassing! All of my friends are here!”

“And almost none of mine, William.” Your voice was a lot more level, calm. Jenson lent against the wall just outside of the room. “Why did you not invite any of my friends?”

“These are our friends.” He huffed, Jenson could hear him pacing back and forth. “God, I just wanted today to be special - I got your parents here, fuck, I even got your mother to invite Jenson and you know how I feel about that prick.”

“Hey.” You snapped. “Keep his name out of your mouth.”

William went deadly quiet, it was scary. Jenson was close to peeking around the corner to see what was happening, but then William spoke again.

“It’s him isn’t it? It’s always going to be him.”

Your sigh spoke a thousand words, and this time Jenson did risk looking into the room - just to see the look on your face at your boyfriend’s accusation. You didn’t look sad, you didn’t look angry… you had a look of acceptance. You stepped closer to him, placing a gentle hand on his bicep.

“I’m sorry, I never meant to hurt you…” Your voice was soft, practically laced with honey. “I love you, William… but Jenson…”

Jenson waited with bated breath to hear your next words - you’d told him before how you felt about him, but this was different. You didn’t know he was there - you had no reason to be gentle with your choice of words. He turned back away from the room, head rolled back against the wall - he allowed his eyes to close.

“He makes me not want to sleep because being with him makes reality better than my dreams… Home is wherever he is.” Your voice was practically a whisper, as if you knew your words would sting if they were any louder. “I just don’t think I could love anyone in the same way as I love him. I… I was selfish with you.”

“I was selfish too.” He admitted, his hand coming up to cup your jaw - thumb brushing across your cheek. “I should’ve just let you be with him. I always knew where your heart truly was…”

“William, this isn’t your fault. Please, don’t blame yourself for this… all of this is on me.”

“I should go. I love you.”

“I love you too.” You whispered. “I’m sorry, you deserve better.”

Jenson froze as he heard the sounds of shoes tapping against the floor, there was no way he could get away without being spotted - so he just accepted his fate, he took a deep breath. The footsteps paused in front of him and he opened his eyes to meet the sorrowful gaze of William. “Treat her well, yeah?”

“I promise. I’m sorry it ended like this, man.” He forced a smile. “Best of luck to you?”

William held his hand out and Jenson shook it, pressing his lips into a line. “You too mate. Sorry for keeping her from you all these years.”

With a gentle pat on Jenson’s shoulder, William left to go sate the crowds - leaving your childhood friend alone in the corridor. He took one deep inhale before stepping into the room - your back was to him, as you looked out the tall window, presumably to watch your ex(?) boyfriend subdue all of his friends.

“Just me and you, under the cover of night… in the forest on that cute mossy stone bridge across the river. The one you like to throw pebbles in.”

You looked over your shoulder with a coy smile. “Sorry?”

“That’s how I’m gonna do it.” He shrugged, stepping up behind you - strong hands coming to settle on your hips, pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder. “Nothing fancy like all this.”

He relished in the way your cheeks flushed. “That sounds wonderful, Jense… I can’t wait.”

“Not much longer, I promise.” He whispered, this time kissing just behind your ear. “I’d propose to you right now if we weren’t literally at your engagement party.”

You laughed, turning in his arms. “Tomorrow then?”

He couldn’t help the smile on his face. “Tomorrow it is.”

***

Your feet crunched against the snowy ground, nose and cheeks tinged pink as you made the walk from your flat to Jenson’s house - the roads were too icy to drive and you’d always loved the snow, so walking was the easy choice. You smiled softly as you walked through your old neighbourhood, kids laughing and throwing snowballs, parents peeking through the curtains to watch on.

It didn’t surprise you that Jenson had spent some of his earnings to buy a small home here - it was one of his favourite places in the world, yours too. You rapped your gloved hands against the door, rocking back and forth on your heels as you waited.

As soon as it opened, you were wrapped up in Jenson’s arms - a kiss placed on your cold forehead before he stepped out to join you, locking the door behind him. “Can’t believe it’s snowing.”

“I know, especially since it was so sunny yesterday.” You hummed, looping your arm around his. “Where are we going?”

He gave you a soft smile. “Do you not remember the plans we made yesterday?”

“O-oh.” You giggled. “Yeah, yeah I remember.”

“Good.” Jenson pressed a soft kiss to your temple. “Then let’s go.”

“Wait.” You stopped him walking to take his face in your hands, pressing a kiss to his lips. “I love you.”

“I love you.” His voice was practically a whisper. “We don’t have to do this today… you literally just broke up with William.”

You tilted your head, giving him a sweet smile - brushing your thumbs across his cheeks. “I want this. I want you.”

His grin was almost bright enough to melt the snow around you, he took your hand in his and the two of you began the journey - careful to avoid any icy patches, holding each other close for balance. Jenson took the time to give you a full catch up of his next season, Honda had pulled out due to financial issues so Ross Brawn had bought the team and they were starting from what felt like nothing - a big risk, they weren’t… well anything. But he had faith, he had to. After coming 18th, what did he have to lose?

You had nothing but adoration for him in his career, no matter where he ended up - you felt foolish for letting each other put your career ahead of your relationship. You knew you were capable of getting your career goals with Jenson by your side, but you always feared he’d have resented you if you’d somehow got in the way of him getting the wins he deserved.

But as you stepped into the forest, the frozen stream sparkling beneath the bridge - none of your worries seemed to matter anymore. Jenson took both of your hands in his and carefully led you onto the bridge, careful not to slip as he walked backwards. “Your trousers will get wet if you kneel, Jense.”

“Worth it.” He grinned. “I know this isn’t a surprise, but you got to promise to let me get through what I have to say, okay?”

“Promise.” You hummed, taking a deep breath, giving his hands a squeeze.

You bit your lip as he got on his knees, keeping his gloved hands wrapped around yours. “Where do I even start?”

“Might be a bit long if you start at the beginning.” You teased.

“Hey, what did I say?” He hushed, narrowing his eyes playfully at you. “Okay… honestly, I don’t think there’s any words that could truly describe just how much I love you, but I’m going to try my best.”

He almost couldn’t get the words out with the way you were looking at him - a gentle sparkle in your eyes as you held back the tears, the softest of smiles on your lips. He took a deep breath.

“You’re my best friend, my soulmate… I literally cannot remember a life before you and I don’t ever want to picture my life without you. I wish I could specify the exact moment in time I knew you were the person I wanted to spend the rest of time with, but it was gradual, all consuming. You’re my first thought when I wake up, my last thought before I fall asleep and you fill all of my best dreams.”

He let go of your hands to remove his gloves and yours from your left hand. “I don’t care that my career isn’t where I want it to be. My biggest regret is simply that I didn’t do this sooner… I want us to achieve our dreams together. I want us to grow and change together.”

The tears were freely rolling down your cheeks and as he pulled a small black box out of his coat pocket, you felt like you couldn’t breathe. How you felt in this moment was polar opposite to how you had felt when it was William on one knee in front of you - you felt safe, loved… Jenson was all you’d ever wanted.

“So, my love, I’m sorry I’m not the first man to ask you this… but I hope to be the last.” He opened up the box, a beautiful ring inside. “Will you marry me?”

You nodded faster than you ever had. “Yes, oh my god, yes.”

Jenson grinned, and you let him slide the ring onto your finger - and you took a moment to admire it, recognising it as his Grandmother’s, a ring that had been promised to you by her when you were no older than 8 and now it was really on your finger. You looked to your fiancé, who was now standing with an expectant look on his face.

“You gonna kiss me or what?” You purred, running your hands up his chest.

“Don’t have to ask me twice, baby.”

He only gave himself a moment to grin before kissing you with a new vigour - when you brought your hands up to hold his face again, he could feel the press of your ring against his skin and it made his heart race. He pulled back just enough to nudge his nose against yours.

“I told you before and I’ll tell you until the end of time… I’ll always want you.”

───※ ·❆· ※───

Hope you enjoyed!

This is really a birthday present for myself cus I’m fully in my Jenson era but I hope you all like it ♥️

#jenson button x reader #jenson button x you #f1 fic #f1 x reader #f1 x you #x reader

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bridgeicesbeforeroadif · 2 months ago

Text

Bridge Ices Before Road!

Links: DEMO-PATREON-FORUM

Updated 10/29/24

~Summary~

Was there anything that could get between you and a gold medal?

Well, yes. A lot of things. There’s your family, including your annoying younger sibling. Moving back home with them will be tough, but it allows you to focus on your gains. There are competitions to win, and you have to stay in peak condition all the while. You also have your mother breathing down your neck to make sure nothing jeopardizes your chances at success. Your father is more hands-off. He almost always has half of his mind on work, even when he’s at home.

Your coach will guide you through the ups and downs of skating, as they’ve never let you down before. They remind you of your father a bit, never able to fully turn off part of their brain that thinks about work. You hope they remember to relax, and let you do the same.

Your childhood friend-turned-rival is always one step ahead of you these days. They beat you out as part of the top couple in the pairs free skate last year, and since then you haven’t been able to top their performances. You used to be friends, but now there was a fire in their eyes when they looked at you. Will you be able to mend this friendship?

Even worse, you run into an old bully of yours (that you might secretly have had a crush on since forever ago) who has just been appointed the captain of the local hockey team. He plays at your local rink now, and that means you’ll be seeing each other more than you’d like.

You find a friend in a fellow skater who becomes something of a pen-pal to you. They reach out over social media, and there’s an instant connection. They’re a total sweetheart, and you can’t wait to meet them at the first event.

Finding your place again in your old hometown might sound tough, but nothing is tougher than being an Olympic athlete. You have to juggle training along with all that, but you try not to let it get you down. After all, skating is your passion!

Don't let the creepy figure outside your bedroom at night get you down. If you ignore it, it will be fine. It was just your imagination... right? Draw the curtains, drink some warm milk, and put on some music to drown out the haunting song whistled into the gaps in your windows. Tonight, you escape into your dreams knowing all the exits are locked up tight and there's no way in. It's all in your head.

But remember, escaping isn’t always an option.

~Features~

Customize your MC! Name, sexuality, appearance, hair, eyes, clothing, and more! (MC is genderlocked female)

Find friendship or romance in the least likely places! Each route has its own ups and downs with tailored story-telling.

Get stalked by a really big fan. No, I mean like a REALLY big fan. They know things about you that no one else does! Will you get away? Or will you be unable to stop their villainous plot?

Win (or lose) against the best skaters in the country– and the world!

~Romance Options~

Dallas Doverman

male/6’0/20yo

The hockey team captain. He bullied you in elementary and middle school. You can select whether or not you had a crush on him. They certainly had one on you, and that’s why they picked on you so much, not that you knew. Nowadays, instead of helping his dad around at the skate rental and pulling your pigtails, he plays ice hockey with the big boys. He was the youngest on the team, but still made captain in such a short time.

Dallas is tall and broad. His straight black hair is longer on top and rests above his ears, trimmed short on the sides. He’s grown a lot and lost that old baby fat that clung to his cheeks. A dark beard forms on his face, but doesn’t fully block out his skin.

Vincenzo/Valentina Ciolfi

selectable m or f/5’8 or 5’5/18yo

They were once your friend. Then, you went to Boxcroft and they didn’t. It was a shock to everyone, V included. They swore to get better and become your superior someday. You hadn’t expected it to affect your relationship, but it did. You drifted apart, their hostility ever-growing and there was nothing you could do about it.

With dewy, caramel skin and shoulder-length golden brown and almost blonde locs kept in a low ponytail, V just screams “over it.” They did not care enough to do anything to their hair or pick out a nice outfit. They do that for competitions, and that’s enough.

Argo/Allegra Papandreou

Selectable m or f/5’10 or 5’6/28yo

Your coach. They were just like you, hailed as a prodigy until they graduated school, then they stopped being a rising star and became a plateauing one. You followed their career almost religiously, and always wondered what changed. They only started coaching for you. Before that, they worked in accounting, the business for which they got their degree. You couldn’t believe that was what happened to the Starchild of Skating in the 2010’s. They saw real talent in you at a young age and changed career paths. You hope you weren’t a mistake.

Dark brown hair falls in waves over Argo’s ears. Anita wears hers long, down to her waist. They are leanly muscled, but toned all over. Even after years of being out of the game, they had not let their body grow flabby or let it fall out of use. They look as ripped as they did in their teens when they stole the show at Nationals when they were your age.

Bernhard Wagner

male/6’5/20yo

Someone that will eventually face you at the Olympics, you think. He’s friendlier than a competitor has any right to be and reached out to you in your private messages on Blipsta. He always speaks in a really cute way, with all kinds of emojis. He complimented your technique and you got to talking. He made it so easy to open up to him.

You don’t know what Bernhard looks like, not really. He did tell you that he’s tall and has blonde hair, but you kind of expected that. You guess you just have to wait to meet him.

#interactive game #interactive novel #writing #interactive fiction #bridgeicesbeforeroad-if #if-intro post #intro post #BIBRif #BIBR-if #if game #romance #horror #crime #scary #cog #choices matter #choicescript #choice of games #hosted games

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truthfulpoint · 3 months ago

Text

I fucked my girlfriends little sister.

It was just another Friday night for me. I work as an auto mechanic, and like most guys after a long day, we hit the bar. Most of the men were married and started to stagger back home pretty early, leaving just me and a few of my buds that were single. We nursed a few more beers, but I was avoiding going home since I knew my roommate would bring back his date.

“Last call!” The bartender hollered, breaking me out of my daydream about the security at work. The bartender was a cute little thing, college-aged with a few freckles across her nose. And those eyes - ugh, they were something to die for.

I had already collected the empties from my table and made my way to her to get a last round. I smiled at her as I tossed a twenty onto the counter.

“Another for the road and keep the change.” She bit into her lip as she took up the bill, shoving it into the apron she wore. The blue label of what I had been drinking all night was slid over to me as I eyed her; there was something about her that I couldn’t put a finger on.

“You don’t remember me, do you?” The towel over her shoulder was taken down as she wiped the trail of water left behind. I used the counter to pop the lid off of my drink as I stared at her.

“No, but I was just thinking there was something about you.” She seemed to deflate at my answer; it didn’t seem it was the one she was looking for. That smile returned as another customer came up to close their tab.

“You dated my sister.” She looked over her shoulder at me. The strap of her too-thin tank top had slipped just enough to show the small tattoo on her shoulder blade— one that looked familiar to me.

“… AUDRY?” That was said a little too loud. I fixed my face and cleared my throat, nursing my beer to hide my reaction. The last time I saw her she was just a fresh teen with braces, always wearing hoodies. This was a woman in front of me, but she still held onto that familiarity that made my heart skip a beat.

She laughed, and I swear it lit up the room. Apparently, I wasn’t the only one to notice. A few of the guys still lingered about, and I’d bet money it was to see who could take her home.

“Yes, yes. Don’t say it so loud.” The change was given to the customer, who gave it back along with a napkin with his number. She pocketed both, but as soon as he was out the door, she tossed the napkin out.

“I haven’t seen you in…” I thought back to the last time I had seen her. It had to be a good ten years. It was my senior year of high school, and she was just in middle school?

“Eleven years. I think I’ve grown up since then.” There was a tease in her voice. I couldn’t help but let my eyes drop down her body and take in just how much she had grown. Her breasts were more than a handful each, and I wondered if they were real.

“Certainly have.” I looked back at her features, and I could see it now. Her hair was more red than brown now, the baby fat gone from her face, and she had that smoky eye look going that framed her blue-grey eyes. My interest sparked just thinking about what I could do.

She cleaned and closed tabs as the room emptied. She waved out the other barback as we caught up, closing out the drawers, emptying the trash, and tending to general bar duties. When the last of the patrons left, it was just the two of us.

I decided to go out on a limb and ask for her number, unsure about how weird it would be since I had dated her sister.

“I thought you’d never ask.” She took my phone, entered her number after asking for the pin. Immediately after, she texted herself from my phone, indicating that she was interested. Time to turn on the charm.

“Let me walk you home?” I slipped off the stool, placing it on the counter with others. She removed her apron, collected her tips in a jar before returning. As she walked back around, I noticed her curves accentuated by her chest bouncing slightly with each step. All I could think about was how amazing she would look riding me.

"I'm good at walking home alone," she said softly, her voice now deeper and more sultry than I remembered. "But if you want to follow me... well, I wouldn't mind some company."

My heart hammered in my chest as I fell into step beside her, not wanting to miss another beat of conversation. We walked together silently for a moment as she unlocked her car door, and then turned to face me once more. In the dim lighting of the parking lot, I saw her cheeks flush slightly under his gaze; her body language changing from confident to vulnerable. Something inside me stirred at this newfound vulnerability in her demeanor.

"What?" she asked playfully, rolling her eyes at herself before looking away shyly. "I mean... it's been so long since someone found me attractive."

I couldn't help but smirk at that statement - like she wasn't attractive now? It was hard not to imagine all those curves underneath those tight jeans, and that coy smile on my face felt foreign to me.

“You gotta be kidding me. Look at you.” She blushed deeply at my words, her hand coming up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear. I couldn't resist reaching out and tracing her jawline with my finger, causing her to shiver slightly.

"Is that so?" she asked, her voice low and breathy. Her eyes never left mine, full of desire and a hint of mischief.

Without hesitation, I leaned in and captured her lips with mine. It was like fireworks exploding in the night sky - passionate, intense, and electric. She responded eagerly, wrapping her arms around my neck as I pulled her closer to me.

We stumbled towards my car, our kisses becoming more frantic and urgent with each step. Once inside, we were all over each other - hands roaming freely over each other's bodies as we devoured each other's mouths.

I couldn't believe this was happening. Not only was I making out with my ex-girlfriend's sister after all these years, but it felt amazing, like we were meant to be together all along.

"You taste so good," I groaned against her lips, my free hand finding its way to her derrière and squeezing it roughly through her tight jeans. She let out a moan of approval, grinding her hips against me in response. "Goddess, you feel amazing."

She let out a small laugh into the kiss before breaking away for air. "You really think I'm a goddess?" she asked with a smirk that made my anticipation grow.

I smirked back at her. "Are you kidding? You do see how beautiful you are."

Her eyes widened for a moment before she leaned in again, this time biting my bottom lip softly between her teeth playfully. Her breasts were pressed against me, and I could feel the heat of her body seeping through our clothes as she ground against me harder - she felt so good.

"Take your shirt off," she demanded between breaths. Her voice was low and sultry now; it sent shivers down my spine as I pulled it over my head without hesitation. My chest hair tickled against hers as she ran her hands over them greedily while still keeping the kiss going.

She pulled away from the kiss, her eyes filled with lust. "Lay back," she commanded, her hands pushing me gently towards the back seat of my car. I complied eagerly, anticipating what was to come next.

She climbed on top of me, straddling my hips as she leaned down to resume our passionate kisses. Her hands roamed all over my bare chest, exploring every inch of my skin as if it was something she had been longing for.

I couldn't believe this was happening - just a few hours ago, I was at the bar, trying to drown out my sorrows. Now, I was here, making out with the most beautiful woman I had ever laid eyes on. Life could be so unpredictable and yet so amazing.

As we kissed, her hands traveled down to the waistband of my jeans, teasingly running her fingers along it before slipping them underneath and grabbing onto my hard member through my boxers. I let out a groan in response, unable to contain my desire any longer.

"Please," I whispered against her lips, not needing to say more for her to understand what I wanted. She pulled away from me slightly and began pulling her top up slowly - giving me a tantalizing view of her cleavage before tossing it aside, revealing a black lacy bra that barely contained her generous breasts.

My eyes widened in appreciation as she leaned in again, capturing my lips in another searing kiss while teasingly grinding against me through our clothes. Her hands worked quickly to unbuckle my belt and unzip my jeans before sliding them down along with my boxers.

I lifted myself slightly so she could pull them off completely before settling back down on the seat. She sat up and looked down at me, her hand wrapping around my length as she began stroking it slowly - eliciting a deep moan from me.

"You like that?" she asked with a smirk before leaning down and taking me into her mouth. I let out a string of curses as she expertly took me deep into her throat, sliding up and down with a skill that belied her inexperience. She looked up at me with a mix of lust and wonder, her blue-grey eyes wide and dark with desire. Her tongue danced over the head of my dick, tracing circles around the tip as she bobbed her head faster and faster. My hands tangled in her hair, holding her close to me as I arched into her touch. The scent of her perfume filled the car - something sweet, like vanilla and smoke.

My hips bucked against her face, trying to get closer, but she held me back, teasing me with a wicked smile on her lips. I groaned into the car door as she took more of my length into that perfect mouth. It felt so good to have someone else's touch on me after so long.

Her fingers trailed down my chest to my stomach before undoing my belt buckle and pulling it off, tossing it away along with my shirt. She pushed me back against the seat as she straddled me once more, leaning in for another scorching kiss. Her breasts brushed against my chest, nipples hard from arousal. I reached up to cup them both through the thin fabric of her bra, squeezing them gently. She moaned into my mouth as our teeth clicked together before pulling away breathless.

"Please," I whispered hoarsely, wanting more of this electric connection we shared.

She nodded once then slid off me, unzipping her jeans slowly revealing black lacy panties underneath which barely contained those perfect curves of hers. She stepped out of them both, and I couldn't help but admire how perfect she was.

Her lips met mine once more, and I tasted the sweetness of her tongue on the side of my mouth before we parted again. "I've always wanted you," she whispered between breaths. It sent shivers down my spine—a feeling of desire that coursed through my veins like lightning bolts connecting us both together.

She slowly lowered herself onto me, her breasts grazing against mine before sitting up straight again; moaning softly at the contact. And then without another word, she lowered herself back down, taking me inside her slowly but surely. Her eyes widened as I filled her up, making sure to look at me every second of the way as if to make sure I knew what we were doing here tonight.

Her skin felt so soft against mine, yet there was an edge to it all—an urgency that matched our beating hearts and racing minds that seemed to set us both on fire. Goddess almighty did she feel good wrapped around me like this!

My lips found sweet spots along her neck as we moved together in sync. Sweat and leather mingling with our arousal created an intoxicating mix. I couldn’t help but growl out loud as she took me. My hands came up to cup her ample breasts, thumbs teasing at her hard nipples.

She seemed to like it, her back arching as though I sent a wave of pleasure through her entire body. She moaned into my neck making me wild. I drove into her faster and faster. Her biting and sucking at my neck just at the collarbone. It felt so good to be wanted after all these years.

“Oh god,” she gasped into my kiss between nips at my neck. “You feel so good.” I couldn’t help but grunt against her neck and continued my frenzied lovemaking. My fingers dug deeper and deeper into her flesh with each thrust inside her welcoming heat.

The friction between us was an exquisite torture building up at an almost unbearable speed. Pleasure was consuming me. It felt like I needed to push past my own body and become one with hers.

Our bodies glistened with perspiration from the fervor of our lovemaking. Every inch of my length sliding against hers sent sparks through my body, igniting a fire inside of me I didn't know was possible.

Her mouth found mine once more; our tongues tangled in a heated dance while we ground against each other frantically. Her fingers dug into my shoulders as if seeking purchase, as she rode me harder and faster than ever before.

I groaned into her mouth, feeling an impending orgasm rising within me at this unexpected turn of events. She bit down on my bottom lip softly, then sucked on it tenderly before returning to the kiss - sending waves of pleasure coursing through my body straight to my core.

With one last hard thrust deep inside of her, I came deep inside of her pussy. Her walls clenched around my cock right after, as I finished inside of her. She moaned louder than I had ever heard a woman before - her own orgasm forcing her body to shake.

My fingers traced her thighs, and the mark of her jeans on her hips, as I looked to her. She pulled my now semi-limp dick from her pussy, my cum dripping down those silken thighs. I looked up at her perfect body, drunk on both alcohol and her.

"That was amazing," she whispered, her voice husky and filled with satisfaction.

I couldn't agree more. It had been years since I had felt this kind of passion and connection with someone else. And the fact that it was with my ex's little sister made it all the more intense.

But now, as we lay here together, I couldn't help but wonder what would come next. Was this just a one-night stand, or could there be something more between us?

#fanfic writer #female writers #story #sexstory #hot story #writer

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lady-djarin · 3 months ago

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home

joel miller x f!reader (one shot)

warnings/tags: sickening fluff, established relationship, no outbreak, sarah’s alive and well, some touching and kissing between reader and joel, still adult content but no p in v. mdni

word count: 2.6k

a/n: not edited much (that’s my motto) but i just kinda dumped this out in one go so it could be bad. who knows.

* ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

“Dad!”

Ever since Sarah entered middle school she has become quite loud.

“Dad, there you are,” she barreled into the living room where you and Joel sat on the couch. “I need you to sign this.”

She pushes a piece of paper into his face along with a pen. He quints at it to read the small print. You grab it out of his hands when he tries to locate his glasses that are nowhere in sight.

“Oh the dance! How fun,” you handed it back to him and made sure he signed it as you shot Sarah a wink as she bounced happily on her toes.

You have been dating the single dad for around six months and you have grown quite close with Sarah. Joel has expressed how nervous he is about his baby girl getting older and all the things that come along with it. More than anything else he hates the idea of her dating. He signs the paper with his usual grumpy frown but does it nonetheless and in turn Sarah squeals and jumps up and down in excitement.

“Can you take me shopping tomorrow, I only have a week to shop for a dress,” Sarah put on her best puppy dog face that usually works on her father.

“I’m sorry angel I’ve got a job tomorrow,” he did look genuinely upset that he couldn’t spend the time with his daughter.

“I’ll take you, we can have a girls day,” you had been wanting to spend some one on one time with Sarah and this was the perfect opportunity.

“Oh my god, thank you!” She squealed again and jumped on you and wrapped you in a tight hug. She ran up the stairs talking mostly to herself about what kind of dress and makeup she was planning for her first dance.

“Thank you darlin’, you didn’t have to do that.” He rubbed your leg with his large warm hand and the other came up to hold your face as he kissed you tenderly.

“Oh please, I love that kid. Plus, I don’t think shopping is your forte,” you both laughed at how true that was.

Even though you’ve only been seeing Joel for a few months, you have never felt so at home. He and Sarah have welcomed you in like you were always meant to fit in their little family. You knew you were never one to have kids of your own but the young girl makes you feel more maternal than you ever have in your life.

You and Sarah spend the day in the mall finding stores to invade and try on every dress possible. She finally settled on a beautiful deep purple shimmery one that made her look way older than she needed to, but it was appropriate. Afterwards you found the food court and dug into some pizza and garlic knots.

“So… since your dad will never bring this up… are you going with anyone to the dance? Like maybe a boy? or girl, I don't judge.”

You knew she probably didn’t want to talk about it as pre-teens never do but you wanted to make sure she wasn’t going to do anything stupid. Her cheeks blushed a deep shade of crimson but she giggled slightly, telling you there was someone.

“I mean… I’m not going with anyone but my friends but…”

She was avoiding telling you the truth, maybe because she thought you’d rat her out to her dad.

“Look Sarah… I'm not asking to be a snitch, I just want to make sure you’re being safe and smart, that's all.”

She looked up at you with shyness but trust in her deep brown eyes.

“There is this boy… Ben,” she had the most radiant smile on her face telling you about her crush. He’s a little older than her but in the same grade and apparently very sweet and has blue eyes and dark blonde hair. You can imagine her sitting in class staring at him instead of listening to the teacher.

“So, are you going to meet him at the dance?”

“I mean we haven’t made plans but… I told him I’d see him there, and he followed me on instagram!”

It all reminded you of the days before adult pressure and complicated feelings. You smiled as she continued to tell you about him and the things she found endearing.

“Ok now, I have to ask and be the annoying adult but have you, you know… done anything with boys before?”

While she was only just under thirteen you still had to make sure, kids do anything these days.

“Like what?” She gave you a scrunched confused face then slowly realized what you were asking. “Like kissing?! Oh no that’s gross, boys smell anyway…,” she seemed to maintain her innocence for a while longer.

Thank god.

“Well that’s fair, but just remember, if a boy ever tries to do anything you don’t like, you can always say no. Don’t ever feel like you have to do anything you don’t want to do.”

She looked a little confused at your instruction but nodded anyway. She’s a very smart kid and strong willed, you have full faith in her.

The rest of the day was spent wandering around the mall and you both finally decided to end up getting your nails done.

Joel came home to find you both cooking dinner, a hoard of shopping bags littered the house.

“There’s my girls,” he ruffled his daughter's hair and covered her eyes jokingly as he kissed you deeply. “How was shopping? Successful it seems like.”

“Very…,” Joel’s eyes kept flicking down to your lips, as they often did when he got home from work.

“Dad, look! We got our nails done!” She splayed her fingers out so he could inspect her manicure. You let her get some slightly ‘grownup’ nails, small extensions with french tips. She said she’ll be the talk of the dance.

“Oh look at that… my little girl is all grown up…,” he looked a little queasy and you both laughed at his reluctance to let her grow up.

“Sarah, why don’t you put these bags away and I'll finish dinner, ok?”

She hugged you tight around your middle and mumbled about a million ‘thank you’s into the fabric of your shirt before grabbing her bags and darting up the stairs.

As soon as she disappeared Joel grabbed your hips as he stood behind you and pulled you into his hard chest. He attached his lips to your neck and ran his hands over your curves.

“Have I told you how much I love you?” His voice was low and gravely in your ear.

“Mmm, not today…”

He pulled you impossibly closer and nuzzled his mouth against your neck. “Well I do, I love you so damn much,” he continued kissing down your neck and any skin he could reach. “Sarah loves you too you know, she’s always talking about you…”

It felt like he wanted to talk about something else, something more. Your relationship has been going so well and it kind of feels like it’s time to take the next step. While you both know that this is it, there’s no one else for either of you, it might not be exactly time yet to tie the knot. However you have talked about sharing a space, the idea of living together is exciting to both of you.

“Well I love her, she’s a great kid, because you’re a great dad.” You turned in his arms and returned the kisses along his jaw. Just as you slid your hands into his back pockets, loud very teen sounding footsteps came racing down the stairs. You pulled away from each other but Sarah was too busy looking at her nails to notice. The timer on the oven beeped and as Joel and his daughter set the table you gathered the rest of dinner.

You sat around the table like you always did on Saturday nights and talked about the plans for the next week and the dance. You really did love your little found family.

The following Saturday you sat in Sarah’s room with her and a couple friends of hers, helping do their hair and makeup. Joel happened to have a poker game tonight with Tommy so he said bye just before the teen girl screaming got too loud. So here you were, a fully grown woman essentially playing dress up with a few 13 year olds. But you couldn’t be happier.

After the girls were ready and a lengthy photoshoot ensued, you were off. Four screaming voices all trying to harmonize to some pop song over the radio made your ears ring but seeing Sarah so happy made it worth it.

The plan was to pick her up around 10pm when it ended.

So you were super confused when you got a call from Sarah around 8:30pm.

“Hey girl, what’s going on? You ok?”

All you heard at first was a sniffle, then a deep breath before her wobbly voice came over the speaker. “N-no, not really…”

Your heart stopped for a second but you tried to stay calm.

“What’s wrong?” You tried to hide the urgency in your voice.

“Ben… he—“ hiccup “He was a… a total jerk!” Her voice was strained and scratchy like she had been crying for some time.

“Oh honey, I’m so sorry… You know what, you stay in the office, ok? I'm going to come get you.”

She only mumbled a quiet ‘ok, bye’ before you slammed the phone down on the receiver and grabbed your keys. You shaved off probably five to ten whole minutes speeding through the streets to the school.

You quickly make your way to the office and find her with mascara running down her cheeks. She hiccuped and sniffled when she saw you before sluggishly standing and wrapping her arms around you. She sobbed slightly into your sweatshirt and you wrapped the one you brought her around her shoulders. After the teacher who waited with her waved you out, you gathered her into your car and made your way home.

But before reaching the familiar street you had an idea. Sarah had been slumped in her seat with the sweatshirt wrapped tight to her form until she saw the neon lights. You swore you saw her eyes light up when she saw the ‘Dairy Queen’ sign and it warmed your heart.

She got her usual birthday cake flavor of course, and you got your favorite. Before now you tried to let her have a few breathing moments but as you settled in the parking lot you tried to get some information from her.

“Are you ok?”

“Boys are so stupid…,” another tear slipped out of her eye.

“I know… I hate to say it but they don’t get much better.” You managed to get a laugh out of her which was an improvement. “What did Ben do?”

She spooned the thick ice cream into her mouth and tried to talk around it. “H-he was with that girl Rebecca all night and I tried to say ‘hi’ but he ignored me and pretended I wasn’t there. They were laughing at me…,” She resolved into sobs again and you rubbed her shoulder to try and comfort as best as you could.

“Oh god I’m sorry that’s so… shitty.” You never really cursed around her as she’s still young but this felt appropriate. It also helped draw out a laugh again, which made you both smile. “Look, boys like that are not worth your time. He’s playing games and you don’t want a boy who plays games. If anyone ever talks to you like that, it means they don’t respect you. You should only be friends, or more, with someone who respects you. Does that make sense?”

She looked at you with her red-rimmed and puffy eyes and you knew she got it. Of course she got it, she’s a smart kid.

“Yeah, I think so. Thank you… I'm sorry I freaked you out.” The light returned to her eyes as she giggled at her own words.

“You didn’t freak me out… too bad.” You were both laughing now, recalling the way you sped over to the school. “Look we can talk more if you want but I think you need some ‘you’ time tonight. Let’s get you some of my nice bath stuff and we can do a little spa night?”

“That sounds nice… thank you.” She leaned forward and wrapped her arms around your neck. On the way home you told her stories of things boys had done to you in the past. You did make sure to let her know that her dad was not one of them, he was the best kind of guy. Once you arrived home you gave her some bath stuff and gave her a clean towel and told her you’d wait downstairs for her.

You made some tea in the meantime and shortly after, Joel got home. Before he said anything he looked towards the stairs and heard the shower running. He gave you a quizzical look and you sighed, knowing he wasn’t going to like it.

“So Sarah had me pick her up early…”

He already looked concerned.

“She’s fine… it was boy drama. We talked and she’s still upset but she’ll live.”

He breathed out a dramatic sigh and you welcomed him into your arms.

“This is what I was worried about,” he sounded so defeated.

“Joel, it’s bound to happen. Every girl gets her heart broken, it’s inevitable unfortunately.” You rubbed your palm over his stubble and looked over his tired features. “She’s smart and strong willed. Boys will be intimidated by her when she realizes it.”

He softened at that. “Thank you for helping her so much, she really has opened up since knowing you.”

“She’s really something, just like her dad. He’s not too shabby,” you giggled as he pinched your waist.

“I’m not too shabby? That’s sweet.”

You mirrored his smile as he boxed you between himself and the kitchen counter. He kissed you deeply, pushing his tongue between your lips, tasting every inch of you. Your hum reverberated through your chest into his and your skin lit on fire from the inside out. Desire instantly pooled in your lower stomach and you ground your hips into his. This only resulted in his hard, jean clad thigh slipping between yours and pushing against your clothed sex. You moaned into his mouth and just as you felt like you were going to lose it, Joel pulls away and then you hear descending footsteps.

Sarah reaches the bottom but doesn’t come down, “I’m going to go to bed, I’m really tired. Sorry dad.”

“That’s ok angel, you sleep good. Love you.”

“Love you guys,” then she’s gone.

“‘Love you guys’?” you look at Joel with surprise. “Did she just say she loves me?”

He just stares down at you with this tender look, unresponsive for a few moments.

“Move in with me.”

It wasn’t a question but a plea. Like he couldn’t imagine you’d say no. Because why would you?

“Really?” Your heart raced.

“Yes really, we both want you here. More than anything.”

“Of course, I’d love to!” You squealed like Sarah did earlier tonight and launched yourself at him. He caught you around the middle and pulled you up, sounding giddy as you did while he spun you around.

You spent the first night in your now full time shared bed after Joel showed you all the ways he truly, passionately loved you.

You knew you were finally home.

#fanfic #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #tlou #joel miller #pedro pascal #joel tlou #tlou fanfiction #joel the last of us #the last of us #lady djarin

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explicit-tae · 11 months ago

Text

Love You (Just A Little Too Much)

You're brought down memory lane and come face to face with someone you've completely forgotten about. @bloodline1632 @seokjinkismet @babycandy111 @minshookie29 @whipwhoops

Warning: smut, light yandere, teasing, sex toy usage, sub/dom, edging/orgasm denial, overstimulation, crying, restraints/bound, mentions of assault, manipulation, sadistic/masochistic tendencies, crying/sobbing, begging, slapping,

Word Count: 6.076

Valentine's Day Masterlist

“What’s on your mind?”

Your eyes blink at Jay, your boyfriend, and you could only offer a faint smile. “I don’t want to ruin dinner with my thoughts.” you reply. You drop your fork and grasp your glass of wine.

Jay scoffs. “I can tell your head isn’t here,” he says. “Come on, tell me.”

You swallow your wine and lick your lips. “It’s Valentine’s Day.”

Jay raises a brow and leans in closer. He smirks. “So?” he murmurs. “I’m your boyfriend, you know. You can tell me what’s on your mind.”

Jay was correct - he was your boyfriend and someone you’ve grown close to for the last year. You were able to speak with him freely as if he was your best friend and it came naturally even if he was the opposite sex.

You sigh and nod your head. “You’re right.” you say. “I…haven’t talked to any of my friends in months. It’s like we all slowly just…”

“Grew apart?” Jay offers and when you nod, so does he. “I understand. What do you think happened?”

You shrug your shoulders. You’re unsure yourself of the reason. There wasn’t any bad blood between the four of you - there was nothing that could be done to a group of friends that has been established since middle school. You all managed to make it through High School and college without breaking apart.

Sure, there were a few petty arguments, but nothing that lasted months - hell, not even a full week.

Not speaking with them collectively had you nervous, but you were all adults. You four lived separate adult lives, Jang-Mi having moved hours away to start a new job. Minji had gotten married and divorce all under three years and had chosen to distract herself with work while Mi-sun focused on raising her daughter on her lonesome.

“And you haven’t spoken to either of them on the phone?” Jay questions.

“No.” you shake your head. “Only through text messages, but even those seem dry. Maybe I’m just overreacting.” you shake your head and release a humorless laugh. “Sorry. Today is supposed to be about us.”

Jay shakes his head. He offers you his hand and you take it. His hands are always soft, you notice, softer than yours. He presses a kiss onto your hand, soft lips tickling your skin. “It is about us.” Jay murmurs. “Today is our anniversary,” he continues. “but you’re still the woman I love and if somethings on your mind, I want you to talk about it.”

You love Jay - and this was one of the many reasons why. He was caring - genuinely caring. He always puts your wants and needs far beyond his own. A year isn’t a long time to be together for most people, but for you it was. You couldn’t see yourself being with another man, not when Jay was amazing as he was.

You met Jay a year prior while out, having bumped into one another. Literally. You recall the way your phone went flying and you nearly fell onto the ground when a pair of arms caught you - said arms had let you go immediately when you regained your balance. “I-I didn’t mean to grab you it’s-” the stranger began. “I’m so sorry I should’ve been looking where I was going.” you apologized profusely.

You learned that his name was Jay and as an apology, he asked you out for coffee. The two of you hit it off easily as he was a nice person to talk to. He was funny as he was kind and in the short time that you’ve known him, it was as if you and he knew one another for years.

Maybe Jay’s physical appearance helped a little - he was tall and fit. He dressed appropriately each time you and him met and he even offered to help you dress so the two of you matched for the occasion. His skin was the clearest you’ve ever seen on a man and appeared utterly glass and he had such perfect teeth.

It was hard in the beginning to be seen with Jay simply because of how beautiful he was, but he always made it known just how beautiful he thought you were and how much he appreciated you for being by his side.

“So,” Jay offers you a toothy grin. “talk to me like I’m your friend and not your boyfriend.”

You do, a part of you feels terrible about doing this while at dinner with him, but Jay was an understanding person. He could tell your head was elsewhere.

You tell Jay about everything - how you rarely saw your friends face to face and how you couldn’t even remember the last time you all spoke on the phone. You wanted to be understanding because the four of you were adults now and didn’t need to spend every waking moment together - but a call wasn’t asking for much.

At the end of it all, Jay is nodding his head in agreement. He hasn’t spoken much and instead decided to allow you to vent all your pent up frustrations.

“Felt good?” Jay snickers and you nod with a low grin. “I’m glad. I can’t excuse your friends' behaviors but I can try to see things from their point of view.”

You listen as Jay speaks.

“We’re all adults going through our adult lives. Jang-Mi had moved so far away it’s hard to go back into the routine you two had when she was closer. I’m sure she works long hours.”

You nod your head with a sigh, your heart sinking as you begin to feel bad for thinking that your friends were leaving you behind.

“Mi-sun is a mother and it’s tough raising a child on your own. She just doesn't live for herself anymore. Minji probably buries herself into work to get her mind off of the divorce. It wasn’t an…easy one.”

You recall the amount of times Minji had called you throughout the last year about how ultimately, she was going to be left with nothing after the divorce - Jay had been there the entire time listening as you tried to console your friend.

“You’re right.” you pick up your wine glass and take a sip. “We’ve all been through…so much.”

Jay raises a brow. “What do you mean?”

You eye him for a moment.

“I think it’s karma.” you shrug your shoulders. “We were terrible people in our youth.” you try to joke but you swallow thickly. “What we’re going through now is just what we deserve.”

Jay chuckles. “I’m sure it wasn’t that bad.” he takes a sip of his own wine.

“Before I met you my life was going to shit. I couldn’t keep a job to save my life and…” there wasn’t a need to focus on what you were going through at that moment because Jay knew. “..you helped me. Sometimes I believe I don’t deserve you.”

“It’s Valentine’s Day, Y/N.” Jay sighs, but his lips stretch into a smile. “Don’t get too emotional on me.” he jokes.

“I know…” you trail off. “The divorce with Minji and how she had to work so hard to get her life together. Jang-Mi left and got a new job hours away because of that scandal. Mi-sun had to raise a child all alone without any help that wasn’t us. I can’t sound crazy to believe our past actions had shaped our future.”

Jay is quiet as he hears you speak, so eerily silent that you glance away from him. “Or maybe I am crazy.” you murmur. “You aren’t.” Jay shakes his head. “Whatever…you did in your past could have shaped the present. Truth is often stranger than fiction.” Jay grasps your hand into his own. “But you’re better now, Y/N. With me. You’ll never fall as long as I’m by your side.”

Jay gives you a smile that has your heart clenching.

The room is beautiful and you are positive that Jay put a lot of thought into decorating it for you. The amount of rose petals leading up to the bed was one gesture you loved, but also the candles that were lit. You pondered when he had time to do such a thing.

Jay wraps an arm around you and brings you closer to him. His lips are soft as they kiss along your neck. “I love this color on you.” Jay compliments, his hand sliding your sides. “Black is lovely against your skin.”

Your body flushes at the compliment and you could only giggle, giddy at the way your heart jumps. Jay insisted on you wearing the lingerie - a black lace and mesh material that leaves little to the imagination. The stockings are high and stop mid thigh.

“I like this color on you.” you tell Jay. He’s dressed down from his suit from early. Now, he sports a silk, red robe that’s tightly loosely around him. His tan skin peaks from beneath it.

“Valentine’s Day is all about you. I want to make you feel good.” Jay kisses down your neck towards your collarbone, leaving slightly wet kisses. “I want to try something new.”

You weren’t sure what to expect when being told “something new”. You were laid onto the bed you share with Jay, his lips continuing to kiss down your body. His eyes flicker upwards at you and he offers a mischievous grin that has your legs quivering.

“Something new” wasn't a robe tied tightly around your wrist and keeping you bound against your bed frame. You wouldn’t lie and say your body wasn’t filled with excitement - you and Jay never did this and sex was already enjoyable enough.

Jay licks his lips, his eyes meeting your curious ones. “You’re so beautiful. Always has been.” he murmurs, speaking aloud by himself.

Jay forces your legs open, his hand wrapping more rope around your ankles that he then ties to the end of the bed frame. He proceeds to do the same thing to your free leg.

“I can see how wet you are now.” Jay’s voice is deep and sultry, slowly consumed with his own lust. “You’ve always been the submissive type. The type to do whatever is asked of you.”

Jay’s hand trails teasingly up your leg, his fingertips feeling like feathers tickling your skin.

Jay’s finger taps lightly at your clothed clit, smirking at you teasingly. His index forces itself through the mesh material and he slides it to the side. “So wet.” he murmurs. “Relax, baby. I have something you’d like.”

Your pussy clenches with anticipation and your eyes watch Jay get up from the bed. He goes to the side of the bed and appears to go through a bag.

“I want you to feel good.” Jay says, turning towards you. Once more, your pussy clenches at the sight of the vibrator in the palm of his hand. “You’d let me, right?”

Hastily you nod your head, licking your lips with anticipation.

Jay turns on the vibrator and it’s loud, the buzzing noise tingling through your ears. He places it on your thigh to tease you and it does so greatly. He slides it across your thigh closer and closer between your legs.

“Baby?” Jay hums, gently pressing the vibrator against your clit. “There’s no lies between us, right?”

Your legs begin to shake at the vibrators pressure against your clit. “N-No.” you stutter out.

“Then you’d tell me what you and your friends did, right?” Jay questions, pressing the vibrator even harder against you.

You struggle against the rope restraints. “W-What are you talking about?” you sigh - more like a moan. Your stomach was bubbling and you couldn’t contain the rest of the moans releasing from your mouth.

“Remember earlier…you said it must be karma why your lives have turned the way they did.” Jay begins to circle the vibrator against your clit. You’re so wet that it’s now fully coated in your sweet arousal. “Tell me what you’ve done that karma has come before you all?”

You aren’t sure what Jay is getting at and why he suddenly wanted to do this now. Your toes begin to curl.

Jay removes the vibrator from your swollen bud, his eyes dark with lust. “Tell me.” he demands.

“I-I…nothing.” you shake your head, panting. Your lack of pleasure sends shock waves through your body. “Why are you-”

Your throat releases a shriek when the vibrator is brought back to your clit. Your eyes shut tightly as, once more, your thigh shakes. “Please-”

“You know,”Jay begins, circling the vibrator against you. “There’s four types of lies.”

“Jay…” the way you say his name causes his cock to jump in his pants. You’re full of lust and pleasure and he’s sure you’re not fully able to comprehend him.

“A white lie, a gray lie, a black lie and a red lie.” Jay continues. “A white lie is to first seek to help others. A gray lie is an in between; to partly help others and ourselves.”

Your toes begin to curl as Jay continues.

“A black lie…” Jay trails off, his eyes boring into your face. Your eyes are clenched shut and you’re panting. “...is pure selfishness. Nothing is gained from others when a black lie is told and it is used to purely get the liar out of trouble.”

Jay removes the vibrator once more and this time you cry out in protest. Your eyes snap open, sadden as you peer at Jay.

“You’re such a whore, Y/N.” he chuckles cruely, his demeanor changed from the caring boyfriend of just an hour early. Your body yearns for him regardless of this act. “You’re about to cry.”

“I just wanna cum, Jay.” you murmur in defeat.

“Yeah?” Jay comes closer to your face. “A red lie…” Jay places the vibrator against your clit, this time pressing the buttons on the side to increase the power. “...is done solely out of spite. Revenge. To harm others.”

Your eyes never leave his, even with the amount of blinking you’re doing to remain conscious. You’re groaning now, body shaking with pleasure.

“Can you guess which one I am, baby?”

What?

“If you guess right, I’ll let you cum.”

Your breathing increases and the only thing you can think about is cumming. “W-White.”

“Wrong.” Jay turns off the vibrator, but keeps it against your clit. “Can you guess which type of liar you are?”

“Jay…” you shake your head. This act was making you impatient. “Please-”

“Tell me, Y/N. If you’ve done nothing in your past, then why have you and your friends gone through such terrible karma?”

“This act you’re doing is too much, Jay.”

“What act?” Jay scoffs. “Since you don’t know, baby. You’re a black liar. You’re selfish and you’re deflecting from your own involvement in the past.”

Your eyebrows knit together. “Jay…that isn’t funny-”

The vibrator turns on once more, shocking you.

“As for me, I’m a red liar. None of you recognized me.” Jay speaks in a tone - monotone like; narrative. “You didn’t recognize Jay. Minji didn’t recognize Jung-ho. Mi-sun didn’t recognize Jong-seok and Jang-Mi never recognized Ju-ho…”

Jung-ho.

Jong-seok.

Ju-ho.

Jay.

“Jay…?” your intentions aren’t to moan, but you cannot help it. Jay is pressing the vibrator with such pressure that even now in this unknown situation, you cannot help but want to cum hard.

Just as you were about to cum, you cry out once more when the vibrator cuts off. You’re trembling, your wrist burning as the friction of the robe rubs against them.

“My name’s not Jay, Y/N. You know my name.”

Your eyes widen slowly. “Stop.” you plead with Jay. “It isn’t funny anymore…”

“I never told you a joke.” Jay scoffs. “Look at me and tell me you don’t remember who I am, Y/N.”

You swallow the lump in your throat as goosebumps begin to erupt onto your skin. Your heart is beating outside your chest and you wished Jay would flip the switch and return to the boyfriend you know and love.

“Look. At. Me.” Jay grits out each word with such venom, his cheerful personality long gone. “It’s been a decade since High School but have I truly changed that much, Y/N?”

You remain silent, your eyes remain on the man in front of you.

“I had to change schools because of what your friends said I did.” Jay murmurs, and as the words hit your ears your eyes begin to widen.

Mi-sun lifts her hand up and hums, tilting her head. “I think I want pink.” she says. “But a soft pink, not a hot one.”

Jang-Mi snorts.

Mi-sun raises a brow at Jang-Mi, but she doesn’t respond.

“Like this one?” Minji asks after rummaging through her tote of beauty items. She holds up a bright pink color - taffy.

Mi-sun nods with excitement.

You sit and listen to the exchange, head in Jang-Mi’s lap.

You were all in Mi-sun’s room, a room that was overly pink, but neither of the girls in the friend group complained. Her walls were white, but her bed - a large queen size that sat in the middle of her room - had a bubblegum pink comforter set with matching pillows. While her floors were hardwood, the rugs inside of her room were round and flamingo colored.

“So,” Jang-Mi starts. “What is this year's dare?”

You sighed deeply, ready to hear just what the hell your friends had planned for you this year.

Every year your group of friends would dare one another to do something - anything - at the start of the school year. It was a tradition, after all, spawning since primary school.

The year prior, Mi-sun had dared Minji to walk in the boys locker-room “accidentally” and shower just minutes before the boys were done with their practice. Minji was the daredevil of the group and accepted it without a problem - even if she did have a months worth of detention and had several boys profess their “undying love” for her.

While Minji’s dare were dare-devil like, Jang-Mi’s were spontaneous. Her dare the year prior was to smoke bomb the teacher lounge - that earned her two months of detention (thanks to her uncle being the principal).

“You,” Minji points to you. “And you,” she then points to Mi-sun. “Need to step it up. Jang-Mi and I always do the impulsive dares!”

You lick your lips. “My dare last year was pretty impulsive.”

It wasn’t. The dare you agreed upon was to egg the principal's car - you weren’t caught and maybe that’s what they were upset about. Your poor principal was going through it and his niece never appeared to care much.

Jang-Mi rolls her eyes and snickers. “Egging a car is pretty impulsive.” she says with a hint of sarcasm.

“Okay, let’s start then.” Minji claps her hands together. “Jang-Mi, I dare you…” Minji hums, her mind wandering as to what she would possibly say. “It’s like we’ve done everything already.”

“We have.” Jang-mi looks down at you. “This year is about you and Mi-sun.”

Mi-sun finishes painting her right hand and she raises a brow. “No fair.”

“Too bad.” Jang-Mi smirks.

“I agree.” Minji smiles wide. “We have to think of something good. So we’ll start tomorrow.”

Your stomach churns at the thought of them coming up with something impulsive - it was your last year of highschool after all.

Mi-sun rolls her eyes. “I’m not scared.” she snaps.

“I’m scared.” Mi-sun hisses, hands trembling with wide eyes.

“Pussy.” Jang-Mi giggles.

There was a few minutes before class started and it was as if Jang-Mi and Minji were ready to start the day off with a bang.

“It’s not like it’s that difficult.” Minji hisses. “Just go ahead and kiss him.”

“You dared her to kiss a professor.” you deadpan - but you’re glad this dare wasn’t yours. Minji and Jang-mi had claimed they hadn't come up with anything yet.

The yet scares you.

Said professor walks by - Professor Song. He’s tall, dark brown hair with matching eyes. He’s young, only a few years older than those he is teaching and an obvious eye-candy for the female students. He nods his head and waves at a few students as he strolls pass and Jang-Mi proceeds to push Mi-sun forward.

You gulp. This dare was a risky one. It was just a kiss yes, but this was a kiss between someone that had authority. Professor Song could lose his job - and teaching career - if this went the wrong way.

Professor Song hisses at the impact of Mi-sun knocking into him. His glasses are knocked off of his face and it drops onto the ground beside him. He lowers himself to grab it and Mi-sun bites her lip before doing the dare.

Mi-sun presses her lips against Professor Song’s. It was a quick peck, but it stuns the man nonetheless. He stumbles back a bit and before he could speak, Mi-sun is running down the hall to her classroom with Jang-Mi, Minji and you following close behind. Jang-Mi and Minji are laughing while you’re too bewildered to speak.

“That. Was. So. Humiliating!” Mi-sun hisses as she reaches the classroom. Class was about to start and her face was as red as a tomato. “I swear if I’m expelled-”

“Stop being so dramatic.” Minji shrugs it off. She reaches her desk - besides Mi-sun, and sits.

“Uncle knows of our yearly dares.” Jang-mi assures. “He should be expecting this by now.”

You take your seat behind Jang-mi.

“Now all that is left is our little Y/N.” Jang-Mi turns and offers a wide grin. “Aren’t you excited?”

No, but you wouldn’t cower before them.

“Whatever.” you grunt.

Your teacher comes strutting in. He’s a short older man with a large gut - a beer gut you’re certain. His arms are as skinny as his legs and his face is similar to a skeleton. You never even see the man eat, but he always had a water bottle in his hands that smells of vodka when he opens it.

“Kim Mi-sun.” he calls as he slams down a black briefcase. “Office.” he says without looking at the body of students. He takes a seat at his desk and Mi-sun groans with annoyance.

“That was fast.” Minji giggles quietly. “It hasn’t even been ten minutes.”

“Fuck off.” Mi-sun hisses. She gathers her things and makes her way out of the classroom just as more students are scurrying inside.

“Hey, Y/N.”

Your eyes lift to see the source of the greeting and you offer a small - very small and uninterested - smile to the boy seated a few desks in front of you.

Jang-Mi watches the exchange and she turns her head to Minji. She wiggles her eyebrows and tilts her head to the boy.

“Who’s that?” she mouths.

Jang-mi shrugs. “Not sure.” she mouths back. “Y’N’s dare.”

Minji furrows a brow, eyes shining with realization. She erupts in a fit of giggles that causes Jang-Mi to do the same.

Your fingers twirl a piece of your hair as your eyes watch him a few seats away from you. Your ears catch the whispered conversation of your friends besides you.

"When are you going to say something?" asks Mi-sun with a roll of her eyes. "The dare was a week ago."

Your gum pops dramatically after Mi-sun's question. You manage to roll your own eyes, but you don't take them off of him - Jung Hoseok. His cheeks are childishly chubby, he was tall, but thin - even for a senior in high school. He wore braces and you couldn't imagine him without them - they have been implanted in his teeth for years now.

You were no fool to Jung Hoseok's crush on you. You noticed the side eyes he'd give you in class. When your eyes met his, his eyes would blink away, and his cheeks would turn to a deep crimson. It was cute, you thought, pathetically so. As did your friends. They would laugh each time they saw Hoseok looking at you, claiming that he was nothing but a lost, kicked puppy. You'd laugh along with them even if you did see the embarrassed look on his face.

Your friends enjoyed teasing Hoseok so much that they thought it would be an amazing idea for you - his crush - to go along with the teasing. "Ask him out. Lead him on." suggested Mi-sun. "Then break his sad, pathetic heart." laughs Jang-Mi.

You thought about their request. You never spoke to Hoseok before and never had the reason or desire to. What you knew of Hoseok was that he was smart, not straight A smart like most, but he passed his classes. He wasn't popular when it came to friend groups and opted to stay to himself or a small set of friends.

"Oh my..." Minji hums, she leans back into her chair and crosses her arms. She just cut her long, black locs to a sharp bob. The new appearance makes her much more intimidating. "...you like him." she declares.

"I do not." your eyes glance to Minji hurriedly. "I just...he's a loser."

Mi-sun giggles and agrees.

"I don't want to be associated with a loser." you reach into your uniform skirt pocket and remove a small tube of lipgloss. You proceed to coat your lips slowly with the glossy substance, eyes on Hoseok just in time for his eyes to meet yours. His eyes glance down to your lips - plump and coated - and his cheeks flush.

Minji cackles, followed by Mi-sun and Jang-Mi. Hoseok's head snaps away and you know he's mentally cursing at himself.

"Look at him." Minji scoffs with a shake of her head, appearing to have pity for Hoseok. "He is a loser."

"Much the more reason to play with him." Jang-Mi singsongs. She was always the much more mischievous type in the friendship. She enjoyed playing tricks and pranks, no matter how cruel they were. Min-sun would be considered the "ditzy" one of the group, but she was just as mischievous as Jang-Mi, maybe even more.

You can feel their eyes on you now. Min-sun bats her eyelashes, cat-like eyes stabbing holes into you. Jang-Mi tilts her head impatiently awaiting your response while Minji does nothing but glare.

"If you don't, I will." Jang-Mi smirks, and now you're shaking your head. Hoseok wasn't an asshole like the rest of the boys at this school. He didn't deserve whatever cruel prank Jang-Mi would surely throw his way.

"I'll do it." you roll your eyes and laugh. You proceed to bite your lip. "I'm sure it'll be fun."

Fun it was. You started the following day, but you remained subtle. It would cause alarms to go off in Hoseok's mind if you casually strolled up to him and became flirtatious. You didn't want to scare him off - especially if Jang-Mi's words of Hoseok being a virgin rang true. You had a plan, instead. Hoseok and you shared multiple classes and in each one, you would offer him a small smile. Your smile soon became a short wave that he would return - after looking around to ensure you were indeed waving at him and not someone else.

Minji had grown bored of the slow burn happening before her. When you had strolled into class and ready to sit at your desk, she had slammed her foot against your chair and shook her head. She jerks her head to the side, and you follow her gaze - a desk directly next to Hoseok remains empty.

You took a deep breath and nodded.

You drop your bag at your new desk, startling the box next to you. His eyes slowly reached to who was beside him. His eyes catch your legs, smooth and seemingly soft. He drags them forward slowly until they notice your eyes. He freezes, heart thumping outside his chest.

"Is this seat taken?" you ask lowly, a smirk forming on your glossy lips.

Hoseok shakes his head but remains quiet. His palms grow sweaty, and he's worried suddenly if he remembered to wear deodorant.

You sit beside him, eyes glancing to Minji who raises a brow at you, nodding her head. You weren't going to be able to go back to your regular seat until you did something to get closer to Hoseok.

Class starts and you go without speaking with Hoseok, even if you do notice his eyes glancing your way every few minutes. However, you understood your part in this assignment. You'd accidentally - purposely - would brush your knee on his and apologize with a cute smile. You'd proceed to lean closer towards him so your side would briefly touch his.

Hoseok's mind was going crazy the following weeks. You continued to sit beside him day by day. Your touching now was much less subtle and he's unsure of what to take of it. You never appeared to be interested in him before. He was no idiot - he was certain you caught on to his crush on you. Maybe that's why - you pitied him and his pathetic crush.

"H-huh?" Hoseok blinks a few times and shakes his head. His cheeks are tinted red with further embarrassment.

"I said," you grasp your bag and lean forward. The bell rang and it was time for lunch, but Hoseok was far too in his thoughts to notice. "do you want to come home with me?"

Your breast peaked through the uniform top and Hoseok nearly fainted at your words. He's tongue tied and soon you're cackling.

"To study for the test, silly." you're laughing a melodic laugh that calms Hoseok's nerves. "I've seen your grades on the quizzes we had. You're so smart, Hoseok."

You think he's smart, Hosoek gulps.

"I wish I could be as smart as you." you sigh almost dramatically.

"Y-you are....smart." Hoseok mentally shoots himself at the lame compliment.

"Thank you." you tilt your head. "So, what do you say?"

Hoseok nods his head hesitantly. He understands that he'd want nothing more than to have you close to him. But, he couldn't be as desperate - he didn't want to scare you off. "I can come study." he murmurs lowly.

You clap your hands together gleefully. "Thank you!"

Hoseok allows his heart shaped lips to smile at you. You looked beautiful when you were cheerful.

"We can walk home after school, okay?' you're walking backwards waiting for his response.

"Okay." Hoseok nods, heart beating outside his chest and goosebumps erupting the skin of his arm.

That was only the beginning of what happened with Hoseok - not Jay.

“Hoseok…?” you murmur, your eyes scanning his face while your mind compares it to the younger version of the man. Shame and humiliation runs through you - how could you not remember the boy; now a man?

“Ah, that’s what it took for you to remember me?” Hoseok begins to laugh, his beautiful teeth shining in front of you. “Mi-sun didn’t remember me either but she loved Jong-seok as the father of her daughter.” Hoseok shakes his head with a chuckle.

Your blood runs cold at Hoseok’s words.

“Years ago…I remember her stating that I would never be someone she’d ever love…fuck…yet that child is mine and I don’t feel any remorse for leaving her alone and struggling.” Hoseok chuckles once more. “Ju-ho was the reason Jang-Mi had to find a new job hours away. Especially when it was revealed she was stealing from the company…”

“Hoseok, please-”

“Of course it was just a rumor but something like that doesn’t go lightly, Y/N. Her career was over and the only job willing to hire her after that…” Hoseok shrugs. “...and, Jung-ho was the one who introduced Mini to her cheating husband. He never took her seriously like she never took anything in others' lives seriously. What goes around comes around, I suppose.”

Hoseok wasn’t Jay - Jay was an act. Hoseok was cold; calculated. He strived off of revenge and spite; and the red robe he wore told you just how calculated the man truly was.

“Hoseok…”

You’re unsure what you want to tell him. You never thought you’d see Hoseok again - much less like this.

Hoseok tilts his head. “I didn’t tell them who I was, you know”? he admits. “I just left when my time was done.”

“Hoseok.”

“You are different, Y/N. You always were.” Hoseok presses the vibrator button and allows the pleasure to come back. “You felt remorse for what you’ve done. You admitted that I never assaulted you like your friends had said…but by then it was too late.”

Hoseok presses the buttons on the vibrator three more times and your back arches at the newfound pressure.

“I had to change schools and only because you spoke up I wasn’t put on any registry.” Hoseok explains, his eyes fixed on how your pussy begins to leak with arousal. “Back then you pretended to like me. You allowed me to take you on dates and admit things I would never had the courage to if you never made me comfortable.”

“Please…” you pleaded, unable to talk more than one word at a time. “It’s too…much.”

“You can take it.” Hoseok grumbles, voice raspy. “You allowed me to hold your hand. You kissed me back. You…you liked it, Y/N. Only when you were caught did you back down.”

Hoseok knows you’re cumming. Your eyes roll to the back of your head and your breath hitches - and he enjoys every moment of it.

“To cover up the fact that you liked it, you pushed me away, remember?” Hoseok slams a hand against your cheek to regain your attention.

You yelp aloud, a wave of pleasure going through you. “Y-Yes!”

“You were so humiliated…frightened at what your friends would think.” Hoseok slaps you again, positive that you like what he’s doing to you. “But I knew you adored being around me, Y/N.I was the only person you didn’t have to pretend with.”

Hoseok removes the vibrator just as you cum, you arousal coating the bed sheets. The vibrating sound echoes through the room, mixed with your low sobs.

“I thought about what punishment you all deserved but I could never bring myself to punish you.” Hoseok speaks after a moment. He allows you to catch your breath. “Even when I met you a year ago, Y/N, it felt like it did when we were in High School.”

You flinch when Hoseok touches your face.

“You’re flinching as if I’d ever hurt you.” Hoseok shakes his head. “I got you out of your own debt, remember? I helped uplift you while your friends were going through their own karma. I did.” Hoseok speaks, each word his voice raises higher and higher. “Right?”

“Hoseok please-”

“Right?!”

You flinch once more at the shout. “Yes.” you respond meekly. “I-I didn’t mean to go that far with you.”

“I know, baby.” Hoseok discards the vibrator and places both hands onto your face. “I know,” he repeats. “That’s why I chose to forgive you and give you another chance. Now you and I could truly be together.”

Hoseok frightened you - deep down you tell yourself that Jay was in there somewhere. A year of loving one another, there was never any slip up. Jay cared for you. He loved you unconditionally and put you before anything.

“Don’t look at me with those eyes, Y/N.” Hoseok sighs. “You’re not scared of me. You’re scared of the situation. I would never hurt you or I would have already.”

That doesn’t make your heart beat slow.

“You and I could be together again truthfully. We can continue to love one another.” Hoseok kisses along your face, the same feathery kisses that Jay would give you. “No Mi-sun, no Jang-Mi, no Minji. Just you and I.” he speaks again, his lips pecking yours. “Right?”

Jay always loved you, but this was Hoseok and at the moment, Hoseok terrified you to the core. You were nothing without Jay and you allowed Jay to fully take care of you like he insisted.

“Yes.” you nod, defeated and unsure of what to do. Your bound wrist hurt as did your ankles.

“I love you, baby.” Hoseok pecks your lips once more, smiling into it.

You were sure Jay loved you, wherever inside Hoseok he was residing - and that fact was the only thing keeping you from crying further.

#hoseok x reader #bts x reader #bts fanfic #bts smut #yandere hoseok #bts yandere #love you just a little too much #explicit-tae #bangtanwritershq #btsmasterlist2022 #btswritersclub #bangtan smut #btsmasterlist2023 #hoseok smut #angst #bts stalker #btswritingcafe #btswriterscollective #stalker hoseok

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starsstuddedsky · 6 months ago

Text

Needles and Knives

red hood!jeno x doctor!reader

...

“Don’t you dare die,” you say, gripping the scalpel.

“Already did that,” Jeno mutters, eyes fluttering. “Didn’t agree with me.”

...

summary: Jeno’s plans never included you yet somehow you worm your way into his life. Being a vigilante isn’t easy - but neither is loving one.

genre: angst except i can’t stop them from making jokes so like fun angst. little bits of fluff here and there

warnings: gore, mentions of death, violence, cursing

wc: 16k

a/n: dc fans i am so sorry. my knowledge of these characters comes from wikipedia. medical workers i am so sorry. the medicine in this is NOT accurate. if ur neither maybe you can fully enjoy this fic. i hope you do :) this is as proofread as its going to get..... as always i appreciate any sort of feedback you can give. i hope this story leaves you as delusional about jeno as i am <3

Not for the first time, you open the door to your apartment to find a man covered in blood on your couch. At least he managed to keep it off the floors this time.

You can just see the back of his head from the doorway, black hair sticking up from where he slouches on the couch. The head seems to be intact, which is a bit of a relief—being a surgical intern means you’ve become numb to gore, but not fully immune to the nastiness of patching up a tear in his scalp.

“Still alive?” You ask as you kick off your shoes. Your feet ache from standing for the past eight hours.

Jeno huffs a humorless laugh. “More or less.” He twists to look at you, holding up a very sad looking plant. “Which is more than I can say for this poor thing.”

You drop your bag behind the couch and cross to stand in front of him, his head swiveling to follow you. He sets the dead succulents down on the side table. The tuft of white that hangs over his forehead bounces with the movement, stark against the rest of his black hair.

His shirt is already off, discarded to the side. At work, you’ve become just as numb to bodies as you have to gore. You haven’t quite managed that with Jeno despite seeing him shirtless on the regular since he seems to find himself covered in blood on your couch at least once a week. Still, you can’t really be blamed for being a little flustered when he looks like… Well, that. He’s got more abs than ribs and broad shoulders that give way to thick arms of pure muscle. But you can never truly ogle because he inevitably is covered in too much blood for you to ignore.

“I think I just popped the stitches,” he says, referring to the wound on his stomach that is once again bleeding. “No new shit. I think.”

“I don’t think that’s actually any better,” you say. “You know we usually tell patients to refrain from strenuous activity after they’ve been stitched up.” You retrieve the medical bag you definitely don’t keep stocked from the supply closet at Gotham City Hospital.

“They usually get pain meds, too,” Jeno grumbles, even though he’s never once complained about the actual pain of being stitched back together.

You kneel in front of him, focusing on what was once a deep gash. He showed up with it a couple days ago, spewing more blood than he physically should be able to produce. It’s already half healed, though the new stitches will still help.

“They usually aren’t getting blood on my couch either,” you say. “We can do this all day.”

Jeno doesn’t answer, staying quiet long enough for you to peek at him and make sure he hasn’t passed out from some injury you don’t know about. Instead you find his dark eyes, filled with an intensity that wasn’t there when you were children. You still find it hard to believe the kid that walked with you to school every day for three years has grown up into this—all hard lines and guarded expressions. Every time you look into those eyes you are reminded how little you know about him.

Here’s what you do know: Jeno and his family disappeared when you were twelve. Vanished in the middle of the school year, leaving the house next to yours half full of their belongings in the flight. And then you didn’t see him for another twelve years, long enough for you to graduate high school, and then college, and then med school. Long enough for you to get a prestigious internship in the surgical program at Gotham City Hospital, which had you moving three states over into an apartment you had to rent without even doing a walkthrough. It’s this apartment—the one that he sits in now—that brought Jeno back to you. Again, he’s become the boy next door, though you still can’t reconcile your memories of the little boy with this man, who never smiles. You barely recognized him. But he recognized you, and even though he didn’t seem all that interested in having friends, he found out you were a med student and just happened to need stitches. And then he needed help with a broken wrist. And then a black eye. And then, and then.

It didn’t take you long to figure out he’s Red Hood, one of the newer vigilantes of Gotham City. Or, more accurately, it didn’t take you long to figure out he’s a vigilante. It did take a while to figure out Red Hood, but his eyes eventually gave it away. One look told you he’s cold on the inside. One look told you he’s a killer.

(Plus you’ve seen the now-iconic leather jacket hanging in his entryway.)

But though you can’t call his eyes warm now, they aren’t cold either. He regards you with a softness you’ve never seen before, or maybe just never noticed. You duck your head and turn back to the stitches.

“If you pull these again, you’ll be sewing them up yourself,” you mutter.

“Well, how else am I supposed to see you?” Jeno asks. “You only ever make time for me when I’m bleeding.” Despite his earlier complaints, he doesn’t flinch as you begin the sutures. In fact, he doesn’t show any sign that he’s even noticed.

You roll your eyes. “That's because I took an oath. Something about saving lives, and something about ‘no matter how much I want to take a hot shower and pass out for the next twelve hours, I’m legally obligated to keep my weird neighbor alive when he shows up begging for help.’”

“Who said anything about begging?”

You pause, needle in hand. “I can leave you like this, you know. You can finish it yourself if you really want to.” And you know he can. You’ve seen the scars. So many scars, which tell the story he hasn’t told you: the oldest on his forearm, perfectly straight, the result of a real surgery; the thick ones on his back that look like they were never stitched up; the cut on his arm that looks like it tore through muscle yet was carefully stitched up; the scar on the back of his neck that looks like it should have broken his neck; and the angry red scar on his left knee that he said he stitched up himself a couple months before you moved in next door.

You open your mouth to tell him he’s really on his own now, but Jeno says, “I guess I can beg.”

You pause, then say. “That’s just terrible.” You have to look away so you continue the stitches. “You can do way better than that.”

“Oh, YN, great saver of lives,” Jeno says, “please do me the great honor of stitching me up. Again.”

You hum. “Better but still room for improvement.”

“I would die without you. I would get on my knees if I could. Please, please, do not stop stitching me up.”

You grin at him and almost get a smile back, his eyes truly warm. You take it as a win—or at least a vast improvement from how he was two months ago. You finish the stitches, sitting up straight.

“I don’t suppose you’ll sit still long enough to let these actually heal, will you?” Not that you know how long that is. You noticed a while back that most of his injuries heal far faster than they should. He shouldn’t need to come to you for minor injuries yet he does, over and over again. It doesn’t make any sense, but as long as he keeps showing up on your couch, you’ll keep taking care of him.

Jeno looks at you like he wants to say something but isn’t sure if he should. Maybe this is it. He’ll finally tell you exactly how he gets his scars. How he became the Red Hood.

Instead, he says, “Nah, probably not.”

You sit back on the couch beside him, sighing. “I watched a seven hour surgery today, and you know what I learned?”

“Hm?” He turns, cheek resting on the couch. For a moment you see the boy again, cast in gold from the afternoon sunlight. You can just picture his smile, the way his whole face melts into a gooey happiness. You blink and he’s gone.

“Surgeons are dicks,” you blurt out, forgetting what you were going to say. “They never want to believe patients, and I get it, sometimes they’re annoying and think they know best, but this girl came in three months ago complaining about pain and Dr. Park called her a junkie. She came back in today and collapsed in the waiting room because he never actually examined her.

“She was having a heart attack, and if he just listened the first time, it might have been salvageable, but the second one ripped her heart to shreds. Dr. Nakamoto said he’d never seen someone survive a heart that looked like that.”

“But she did survive?” Jeno asks.

“Yeah,” you say. “For now. She needs a heart transplant, though, so it’s a waiting game.”

He nods.

“I don’t get why Dr. Park or any of the other doctors couldn’t run a simple EKG. It’s not difficult and it would have saved her life but they took one look at her and assumed she was a junkie,” you say, “and I can’t even complain about it because Dr. Lee will just say some shit like ‘medical decisions are more difficult than you think’ because that’s easier than actually checking if his surgical team gives a shit about their patients beyond death rates.”

You sigh. “The worst part is, they aren’t even bad doctors. They know the medicine, and the procedures they can do—it’s really incredible. I don’t know, sometimes I worry you can only be good at medicine or good with patients, and it’s impossible to be both.”

“You really think that?”

“I don’t know.” You shrug. “I’m just tired.”

Jeno nods, letting silence settle between you. It’s far too comfortable to just sit with him like this, a peaceful solidarity you’ve only ever felt with him. You won’t give it meaning, won’t think about it any more than another afternoon on the couch together. That’s all this is.

“I should take a shower,” you say.

“I should get back to my place,” Jeno says. Neither of you move.

Lee Jeno doesn’t consider himself to be consumed with rage, despite what the headlines say. Yeah, the mask is intense, but he doesn’t use it to incite fear among all those who look upon his face. He just needed to keep his face hidden from Bruce (and, as much as it pains him to admit Bruce might be right about anything, he can’t deny that keeping his identity hidden is ultimately the right move).

He tosses the magazine on his desk. He’s got to stop reading the tabloids. They’re rotting his brain. But somehow they’re the only reliable source on the current crop of Joker’s little worshippers. Jeno still can’t believe it took him six months to realize the ads were calling for new recruits to the cult.

He feels the pit of anger, deep in his stomach, writhing at the thought of that man. Revenge would be too kind. Jeno will take him down, no matter what.

Maybe he’s a little consumed with rage.

But he can’t ignore the recent distractions. He’s spent the past week sitting behind the computer doing whatever investigative work he can, any excuse to avoid pulling the stitches again. You really didn’t seem like you were joking about making him do it next time, and it was a bitch to stitch up his knee on his own. The angle alone would make his ribs pretty much impossible.

Jeno sighs, tapping on his keyboard to bring the computer to life. Three monitors light up, the far left screen featuring the feeds of all the security cameras that show the apartment building that he very legally tapped into. The far right screen shows three different news feeds, local to Gotham, national news, and an international broadcast, volume off, subtitles on. The middle screen remains blank, ready for him to pull up whatever information he needs.

Hunt Joker. Get revenge.

It was simple when he first got his memories back. Those were his only goals. But then he had to train, become a better fighter, establish some sort of half-life in the city–which meant figuring out how to pay rent, which meant figuring out which billionaires he could reasonably steal from without them noticing. He admits it’s foolish to have Wayne Enterprises on the top of the list, but the bastard owes him.

Six months passed by before he finally set this place and a couple other safe houses up. And then another six passed, and Jeno is still no closer to revenge. He is supposed to be better than before, but all he’s done is steal some lunch money from people too rich to notice and take down a couple men who liked to pick on the weak. He hates that he did more in tights than he’s done becoming Red Hood.

He let his life become too simple. Day after day of hunting criminals and keeping them from hurting anyone ever again. It was freeing, no debriefings with idiots that would tell him that he should have acted differently—should have acted with more mercy. He makes his own decisions and no one is there to judge him. It’s proof he never needed anyone, even if hunting Joker is taking a little longer than it would if he had Wayne Enterprise resources.

And then you showed up.

He leans back in the chair, the joint squeaking. Jeno still doesn’t know what to make of you popping back into his life. He hasn’t been the kid you knew for so long he almost forgot about him. That kid died the day his parents yanked him out of school and moved to Gotham city. His parents worked back breaking shifts in one of the factories, while Jeno lasted a month in school before he realized he could stop going and no one would care. He learned how to survive Gotham quickly, and pretty soon he thrived. He barely even noticed when his parents died.

You bring back memories of suburbs and eating ice cream before it could melt onto his hand. He remembers this one time you were walking back home after school and you tripped and skinned your knee. There was so much blood, Jeno freaked out and thought he’d have to carry you (which he definitely couldn’t do back then), but you just stood up and gritted your teeth and walked all the way back. It didn’t surprise him at all to find out you’re a doctor now, not when you were always so hardcore.

It came in handy pretty quick, too, though he’ll at least admit to himself that his powers probably won’t let him die. It just turned into a routine for him, a nice way to end his day (though his work “day” generally ends at dawn).

But nice is for a boy that doesn’t exist, not for the justice he seeks. He can’t keep pretending to be someone he isn’t, and someone as smart as you can’t keep pretending to believe his lies. He focuses on the security feed, watching a dark sedan roll past.

He can keep avoiding you. It would be easy to clear out of here, especially when you spend most of your time at the hospital anyways. He could do it now—you’re in the middle of one of those endless shifts where you sleep in the hospital. You complain so much about being exhausted that he doubts you’d notice that he left, at least for a month. You’re not friends with him, Jeno doesn’t have friends. You just took an oath to save lives, and he forced you to save him. You wouldn’t even miss him.

But even as he contemplates it, he knows he can’t do it to you again. Even if all you are is the person that patches him up every other night, you deserve some explanation. A goodbye.

Rain begins to fall, slow at first, then a steady patter, the gentle wind strong enough to send the rain against the window.

He hears the truck engine rattling down the street before it finally comes into view on the top left camera. Strange, the bottom right camera covers the opposite side of the street but shows nothing. He keeps an eye on the truck, which rattles by, frowning at the bottom right screen.

Not just an empty street. Though the sky is dark in the background, the pavement and sidewalk are still dry. Jeno curses, getting to his feet and grabbing his belt. He loads the pistols, clipping on the extra ammo to his belt alongside the gadgets while keeping an eye on the other cameras, trying to see if he missed anything else. Two more screens play on a loop, the transition more obvious with the rain. He pulls on the mask, grateful he made it waterproof. His jacket is last, riddled with holes he never had the time to sew back together. He keeps his knife in his right hand, checking the cameras a final time—all showing empty loops—before ducking out the window onto the fire escape.

The jacket is thick enough to keep the rain from actually soaking him, but the cold seeps through. It brings an ache to his bones, an empty feeling like his body doesn’t quite belong to him. He presses a hand to his heart, the pressure bringing a new ache that reminds his body his heart still beats.

He jumps the rest of the way down from the fire escape, landing in a puddle of water that splashes beneath his boots, sending water up to his knees. He needs eyes on the situation. Ideally he’d go to the roof, but there’s too much daylight to be out in the open like that, turning him into a sitting duck. He opts for the alleyways instead, looping around the back of the building to where he can see the street without being seen. Whatever is going on, he needs to drive the action away from his place.

He scans the road, settling on the dark sedan parked in front of the corner store. It wasn’t on the security camera feed when he left, and as he watches, two tall men with dark hoods pulled over their heads slip out of the back seat. They approach the apartment building with the confidence of residents, though Jeno can tell from here they don’t. He memorized his neighbors a long time ago, but even if he hadn’t, Jeno has seen enough gangs to know bruisers when he sees them.

But who do they belong to? Who knows where Jeno lives? The people he’s been skimming from? He hasn’t been stealing enough to warrant this kind of a response. No, his life as Jeno couldn’t have attracted these men.

So it’s Red Hood? Anyone that knows about Red Hood should know better than to send two goons that could be taken out this easily. Jeno switches the knife to his left hand and pulls out a pistol, turning off the safety and cocking the hammer.

Before he can squeeze the trigger, he senses something, the rain behind him falling on something other than pavement. He drops to the ground and rolls until his back is against the wall and a dumpster protects his front. A bullet buries itself into the pavement where he had been standing a moment ago.

He moves again, vaulting over the dumpster, catching the man holding a pistol at the end of the alley by surprise. Still in the air, Jeno squeezes the trigger, hitting the man in the stomach. He lands on his feet and crosses the alley in two quick strides to kick the man as he falls. His hood falls off as he lands on his back, revealing an assuming face. Like the other men, Jeno has never seen him before.

Jeno kicks the gun out of his hand and snatches it from the pavement, slipping it into one of the extra holsters on his belt. He glances between the front of the building and the back. The two goons out front had to have heard the noise, which means he doesn’t have much time before they make it to the alley. But he’s got no idea what might be around the other corner.

He crosses back to the dumpster, keeping an eye on the man behind him as he waits. The man at the other end groans but doesn’t call out for his buddies. Rain overflows from the gutters, falling in spurts rather than droplets. Thirty seconds pass and Jeno only hears the rain. Are they waiting for him? Circling around to trap him between them?

He adjusts his grip on the knife in his left hand, holding it so that the blade is nearest to his pinky finger, his thumb wrapped around the bottom of the base. He keeps the blade facing out, stepping to the front of the apartment building. Instinct guides him to the left, giving him enough time to block the bat with his right arm, sending a shock up his shoulder.

He steps closer, letting the man—one of the goons from before—pull the bat back for another swing. Jeno swings the knife up, catching the man’s jacket but missing blood. He drops the knife and twists, turning so that the man is behind him and ducking to catch the arm still swinging the bat and flip the man over using his momentum and the bigger man’s weight. He hits the pavement hard, sending water splashing all over Jeno.

The second man catches up from the other end of the alley, firing wild shots that don’t come close to hitting him but force Jeno to step back. Jeno pulls a throwing star from his belt, sending it cutting through the air to knock the gun out of the man’s hand. With his right hand, he takes a shot at the man struggling to get off the ground, catching him in the back. He falls again and this time he doesn’t move.

The second man charges out of the alley, the throwing star gone from his hand, though it still drips blood. He has a crowbar in his other hand, like these guys want to be stereotypical goons. He moves about as well as the other man, all power and zero agility. Jeno dodges him easily, letting him take a couple swings before he shoots him in the head. The man drops a couple steps away from his buddy.

Jeno glances around but the dark sedan has left. No one else ventures out to investigate—probably because Jeno still holds a gun. He retrieves his knife and the throwing star, going back to the first man that he shot who still groans at the end of the alley. Blood mixes with the iridescent swirls of run off, red overtaking the blended greens and purples.

He kneels on his chest. Rain falls on the back of his mask“Who sent you?”

The man gurgles a laugh. “What’s it to you?”

Jeno pushes his knee a little harder. “I asked you a question.”

“Fuck you,” the man says. He tries to spit but the mix of blood and saliva ends up splattering on his own face. The man suddenly turns, moving with more strength than Jeno expected. At the same time that Jeno points his gun at the man’s head, the man pulls a gun from inside his coat, pressing it straight into Jeno’s stomach. Neither of them hesitate to pull the trigger.

Caution tape is up in the alley next to your apartment, but the rain seems to have washed away any sign of the crimes committed. It pounds into your head relentlessly, soaking you through your coat.

Though you’ve been living here less than a year, Gotham’s reputation has held true. Working in the hospital has given you even more experience with the diversity of types of people the city attracts—good, bad, and everything in between. You even worked on a guy who apparently turned out to be a Batman villain a few months ago.

Between working at the hospital and living in the city in general, you’ve gotten used to dissociating crime scenes with the sense that you’re actually in danger. Besides, you live next door to a vigilante. Who are you to say this is even a crime scene?

You don’t think anything of it until you open your apartment door and catch the unfortunately familiar scent of blood. Wind and rain crash through the open window, pulling your stumbling feet forward to find the source of the blood.

Jeno didn’t make it to the couch this time. He lies just inside the windowsill, barely sitting up with his back against the wall. One hand clutches his stomach, red blood spilling over the black shirt. His head hangs low, hair soaked by that rain that still falls on him through the open window. The red mask sits in his other hand.

For a scary moment, he doesn’t move.

You drop your bag, rushing to him. You can’t stop your voice from shaking. “Jeno?”

He groans when you shake his arm. “Ow.”

You curse as you slam the window shut and lay him out on his side, keeping his hand over the wound until you can get a better gauge on what it is. “What the hell did you do to yourself?”

He doesn’t answer, only groaning as you try to reach your medical bag while keeping pressure on the wound. You finally get it to the ground, pulling out the scissors and slicing through the shirt so that you can see the wound—a gaping hole framed by bullet fragments where his stomach should be.

“Fuck.” He needs a hospital, a surgeon that’s done more than assist on an appendectomy, but you can’t bring yourself to dial 911. It would bring too many questions on Jeno, who has clearly avoided hospitals for a reason. And he came to you. He trusts you, even if you don’t trust yourself. You have to save him, if only because you’re the only option.

You set out the equipment, spraying them with alcohol to sterilize them and get ready to cut.

“Don’t you dare die,” you say, gripping the scalpel.

“Already did that,” Jeno mutters, eyes fluttering. “Didn’t agree with me.”

You gape at him but he seems to have slipped back into unconsciousness. You force yourself to look back at the bullet hole. You can only yell at him if he’s alive, so you push away the thoughts and get to work, replacing any insecurity with arrogant belief that you know what you’re doing.

Death is nothing like falling asleep. For one thing, it fucking hurts. Jeno supposes the method might have played a factor. He used to think getting shot point blank might be better than being beaten for hours and then blown up (he now has the experience to decidedly answer that question: marginally better). But death itself. It hurts.

And resurrection? All the pain of death with none of the peaceful end. Jeno remembers crawling out of the ground, forcing his muscles to work even though his body still suffered from the wounds that killed him.

But it was the pain that forced him to keep moving, the pain that still fuels him now, a never ending ache deep inside that no time will heal.

Joker may have held the bat, but Batman didn’t stop him. He never stopped him. Jeno remembers the look on his face, the shadowed glimpse of it that he could see. He remembers dying, hearing the Joker cackle, and Batman calling out to him—calling him Robin.

He remembers the pain. Pain he can live with. Pain makes him who he is. He can’t let go of the pain, not when it is all that he is.

But the pain ebbs away when you’re around. And for the life of him he can’t convince himself that it’s a bad thing.

You manage to get Jeno into your bed after you finish patching him up—which was six grueling hours of pulling bullet fragments from the hole and praying he didn’t bleed out. No one should have been able to survive the amount of blood that seeped out of him but by some miracle (though maybe it’s a curse), his heart keeps pumping.

He woke up just long enough to let you sling an arm under his shoulders and half carry him into the bed. You spent the entire time praying he wouldn’t pull apart the stitches and bleed out for real, but it seems like luck was finally on your side.

You should get up. You should clean up the blood, or at least wash it from your hands. You can only find the energy to drag your armchair next to the bed and sit beside him. His chest rises and falls with even breaths.

Still alive, for now.

He mumbles again, voice too low to make out any words. His eyes flutter but remain closed. Does a man like him dream?

“What happened to you?” Your voice cracks. He doesn’t answer, doesn’t show any sign that he can hear you. “You disappear for weeks at a time. You rarely show up when you aren’t bleeding. But you never talk about it, and you don’t smile anymore. I don’t think I know you anymore. I don’t know if I ever did.”

You managed to hold back your tears, push all the emotions away to keep him alive but they come flooding back now. Tears spill over as you watch him breathe.

“Your heart keeps beating but are you really alive?” You ask.

He doesn’t answer.

You moved to Gotham in August. The heat was so bad that crime rates were down–making it miserable to carry box after box up two flights of stairs since the building didn't have an elevator. You’d only been here twice before, both times on school trips, never on your own.

But your friends all live back in your college town, and your parents were busy dealing with a lawsuit against your neighbor for the mailbox war, so you were stuck moving on your own—which wasn’t all that terrible since the apartment came half furnished. Still, you had to figure out a way to get a mattress up the stairs, along with a car full of clothes and all the rest of your belongings. Between the heat and the prospect of stairs, you weren’t exactly stoked about living in the city.

Two trips had you wheezing for air, leaning outside your door to catch your breath. The door to the apartment next to yours swung open. You hoped someone wasn’t already complaining about the noise you were making. Instead a tall, broad shouldered man stepped out, wearing a simple black t-shirt and cargo pants.

He turned around, revealing cold eyes and a face that looked like it spent most of its time frowning. But behind it all something familiar called to you, buried deep behind the bitter front. You remembered a boy who cried because he stubbed his toes, a boy who would fight you to make a wish on every dandelion that lined the sidewalk on the walk home.

He froze, a tiny frown in his brow. “YN?”

“Jeno?”

You set down the tote, stepping around it to get a better look at him. Your eyes jumped between his, trying to decipher the hardness behind them. Though it had been over ten years, you still thought of the sweet boy who lived next door often, always wondering what happened to him.

It seemed that the years had not been kind to him. Though he grew taller and filled out considerably, he had an emptiness behind his eyes, the kind that comes from too much hurt. He looked like it had been years since he last smiled. He barely seemed to react to you, guarding every expression as if you could be some sort of threat.

“You’re taller,” you finally said.

“It has been a while,” he said.

“I think ten years qualifies as more than a while,” you said.

He just nodded. “You’ve moved here?”

“Just today,” you said, gesturing to the boxes.

“You’re on your own?”

You shrugged. “My parents are bringing a load later in the week, so it’s really not that much stuff.” You paused but Jeno didn’t run away, so you figured it was safe to ask, “How long have you been living here?”

“In Gotham since I left.” He pauses, eyes flicking between yours. For a moment you think he’ll tell you everything. Then he says, “Here specifically, only about six months.”

You should have asked. Maybe it would have made things simpler, maybe you wouldn’t be dancing between fantasy and reality, balancing a tedious act of ignorance.

Instead you asked him if he’d help you move your mattress and what the pizza delivery situation was like.

Jeno wakes up sometime in the middle of the night. You snap awake from your dozing as he shifts.

“Sit still,” you say. “I don’t think I can put you back together if you fall apart this time.”

Jeno blinks. Even in the darkness you can see eyes are still glazed over in confusion.

“You were shot,” you explain. “Point blank from the looks of it.”

“Ah,” he says. His soft voice carries in the quiet hours of the night. “That’s what hurts.”

“Never make me do that again.” Your voice shakes despite your best attempts to steady it. The tears from earlier try to weasel their way back out of your eyes. “You should have died.”

He reaches out, except he really must be feeling weak because his hand barely makes it to the edge of the bed before it hangs limp.

“‘M sorry,” he mumbles. “Didn’t want to get shot.”

You blink back the tears as anger courses its way through you. “I don’t think anybody gets shot on purpose,” you snap.

He tries to snort but it ends up sounding like a short exhale through his nose. “Fair enough.”

“I’m not a good enough doctor for all of this,” you say. “This isn’t a hospital. I don’t have sterile equipment, or a blood bank, or an extra set of hands, I mean, if anything worse happens, you could be in real danger and there’s nothing I could do about it, and I can’t—” You pause, taking a deep breath. “I don’t like when I have to admit I can’t do something, but with you, it feels like that’s all I can do.”

“You saved my life,” he says. “It doesn’t really feel like you couldn’t do it.”

“It was a pretty fucking close call,” you say. “Gunshot wounds aren’t particularly easy, and you had to go and get shot in the stomach.”

He shifts, hand running over his torso beneath the blanket. “I didn't pop the stitches, though,” he says. “I gotta get some points for that.”

You glare at him, though he probably can’t see it in the darkness. “Don’t make fun of me. I’m trying to be serious.”

“So am I,” he says, “it was not easy. I sat still for two full days. Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve done that?”

Ask. Get a real answer from him. Stop shying away from who he really is. You have to talk about it.

“Well, get used to it,” you say. “You’re staying in this bed. I don’t care if I have to tie you down.”

Jeno actually smiles. It’s been far too long since you’ve seen that smile, softening the hard lines and curling his face into something sweet. “I could be into that,” he jokes.

And maybe it’s because there are blood stains on your shirt that will never come out and you haven’t slept in about thirty hours and you came far too close to losing the only person you really care about, but you laugh. “Just shut up and get some rest.”

“You should rest too,” Jeno says. “You look terrible.”

“Yeah, well it’s your fault,” you say.

He pauses then says, “I am sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Well, don’t apologize.” You sniffle. “It’s harder to be mad at you.”

He smiles again, and you can’t even pretend to be mad at him anymore. It’s too hard on your heart, which has been through far too much for any more lies. You smile back at him.

After a day, Jeno can walk around on his own. You called out sick from work, despite his insistence that he’d be fine on his own. He had to bribe you to convince you to sleep on the couch, since you would barely let him go to the bathroom, let alone move back to his own room. He won’t complain too much, though. He forgot how nice it is to wake up to someone.

He sways on his feet, holding a hand up to stop you from helping him. He forces even breaths, determined to make it to the couch without any help.

“You don’t have to do this,” you repeat for the thousandth time.

“I told you I’m fine,” he grunts. Two more steps and he’s there. He takes a deep breath, ignoring the way his entire lower half screams at him. One more step.

He collapses onto the couch more than anything, but he makes it. He lets himself slouch a little, head resting against the back of the couch. How many times has he sat here like this? So many hours spent waiting for you, watching the sun inch across the room. But most of the time it’s been like this—you at the opposite end, always a cushion separating him from you.

The fake wooden floor is stained deep red, pooled around where he laid while you worked on him. He wonders what would have happened if you weren’t there. When he first came back he thought he was invincible, and his healing has saved him from a lot–but he’s never truly put it to the test. Could he have survived without you?

His mask still sits where he pulled it off underneath the windowsill. He peeks at you from the corner of his eyes, your head turned towards it. Say something.

You stare at the mask, clearing your throat. “I hope you didn’t pay too much for that shitty costume,” you say. “You don’t even have armor.”

“YN,” Jeno says but you refuse to look at him.

“Seriously, walking around dressed like a vigilante is going to get you killed.”

“YN. You know it’s not a costume.”

“What, you made it yourself? That’s even worse, I mean, it’s one thing to dress up like these guys but trying to be one of them, that’s just plain stupid. I can’t believe—”

Jeno shifts to the center cushion and wraps his fingers gently around your wrist, forcing you to look at him. “I am one of them.”

He lets go of your wrist and watches you process the words, trying to figure out any other meaning. Your eyes dart between his, panicked and desperate. For whatever reason, you don’t want to admit it, and it’s been fine. But Jeno is tired of feeling like he’s lying to you.

“I know,” you finally say, sighing and looking away again. He hates that it feels like he’s let you down. But he won’t apologize for who he is.

“Why didn’t you ever ask about what happened after I left?” He asks.

You’re quiet for a long moment. “I think I was afraid. It didn’t take long to realize what you were—or at least that you were wrapped up in something twisted—and then it was obvious whatever happened to you here wasn’t good, and I wasn’t sure if I should know that.”

Jeno nods, gaze traveling to the window. He can see some scattered rooftops, mostly shorter residential buildings of the area. Farther in the distance, skyscrapers stick out. He’s spent more years in this city than not, grown to love it like family. But unlike family, the city doesn’t love him back. It’s not capable of it. No matter how much of his blood lines the streets, Jeno will only ever be one of millions that call the city home.

Yes, what happened to him here wasn’t good. But it wasn’t all bad, and it’s not over yet. He won’t give up on the city just because of the past.

And there’s you now. He has these moments where his heart beats so hard it feels like his chest will burst in the good way. He no longer ceases to exist when he isn’t fighting. Jeno worms his way back into reality, not separate from Red Hood, but no longer overshadowed by him.

“I’ve had a lot of time to think these past couple weeks,” Jeno says. “Time to figure out what I want. For the longest time, it was revenge. It didn’t matter how I got it, how many people had to die. I would avenge myself no matter what.

“And then you came into my life, and I would catch myself wondering what would have happened if I could have stayed back then, how different my life would be. I even wondered what would happen if I took off the mask, permanently.

“But this is all I know how to be, and, I think even when I get my revenge, I won’t be able to leave this life behind.” He pauses, tilting his head away from the window and waiting until you meet his eyes. “I don’t want to die again. I don't want to live this miserable half life where all I think about is getting back at the people who wronged me. I want to live, and when I’m with you, I feel alive.”

You stare at him, eyes adorably wide. Maybe he's been a little too good at keeping his feelings hidden. It’s alright. He can wait for you to work it all out. It’s not like he’s got anywhere to be.

“I like being with you,” he says. “I like who I am when I’m around you, and I like you. I mean, you’re stubborn and you always have to have the last word.” He smiles at your bewildered eyes. “But you care so much, not just about me, or your patients, but about everyone, and everything.

“Like your little houseplants that keep dying no matter what you do. I mean, it’s hilarious that you can save my life but you can’t keep a succulent alive. Or the way you talk about the street cats, and even the rats. I wouldn’t be surprised if you had sympathy for the cockroaches.” He finally manages to cut the rambling off. For a long moment you’re too quiet, and he begins to feel the inklings of fear worming its way up his stomach.

“I don’t know about that,” you finally say, voice soft. “I think they might be radioactive here.”

He waits but you don’t say anything else. He knows he shouldn’t ask, that he already has his answer. Still, he can’t help it. “That’s all you have to say?”

Your eyes slide to the floor. “I… I don’t know.”

“You feel something,” he says, reaching a tentative hand out to rest on top of yours. You freeze beneath him, eyes darting between his hand and his eyes like you can’t decide which you’re scared of more.

“Tell me I’m not crazy,” he pleads. “Tell me you feel at least a fraction of the way I do.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, taking a deep breath. “I do care about you,” you begin slowly, “I care about you too much. You have this life, and I know you need it, and I want you to have everything that you want, I just don’t think I can be a part of it when it inevitably destroys you.”

He squeezes your hand. “It won’t destroy me,” he says, “I won’t let it.”

“You died.” Your voice shakes. “I don’t think I could handle that.”

“I won’t let that happen again!” Jeno says. “Things are different now, I’m not the same person I was when I died.”

He won’t die again. He’s sure of it, not just because he’s learned from his mistakes but because he has something else to live for now. He has more than the family that pushed him to be more than he could, he has his own life, goals outside of revenge. But grounding it all is you, the first person he thinks of, always. He won’t die when it would hurt you this much.

“Even if you could promise that, it’s not enough.” You look away from him. “I don’t want to die either, and it seems like that’s inevitable around people like you. The loved ones always die first.”

He opens his mouth to say he would never let that happen but the words die in his throat. He can’t guarantee that, and one look at you proves even if he could it wouldn’t matter. It’s not enough.

“I think I love you,” he whispers.

You smile sadly. “I think I love you too. I wish it was that simple.”

He sighs, resting his head against the couch cushion. “I don’t suppose supreme embarrassment is a good enough reason to let me go back to my own apartment, is it?”

He watches you purse your lips out of the corner of his eye. He pretends not to see the tears threatening to spill over.

“I have to go back to work,” you say, voice steady. “I suppose sleeping in your own bed won’t be a problem.” You turn stern. “As long as you swear you’ll actually rest.”

Jeno winces. “I don’t think I can do anything else.”

“And yet you will,” you say. Jeno knows it’s worthless to argue, especially when he really can’t promise he won’t do anything. He goes where he’s needed.

But until then, he’s perfectly happy to wallow in the embarrassment of getting shot and shot down.

(please enjoy a brief interlude until i figure out how to fix thing shitshow)

The city always smells cleaner after a good storm. You enjoy walking to work, though the piercing wail of sirens makes it harder to appreciate the way the city almost smells like spring. Green has returned, sprouts of grass and early flowers blooming. You can walk and breathe and pretend like your heart isn’t dragging along behind you.

Jeno haunts you. You dared to check on him before leaving and found he has reverted back to the one word answers and solemn expressions, a shadow of a person. He barely even looks at you, and you can’t even blame him. You’ve done more than break his heart; you can bear the consequences of doing so.

Because it doesn’t really matter. He will keep getting hurt and you will keep patching him up. It doesn’t have to be more complicated than that.

Even if you can’t stop dreaming about him.

An ambulance wails past, turning into the hospital. You try your best to push the Jeno thoughts away, preparing yourself for the inevitably grueling day. You push open the doors, the security guards now familiar. You smile at them, the movement of the muscles feeling foreign, and take the elevators to the fourth floor, heading to the locker room for the surgical interns.

You’ve barely changed into your scrubs when Jaemin appears.

“Wow,” he says, biting into an apple. “You look terrible.”

You glare at him. “You look worse. How long have you been here?”

He shrugs. “I got a whole six hours of sleep in an on-call room, so I’m actually doing great. You, on the other hand, look like you spent the two days fighting guys who wear pinstripe suits and call their henchmen goons.” He eyes you for a moment. “And you lost.”

“That’s pretty much how I feel,” you say. “Though I still think you act like the criminals in this city are cartoon villains.”

“The aquarium was attacked by a crocodile-man last week and the guy that stopped him cosplays as a bat,” Jaemin says. “I don’t know how you take any of this seriously.”

It helps when you have a melodramatic version of the bat guy bleeding out on your couch every other week, you think.

“I don’t know, being afraid for my life helps,” you say.

“Oh the crocodile guy just wanted to free his people,” Jaemin waves his hand. “He wasn’t going to hurt anyone.”

“His name is Killer Croc.”

“Semantics,” Jaemin says. “But seriously, you’re okay? Nothing happened?”

You shrug. “I just haven’t gotten enough sleep, I’ll be fine. Why are you acting so weird?”

“You haven’t heard?” Jaemin asks. “Dr. Moon and Dr. Jung were both attacked three days ago. Dr. Jung is in the ICU and Dr. Moon is still missing.”

“What happened?”

“Police don’t really know yet,” Jaemin says, “but it’s connected. These big guys in suits with these weird black hoods were seen around both of their places before the attacks. They found Jaehyun in his apartment, beaten pretty bad, he’s been in a coma ever since.”

“Wow,” you say. You’ve worked with both of them quite a bit. You spent a week learning about skin grafts with Dr. Moon, a star plastic surgeon. Jaehyun gave you an extra shower curtain when you mentioned you tore yours when a cockroach crawled up your shower brain while you were in it. They’re both good, nice people, not the type to get involved in trouble—definitely not trouble like this.

“Is Jaehyun going to be okay?”

Jaemin purses his lips and shrugs. “Still not sure. He had some pretty serious injuries, most of which were patched up but apparently he had some bad head trauma. They called in the Lee Taemin from Central.”

“You didn’t shit your pants meeting your hero?”

“YN,” Jaemin says sharply, “a good friend of mine was in the hospital, and the best neurosurgeon in the country, the guy I will one day convince to be my mentor, was called in to save his life. Of course I was shitting my pants.”

“Did you get to meet him?”

“I thought it would be weird to introduce myself to him, but I did happen to visit Jaehyun while he stopped by, and happened to mention I wanted to pursue neuro when he asked.”

“And?”

“And he said it was a smart decision. Or said only the smartest thrive. He’s very confusing.”

“So basically you’re obsessed?”

“Yep.”

You lean against the metal lockers, letting the cold press against the back of your neck. You think about Jaehyun, hooked up to machines with a whole team of doctors, including a star doctor, all working to keep him alive. How long will it be before that’s Jeno, except no machines, no team, just you? How long before you won’t be enough?

Jeno has discovered all there is to know about his ceiling. There’s eleven cracks, tiny fissures in the paint that’s at least ten years old. The color is off white, not cream, though in the corner above the door, they did a touch up with a paint that has slightly more blue. He can tell what time it is from the angle of the light coming through the window.

He’s beginning to run out of things to learn.

He misses you, so much. He wonders what your ceiling looks like, if it’s got its own little galaxy of cracks. He misses sitting on your couch, knowing that he’d see you soon.

He can’t remember the last time he got out of bed, and he can’t even blame it on the gunshot wound. He's not fully recovered, but he doesn’t need to lay in bed all day. He should be up and moving, keeping himself in shape, or at least hunting down the guys who attacked him. All he managed to do was set up an alert with the license plate of the car he saw, feeding it through all the security cameras he could get access to.

But otherwise he lays in bed and stares at the ceiling.

Getting this dejected over a rejection makes him feel like a teenager—not that he ever went through this during his teenage years. He can put on the mask and be Red Hood, but Jeno? He doesn’t know how to be Jeno alone, he doesn’t want to learn. He had his parents when he was younger, then Bruce, and Dick, and the family that began to grow among them. Despite all he used to whine, he’s never truly been alone.

Will he be alone now? Will Jeno even exist without the people around him to keep him going? Or will he truly become Red Hood, letting the man behind the mask cease to exist.

He knows what Bruce would say. The mask can’t exist without the man. But Bruce is the reason he put a mask on in the first place. He can philosophize all day long, it’s his fault Jeno ever died. He doesn’t have to listen to the man’s words.

Jeno rests his hand over the wound. He hardly feels the ridge where the stitches are. He wonders how the wound will scar.

It doesn’t make any sense but even though his body heals unnaturally fast, the scars remain. It’s like his body remembers dying and wants to remind him—even though he came back once and he’s stronger than ever before—he’s still human.

And there’s nothing more human than a broken heart. He should be grateful it’s only metaphorical.

Jeno sighs. The worst part is he knows how dramatic he’s being. But it’s only been 28 hours. He can allow himself a little bit of time for the dramatics. Bruce takes like a month off when a civilian dies under his watch.

He pulls his blanket closer, wondering if it’s too far to put on some music—something loud, maybe.

Instead he hears a ding, a notification from his computer. He sits up a little too fast, feeling a tug on his stitches, though they don’t fall apart.

He can’t spare too much thought to them, not when his screen lights up with feed from a security camera, zoomed in to show the license plate of a dark sedan, the numbers he remembers. It rolls past, camera shifting down the block as Jeno drops into his chair, typing rapidly until the screen zooms out. The larger screen reveals the sedan is one of many, traveling in a line together.

He sets up the second monitor to plot their movements across the city, a bright red line tracing the few turns they take.

The windows of each car are tinted, concealing those within. But, with his previous encounter, it’s safe to assume there’s plenty of hired muscle in the six cars. It could be anywhere between fifteen and thirty men, headed this way.

He watches them draw closer, tapping his finger on the desk. They caught him by surprise last time. On a good day, he wouldn’t sweat odds this bad, but it’s not a good day. He can still feel his insides healing.

It’ll be a tough fight, but he’s planned for this. He’ll rig the place, take down as many as he can and get to one of the other safe houses.

The Jeno that lived here will disappear. And it will be for the best.

He changes into his suit, moving as fast as he can without hurting himself. He stuffs as many weapons as he can into his pockets, his belt weighing extra heavy around his waist.

Then he gets to work on the bomb. A smaller explosive, more of a popper than a true bomb, but enough to take out his computer and all of the evidence he’s left behind here.

He wonders if the police will come. Will they question you? Surely someone has noticed he spends a lot of time with you. You’d never give him up, but would you defend him? Would you go on television, tell the world Red Hood is just a man? You’d look good on television.

You wouldn’t though. You wouldn’t say a word, not to the cops, not to anyone.

He’s really going to miss you.

He checks the map. Still five blocks away. Except… The cameras first picked up the sedans in the upper east part of the city, by the Sprang River. They mostly traveled west from there, they’re still north of him.

They stop at a light, just two blocks away. He watches, waiting for them to turn.

The sedans roll straight ahead, passing the apartment. He frowns, staring at the screen but the cars keep going, one block, two, and then they pull to a stop.

Jeno curses, grabbing the keys to his bike. It was never about him.

The sun peeks through the windows of the hospital, the only sign time passes. The setting sun casts the parking lot in gold, making even the ugliest cars shine. You pause to peek outside, for once not in a rush. You have to scrub in with Dr. Qian in twenty minutes, but until then, you have a rare moment of freedom.

Because you’re standing at the window, you see the exact moment the cars pull up. They form a line, like a row of beetles, stopping in front of the entrance, blocking the parked cars. As soon as they roll to a stop, the doors fly open, men streaming out all wearing black hoods. They line up in front of the car closest to the entrance, whose doors had remained closed since stopping. The driver exits first, another hooded man, though considerably smaller than the rest. He opens the door to the backseat, head bowed low.

The man in the backseat takes his time. Pale hands peek out of the carefully fitted suit, the only open skin you can see. He steps out from the car and the line of men bend into sharp bows. He closes the door and you finally get a full look at him: from the suit to his shoes, he wears all black, but most striking is the black mask that covers his face. It melts into his suit, keeping every inch of his skin hidden save for his hands.

He must say something, because the men straighten and vanish from your view, streaming into the hospital.

Is it too late to alert security? There has to be twenty men, and with how Jaehyun looks, you doubt they’ll be able to hold them off. 911, then? It’ll take the cops forever to respond, and it’s too late. They’re already here.

You could call him. He’d come.

Despite all your instincts screaming at you to hide, you turn around. The lobby is packed with the final rush of visitors, and 9-to-5 staff getting ready to leave for the day. It’ll be safer to pack in with them than be caught on your own, and maybe you can warn security before mass panic breaks out. You rush down the hall to the large open space in the front of the hospital.

Maybe it’s the adrenaline, but everything feels too normal. A father holds his child’s hand as they walk to the bathroom. A nurse whispers furiously into her phone. An elderly couple hold hands, clipboards to the side of them. You scan the small crowd, looking for a security guard.

Instead you find a brute of a man, black hood tipping back as he raises a gun above his head and fires it a couple times.

“Everybody quiet!” He growls. “On the ground!”

You drop into a squat, hands automatically coming above your head as screams echo. Someone yanks on your coat, knocking you off balance. Your heart nearly stops but it’s just Jaemin pulling you to sit beside him with a wall at your back instead of the open hallway.

“Thank you,” you whisper. You slide into a seated position, back against the wall. Jaemin crouches next to you, keeping one hand on the wheelchair of the patient he must have been with before all of this. You peek at him and recognize him as Yoon Jeonghan, the guy that got hit by a truck while biking. He looks like he’s trying to decide if he’s included in the “on the ground” order.

The goons pick on a couple people, shoving them to the ground.

“Hands above your heads!” One of them orders, pointing his gun at random. You raise your hands again, Jaemin following more reluctantly.

Ten minutes pass as goons escort people from all over the hospital, the lobby quickly becoming packed. Half the patients are in wheelchairs, clinging to IV drips while the doctors and nurses glare at the men. Finally, it seems they have collected everybody, and a quiet tension falls over the room.

Then the man in the black mask strolls in.

“What’s the saying?” He asks, muffled voice carrying in the open space. “If you want something done right, you’ve got to do it yourself.” He clasps his hands behind his back, strolling along, peeking at the cowering hostages.

“He doesn’t have a pinstripe suit,” Jaemin whispers.

“I don’t even think he’ll call the henchmen goons,” you whisper back.

Jaemin shakes his head. He’d probably tsk if he didn’t think it would get you both killed.

“I bet they’ll still beat us up,” you whisper.

“If you don’t shut up, they definitely will,” Jeonghan mutters.

Jaemin rolls his eyes and makes a face at you. You bite back a smile. You’ve tempted fate enough.

“The name you all will know me by is Black Mask,” he announces.

This time you can’t help the smile, turning away from Jaemin to prevent yourself from laughing out loud. Even Jeonghan mutters, “Very creative.”

“I have a list, you see,” Black Mask continues, “people that owe me. They know what they’ve done. I promise if your name is not on that list and you don’t make a fuss, no harm will come to you. I’m a reasonable man.”

Reasonable men don’t play dress up and shoot up hospitals, but you figure he’s due for a dramatic speech. At least he’s explaining why he’s here.

Black Mask pauses in front of one of the nurses—Shotaro, a good nurse who you’ve worked with several times. He grabs him by the shoulder, sending him sprawling to the floor.

“This one,” Black Mask announces, waving at his goons to pick Shotaro up. They half drag him away as Black Mask continues to make his way through the crowd.

“This is more efficient, you know,” he says. “I’ve tried other methods, but there were some complications. So, I thought to myself, if you’re all in one place, why not just go to the source?” He points at another nurse, Sehun, but Dr. Bae steps in front of him. Black Mask pauses, tilting his head to peer at her before gesturing to the goons to drag them both away. Dr. Bae puts up a fight, trying to twist out of their grip, but one of the men tosses her over his shoulder and carries her out. Sehun follows, stumbling behind.

Dr. Moon, Jaehyun, Shotaro, Sehun, and Dr. Bae, though it seems like she wasn’t originally a target. All good, hard workers, not the type to make mistakes, definitely not collectively. You watch as Black Mask creeps closer and closer.

You’ve worked with all of them. Only a few months ago, a case of a man with terrible burns on his face. Your blood runs cold as Black Mask stops in front of you. You stand up, a heartbeat before he points.

“You,” Black Mask says, venom seeping into his voice. “You owe me.”

“I remember you,” you say, keeping your voice soft.

“You remember what you did to me,” he says.

“I didn’t do anything wrong,” you say, “and neither did anyone else in this hospital.”

He raises a hand and smacks you, and before you can react, two of his men grab your arms, dragging you away whether your feet move or not. You try to think of something witty or smart, but all you can think is how much you don’t want to die.

They take you to the stairs, carrying you up two flights of stairs before depositing you in an empty patient room. One of the men stays with you, guarding the door, while the other vanishes.

You glare at the man, face stinging. Jeno would tell you not to provoke a psychopath.

But Jeno’s not here. You shouldn’t want him to be, because even if he could be here, he would only get himself hurt, and you won’t be responsible for causing him any more pain.

He said he loved you, even after all he’s been through. He wasn’t afraid.

You don’t want Jeno here, not to save the day. But it’d be nice to apologize to him. And if there was only one person you could say goodbye to before you died, you’d want it to be Jeno.

Maybe you do want Jeno to save the day. Just so you can apologize. Just so you can tell him you were wrong. Just so you can finally admit the truth.

Jeno’s bike screeches to a stop a block away from the hospital. He parks it in an alley, covering it with a tarp and trusting that the locks will prevent anyone from stealing it. He hopes he’s swiped it from the impound lot enough times for the police to leave it alone too.

He climbs to the roof of the nearest building, moving painfully slow, between the pull of the stitches and the exhaustion of healing such a large wound. But from here he can see the line of black cars in front of the hospital, the setting sun reflecting on the metal, making it difficult to see. He switches to infrared, the mask buzzing a couple times before picking up on the mass of bodies in the main lobby. Majority of the building is far too empty for a place of medicine.

From his memory of studying the schematics on an off day, he remembers the west facing wing houses the operating rooms, which explains why the infrared picks up a couple small masses. But with the rest of the hospital empty, the four rooms on the third floor stand out. Each holds two bodies, one significantly larger than the other.

That’s where he’ll start.

A better fighter would get a better gauge of the situation. Maybe spend more time determining which are civilians and which are hostiles, or figure out exactly where they’re holding people. But Jeno has always worked best flying by the seat of his pants. He still doesn’t know what the hell is going on, but these must be the hostages important enough to separate from the main group.

It would be safest if you were on the first floor, just one of many in the crowd, but the selfish part of Jeno wants you to be where he can see you. Where he can save you.

He can’t waste any more time. He shoots the grappling gun, pulling on it to build momentum even faster and angle himself directly at the window. It shatters beneath his feet, and he tucks into a tight ball, rolling once before springing onto his feet. He ducks as the big man swings a crowbar at him, wincing at the sharp pain near his stomach. He takes a quick strike with his knife, slashing up across the stomach first, then across the throat, finally driving the knife into the man’s heart. He crumples to the ground and doesn’t move.

Jeno pulls the blade out, wiping the blood from the knife on his pants and sheathing it. He turns around to find a figure in a white lab coat, cowering in the corner of the room, hands over their head, glass shards scattered around them.

He crouches down in front of you, brushing the glass off your shoulder. You peek up at him, eyes softening as you recognize him even though you’ve never seen him in the mask before. There’s a small cut on your cheek. His thumb moves on its own, swiping at the blood and doing nothing but spread more on your face.

“Are you okay?” Jeno asks. The modulator of the mask twists his voice into an unrecognizable beast. It’s perfect for protecting his identity and intimidating low lives, not so great for comforting the scared victims. Maybe he should tweak that part of the suit, make it adjustable. But you don’t flinch, standing up and shaking the rest of the glass off.

“I’m fine,” you say. “How did you get here so fast?”

“These are the same guys that shot me,” Jeno says. “I had a tracker out on the car, which led me here.”

“Sionis,” you say. Jeno frowns. He knows that name.

“Roman Sionis, that’s the guy doing all of this,” you explain. “He was a patient three months ago, really bad damage to his face. He’s targeting the team responsible for his care, doctors, nurses, everyone he blames for what happened to his face.”

“Which includes you,” Jeno says.

You nod, eyes tight. “Which means they weren’t after you when you got shot.”

“Hey,” Jeno says. “I’m fine. You patched me up, and I’ve got the super healing, so if either of us was going to get shot, I’d rather it be me. It’s not your fault.”

“I know,” you say, though you don’t sound like you believe it. “Should you really be jumping through windows, though?”

He shrugs. “Didn’t pull the stitches. I swear.”

You purse your lips but let it go. He wishes you would just say what you’re thinking but you look away from him, glancing at the door.

“They took three more of us up here, and they probably know you’re here by now.”

Jeno nods. Resolve the situation, then talk.

“I’m going to clear out the rooms one at a time,” he says, “then work my way downstairs.” He unholsters a gun, handing it to you. You raise an eyebrow.

“I’ve never used one of these.” You reluctantly take the gun out of his hands.

“Point and squeeze the trigger,” he says. “It’s semi-automatic, you don’t have to do anything to reload. If they’re close enough you won’t even have to aim.” He forms your hands around the gun, teasing your fingers into the right position and turning off the safety. He lets his hands linger, waiting for your eyes to meet his, though he remembers a moment later that the mask conceals them.

“Get the rest of the hostages and stay together,” he says. “I’ll be right back.” He forces himself to let go of your hands but doesn’t step away yet.

He should say something else. Maybe apologize for what he said. Take it back. But he meant every word of it, even if you did too. He’s said all he can, and if that’s still not enough then at least you’re still alive.

“Go save the day,” you finally say. “Then… I’ll see you after.”

He nods, turning away and striding to the door, stepping over the body. “Wait for me to clear the rest of them, then get the hostages out of here.”

He pulls the door closed behind him, trusting that you will be fine on your own. He doesn’t have time to worry, ducking to dodge the knife that flies toward him. He doesn’t let the man get a second chance, sprinting as fast as he can and burying his knife in the man’s heart. He’s turning a second later, using the man’s body as a shield against the second man in the hall, who doesn’t hesitate to fire a couple shots. Jeno throws the first man’s body on him, his knife following quickly after, burying itself in the man’s forehead.

Like always, his pains melt away when he’s fighting. He barely feels the tug of the stitches, or the exhaustion he felt earlier. This body was made to kill, and that’s what he’ll do.

He ducks into the room next to yours, knocking the guard to the floor and stabbing him. The hostage, a woman wearing a white lab coat, stands.

“Wait here,” he says. “I’ll clear the rest of this hall. Don’t go outside unless you want to get shot.”

She nods slowly.

Jeno clears the other two rooms similarly, quick and far too easy. He hesitates at the stairwell. He should clear the rest of the civilians if he wants to resolve things quickly, but it feels wrong to leave these hostages to you—you were a hostage yourself only a few minutes ago. But it’s irrational. He knows you’re capable of protecting yourself, and smart enough not to get yourself killed. He has to trust you and do his job. You were the one that told him to save the day.

He doesn’t bother with the stairs, jumping in the open space between the flights and using his grappling hook to control his fall. If he wasn’t hurt, he’d just drop the three stories, but it’s only a little slower this way. He retracts the hook with a button and sticks it back into his belt, pulling out his knives.

He makes it halfway down the hall before he sees the first figure, raising his knife on instinct. He drops it a moment later, picking out the scrubs from here. The nurse sprints past him, barely glancing at him. More and more people follow, until a stream of people flood the hall. They part around him, allowing Jeno to make it to the lobby as it clears. Only a few people remain, mostly patients that struggle to move on their own and the people that stayed behind to protect them.

Where is Sionis? Where are all of his men? Even in the flood of people, they would have stood out. Did they hear the commotion upstairs and run? One of the men fired his gun a couple times, maybe they went to investigate.

No, they wouldn’t have let the hostages go if that were the case. He curses himself for not trusting his instincts, turning around to get back to the stairs, but the hallway is still blocked by all the people clamoring to leave.

It takes painfully long to get to a stairwell, but he finally makes it. That’s when he hears the gunshot—different from the pops before, no this is a sound he recognizes. This is his gun.

You wait until the hallway is quiet, peeking out the window for good measure. Nothing moves, the bodies on the floor limp. Blood pools around the three, puddles bright against the white tiles. You wait for another heart beat, holding your breath but the only movement comes from the blood, trickling down the hall.

The door creaks open beneath your fingers. It feels like your footsteps echo as you hurry to the closest door. You make it to the first door, hand on the doorknob when you hear it—footsteps echoing from the stairwell, the opposite side of where Jeno left. They thunder up the stairs, at least ten men.

You open the door a crack, whispering a sharp, “Stay hidden!”

You don’t give whoever is behind the door a chance to argue, closing the door and sprinting to the stairwell as fast as you can. You hear a shout just as you cross into the stairwell, sprinting forward. You take one step toward the descending flight but see dark heads bobbing in the space between the stairs. You curse, turning and heading up.

Shit, shit, shit. You can only go up. The men from the other end of the hall burst into the stairwell, your heart sending another shot of adrenaline through your body and pushing you to take steps three at a time. Even as you feel your body working harder than ever before, you know it won’t last. You have to find somewhere to hide.

You burst onto the fifth floor, cringing as the door slams against the wall. No chance they missed that.

You run as far as you dare, ducking into a storage closet and curling into a ball in the farthest corner, hiding behind a wall of bedpans. You shove a hand over your mouth, trying to cover your heaving breaths. Bile rises in your throat as the sprinting catches up to you but you swallow hard, closing your eyes and praying.

Jeno’s gun rests in your other hand. The cold metal helps calm you down, your breathing evening out as you hear a door bang open. A moment later then there’s another bang. You hear footsteps in the hall, then another. They must be checking room by room.

You’re about halfway down the hall, maybe five rooms in. You don’t have much time.

You raise the gun, letting go of your mouth to hold it with both hands. Your finger drops to the trigger. Point and squeeze, Jeno said. You can do that. You aim it at the door, bracing your arm on your knees to keep them from shaking.

You flinch at the next bang, feeling the wall shake. They’re in the room right next to you. They trash the room, sending vibrations through the floor, until it suddenly stops.

You’ll have to move fast, you can’t give them any chance.

Light cascades around as the door is thrown open. You squeeze the trigger, keeping the gun aimed at the large mass in front of you. There’s a loud bang and the gun slams your shoulder back but the man stumbles backward. You squeeze the trigger again and this time he goes down.

A second man dodges the falling body, taking a step inside but you squeeze the trigger again and again and again and he falls too.

Shit, how many shots was that? You clench your teeth but they seemed to have learned the lesson for the moment—nobody follows.

“Alright, that’s enough fun.” You recognize Sionis’ voice from behind the mask this time. “Come out on your own or get dragged out. Your choice.”

“I’d really rather stay here,” you say, voice shaking. You force yourself to your feet.

“Fun way it is,” Black Mask says. This time two men push their way through, one blocking the other. You shoot and it hits the front man in the shoulder but he doesn’t go down. You squeeze the trigger again but nothing happens.

You throw the gun at him, hoping to catch him in the head but he just knocks it away. You start pulling things from the shelves, throwing as hard as you can. It does nothing to stop them, grabbing you by the arms and heaving you off your feet. You twist and kick and try to bite but they don’t seem to notice. They hold you up in front of Black Mask in the middle of the hallway.

“You are a feisty one,” he muses, watching you thrash.

“Let me go,” you say. You try to growl but it comes out more like pathetic begging.

“I’d like you to calm down a bit,” he says.

You open your mouth to tell him to fuck off but apparently that was some sort of signal because one of the men raises a fist and brings it down hard on the top of your head.

It sends jitters down your spine as your teeth clang together. You blink tears away, your head lolling forward a little. The floor blurs beneath you—no it’s your eyes, struggling to focus.

“Now, on with business,” Black Mask says, clasping gloved hands together. “I—”

You nearly fall to the floor as one of the men holding you—the one you shot in the shoulder—falls to the ground. You tilt backward as the second man goes down but a tight hand around your arm yanks you backward.

Black Mask pulls you into a patient room, the bed pushed against the wall next to the bathroom. He pulls you away from the door until your back is against the window. He keeps his hand tight around your arm, pressing something hard and cold against the side of your head. Your brain still reels from the hit but you don’t have to think hard to figure out it’s a gun.

There are a few shouts from the hallway but it falls quiet quickly. Only one pair of boots echo in the hall, solemn footsteps that pause by the door. Then Jeno appears in the doorway.

Blood splatters cover the shirt, concealing the bat motif. It seeps into his leather jacket, though Jeno himself seems to be unscathed. He holds a gun in one hand and his knife in the other.

“That’s close enough,” Black Mask says when he tries to step inside.

Jeno’s mask covers his eyes, but if it didn’t, you’re pretty sure he’d be glaring. “Let the innocent go. Settle this like an adult.”

“Innocent?” Black Mask cackles. “Sure, I’ll let the innocent go. I already did that.” He grips your arm tighter, pressing the gun harder into the side of your head. “But this one isn’t innocent.”

He taps on the mask. “I don’t wear this for fun, I’m sure you know. But I’m not like you. I don’t hide to protect myself or my loved ones—I don’t even have loved ones, and you know why? Because this idiot and the idiots at this hospital don’t know how to do a simple facial repair!”

“They were third degree burns, you’re lucky to have a face,” you say.

“Shut up!” Black Mask screams, shoving you. Jeno takes a step forward but freezes when Black Mask turns back to him.

“One more step and you’ll be cleaning some brains off your mask!” He takes a breath, lowering his voice. “I’ll be the first to tell you, that’s no easy task.”

“Let the hostage go.” Jeno sounds cold through the modulator.

“And you’ll let me go?” Black Mask huffs a short laugh. “I don’t think so. Your reputation precedes you.”

“Then you know what will happen if you pull that trigger.”

“Leave now and I’ll leave this one alive,” Black Mask says.

“What, half mad after you spend a few hours with your tools?” Jeno says. “Your reputation precedes you, too.”

Black Mask sighs. “Then it seems I have no choice.” The gun presses hard against your head.

“I’ll be seeing you around,” Black Mask says. You squeeze your eyes shut, waiting for the shot but the pressure on the side of your head vanishes.

There’s a loud bang, and for a moment you’re sure you’ve died, but then you feel a hard shove on your chest. Your legs hit the wall but it’s not enough to stop you from tumbling out the window, nothing but air beneath you.

You barely raise your arms out before something tackles into you, an arm wrapping around your waist. You wrap your arms and legs around whatever they find, clinging like a baby monkey to Jeno’s side.

He raises the other arm, shooting the grappling hook and pulling hard. You snap in the air, swinging up higher than you had fallen until you’ve crested the roof.

“I got you,” Jeno says, arm wrapped so tightly around you you’re crushed against his side.

He takes all the weight as you fall onto the roof, bracing the landing with his legs, somehow remaining upright.

You can only cling to him, waiting for your brain to sort out what happened. You aren’t dead. Black Mask threw you out the window. Jeno caught you. You repeat the words over and over in your head until they almost make sense.

“We’re back on solid ground,” Jeno says.

“Mhm.” You don’t let go, keeping your arms tight around his neck.

“You’re safe now,” he says.

“I know.”

He pauses. “You can let go.”

“Not ready yet.”

“Okay.”

For a long moment all you can hear is the pounding of your heart. It lessens and you start to hear tires screeching on pavement down below, people shouting, sirens wailing in the distance.

“Black Mask is getting away,” you say.

“It doesn’t matter,” Jeno says. “I’ll get him when I get him.” His hand ghosts over your back. “All that matters is you’re okay.”

“I’m fine,” you say. “Physically fine, at least. Just trying to sort out my head.”

He hums, second arm wrapping around you in a true hug. You let yourself linger in the moment, breathing in the sharp scent of blood on his jacket. It smears against your scrubs as you press closer to him, turning them slimy against your skin. The jacket hides the warmth of his body, a hard layer separating you from him.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers.

You lean back, letting go of his neck to rest your hands against the side of his mask. Whatever it’s made out of is hard, a thin metal that curves around his features yet doesn’t bend beneath your fingers. It doesn’t look anything like Jeno, the pale eyes concealing the most human part of him. He reaches up, pulling the mask off.

Sweat makes his hair stick to his forehead, which is creased with concern. His eyes flit between yours, dark and full of everything. For too long when you first ran into him, he would look at you with cold emptiness. Though you can’t read everything behind them now, he doesn’t bury all his feelings. He lets them shine through.

“It’s not your fault,” you begin, letting your hands fall to his shoulders. “Too much has happened, and that guy hit my head, and I thought I was going to die, so it’s hard to tell what I want to say. What I’ve been meaning to say.” You take a deep breath, looking at his forehead instead of his eyes, at the white streak of hair that clings to his forehead. “But if I don’t say it now, I think I’ll chicken out and never say it.

“I’m kind of a coward,” you say. “I don’t want to get hurt—I mean, like, don’t let anybody anywhere near my heart to keep it safe, and it works. I’ll find an excuse, any excuse to push them away.

“I did it to you. Yeah, I don’t want to die, and I don’t want to think about you dying because it always sends me into a spiral, but those were all excuses. It doesn’t matter that you wear that mask. That doesn’t change anything, and I won’t hide behind it anymore.

“I love you,” you say, “so much. So much that it’s making me brave. I don't want to be a coward anymore. I want to love you. I’m sorry it took me so long, but I love you, I really, really do.”

Jeno doesn’t say anything for a long moment, looking back and forth between your eyes. He doesn’t frown or smile, his face a mask itself.

“Oh,” he says.

“Apparently near death experiences lead to radical reflections and revaluations of life values.”

And then he smiles, a real smile that curls his eyes and sends your stomach hurtling in somersaults. He presses his forehead against yours, your hands still resting on his shoulders.

“Don’t apologize for things that aren’t your fault,” you say. You brush his cheek with your thumb. “Save your applogies for real fuck ups.”

He snorts. “Think there’s going to be a lot of those?”

“Somehow I think I’m going to get stood up a lot,” you say. “It’s okay, though. That’s just what happens when you date a superhero.”

“I don’t know about that,” he says. “I’m no superhero.”

You kiss his nose. “Whatever you want to call it. But you’re a good man, Lee Jeno, through and through.”

Jeno brushes his lips against yours, barely a kiss. He moves hesitantly, like he’s scared you’ll crumble in his hands.

Well, you’re not going to die, he made sure of that. You are here and alive, and so is he. You grip the neckline of his jacket, pulling him into a crushing kiss. You press your lips harder against his and his arms tighten around you, finally kissing you back.

It’s terrifying, how much you trust him. Like jumping off a cliff and knowing he’ll catch you—which basically he just did—you have to let go of the fear. Even when his arms are wrapped around you and you can feel him with every atom, it isn’t easy—a part of you will always want to run away, protect yourself. But you’re done running. Jeno put a gun in your hand and told you to fight. You can do that for him—for yourself.

You will hold onto him and you will love him and he will do the same for you. It’s all you can do.

Bonus:

Jeno doesn’t know how you slept on this armchair. The back is stiff against his back and he can’t hang his legs off the side without the arms cutting into the back of his knees. He can tuck his head against the wing but it leaves his neck at an awkward angle.

It’s for the best, though, since he needs to stay awake anyway. He shifts the chair until it’s against the side of the bed and sets his legs back on the edge of the bed, crossing one over the other and resting his elbows on the armrest. You raise your eyebrows at his feet but don’t tell him to move. He’ll give it a good twenty minutes before he tries to sit on the bed. He wonders if you’ll kick him out if he just asks outright if he can curl up next to you. Better to ease into it.

You look radiant, wearing a big t-shirt curled under the blankets. Your lips curl into a little smile every time you catch him looking at you (which is pretty much always).

“I’m going to invest in a big ass taser,” you say, still listing out your plan to keep yourself safe. “And some heavy duty pepper spray.”

“I can teach you how to shoot a gun,” Jeno offers.

You make a face, nose scrunching.

“No?”

You shake your head slowly. “No thank you. My arms hurt.”

“How about some hand-to-hand?” He asks.

“Are you going to be able to keep your hands to yourself?”

“What are you talking about?”

You look pointedly at his hand, which has found yours, fingers tapping on your knuckles. Huh, he didn’t realize he was doing that. He raises both hands, holding them up like a criminal waiting to be arrested.

“My bad,” he says, setting them in his lap. Your bottom lip juts out for a second but you’re too proud to ask him to hold it again. He bites back a smile at the little war behind your eyes.

“How’s your head?” He asks.

“Concussed,” you say flatly.

“You want to sleep?” He asks.

“Not yet,” you say. You finally concede, reaching out a hand for him. He puts his feet down, slipping out of the chair to sit on the edge of the bed, clasping his hand over yours. Your shoulder rests against his hip. You blink up at him.

“What?” He asks. “Is this okay?”

You nod slowly, studying him with piercing eyes. He gets the feeling you see right through him, so he turns his gaze to your intertwined fingers.

“What did you think of me when you first saw me? When you moved here, I mean,” he asks.

You pause for a long moment. “Honestly?”

“Yeah.”

“I thought you were unemployed for at least two months.”

Jeno snorts.

“I mean pretty much every time I knocked you were wearing sweats and half the time you looked like you had just woken up!”

Jeno scratches the back of his head with his free hand. “I don’t wear sweats that often.”

You pause for a moment and he doesn’t dare peek at your face. “When you asked me to sew up your scalp, I figured it was either vigilante or something worse, and then I saw Red Hood on the news and I just knew.”

He looks at you, head tilted down to see the top of your head. “Really?”

“It looks like you,” you say. You pause before adding, “Plus you’ve got that leather jacket hanging in your entryway. What’s up with that, by the way?”

“What?”

“Your ‘suit.’ A leather jacket and cargo pants?”

“They’re functional,” he says.

“Your name is Red Hood and you don’t even have a hood. It’s a mask.”

“Well a hood doesn’t exactly protect you,” he says, “and it strikes fear into my enemies.”

You snort. “Does the black t-shirt help with that?”

“Yeah, I can’t defend that one,” he says. “It’s cheap and easy.”

“No wonder you died,” you say.

“I take personal offense at that,” Jeno says.

You yawn. “Okay buddy.” You scoot over a little. “Just lay down already.”

Jeno grins, shifting to pull the covers up and slide his legs down them. He stretches out, rolling as close as he dares to you. His arm hovers over you until you shake your head and pull it over your waist, shifting until he all but lays on top of you. Your shoulder presses against his chest, his head resting on the same pillow only a breath away from you.

“If you wanted to cuddle you could have just asked,” you say.

“Where’s the fun in that?”

You turn your head to meet his eyes, nose brushing against his. He could melt into your eyes, so warm and full of a happiness he hardly recognizes. He hopes he looks a fraction as happy as you do—and he hopes you know it’s only a fraction of how he feels.

He didn’t think he’d ever feel happy again. Even if he finally got his revenge on Joker and Batman, it would be bittersweet at best, the end goal of a bitter fight that started when he dragged himself out of that grave.

But he is happy. It’s the warmth that courses through every fiber of his body, the way his heart pounds every time he looks at you, the hope he feels when he thinks of the “after.”

“You know it’s been years since the last time I smiled?” He says.

“Yeah, I could tell.” Your eyes soften impossibly more. You rest your hand against his cheek again, fingers soft and careful as they trace the lines of his smile. They work their way to his lips, ghosting over the soft skin.

“I think that part is over,” Jeno says. “Hating the world.” He presses a kiss on your thumb. “I’d like to be happier now.

“Red Hood is a part of who I am, and it always will be. But Jeno is too, and I won’t let go of that.” He tightens his arm. “I’d like to hold onto you, too, though.”

You grin. “I’d like that too.” You press a short kiss to his lips. “But my head hurts and right now I’d really just like to go to bed.”

Jeno nods, shifting away only to turn off the lamp on your bedside table. He curls back around you, tucking his head against your neck and pulling you as close to him as he can. He is Jeno, he is Red Hood, and he isn’t alone anymore.

thank you for reading!! likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated

#🌟 stars galaxy #nct #nct dream #nct x reader #nct dream x reader #nct reader #nct fanfic #nct dream fanfic #nct dream fluff #nct fluff #nct dream angst #nct angst #jeno x reader #reader x jeno #lee jeno #lee jeno x reader #jeno fluff #jeno angst

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aramynx · 25 days ago

Text

ALL IS FAIR IN LOVE AND WAR

KATSUKI BAKUGO X READER

You and Katsuki have known each other since middle school, and have always notoriously been at each others' throats as naturally gifted students. Things take a frustrating turn when you both end up at UA, as those darned teenage hormones begin to run high…

a/n: if i told you that katsuki wasn't my favourite would you believe me? <3

*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.* *.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.* *.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*

previous • part 3 • part 4

To put it nicely, Katsuki was pissed. And quite frankly, so were you. For some unknown reason, he had started avoiding you like the plague since that training session. You were sure you hadn’t gone too far when teasing him, so what was his deal? Even when you tried to speak to him, he wouldn’t even tell you to get lost, he’d just get up and leave! Typical Katsuki, getting pissed off and giving the silent treatment.

Since he had stopped speaking to you, you had started talking to Izuku more than before- you’d known him the same amount of time as you’d known Katsuki, but you hadn’t grown quite as close with him throughout middle school.

“Hey Izuku, would you mind if I sit with your group at lunch?” You asked, smiling at the freckled boy who was tidying away his burnt-up notebook carefully.

“We’d be happy for you to join us, but is something going on between you and Kacchan?” He asked, a look of concern creeping onto his face. As usual, he was very ovservant.

Katsuki’s ears perked up at the nickname from the door of the classroom, where he stood beside Kirishima, bag slung over his shoulder. You hanging around that damn nerd only pissed him off more and more every day.

“I don’t mean to pry! It’s just unusual that you and Kacchan haven’t been together recently.” He explained, waving his jands frantically as you let out a sigh and crossed your arms.

“Well, for some unknown reason, Bakugo has decided he isn’t talking to me anymore.” You said loudly with frustration, hoping that Katsuki would hear you.

“Oh. I see; that’s strange.” Izuku said, putting his hand to his chin in thought before your voice snapped him out of his chain of thought.

“Hey, ‘Zuku?” You tapped his shoulder, “Sorry to burst your thought bubble but we should probably get going before the cafeteria gets too busy.”

“Right! Let’s go.”

Izuku smiled, standing up and walking you over to Iida and Uraraka who were waiting by the door for him. As you walked across the classroom beside Izuku, you felt a hard glare piercing through you, but brushed it off as you made your way to the cafeteria with Izuku and his friends.

✧ ✦ ✧

“Uhh dude?”

Katsuki’s eyes lingered on the door you had just walked out of, his ears falling deaf to the student beside him.

“Bakugo?”

Kirishima reached over to tap Katsuki’s shoulder, only for his hand to be immediately swatted away as Katsuki’s trance was broken.

“Why aren’t you talking to Y/N?” Kirishima questioned, “I thought you guys were like, good friends.”

“As if.” Katsuki scoffed, “What I do is none of your business anyway, Shitty Hair.”

“Avoiding your problems and ignoring someone isn’t very manly, dude. Did you even think about how Y/N feels?”

Kirishima looked forwards at Katsuki, an expression of concern clouding his usually smiley face as he attempted to reason with his ‘friend’.

“Shut the hell up, there’s nothing going on!” Katsuki yelled, walking out of the classroom alone, and down the corridor.

Katsuki took a sharp breath and sighed as he turned the corner of the empty hall, walking himself into a dark passage with a dead end. He stood in the shadow of the wall, leaning up against the concrete with his head down, staring blankly into the ground. His palms were sweaty; sweatier than usual.

When did everything get so damn difficult?

He dragged in another deep breath, releasing it shakily as he felt his leg tremble. Yes, he was pissed off, he was also upset, and confused, but that only made him more pissed off.

Why couldn’t he talk to you?

“Hey.”

Katsuki looked up from the ground, eyes finding their way towards a spiky, ‘shitty’-haired figure standing in the middle of the hallway.

“Listen man, if something’s going on and you need to talk, you can talk to me.”

“I don’t need to talk.” Katsuki snapped, walking towards him and barging his shoulder as he walked by, pausing for only a second as they stood back to back.

“Whatever you say, but my offer still stands.” Kirishima said firmly, not turning to face Katsuki.

Katsuki scoffed, leaving Kirishima in the darkness of the hallway as he made his own way down the the cafeteria. His head felt like it was spinning, his stomach felt like it was going to turn itself inside out, and his palms were still so goddamn sweaty, no matter how many times he wiped them on the inside of his pockets. His chest ached at the smile you gave to Izuku back in the classroom, but why?

As he dragged himself into the cafeteria alone, his eyes managed to find their way over to you through the waves of students passing by in groups, locking onto your smile as his posture slightly straightened.

Your smile.

But it wasn’t directed at him, this time. That was the smile you’d give when he teased you about trivial little things that made you laugh, the one that you showed him that night you stayed over with him and Izuku in middle school, playing Mario Kart until you fell asleep sitting up against the couch. He watched as you sat in the centre of the cafeteria, beside Deku, opposite that stuck-up glasses nerd and pink cheeks, smiling and laughing so much that there were tears in your eyes.

Katsuki felt himself tense up- his chest tightening as he looked on, hardly able to force himself to tear his eyes away from you. Somehow, it was still better than talking to you. Talking to you made him stomach twist, he felt constantly on edge, anxious. You made his chest burn and his palms sweat, his brain would just go into overdrive and he couldn’t even combat your teasing. You made him act… completely unlike himself.

Katsuki sighed, clenching his fists in his pockets as he turned around.

Maybe… If I keep ignoring you... This will go away… I’ll go back to normal.

As he dragged himself through the corridors, his brain overflowing with thoughts, he felt a vibration in his pocket.

Who the fuck is it now?

Katsuki pulled his phone from his pocket, eyes fixated on the message preview on his lock screen, accompanied by a time and location;

“Kacchan, we need to talk.”

*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.* *.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.* *.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*

taglist: @sikuthealien @bitchyfestivalbouquet @marsoverthestars

#bnha #mha x reader #my hero academia #bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugou

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ladykailitha · 9 months ago

Text

Across a Crowded Room

*grumbles* I can't believe this IT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE CUTE AND SHORT! Not only has it gotten a little angsty in middle there, it's about to breach 10k words. And I'm not even CLOSE to the ending.

The fuuuucckkkkk.

I was meant to be working on other things. Like editing a story to be beta'ed so I can put it on AO3 for you all, extending Batshit soulmates because I was skipping over too much, and wrapping up Glitters.

Guess who did none of those things because this story consumed my soul?

ME!!!

I will be posting this on Saturday as it's not one of my regular WIPs.

Enjoy. *sniffs* I guess.

Summary: Modern, no monsters AU. After they all graduated from high school the older teens drifted to other parts of the country. And while Steve and Eddie have made short trips to see each other, usually with the whole, they really haven't spent much time in the same room in years.

That all changes when Eddie is able to spend a week in Chicago with Steve and Robin.

But when Eddie sees Steve for the first time in years, he gets scared. Will have the courage to walk across that crowded room to be with Steve?

@mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @emly03

Eddie hadn’t seen Steve in years. After high school when they became friends through mutual parenting of six absolutely terrifyingly smart teenagers, they kinda went their separate ways.

Steve and Robin had gone to Chicago for college and Eddie and his band had gone further west to LA to try and make it as metal artists.

This is was the first time in a really long time that their schedules lined up. They talked all the time. Friends on all their social media. But they hadn’t seen each other since they said goodbye in Steve’s driveway four years ago.

Eddie was standing at the bar entrance where he was supposed to be meeting Steve, just staring at him.

God, he had been gorgeous in high school. Because of course he was. Captain of the basketball team, co-captain of the swim team, and the baseball team’s best hitter.

But he looked even more so now.

His honey colored, wind tussled hair had grown out a bit. A lock of hair flopped devastatingly in front of one of his hazel eyes. He had filled out some, once thin and wiry, now deep chested and toned. Even in the winterscape hell that was Chicago, Steve’s skin was warmly tanned.

He was laughing with a group of people and never had Eddie felt more out of place in his life, and that was saying something. He had been dropped off at his Uncle Wayne’s when he was twelve. Been nicknamed the “Freak”. And had always been flamboyantly himself: a big, gay, metal loving geek.

Eddie was about to turn around and go back the way he came when a familiar voice called his name.

He turned around and there was Robin Buckley. Steve’s platonic soulmate and best friend.

“Hey,” he croaked.

“Did you just get here?” she asked brightly.

Eddie nodded. “My flight was delayed three times. I haven’t even been to my hotel yet.”

Robin winced. “That sucks.” She looked at him more closely and he gulped. “You weren’t thinking of cutting and running were you?”

“Me?” Eddie said, dramatically clutching his hands to his chest. “I would ne–”

She raised an eyebrow at him, effectively shutting him up.

“I wasn’t gonna,” Eddie said mournfully, “until I got here. He just looks so happy. He doesn’t need someone like me coming back into his life like a wrecking ball.” He pulled out his phone and waved it at her. “Once I can get this charged, I’ll message him and tell him my flight got canceled and that’ll we’ll reschedule.”

She looked at his phone and then back up at him. “What happened to your phone?”

“My charging cable port snapped,” he grumbled. “And it died after the first delay.”

Again she winced in sympathy.

“You’re in love with him,” she said, “aren’t you?”

Eddie sighed and looked back over at Steve. One of his friends must have told a joke because Steve was laughing so hard his eyes were mere slits. He looked back at her and he sighed.

“The sky is blue, Midwestern winters suck,” he muttered, “and I’m in love with Steve Harrington.”

Robin rolled her eyes, then she got this calculating grin on her face.

“Uh oh.”

“I’ll tell you what,” she said slyly, “you let me do a little experiment with a small wager. If I win, you man up and tell him how you feel. If you win, you can tell him that your trip has been cut short and you have to go back in a couple of days and blow out his life again.”

Eddie pursed his lips and looked at back at Steve.

“What’s the experiment?” he asked.

Robin jumped up and down with glee. “I’m going to text Steve that I found you. You aren’t going to take your eyes off him the whole time. Then when I’m done, I’ll show the conversation.”

He licked his lips. “And what’s the wager?”

“You think he’s happier without you,” she said. “If that’s true, he’s not going to show a lot of excitement. He’ll be relieved and happy that you’re here, but no real enthusiasm. Right?”

Eddie just nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

“I know he’s going to flip out,” she continued with that sly grin. “He’s going to be jumping up and down and looking around for you, trying to find you in the crowd.”

“What if it’s somewhere in the middle?” Eddie asked honestly.

Robin cocked her head to the side. “Then you stay the full week and suss him out.”

Eddie let out a long sigh. “All right. You’re on.”

“Good!” she said. She grabbed him by the arms and moved him a little. “There. Now he won’t be able to spot you immediately.”

He had let himself be manhandled because he had long since learned that Robin could and would kick if he didn’t do what she wanted.

“Now, keep your eyes on Steve.”

Eddie scoffed. “Easiest thing in the world.”

Robin snorted and got out her phone.

He really wanted to look over her shoulder to see what she was typing because he was eaten up with curiosity about what she was sending Steve. But he did as he was told. He kept his eyes on the most beautiful boy in the world.

Steve pulled out his phone and then his head snapped up. He looked around excitedly. He started flapping his hands and talking animatedly with his friends. Eddie watched as he smoothed down his hair and wiped his hands on his jeans. He pulled out a breath mint out of his pocket and ducked his head when his friends obliviously teased him for it.

He looked over at Robin in shock.

“What the hell did you tell him?”

She turned her phone around and he read their conversation.

-Guess who I found by the door looking like a lost puppy?

-He’s here?

-Eddie’s here?

-Where?

-Why didn’t he text me? :(

-lol

-Calm down, I’ll bring him to you.

-The idiot’s phone died and his charger broke.

-I can’t be calm, how can I be calm? He’s here! He’s finally here.

“Oh.”

The little frownie face at the end of the “Why didn’t he text me?” message did Eddie’s heart in.

He cleared his throat. “Um...if I were to, say, I don’t know, go over there and kiss his lights out, would I get hate crimed?”

Robin laughed. “No. And there is no one in his friends that would be nasty about it either.”

Eddie nodded. “Lead the way.” He bowed and waved his hand dramatically so that she would go first.

“Nerd.”

Eddie cackled as he followed her to the table. Steve was on his feet the instant he saw him.

Eddie was a weak man. That had been pretty well established tonight. So he thought he could be excused when he picked Steve up by the waist and swung him around.

“Eddie!” Steve giggled.

Robin scoffed. “Gays are so disgusting.”

“Says the lesbian,” Steve said when Eddie had put him down.

“Lesbians are a different flavor of gay and thereby aren’t disgusting,” she said with a half shrug like it was a truth universally acknowledged or some shit.

He shook his head and turned back to Eddie, who had yet to let go of his waist. “I missed you, too, Eds.”

“I missed you so much, Stevie,” Eddie whispered back.

“Yeah?” Steve asked, hopeful.

“Yeah,” he breathed and lifted Steve’s chin. He pressed their lips together and suddenly Steve’s crowd of friends erupted into cheers.

Steve broke the kiss and stared up at Eddie in awe.

“Wow.”

Eddie giggled. “You like that?”

“Yeah,” Steve said, more than a little breathless. “You’re stuck now. That’s how I want you to greet me every time now.”

Eddie’s face split with a large grin. “You got it, baby.”

Robin cleared her throat. “May I remind you two that we are in fact in public?”

Eddie and Steve looked over at her and then back at each other. Robin isn’t sure who started it, but soon they both were laughing like children.

Steve introduced him to the small group of friends.

There was a sofa near the table Steve’s friends were sitting at so Eddie sat down there, so Steve could cuddle up on his side.

“How long are you in town for?” A punky Asian girl with pink and purple streaks in her short cropped hair asked. Steve had introduced her as Maria Nguyen. They had a couple of classes with each other.

Steve looked at Eddie as if he had been wondering the same thing.

Eddie chuckled. “That’s the surprise I was telling you about, darlin’. Me and the boys got a record deal and their headquarters and studio is right here in Chicago. So I will be moving to the fair Windy city.”

“You’re staying?” Steve asked, his voice rising with excitement.

“I’m in town for about a week to look for apartments and shit,” Eddie amended. “Then I will move here at the end of the month.”

“Holy shit!” Robin said, glaring daggers at him.

Steve picked up on the latent hostility, but Eddie shook his head and whispered, “I’ll tell you later.” He pressed a kiss to Steve hair.

“You have a band?” a large young man with freckles and braces asked. He had red hair and wire rimmed glasses. Steve said his was Jason, Justin...Jarren! That was it.

“Sure do!” Eddie said. “Corroded Coffin. Me and my three closest friends, besides Buck and Stevie here, have been out in LA playing our hearts out.”

“Buck?” Maria asked, rearing her head back.

“Buckley!” Eddie explained.

“So what kind of music do you play?” Jarren asked, leaning forward, very interested.

“Metal.”

Maria snorted. “Like that’s Steve’s least favorite kind of music.”

Steve sat up. “It is not! There are all sorts of music I don’t like. Metal can be good. It’s just the screamo shit I can’t stand. Corroded Coffin isn’t like that.”

“Yeah,” Robin agreed. “Hell, Steve would put pop music below metal and you know how much he loves Tears for Fears.”

Eddie groaned. “I still can’t believe of all the 80s bands out there to be your favorite you pick Tears for Fears!”

“What? They’re great.”

“Stevie, darlin’, love of my life,” Eddie said sweetly. “You cannot honestly tell me that their version of ‘Mad World’ is better than Gary Jules.”

“Wait?” Jarren said. “They did a cover of ‘Mad World’?”

Steve shook his head. “They sang it originally. Here let me show you.”

He pulled out his phone and handed it over. Robin, Maria, and Jarren huddled around the phone as they watched the video for it.

“That was trippy as hell,” Maria said, handing the phone back to Steve.

“I know, right?” Eddie said.

Steve rolled his eyes. “He does have a point regarding this one song. The original version is too fast for what the song is about.”

Eddie cackled with glee.

“I still maintain that Shout, Head Over Heels, and Everybody Wants to Rule the World are absolute bangers,” Steve huffed.

Eddie kissed his cheek and Steve blushed.

“Wait!” Jarren said, “Do my eyes deceive me or is Steve Harrington, the man, the myth, the legend, blushing?”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Not that again. I don’t believe it was ever a thing.”

Eddie sat up on the sofa, too and looked Steve in the eye. “What’s this, babe?”

“Stevie here made a girl come just by talking to her,” Robin said with a grin.

Eddie licked his lips slowly and Steve blushed deeper. “Did you now?”

“No!” Steve insisted. “That was just the excuse she used for running away after I badly flirted with her.”

Maria scoffed. “Dude, I was there, you did not flirt badly.”

Eddie pulled Steve close to his side and murmured in his ear. “I fully expect the full Harrington Charm experience, sweetheart.” His voice dropped really low. “Because I bet you could make me come just from the sound of your voice.”

Steve’s eyes went wide and he ducked his head.

Maria shook her head. “I can’t believe that King Steve got out rizzed by this swagless loser. How in the hell?”

“Maria!” Jarren hissed. “He does not look like a swagless loser. You take that back. He’s cool.”

Eddie turned to Steve. “Looks like you’re going to have to be the tie-breaker, sweetheart.”

“How’s that?” Steve asked. “Robin hasn’t said anything yet.”

“Ah, but that’s because I think I’m cool,” Eddie said holding up one finger, “and I know that Robin would vote for swagless loser.”

Robin snorted. “Damn right I would.”

“So it’s girls verses guys,” Steve said thoughtfully.

Jarren snorted. “More like lesbians verses the gays.”

Steve cocked his head to the side and then nodded.

“I dub thee my really cool metalhead geek!” Steve said solemnly.

Everyone’s eyes narrowed at him.

“Babe...” Robin said. “Did you just go down the middle of the road to avoid an argument?”

Steve batted his eyelashes at her. “Maybe...”

Eddie huffed and crossed his arms in front of his chest, pouting. Steve leaned forward and kissed the bottom of his jaw.

“How about my very cool, gorgeous, metalhead boyfriend?” he murmured softly.

Eddie looked down at him eyes wide. “Holy shit, you mean that?”

Steve nodded.

Eddie swiftly brought their mouths together and kissed Steve deeply. “That is acceptable.”

Steve giggled.

The night past in good company and drinks.

Eddie had duck out early because he still had to check into his hotel, but he kissed Steve goodbye and left with a spring in his step.

****

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Also, also. I forgot to mention that the title comes from a song by Counting Crows called Long December. So in my head I was singing, It's been so long since you came to (Indiana) I think you should!

Never mind they're in Illinois and the actual lyric is California.

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#stranger things #my writing #steddie #ladykailtiha writes

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wannabe-cartoonist-blog · 4 months ago

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Kuroko no Basket/Kuroko’s Basketball Character Heights vs National Average

Basically, these charts are me seeking justice for Kuroko, Akashi, and Momoi. Everyone always says they're all short, they're not short! Akashi and Momoi are tall for their age and Kuroko is perfectly average. They're tall for their age! Everybody else is freakishly tall.