#literally spent most of the evening blocking them
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pairing: caleb x reader
summary: how on earth were you supposed to write a good sex scene with almost zero experience? good thing your best friend was always willing to lend you a helping hand.
themes: childhood best friends to lovers, idiots to lovers, friends with benefits, college! au, slowburn, humour, fluff, angst, petnames, profanity, alcohol consumption, sexual tension, explicit sexual content (oral fem receiving, fingering, nipple play, protected + unprotected sex, clothed sex), porn with so much plot, they're both down bad asf
word count: 25k
lyns notes: its been so long since i've written a full length fic like this, and it ended up being so much longer than I anticipated but please don't get scared by the wc 😭 its so self indulgent because i love caleb and I had way too much fun writing this so I hope you enjoy! <3
This was utterly insane, even for you.
The idea started small, though you supposed you couldn’t ever classify it as innocent. At the time, it had been just a flicker, a fleeting thought that slipped through the cracks of your composure. You were in your best friend's dorm, lounging on his bed like it was your own as you complained.
“I’ve been stuck for weeks now. It’s like I’ve lost the ability to write.”
Caleb glanced over at you from his desk, leaning back in his plush chair as the movement of his fingers over the laptop keyboard stilled for a moment. The expression you received was familiar, you had been on the receiving end of it for years now. One of his lips quirked up, deep lavender eyes alight with amusement, and one eyebrow raised as he took in your anguished state.
“You haven’t lost the ability to write, Pipsqueak, it's just writer's block. You’ve had writer's block before.”
“Not like this.” You shook your head, pulling your knees to your chest and resting your chin on them. “I usually manage to overcome it in a week or so. It’s been like, three months.” Your annoyance with yourself was obvious to him, so clear in the slight pout on your mouth paired with that indignant expression.
It was true, you had been writing ever since you were little. Your imagination ran wild as a child, even before you could physically write, you would spin tales and make up stories to entertain yourself with, frequently getting lost in your own little world. You prided yourself on this talent of yours that helped you breeze through English essays and writing assignments, even going so far as to major in English at university. Writing was your bread and butter. It was more than just being good at it, it was the passion and fulfilment you felt when you did it.
Passion and fulfillment your ass, you couldn’t feel any of that right now.
You were writing a book, your very first one that you started penning in the summer before your sophomore year. The idea had come to you out of nowhere, and once you spent hours outlining all the details, you were certain it was something you wanted to bring to life. The need to finish it burned through you as you spent most of that break stuck at your desk, hunched over your laptop. Caleb had to quite literally drag you out of your room most days, muttering some nonsense about vitamin D and too much screen time.
He had always been like that ever since you were kids – protective, caring, attentive. It was built into his very being, you supposed, ever since he saw you cry outside the first-grade classrooms as a seven-year-old and promised to help you find your way to the correct one. Even now, as he hummed in thought, offering silent support for your frustration.
“You’ve gotten through a large chunk of it, right?”
“Yep.”
A slow, bargaining smile stretched out on his face. “Hey, you know, maybe if you let me read it–”
“Hell no.” You shook your head stubbornly. “I told you, I’m only letting you read it once it's finished, and I think it’s good enough.”
Caleb snorted, “So you mean never?”
You promptly threw one of the plushies on his bed at him. He deftly caught it, laughter slipping from him as he threw it back. The plushy was a grumpy apple one that he had won you back home at the arcade, but the pile of plushies on your bed was so huge that you graciously suggested that he keep it for you. Partial custody, you had joked, I have visitation rights.
“You’ll be the first to read it. I just….need to get through this one bit.”
Ah yes, the bit. The part that you seemed to be cursed to never finish. Everything before it had gone so smoothly, the words flowing and pouring out of you so perfectly. A fun romance novel full of twists and humour was what you aimed to achieve, and it seemed like you were succeeding.
That was, until you reached a part of the story that you truly had no idea how to write. The technicalities of it were.…..unknown at best, to you, who had almost no experience in the matter.
“You know, maybe you could tell me about it. Maybe I could help.” You knew the offer was genuine. Caleb had always been someone you could fall back upon for any assistance. Being two years older than you, in your eyes, he always knew what to do when you were in a pickle. He was the type of friend who placed bandages on your scrapes and offered you candy so you’d stop crying. He carried a hair tie around for when you wanted to tie your hair and helped you study for tests, and explained the concepts that you didn’t understand. Every time you had a problem, he never hesitated to help you in any way he possibly could.
But this….this was something you’d rather die than ask him about.
Immediately, you shook your head a little too quickly, shooting him a tight smile. “Nope, it's fine. Just something I gotta figure out myself.
He stared at you skeptically but shrugged. “Alright. Let me know if you change your mind, okay?”
You wouldn’t.
Would you?
Absolutely not. Even thinking about it felt like a betrayal. It was like opening a can of worms that held snakes. Deadly venomous ones.
And yet here you were, your teeth digging into the plush of your lower lip as he turned back to his laptop screen, continuing to work on whatever assignment he had due. He was in his final year and was infinitely busy, though he somehow still managed to make time for you.
Shamelessly, your eyes studied him. His arms, so well defined and firm-looking, were basically on display for you when he wore that white, sleeveless tee. Dark hair, unruly and messy, no matter how many times you ran your fingers through it in an attempt to fix it. A defined jawline that could probably cut you if you dared touch it. He had grown up unfairly well, no longer the lanky young boy you once knew, now a man. A hot man you had incredible chemistry with.
A very hot man who was completely off-limits.
Still. You supposed that his help couldn’t be the worst thing in the world–
A sex scene. That was what you were struggling to right. In terms of the story, it was a very natural next move for your characters, and it made sense, and while you could simply artistically describe the ordeal and fade to black, you felt it was a necessary addition. You wanted to showcase the desperation the two characters felt for each other, just how deep their feelings ran through something more primal. You wanted it to feel right, to feel magical.
The issue? You hadn’t the faintest idea of how to go about it. In all your nineteen years of life, you had only had sex once, and it had been far from magical. It had been uncomfortable and rushed, the result of a very stupid, drunken one-night stand in your first year. The guy very evidently didn’t know how a woman's body worked, and even thinking back on it made you cringe and fold in on yourself. If it were possible to manually pluck the memory out and destroy it, you would have done it in a heartbeat.
So how on earth were you supposed to write the perfect sex scene when your one sole experience in the matter had been so terrible?
And you couldn’t ask Caleb for help. Even considering doing so made you feel as if you would spontaneously combust. He was your best friend, for crying out loud, and this crossed so many lines. You knew very well that he wasn’t a virgin by any means, having caught glimpses of the occasional hickey on his neck despite his best efforts to hide it from you. He was twenty-one, experienced and could probably talk you through it–
Nope. Not going here.
The idea of Caleb explaining sex to you was mortifying. You didn’t want to hear about any of his conquests, even just the thought of him talking about it made you want to throw up. The notion of him having sex only made your cheeks warm and your throat go uncomfortably dry.
Against your will, the thought festered. It burrowed its way into your mind and settled there as if it belonged, despite its having no business being there. This was completely unethical, but before you could stop yourself, your gaze zeroed in on his tongue darting out of his mouth, licking his lips in concentration as he typed out something. For a second, you wondered how it would feel if he dragged that tongue across the skin of your neck.
Oh my god. What if he simply showed you?
The moment that depraved idea popped into your head, you shot up, getting to your feet with urgency. Startled, he looked over at you, frowning at the alarmed look on your face.
“Are you good?”
“I’m great!” Your voice sounded funny, like you were trying to digest a rock. “I just– er– remembered I have some homework to finish for tomorrow. So I should get back to my room.” You padded over to his door, slipping into your shoes and waving at him. “See ya.”
“....Bye.” He watched your awkward, rushed movements with a puzzled look on his (very nice) face.. You nodded curtly before opening the door and escaping the confines of his dorm, out of his scrutinising gaze that could read you annoyingly well. Another minute in there and you knew he would be grilling you for your odd behaviour.
Jesus Christ. You were so screwed.
“Y/n? Girl, you gotta get your head in the game.”
Tara’s voice cut through your reverie, causing you to snap out of it. One glance up at her would reveal an unimpressed look directed at you, her hands on her hips. “Our darling editor wants to know why your article isn’t on her desk yet.”
Tara was your closest friend after Caleb, and you had met her when you joined the university paper as a student journalist. She was smart, pretty and always had your back no matter what. Blinking rapidly, you sighed, waving your hand.
“Tell Jenna I’ll have it there by the end of the day.”
“You better. You know how she is about deadlines.” Tara pulled one of the chairs from the desk beside yours closer and sat on it, resting her elbows on the armrests. “Seriously, though, why are you spaced out today?”
Well, there was no way you could tell her the truth about that. So you resorted to using a half-truth as an answer. “Writer's block.”
“Ah.”
You turned back to the screen of your computer, staring at the article you had been writing. It was almost finished, thank god. At least here, you had the facts to write around, having done your research. Very different to the situation you found yourself in regarding your stupid book.
Ugh.
“By the way, your boyfriend’s here.”
Your head snapped up at her words, already ready to argue, knowing exactly who she was talking about. Walking into the newsroom holding two coffees was Caleb, wearing that blue-orange jacket that you had bought him for one of his birthdays. He did this pretty often, sauntering in like he owned the place even though he was technically not allowed to be there. Jenna had repeatedly reminded him of this, but he brushed it off, and after a while, she simply stopped bothering. Thus, despite not being on the paper, he spent a lot of time in the newsroom.
This was another problem you faced daily: people mistaking him for your boyfriend. The number of times you had to rehash the fact that he was simply your best friend was astounding, and back when you were a freshman, the constant whistles about you dating an upperclassman– and none other than Caleb Xia– drove you mad. You chalked it down to none of them being fortunate enough to experience a friendship as fulfilling and real as the one you had with him.
“He’s not my boyfriend.” You dropped your voice, keeping it just loud enough for her to hear your rebuttal that held a hint of venom, plastering a smile on your face as he closed in. Tara snickered.
“Sure, and I’m the queen of England.”
“Hey,” Caleb grinned down at you, his eyes momentarily flitting to your friend. “And what?”
“Nothing,” you said brightly, shooting her a murderous look that silently told her to zip it. She smiled innocently and shook her head, slipping back to her desk without another word.
“She’s an odd one,” he quipped, handing you one of the coffees and then shrugging off the jacket, dumping it on the free space on your desk. You already knew it was your regular order, something he had memorised years ago. You sipped the drink, letting the hot liquid calm you down, grateful for the caffeine. You hadn’t gotten much sleep the night before, spending it tossing and turning in your bed.
And why was that?
Caleb leaned against your desk. “Are you free later today?”
A dejected sigh escaped you. “Unfortunately, no. I need to finish this article by the end of the day, and it seems like my writer's block has infected every aspect of my life.” It was ironic, just how true that statement ran.
“Damn.” You could hear the tinge of disappointment in his voice. “I was hoping we would have movie night. I stocked up on your favourite candy.” He reached over, his fingers brushing against the skin of your forehead as he pushed some of your hair that fell in front of your eyes away from your face, neatly tucking it behind your ear like it was second nature. It was, you supposed, considering he had done so about a hundred times.
But something was different this time, or perhaps you were paying far too much attention to every little thing. To how he pulled back and the way the muscles in his forearm shifted subtly, making you wish he had kept the jacket on. The brief touch lingered on your skin, burned into it.
Fucking hell, you were a mess. A tragic, down-atrocious mess.
Your eyes lingered on his fingers for a moment. Heat crept up your neck, and you coughed, rubbing it absent-mindedly, hoping to push down the flush you felt taking over your body. It had been like this ever since the day in his dorm when your brain had decided to work against you and infect you with the thought of sex with your best friend.
What better way was there to describe your state than calling it an infection? It certainly felt like some sort of sickness with the way it plagued you against your will. Somehow, it was worse than the doomed crush you had harboured for him back when you were in high school, because at least that had been innocent. That was born out of pure admiration, and you were sixteen. A lot of things done at sixteen could be brushed off under the excuse of being young and naive. You had quickly gotten over it.
You were evidently no longer so naive. In fact, you knew too much.
“Maybe next time.” You managed to choke out finally after a silence that had stretched a beat too long. Part of you hoped he’d leave you alone now so that you could calm down and refocus your attention to the article.
But of course, he didn’t. Instead, he occupied the chair Tara previously had, complaining about one of his classes as you nodded along, sipping your coffee and glancing between him and your screen. The smooth cadence of his voice usually soothed you and calmed you down, but now it only put you on edge, flowing over scrambled thoughts like honey. Had his arms always been this nice?
You were going to hell.
All things considered, you held yourself to certain standards. You were a woman with morals and integrity, and you were not in the habit of staring at shirtless men.
Except when it was Caleb, apparently.
“Why are you half-naked?” You blurted out gracelessly, heat viciously curling up your body as your eyes dropped down to his torso. You gripped the Chinese takeout you had gotten on your way back from your evening class a little tighter as you took in his figure. A silver chain with a tag and apple pendant (something you had given him before he left for university while you were still struggling in high school) on his bare chest and perfect sculpted abs, running shorts hanging low on his hips.
“I was working out.” He said casually, taking the bag of takeout from your hands and walking back into his dorm, leaving you to follow him. You bit down on your tongue hard, almost hoping you’d draw blood.
This was ridiculous. You had seen him shirtless several times before and had never reacted like this. The other times hadn’t caused you to flush and definitely didn’t cause your heart rate to spike. It didn’t have you furiously fighting off thoughts that had threatened to consume you for over a week now, pushing them back into the furthest parts of your mind and locking them there.
“I’m almost done, could you grab sodas from the fridge?” Caleb placed the food on the table beside his bed. You wordlessly complied, picking the apple-flavoured sodas that both of you liked. Turning back to the main area of his dorm, you walked over, only to stop dead in your tracks.
Caleb was on the floor. Doing push-ups.
There was nothing inherently sexual about it in the slightest. You knew he liked to stay in shape, hitting the gym at least thrice a week to maintain his physique– a very nice physique that seemed to be your current undoing. His hair fell across his forehead, a little matted from sweat. You watched as he pressed down and back up, and in a moment of weakness, you wondered how it would be if you were under him instead of standing to the side and ogling like an idiot. Would his necklace dangle above you, swinging back and forth in your face?
Dear god. You needed to be sedated. Put down, even.
Finally, he seemed to be done, lowering himself down and then rolling onto his back. He sucked in a breath of hair, running his hands through his hair and messing it up even further. Finally, he sat up and looked up at you, a singular eyebrow raised.
“Why are you just standing there?”
Brilliant question. If only you could answer it.
Choosing to skillfully evade instead, you tossed him his soda can and grabbed his laptop from his desk, settling down next to him on the floor. Tonight, the two of you had decided to have dinner together and catch up on an anime you had started together a couple of weeks ago. It had been a while since you had properly hung out, and you knew damn well that it was all your fault.
You were avoiding him. Mentally and physically, especially physically. Caleb, however, being the understanding, saint of a man that he was, chalked it up to you being busy. He made sure to check in on you, shooting you texts or sending you funny videos he knew you’d like.
“We should try and finish all the episodes up until the latest one,” You said, opening up his laptop and logging into the anime site. “They released a new one on Wednesday.”
Caleb hummed, stretching his arms as he shuffled closer. Immediately, you froze, the close contact inciting pure panic within you. Jerking away from him, you glared, holding a hand out to keep an arm's distance between the two of you, much to his confusion.
“Put on a shirt.”
He frowned. “Why? It’s really hot.”
Indeed, it was. “Exactly. You’re all sweaty and gross.”
You really shouldn’t have said that. The moment the words left your mouth, his mouth curled into a smirk– one so disgustingly attractive that you were sure your knees would have probably buckled if you weren’t already sitting down– and his eyes lit up with a mischievous glint that told you he was up to no good. Carefully, he wrapped a hand around your wrist, and the contact has your brain short-circuiting and going into overdrive.
“I think that means you want a hug.”
“Wait– don’t you dare– Caleb!” You yelped as he tugged you harshly, forcing you to fall into his lap, his laughter resounding through the small dorm room. Awkwardly, you shoot your other hand out to steady yourself, placing it on his shoulder as you tumble into him, knee slotting in between his legs and body so dangerously close to his that you wanted to scream. Smoothly, he wrapped his other arm around your waist, circling it and somehow tugging you even closer, until you were flush against him.
“What are you gonna do now, Pips?” He taunted, voice just above a whisper right against your ear.
Unicorns, you bleakly thought to yourself. Puppies. Cupcakes. Sprinkles.
“You’re so annoying,” You hissed, throwing as much irritation into your voice as you possibly could in the hopes that it would drown out the shakiness you felt. His skin under your fingertips was warm, and you could feel that warmth through the fabric of your tank top. “Go fuck yourself.”
He laughed harder, the sound so contagious it broke you out of your downright sinful thoughts. You gripped his shoulder a little harder, mentally chastising yourself for the situation you found yourself in, knowing that there was no good reason for you to be this riled up. Playfighting with him was something you were used to; it was natural. It should not have had your blood pressure rising and heart slamming in your chest so violently.
Swallowing thickly, you barely processed how he let go of your wrist, his other arm also coming to rest around your waist as he pulled you further into his lap so that you were now sitting on top of him. Before you even had the chance to react to that, he buried his face in the crook of your neck and inhaled.
“Missed you this week,” He mumbled softly against your rapidly heating skin. You froze for a split second at the contact, hopelessly blaming the flush spread over your cheeks on the humid weather.
And then you softened.
Instinctively, your arms wrapped around his neck as you hugged him back. “I missed you too,” You whispered, following up with a lie to keep him off your trail. “Just had a lot of work.”
“I know,” he said so patiently that you instantly felt guilty. He lifted his face from your neck so that he could stare at you, and it hit you just how intimate the position the two of you were in was. Although reserved with others, Caleb had always been pretty openly affectionate with you. His hand on the small of your back, fingers intertwined with yours, a light kiss to your temple in encouragement– he had been doing stuff like that to you since you were ten.
So why did it suddenly affect you so much? Why did something so normal for you make you feel so different now?
“Just….tell me about it,” he continued, those mesmerising purple eyes of his locked onto yours. “Shoot me a text. Let me know what's up with you. Don’t you remember the last time you shut everyone out because you were stressed?”
You did remember. It was during your finals last year, when the workload you had overwhelmed you so badly that you simply pushed everyone away until they were over. Caleb had to practically storm his way back into your life and demand that you take a break and slow down before you worked yourself to the bone. The fact that he remembered this only made your guilt worse because your distance this time had nothing to do with your classwork.
It had everything to do with him, though.
“Yeah, yeah,” you mumbled, slowly slipping out of his embrace and settling down next to him once again. You had to remind yourself of what he was to you, and all this thirsting for him was neither healthy nor something a good best friend would do. “I’m not gonna do that again.”
“I’m just saying. And what the hell am I supposed to do with my free time if you’re not here to bother me?” He flashed you that shit-eating grin of his that you were starting to think was more devastating than mischievous.
You had to resist strangling him.
There was only one possible conclusion: something was deeply wrong with you.
How else were you supposed to explain your borderline insane behaviour? It had gotten even worse lately, causing you to daydream at the most inconvenient times, like when you were trying to get an assignment done or even in the middle of class. It was a wonder your professors hadn’t called you out for it yet.
Some level of restraint seemed to remain, though, with you stopping your thoughts from crossing any lines. The moment you caught your mind straying into dangerous territory, you forced yourself to stop, desperately searching for another distraction.
But there was only so much you could do. Thinking was proving to be a dangerous activity.
You pressed your palms into your eyes, hard. It was almost three in the morning, and you hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep. Earlier, you had tried to write around the damned scene, but emerged fruitless. It was like an obstacle you had to clear before you could get to the next level of a game, taunting you with its incompletion.
Something else taunted you, simmering underneath the expanse of your skin. Things that hadn’t even happened yet, but you had already dreamed of them– his mouth on yours, his hands tracing your body with a feather touch.
You were even wearing one of his shirts right now, the oversized tee reaching down to your mid-thighs. Several, just like the one you currently wore, sat neatly in your closet, having been stolen from him over the years. You could faintly smell his cologne; cidery and comforting, enveloping you in what felt like it could be his embrace. Turning onto your side, you pulled the blanket over your body and stared at the wall blankly.
Caleb had been your safe space for so long, and perhaps that was why you gravitated so easily to thinking about him like this. If there was anyone you trusted in such an intimate sense, it was him.
Even if it shouldn’t have been.
God knows you needed to get laid. Unfortunately, you didn’t want just anyone.
You swore you had never been this horny before, least of all for your best friend. Thinking about him in such a salacious way was strictly a new development that was quickly ruining your life, haunting you day and night. Even now, lying in your bed, heat that was impossible to ignore bloomed between your legs.
Maybe if you just indulged once, this madness would stop. Maybe you just needed an orgasm, and then you’d stop going insane over every single interaction you had with Caleb. It didn’t even have to be about him, and this was normal; everyone needed a release now and then.
Your fingers slipped between your legs, pushing the fabric of his shirt up, tracing the outline of your cotton underwear. Your eyes fluttered shut as you let your fingertips gently graze against where you needed them most, letting your legs fall apart just a little bit–
Deep purple eyes flashed behind your closed eyes.
Gasping, you retracted your hand like you had been burned. There was no way in hell you could touch yourself with him in mind; that was everything you had been avoiding for the past three weeks, ever since the notion had first sprouted. Groaning, you buried your face into the pillow.
This had to have been the stupidest cause of insomnia ever.
Caleb 🍎 [15:32 pm] : i better see u at the party tonight :D
Caleb 🍎 [15:32 pm] : will pick u up at 9
Caleb 🍎 [15:32 pm] : no buts.
Caleb supposed that this was technically his fault.
Mentally, he had already prepared for this outcome. It was why he had barely drunk the entire night, barely finishing two drinks and opting out of playing beer pong with the rest of his friends, despite Gideon's need for another member on his team.
“Come on, Pipsqueak.” He had an arm around your waist to help steady you, ensuring you wouldn’t fall flat on your face. You stumbled into the elevator, and he jammed the number of your dorm floor as you wrapped your arms around his torso weakly, leaning into him. Right now, he was the only thing keeping you upright.
You were drunk, slurring your words and unable to walk in a straight line without any assistance type of drunk. And yes, this was his fault.
Probably. Definitely.
One of the frat houses had thrown a party, and he had insisted that you come with him. He had always been great at reading you, and for the last couple of weeks, you had seemed tense over something, though you hadn’t told him what exactly it was yet. That was fine, he knew that eventually you’d spill, but for now, all he wanted to do was help you let loose.
That was exactly what he told you to do when both of you arrived at the party, even pouring you your first drink. Halfway through the party, you seemed more relaxed than you had in the last couple of days, swaying along to the music by his side. He made sure not to drink too much, wanting to be sober enough to safely get you back to your dorm just in case you overdid it.
His intuition always ended up being right when it came to you.
You whined as the elevator dinged, the doors opening. “Everything is spinning.”
“I know, honey, we’re almost there.” He helped you walk into the hallway, smoothly taking your handbag from you and extracting your keys. Holding you tighter, he opened the door and pulled you through, carefully seating you down on your bed and taking your boots off.
Like clockwork, he grabbed a bottle of water from your bedside table, unscrewed it and held it to your cherry-tinted lips. You only used that specific lip-tint when you were going out, and each time you did, he found himself wondering if it tasted like cherry as well. Even now, as he gently propped his index finger under your chin and tilted your face upwards, he entertained the idea of tasting it for himself.
But he wouldn’t.
“Drink up,” He said softly, “You’re gonna have a nasty hangover tomorrow.”
Obediently, you parted your lips, drinking with his help. Your cheeks were flushed due to the alcohol, hair a little frizzy from the heat, but still maintaining the styling you had done before the party. To him, you looked stunning at all times, but he could see the effort you had put in to look nice tonight, from your outfit (a black halter top and jeans) to your makeup, which he knew he’d have to help you take off now.
Once he deemed the amount of water you had drunk enough, he put the bottle back and went into your bathroom, knowing exactly where to find your makeup wipes. He had taken care of you like this once before, so his body moved like clockwork. There was no point in trying to get you to the bathroom– you’d probably just sit down on the floor and stay there for the rest of the night– so he took the wipes with him and crouched down in front of where you sat on your bed.
Smiling, he held your face again, this time a little firmer. “You’d hate yourself if you went to sleep before you took your makeup off,” he whispered, pulling one of the wipes out and dragging it over the apples of your face. Then, he glanced up and into your eyes, noting how you stared at him so keenly, even through a half-lidded gaze, lips slightly parted.
If Caleb could’ve kept your attention on him like this for the rest of his life, he would have.
“What's going through that head of yours?” He cocked his head to the side, studying your intent expression. Immediately, you looked away, but he wasn’t going to back down. Something had been troubling you, and he was determined to find out what. If you wouldn’t tell him outright, he would simply have to guess. “Is it your book, again?”
Your inebriated state made it hard for you to hide things from him. You stiffened in his touch, and he chuckled. “Bingo. You know, if you just told me what you were struggling with, I’d help.” He pressed your chin lightly, angling your face downwards. “Close your eyes.” He gently wiped over your eye makeup, making sure it was all off before continuing. “I know I’m not a writer, but I’m sure I'll be of some value.”
Finally done, he neatly folded the dirty wipe and placed it to the side. “Want some more water? Alcohol is dehydrating.”
And then, out of nowhere, you spoke.
“Sex.”
Well, blurting would probably be a better way to describe how you said the word. Caleb blinked rapidly, wondering if he had heard you correctly as his face snapped back to yours, eyes wide.
“What?”
“Sex.” You slurred a little bit as you leaned closer to him, jutting your lower lip out in a pout and repeating it once more for good measure. “Sex.”
“I heard you the first time,” Caleb could hear how strangled his voice was, unable to think straight at your sudden declaration. Oblivious to his mental distress, you thrust out your hand and pointed at the laptop that sat on your desk with drunken animosity.
“I can’t write a stupid sex scene.”
You sounded so crestfallen, and he would have totally started sympathising with you if not for the reason. A sex scene? What on earth were you writing?
“I–” He swallowed, “Well–”
“I mean, how am I supposed to write a good sex scene if I don’t know what good sex feels like? Or what even like, happens?” Alcohol had certainly loosened you up, and perhaps a bit too much, having erased any filter that you had. This resulted in you rambling on about everything you would have usually kept to yourself, and for good reason. “The sex I’ve had has been shitty.”
The sex you’ve had? Caleb almost bit his tongue off in shock, staring at you incredulously at the information you had dumped on him. He hadn’t even known you had been having sex, and thank every god for that, because he would have probably jumped off a cliff if you ever talked about your sex life with him. Surely, this was some sort of twisted fever dream he had found himself in. This could not have been real life.
“Christ,” He choked out, “I–okay, maybe I can’t help you–”
“Yeah, you can.” Your eyes cut to his, a little too intense for his sanity. “If you fucked me, I’d probably be able to write the scene.”
He gaped at you, about a dozen inappropriate thoughts running through his head before he could stop it. “What did you just say?”
Teenage Caleb would have died if he had heard you say that. Adult Caleb nearly did.
You sighed heavily, and it only succeeded in causing him to spiral even more. “I thought about it. I’m sure it would be good, y’know. You’d know what you were doing, you even look like you’re good at it.”
“You’re so drunk.” He tried to reason with himself out loud, but could hardly recognise his voice with how strained he sounded. Looked like he was good at it? What alternate dimension had he just fallen into?
“Oh, come on, Caleb. I need some hands-on learning, and you–” you slurred the words as you leaned close and wrapped your hands around his bicep, peering up at him through your lashes. “–have very nice hands. They’re hot.”
You, his best friend, his pipsqueak, had thought about sleeping with him. You thought his hands were hot. The news nearly killed him, and he had to force himself to look away from you, his mind running at a mile a minute. Heat prickled at his face and neck, impossible to ignore as he cleared his throat and stood to his feet, pulling away from your touch.
“You should sleep.” He stuffed his hands in the pockets of his jeans, stepping away from you. “I–I’ll see you tomorrow.” It was as if he were going through puberty all over again, with the way his voice cracked embarrassingly as he spoke. He left your room hurriedly, barely getting his shoes back on as he closed the door behind him and leaned against it.
Caleb exhaled, pinching the bridge of his nose as the back of his head hit your door. All these years of barely keeping it together around you, carefully tiptoeing between right and wrong, only for you to come and crash into whatever self-restraint he had left.
Right and wrong.
All of a sudden, he wasn’t sure if he was going to choose correctly anymore.
Death had to have been more merciful than the pounding in your head. Grabbing the covers, you pulled them over yourself like a cocoon, trying your hardest to block out all noises and sink even further into your mattress.
Unfortunately, your hangover-induced headache made it nearly impossible for you to go back to sleep. Cursing, you forced yourself out of bed and into the bathroom to freshen up and change out of your clothes and into something more comfortable. Naturally, you gravitated towards an oversized shirt and a pair of shorts, pulling them on after a quick shower.
Then, you went right back to your bed, not wanting to face the day in the slightest. You had managed to resist throwing up so far, and even the thought of having to function like a normal human being made you recoil into your blanket and stay there for the rest of the week. Just as you began to genuinely entertain that notion, a sharp knock at your door caught your attention.
You would have ignored it if you didn’t know the pattern of this knock by heart. No one but Caleb knocked twice in sequence.
Cursing under your breath, you scrambled to the door and opened it, squinting as the bright light of the hallway outside nearly blinded you. There he stood, grinning down at you as he held up a paper bag.
“Aspirin.”
“Thank god,” you immediately let him in, taking the medicine from him and pouring yourself a glass of water. He stood right behind you as you took the pill, ruffling your already messy hair and staring for just a second too long.
“Bad morning, huh?”
“You have no idea.” You winced at the whiny nature of your voice. “It feels like my head is trying to stab itself.”
Caleb chuckled dryly, sitting down on your bed and watching as you settled at your desk and ran your fingers through your hair, trying to smooth out the knots. Something was different about the way he was looking at you, but you couldn’t quite put your finger on it.
“You’ll be fine,” He muttered, shifting his gaze to the ceiling. You frowned, taking in the way his jaw ticked, and placed your glass of water down.
“Are you okay?”
“Me? Yeah, I’m fine.” He said it a little too brightly, glancing down at your desk. Something flickered in his eyes. “Made any progress on that book of yours?”
A frustrated sound left you buried your face in your hands, elbows on your desk. The reminder of your stagnant writing somehow worsened your headache, as if that was even possible. Of course he’d bring that up. “As usual, no.”
For a while, you had hoped that inspiration would strike you eventually, but it seemed like you were well and truly stuck. It had only taken a turn for the worse, with you suddenly despising everything you had already written, unable to even skim any of it without cringing and wanting to hit delete. Your inability to write had morphed into impostor syndrome, which was a development you didn’t appreciate in the slightest.
“It’s okay,” he said, and you would have mistaken his tone for reassuring if not for the way his lips twitched slightly. “I’m sure you’ll be able to write eventually. After you fuck me, apparently.”
Silence.
Razor-sharp silence.
Slowly, you turned your head to face him, eyes wide as saucers. “What….did you just say?”
“Only what you said last night. You said you were sure it would be good, which I beg to differ. It would be amazing, thank you very much.” He dared to smile oh-so innocently, as if he hadn’t just upgraded the superlative of what sex with him would potentially be like.
If you thought you were going to throw up before, you were sure you were going to now. You almost choked on your spit, waves of unadulterated shock crashing through your system as you gawked at your best friend, who appeared much too pleased with himself at the moment. If you weren’t so utterly horrified, you would have tried to slap the smug expression right off of his face.
“No.” The singular word comes out breathless, much to your mortification, your gut churning at the implications of that statement. “No, no, no–”
“Oh yes,” He grinned wickedly, leaning back on the palms of his hands.
“What–what the fuck did I drink last night.” You tried your levity, but your embarrassment ran too deep. Reaching up, you covered your face with your hands in a pathetic attempt to hide away from him. Never, in a million years, had you ever accounted for having this conversation with him, of all people, and you were almost certain there was something in your drinks that had made you say what you did.
His velvety laugh echoed through your dorm, and you wanted nothing more than to fold in on yourself. This had to have been the worst moment of your life.
“I guess you don’t remember, huh?” There was an amused lilt to his tone that made you want to jump out of the window. “I can refresh you, if you’d like.”
“NO!”
The shriek that left you was nothing short of abashed. He leaned forward now, smirking at you conspiratorially. “What's wrong? I thought you needed,” he paused, as if recollecting the exact words you had said to humiliate you even further. “Hands-on learning?”
You pointed to the door, biting back a scream. “Get out.”
The smirk only grew. “Aw, but if sleeping with me is gonna help you write again–”
“OUT!” You glared, cheeks flaming. Your anxiety had prepared you for at least a hundred outright ridiculous situations that had no chance of ever occurring, but none of them accounted for the possibility of your best friend talking about sleeping with you. You couldn’t fathom how he seemed so unaffected by it, as if he were speaking about something as mundane as the damn weather.
Caleb tongued his cheek, evidently fighting off another bout of laughter. He raised his hands to his sides in a placating gesture, but it did nothing to soothe your frazzled nerves. If anything, it only distracted you further, your eyes betraying you and straying to glance at his hands. A suppressed memory from last night resurfaced in your mind's eye, much to your displeasure.
You have very nice hands. They’re hot.
That was it. You were never going to touch alcohol again. Sobriety was your way of life now, seeing that you couldn’t keep your mouth shut when under the influence. The next time you need to let off some steam, you’d have an iced coffee.
“Alright, alright, I’ll go.” He moved towards your door, hiding his teasing smile behind his fist, disguising his chuckle with an exaggerated cough. “But Y/n?”
He didn’t use his beloved pet name. You straightened slightly, momentarily pushing away your embarrassment at the sudden serious shift of his voice. He opened the door and paused, hesitating for a single second. Then, he looked back at you, all-consuming, violent eyes locking onto yours.
“I would do it if you asked.”
You sighed heavily as you walked out of your last class of the day, rubbing the back of your neck and peering up into the darkening sky. Thursdays were the one day of the week when you had longer classes one after the other, which always resulted in you feeling exhausted by the end of it. You barely had the energy to even think about putting together dinner, which your best friend knew, always swinging by once your class ended with enough take-out for both of you and to walk you back to your dorm.
Which meant…
“I hope you’re in the mood for Thai food.”
Caleb slid into your view with that easy-going smile of his, though lately and much to your annoyance, there seemed to be a knowing glint in his gaze every time it settled on you.
“I’m in the mood for anything edible.” You sighed as you began walking back to your dorm. He easily fell into step beside you, as always, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. You supposed it was, considering how long your friendship had lasted. It would be almost twelve years soon, and honestly, you could hardly remember a time when he wasn’t around.
He hummed, knowing how cranky you got when you were hangry. “So easy to please.” It was the way he said it, knowing and with a tone so low that it almost resembled a purr. It had goosebumps rising on the surface of your skin. A little outraged at the way you reacted, you glanced over at him, only to find him already looking at you.
It was how he always looked at you, with conviction and every ounce of his attention. Yet, it felt different, more intense. Or maybe that was just your brain playing tricks on itself.
I would do it if you asked.
Those seven words had haunted you from the moment he had spoken them. The serious expression on his face mixed with the quiet way he had said it– it had undoubtedly fucked you up a little more than you would have liked to admit. You were beyond infuriated and in complete disbelief over how he had simply offered to sleep with you. Like it wasn’t a big deal or a very major, clear boundary that existed in friendships. In your friendship.
If you asked. Like it was that fucking simple. He left your dorm since you demanded it of him, but left you to deal with the aftermath of that absolutely criminal statement of his.
And then there was the teasing.
Relentless and unsteadying. Caleb would say something a little too suggestive or downright sexual before retreating and pretending like nothing had happened. He’d hold your gaze a little longer, or let his touch linger, before looking away with a satisfied smirk. He knew damn well what he was doing, and although you did too, it didn’t stop you from flushing or freezing up. It certainly didn’t stop scenarios from writing themselves in your head.
He was torturing you for your little slip-up. He found it hilarious, and now you were the punchline for every joke that blossomed from it.
He cocked his head to the side now, a small, tilted smile on his lips as he spoke. “What's going on in at head of yours?”
You realised you had stopped walking, and so had he, instead standing right in front of you and occupying every part of your vision. “Nothing.”
Caleb quirked an eyebrow, taking a step closer. “You sure about that? You’re obviously thinking about something.” The cadence of his voice had always been nice, but now the velvety smoothness of it put you on edge in more ways than one. “Are you maybe thinking about–”
“I am not thinking about that.” The statement tumbled out of you before you could bite your tongue. His eyes lit up mischievously.
“Oh, so you’re thinking about something after all, are you?”
Your mouth opened and closed like a fish, struggling to findd to find a comeback to that. Somehow, he was even closer now.
“Mind telling me what exactly that is?”
“Stop it,” You almost snarled, shooting him a withering look as you pushed him away in order to reclaim your personal space. This teasing streak of his was getting unbearable, especially since it was anything but innocent and was driving you up the wall. “Or I’m gonna take the Thai food and leave you with nothing.”
An offended gasp. “You wouldn’t.”
“I would.”
He laughed at your threat and finally let up on you, going back to being the Caleb you knew. He spoke of his classes and the group project he had due at the end of the week, for which he had terrible teammates to work with. It was jarring, how easily he could shift back into acting like he hadn’t just insinuated something so….
Maybe it was just your dirty mind.
Unbeknownst to you, it definitely wasn’t just your dirty mind. Caleb was mentally punching himself.
Caleb had had years of practising self-control when it came to you. Years of holding back and hiding the feelings he had for his best friend, shying away from every opportunity to divulge them. He knew how to keep his hands to himself, his mind from straying and his tongue from running into dangerous territory. He hadn’t meant to do it, but your drunken confession had flipped a switch inside of him. The lines had gotten a little blurry, but he would never, in a million years, ever actually cross them.
So what the hell was wrong with him?
You still hadn’t written a word. Unfortunately for you, you couldn’t even complain about it in peace anymore. Not if you wanted to maintain even a modicum of your sanity.
The reason for said dwindling sanity was sitting beside you right now on his bed, his arm slung around your shoulder, fingers tracing abstract patterns on the top of your shoulder. Usually, this would have calmed you down and even made you sleepy, but it achieved the complete opposite right then. You were painfully awake, his feathery touch like electricity against your skin.
God, you were so fucked. You had hoped that Caleb’s incessant teasing would have put a damper on your sudden, strong attraction towards him, but nothing of the sort had happened. It seemed to have only gotten worse, with you ending up being jumpy whenever he was around, and considering the amount you hung out with him, you were starting to resemble a kangaroo.
Around him, you were constantly tense and always on the precipice of being turned on. To say it was hellish would be an understatement.
“You’re distracted,” he murmured as the credits of the movie you were watching played. Finally, the two of you had managed to find the time to have that movie night you had passed on weeks ago. You shook your head, glancing up at the clock that hung on his wall. It was a little past midnight.
“Just frustrated,” you said finally, because it was the truth in more ways than one. Your frustration with your writing, or lack of, ran deep, but now it was intertwined with another very persistent reason. Being sexually frustrated wasn’t something you were used to dealing with.
He seemed to have caught on, though, his hand falling from your shoulder to your waist, curling around it. “Why are you frustrated, Pipsqueak?” He drawled, turning his head so that he faced you now. Of course, he’d pick this moment to torment you, when you were already frazzled.
“No reason,” you said quickly, voice clipped. A slow, languid smile stretched out on his lips.
“No?” He asked, the side of his mouth tilting. “Could it be….”
“Stop talking.” You despised how hoarse your voice sounded. You wanted– no, needed him to stop doing this before it became unbearable. He was your best friend, for fucks sake. The smile on his annoyingly perfect face melted into a smirk that would have had your knees weak if you weren’t already sitting down.
“I don’t think I will.” He whispered, pulling you even closer as he dipped his head down until his lips brushed against your ear. It was like he wanted you to break, and god, you were so close to doing so. His hand slid up your waist just a little bit. A shiver ran through you, one you couldn’t have suppressed if you tried.
“Tell me,” He mumbled, the words sounding much too loud even though he was still whispering. “Do your frustrations have anything to do with a certain sex scene you’re trying to write?”
You inhaled sharply.
Rationality was a funny thing. Every bit of it seemed to disappear whenever you truly needed it. Things you had no business thinking rushed through your head, courtesy of your bright imagination that chose the most inconvenient moments to work. Thoughts you had suppressed and pushed aside every time they had the nerve to pop up swirled around.
The spark that you had been trying so hard to put out crackled to life in your core, its flames spreading all across your body like wildfire. You were painfully aware of every part of you that was in contact with him, his hand just above your waist, sitting there so possessively, his breath fanning across your neck– fuck. It was too much, but somehow not enough all at once, and immediately you knew what you wanted.
More.
You snapped.
Something possessed you as you turned to look at him, a surge of confidence appearing out of nowhere as you drew closer to him. “Yeah.”
He raised an eyebrow. “What?”
Right then and there, three things became very clear to you. One: You wanted to write. Desperately and preferably sometime soon, because you did want to finish the first draft before you could go in and edit. Two: For some reason, you needed to have sex in order to get over the mental block you had when it came to writing it. Lastly, three: You only wanted to have sex with one person, and it was the man right beside you.
“My frustration has everything to do with the sex scene.” You said, surprising yourself with how steady your voice was. “But you can help with that, right?”
Without waiting for his response, you got to your knees, swinging a leg over him and settling down on top. Surprise flickered in his eyes for a second as your hands found his shoulders to maintain your balance, before he spoke again.
“Pipsqueak,” he started, voice low and careful, attempting to keep the teasing lilt in his voice but royally failing. “What– exactly– are you doing?”
“You told me to ask.” You muttered, dropping your gaze to his lips for a moment before letting it travel back up. “You said you’d do it if I asked. I’m asking right now.”
Caleb couldn’t respond, still staring up at you, eyes wide and ears a little redder than they normally were. Good. It was about time he had a taste of his own medicine. His hands found your waist again, and he blinked twice, slowly, and you prayed he wasn’t all bark and no bite.
You wanted him to bite.
“Y/n,” he muttered, “I….I know what I said.”
You raised an eyebrow, your hands slipping up his shoulders simultaneously until they were cradling his neck, playing with his hair at the nape of it. Was he shy? Now? After everything he had said and insinuated, he had the audacity to be all bashful? “So then you know what I’m asking for.”
“Well–”
“Caleb,” You cut him off, shifting so that you were closer. “I’m asking.”
Conviction laced those words. You could tell he was reasoning with himself, god knows you could read him well enough to know when he was conflicted, when he bit the inside of his cheek before exhaling shakily.
“Pips,” He rasped out your nickname. “You– you’re sure?”
You didn’t recognise the look in his eyes right then as he looked up at you, but it had you unravelling all the same. You leaned in subconsciously, but he quickly moved one of his hands from your waist to your mouth, covering it as his jaw clenched, still studying you. “I need you to tell me you’re sure, Y/n.”
Oh, so this was actually happening. You could feel the heat of your breath recoil against your face because of his hand. The ticking of the clock in his room filled the charged silence between him and you, his fingers brushing against your chapped lips. You swallowed.
“I’m sure.”
Whatever had shifted in you five minutes ago seemed to shift in him as well now. He let his hand drop from your mouth, shamelessly staring at it. “We shouldn’t.” But he pulled you closer, his arms circling your waist and palms splayed out on the small of your back.
“It’s for research purposes,” You breathed out, doing your best to justify how badly you needed him. “Please, Caleb, I need–”
He didn’t let you finish.
You gasped as he crushed his mouth to yours, effectively shutting you up. The pressure of his lips against your own was dizzying, especially with the way they moved; slowly and precisely, as if he was committing the feel of your lips to his memory. You were hyperaware of his touch on your back, the warmth from his hands permeating through the thin fabric of the T-shirt you were wearing.
Pulling him closer, you tilted your head so you could kiss him better. For the number of times you had mentally chided yourself for even thinking about this, it felt remarkably natural to kiss him, your instincts taking over. Your fingers slipped into his hair, entangling in the dark strands and tugging lightly.
Caleb groaned, and you were on fire.
“God, Y/n.” There was nothing playful about the way he mumbled your name into the kiss, and the unfamiliarity of it sent a shiver down your spine. His lips, soft and just a little hesitant, moved in tandem against your own, slotting in between them perfectly like you were pieces of the same puzzle, meant to be pushed together like so. He nipped at your lower lip before swiping his tongue over it to soothe the sting, and the intoxicating sensation drew out a needy whimper from you.
The second that sound escaped you, all indecision disappeared from his end, and the temperature in the room seemed to increase, growing hotter with every smack of his lips against yours. Kissing him was addictive, it felt as if neither of you could bear to pull away from each other.
Without warning, Caleb lifted you off of him and pressed you into the mattress, swiftly climbing on top of you. For a moment, he hovered, looking down at you, taking in the flush on your cheeks and heavy breathing, proud to have been the cause of your breathlessness despite barely doing a thing. Going in once again, he brushed his lips against yours teasingly, before giving you what you truly wanted, the intensity of the kiss taking a turn for feverish.
A hand of his slid up your side until he cupped your jaw oh-so gently, turning your face to the side to give him better access to your neck, upon which he pressed hot, open-mouthed kisses that had heat rush right to your core. The ache between your legs grew, slowly becoming unbearable, and you rubbed your thighs together with a whine, chasing any sliver of friction.
“Shit,” he muttered against you, his other hand slipping underneath your shirt and coming into contact with your stomach, causing goosebumps to rise on the skin. Spreading his fingers and pressing lightly, he kept you from squirming. “Pips, you gotta tell me to stop.”
“Don’t you dare,” you almost snapped at him, impatient and so painfully aroused it was embarrassing. He couldn’t hold back the breathless chuckle that escaped him as he moved lower, teeth grazing your collarbone.
“If, at any point, you want to stop, tell me,” he gritted out, trying to hold onto any semblance of self-control he still possessed. “I don’t wanna do anything you’re uncomfortable with.”
You nodded quickly. “I trust you.”
That was all he needed. Lifting his head slightly, he fumbled with the buttons of your shorts as he leaned back, all his weight on his knees. Once he managed to undo them, you lifted your hips slightly to help him tug them off your body. He settled between your legs, spreading them until the pretty cotton panties you wore were exposed.
Caleb swallowed, his breathing growing erratic and heavy. The wet patch on your panties was his undoing; everything about this situation was bound to be the death of him, but he was too far gone now. He let his hand trace up to your hips, hooking his finger through the waistband of your panties, toying with it.
“Is this ok?” The column of his throat bobbed as he stared up at you from between your legs. When you whispered a needy yes, he pulled the panties down your legs, his eyes darkening the moment they settled back on your core.
“Y/n,” He said your name like he was drunk, a certain sense of reverence infused in his tone that had your cheeks kissed rouge. “You’re even prettier than I thought.”
Than he thought? You would have to take the time to dissect that statement later, much too distracted to do so at the moment when he began peppering kisses along your inner thigh, starting from your knee and working his way upwards. The sensation of his mouth tantalisingly close to where you wanted it so badly was almost too much. Just the sight of him there was so erotic that it had your head swimming. You had never felt more vulnerable than you did right then, exposed and willing.
And then finally– finally– his breath fanned out over your soaked cunt, driving you insane. Liquid fire thrummed in your veins beneath the surface of your skin as your anticipation spilled over. He pressed a light, teasing kiss against your clit.
Caleb dragged his tongue over your slit, licking up it all the way to your clit, which he wrapped his lips around and sucked, knocking all the air out of your lungs. You gasped, bucking your hips up against him, and he chuckled, the sound sending vibrations up your body, from your toes to the top of your head.
“Impatient,” he chided. “Let me take my time with you, princess.”
The new pet name sounded so natural coming from him, and immediately, you knew you wanted to hear him call you that again. He flicked his tongue against the throbbing bud that had been aching for his attention this entire time, positioning your legs to rest over his shoulders. The sounds that left you were shamefully loud, and you had never been more grateful that he lived in a single dorm.
“Cal- oh fuck,” You mewled when he swiped two of his fingers through your wetness, rubbing your folds.
“You’re so fucking wet,” he all but groaned against you, and you could feel more slick gush out of you at that. “Is this all for me?”
Your back arched off the bed when he pressed a finger to your dripping entrance, nodding with a sense of desperation you had never experienced before. “Yes,” you exhaled the word as he pushed his finger inside your pussy slowly, your jaw falling open at the pleasurable intrusion.
Slowly, he began pumping it in and out of you as he continued to give your clit the sweet attention it deserved, basking in the noises that you made. The pads of the fingers of his other hand dug into the flesh of your thigh, keeping you nice and spread out despite all your attempts to shut your legs around him.
When he introduced a second finger to your cunt, your hands found purchace in his hair, gripping and tugging as you panted, unable to focus on anything else. Your eyes fluttered shut as the tips of his fingers brushed against a spot that had you seeing stars, crooking inside you so perfectly. It was as if he knew exactly how to push you to the edge.
Your best friend was eating you out like a starved man and you were enjoying every fucking second of it. He could feel your legs begin to tremble, your impending orgasm building. Shamelessly, you bucked your hips against his face, and the moment he realised what you were doing, he increased the pace of his fingers.
“Come on baby,” he encouraged you, flattening his tongue against your clit and pulling you closer, spurring you on even further. You ground against his mouth desperately, feeling the coil in your core draw tight, so, so close.
“Caleb,” you stuttered his name helplessly, but he somehow understood, knowing just what you needed. “I–I’m gonna–”
He scissored his fingers inside of you, hooking them just right as he gave your clit little kitten licks, determined to have you fall apart on his tongue. Your sweet gasps sent blood rushing straight to his cock, which was already painfully hard, confined in his jeans. Taking your mound into his mouth, he sucked harshly, thrusting his fingers knuckle deep in your sex.
A broken moan escaped you when your climax hit you, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as waves of pleasure washed over you. Your legs shook, but he didn’t let up, grinning proudly against you as he drove his fingers back into your gushing entrance, helping you ride out your high and prolonging it. Once he was satisfied, he lapped at you, refusing to waste even a single drop of your essence.
Caleb pulled away, and the sight of you nearly did him in. Eyes screwed shut in ecstacy and hair fanned out on his pillow, undoubtedly tangled from all your writhing. You looked like the picture of sin, and it was the hottest thing he had ever seen. He climbed back, hovering over you again as he licked his lips.
Your eyes fluttered open, pupils blown out and dark due to the sheer level of desire that coursed through you. You were stunning, and he was destroyed, knowing that he’d never be able to forget the way you were looking at him right then. The way you tasted.
When he kissed you again, it was different. It was a heady mix of heat and tongue and want, messier than the kisses he gave you earlier, the control he had before nowhere to be seen anymore. You could taste yourself on his tongue and moaned, reaching out to touch him.
You started at his collar, dragging your hands down, down, down until you reached the hem of his shirt, whining against his mouth as you tugged at it.
“Take it off.”
Who was he to deny you? He stopped kissing you, sitting up so that he could pull the shirt off, exposing his torso for you. The way your eyes raked over him hungrily was more than gratifying, especially when they caught on the silver chain that hung from his neck, the pendant sitting on his chest. Tossing his shirt to the side, he pushed your own up your body, exposing the skin of your stomach.
“Your turn.”
You let him take off your shirt, tossing it to the side and slipping his hands slip behind your back. He silently asked for your permission, which you gave to him in the form of an impatient nod to which he smirked, unhooking your bra and peeling it off of you, letting the discarded garment join the rest of them on the floor.
One look at you and he was a goner.
“Fuck,” he could feel himself straining his jeans as he took in the sight of your breasts, so perfect and plush. He allowed himself a moment to appreciate you in all your naked glory, before leaning back down, his mouth back on your overheated skin. He dragged his tongue down your neck, sucking and biting like there was no tomorrow.
His lips trailed downwards, kissing the swell of your breast before wrapping around your already hard nipple, stroking his tongue against the aching peak. He palmed the other breast, giving that nipple equal amounts of attention and rolling it under his thumb. You hissed in pleasure, breathless as you arched into his addictive touch.
You could barely think straight; everything he was doing to you sent you into complete overdrive. Every touch was criminally good, the simplest of them causing your arousal to increase tenfold. Perhaps it was because it had been so long since you had last had sex, but you had never before felt so frenzied.
Hooking your legs around his waist, you could feel the outline of him pressing against your thighs. Angling your hips, you pressed your bare pussy against his bulge, the roughness of the denim rubbing you just right. He looked up at you from your chest through hooded eyes, earning another whimper as he pinched your nipple.
“You sound so good.” His words went straight to your head. “Tell me what you want.”
He said it like it was a command, and who were you to disobey, especially when you knew exactly what you wanted?
“I want you inside me,” you whimpered, voice heated with lust.
How could he ever refuse you? Caleb gave you one last kiss before reaching over to his bedside table, grabbing something from the drawer and sitting up and unzipping his pants. You couldn’t help but stare as he impatiently kicked off his jeans and boxers, eyes widening when you finally saw his cock.
Fuck, it was big. Long and painfully hard, you could hardly believe he was hard because of you, but the proof was in front of your very eyes. Your lower lip caught between your teeth as you drank in the sight of him, hyperaware of the wetness that coated your thighs.
He tore open the condom packet, smoothly sliding it onto himself before settling between your legs once.
“W-will it even fit?” You squeaked, a spike of fear cutting through the lust-filled haze of your mind. He grabbed one of your hands, bringing it to his lips and pressing your fingers to them, kissing your knuckles soothingly as he bit back a smile.
“It’ll fit.”
“But– there's no way,” You spluttered, “It’s gonna hurt.” Not that the prospect of being in a little pain deterred you by any means, you were way too horny to stop now. Complaining was probably the least sexy thing you could have done in the moment, but he seemed unbothered, the dark, hungry glint in his eyes never fading. The amused look on his face, however, was not lost on you, nor was the way he bit the inside of his cheek, fighting a smile. You glared weakly.
“Are you laughing at me?” You asked, incredulous. “I swear to god, Caleb, you’re going to split me in half, and you’re laughing?”
“Baby,” He breathed, “You’ll be fine.”
“Easy for you to say!”
You wouldn’t even blame him if he decided he was done with you and pulled his pants back on, but nothing of the sort happened. Instead, he gripped your hips, grounding you to the moment.
Both of you were completely nude, and despite this, you had never felt more comfortable. Not when he looked at you like that, like you were something sacred.
“Relax, Pips, I’ve got you,” He whispered, sensing your apprehension. You exhaled shakily as he pressed his hard-on against your folds, groaning at just how wet you were. “Eyes on me.”
The way he took control so naturally was alarmingly attractive. You looked up, locking your eyes with his, unable to stay silent when the head of his cock rubbed against your swollen clit. “O-oh.”
He shuddered at the feeling, dropping a little so that he was keeping himself up on his elbows. His necklace swung above you just like you had imagined as he ground against you, but it still wasn’t enough. “Ready?”
You didn’t think you’d ever be ready, but you wanted it so badly you didn’t even care. Nodding eagerly, you intertwined your fingers with his, letting him press the back of your hands into the mattress. When his tip caught at your entrance, you whined. “Please.”
Having you beg him like that was dangerous. He squeezed your hands, and then slowly, carefully, sank into your wet heat, inch by devastating inch. Your jaw slackened, loudly moaning his name as he filled you up and stretched you out so pleasurably. His eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he pushed into you until he bottomed out, going breathless himself. One glance down to where the two of you were connected had him actively having to fight off coming right then and there.
Caleb was in heaven, and he was fucking delirious. He forced himself to stay still, moaning lowly when he felt your walls flutter around him, adjusting to his size. “You’re doing so well, princess.” He praised, lowering his head to your neck and burying his face in the crook of it, inhaling deeply in an attempt to calm himself down.
There was so much wrong with this, so why did it feel so right? You felt so perfect, like you were made for him.
“Caleb,” You whimpered once the sting faded, letting go of his hands and looping your arms around his neck, “Move. I need you to move.”
He pulled out until only his tip remained inside of you, before sheathing himself again, causing you to curve off the bed, nails digging into his skin. He did it again and again, nearly growling when he felt you grow even wetter, coating the length of his cock in your slick. Wet sounds that had your cheeks burning filled the room repeatedly.
“Fuck baby, you’re so tight,” He practically growled, contrasting the tender pace he set, telling you he was holding back for your sake. You could feel every inch of him as he dragged against your walls, reminding you how big he was with every thrust.
Your friendship was potentially ruined, but it felt too good for you to care. With your legs locked behind his back, you gripped his biceps, a wanton moan escaping you as your eyes fluttered shut, the pleasure overriding every other sensation.
“So good,” words were hard to put together, and he understood and nodded, holding your hips so tight you were sure there would be marks, just like the marks that blossomed all over your neck and chest from his earlier ministrations. Right now, though, you didn’t care about that, consumed by the waves of euphoria rushing through you.
Slowly, the frequency of his thrusts increased, rendering you completely winded and unable to do anything but gasp for air. You felt another orgasm steadily build up inside you.
Then he tipped his hips a certain way, the tip of his cock brushing against a spot that made you cry out his name, throwing your head back into his pillows. The look on your face was something he wanted to imprint in his memory; the desire lacing your voice was beyond exhilarating.
Caleb could feel his own impending high, so tightly wound because of just how long he had waited for something like this. When you clenched around him, he knew you were close as well, but the act nearly did him in.
“Don’t do that.” his voice was all scratchy and strained, but you promptly did it once again, high off the notion that you were affecting him just as much as he was affecting you. His hips stuttered against yours as his violet eyes flashed. “Fucking hell.”
“Oh my god,” you moaned, “I can’t–”
“Look at me,” he demanded, “I want you to look at me when you come all over my cock.”
Never in a million years would you have thought your best friend would be so good at dirty talk, but the shock quickly melted into obedience as you managed to hold his heated gaze. Reaching between the two of you, his index finger found your engorged clit and rubbed circles against it.
You squealed, overly sensitive. “Shit–I’m gonna– Cal-!”
“Come for me.”
Caleb would never forget how you looked: at his mercy, crying out his name over and over like it was a prayer as you came, spilling over his cock with a euphoric sob. He snapped his hips to yours with renewed urgency, drawing out your second climax and prolonging the feeling. When he saw the fucked out look on your face, it hit him at once.
With one final thrust, he buried himself inside you, coming with a moan, burying his face in your neck once again. His body was damp against yours, his hair tickling you as you breathed heavily. He stayed like that for a couple of seconds, recovering from the intensity of what had just happened.
Wordlessly, he pulled out of you gently, the sudden emptiness you felt having you whimper softly. Peeling the condom off, he tossed it in the bin next to his bed before climbing off of you, muttering something about being back. Seconds later, you felt a warm, wet cloth drag over your core. He cleaned you up, pressing little kisses to the inner side of your thighs.
Once he was done, he gathered you in his arms and pulled you close, kissing your temple.
“Are you okay?” He asked, pulling away just enough so he could try and gauge how you felt, rubbing his thumb over your cheekbone as he cupped your face tenderly. “I didn’t hurt you, right?”
You shook your head and leaned into his touch, completely spent. “No, it was perfect.”
He sighed in relief. You curled into him, and he wrapped his arms around you. “You did so well,” he murmured into your hair, massaging your scalp gently. “You were amazing, actually.” Another kiss to your forehead made you simper as your eyes closed, exhaustion settling into you now that the adrenaline had faded. “Tired?”
“Yeah,” You mumbled. Your legs entangled with his, and he stopped talking, tracing shapes on your back while you drifted off to sleep. He watched you for a bit, savouring the skin-on-skin contact, his mind reeling from what had just happened.
This was strangely normal, no awkwardness or post-nut clarity hitting either of you. Your body lay against his with all of you pressed up against him like that was exactly where you belonged. He could feel the beating of your heart, strong and steady in your slumber, whereas his remained erratic and fast. This was more than just a taste that he had had of you; it was the entire deal, and the knowledge of it all had his morals scattered and all over the place, because now that he knew what he knew, well.
Caleb wasn’t sure he’d be able to stop.
It was supposed to be a one-time thing.
At the time, you had justified sleeping with Caleb as research, something you needed to do in order to get it out of your system. You had assumed, albeit foolishly, that once it was over, you’d be able to go back to normal and continue with your life.
But research was an activity that required constant revisiting. Most of it had to be repeated over and over, especially if it included gathering data from an experiment. There was always a control, and then variations of the experiment would be conducted to record the differences in the outcomes.
At least, that was what you were telling yourself right now as you straddled him, his cock buried inside you.
Truthfully, you didn’t know how this had happened. After that day, everything seemed to be normal, until he showed up at your dorm to help you study for a class he had also taken when he was in his sophomore year. One thing led to another, or rather, one heated touch later, you found yourself under him once again.
And then it happened again, and kept happening. Whispers of it being just for research mixed in with both of your moans became a melody you were more than used to. This was all for your book, after all. For the sake of accuracy and your integrity as a writer.
Definitely not because of how mindblowing sex with Caleb was.
And it absolutely was.
He had made you completely insatiable for him, and almost every time the two of you hung out in one of your dorms, it ended up with both of you in bed. Every other aspect of your friendship remained exactly the same, though, which left you considerably confused. He didn’t look at or treat you any differently, poking fun and driving you up the wall, staying his usual reliable self.
Caleb’s hand cradled the back of your head as he kissed you now, fingers entangled in your hair and pulling slightly. You moaned softly against his lips, grinding on him.
You were in one of his shirts, panties tugged to the side since he hadn’t had the patience to take them off, needing to be inside of you as quickly as possible. Despite his earlier hurriedness, the pace the two of you settled on now was almost teasing, slowly rocking against him as you lazily chased the delicious high that you had gotten so used to experiencing these past two weeks.
“You’re so gorgeous,” he muttered, more to himself than you, hand slipping under your shirt and cupping your breast, squeezing. When he caught you biting your lip, he tutted, letting go of your hair and using his thumb to release it from your teeth. “Ah, ah, don’t do that, you’ll hurt yourself, pretty girl.”
“Too good,” you complained in that whiney, desperate tone he had gotten so addicted to. Pinching your nipple for good measure, he smirked up at you when you squealed.
Caleb quickly learned that he loved having you on top of him. Getting you all to himself like this was a privilege in itself, but fucking you while you wore his shirt? He was on cloud nine. He could feel himself throb in your sweet pussy that welcomed him so eagerly, in turn pulsing around him.
He cursed under his breath when you started to bounce, eager to get to the finish line with him. He sounded so good when he swore, you’d never understand it, just like how you wouldn’t get how he looked so pretty with a flush decorating his face and sex-mussed hair.
Gripping his shoulders, you tipped your head back, giving him access to your neck. He had taken to marking you up as and when he pleased, new hickeys surprising you every time you glanced in the mirror. Despite his tendency to leave them in places everyone could very easily spot them, you didn’t tell him to stop simply it just felt so good.
Everything with Caleb felt good, and not only did it feel good, but you felt completely safe. He was so attentive, doing the most to make sure you were never in any pain, often times focusing more on getting you off rather than himself.
He thrust up into you suddenly, his earlier impatience returning, and you cried out, falling into his chest. He held you, working you through it and dragging you closer and closer to release. One of your hands fell to his torso, tracing the hard lines of his abs and trailing downwards before your fingers found your clit and rubbed.
Shit. If having you ride him was good, being able to watch you touch yourself as you did was unbelievable. When you came, you came hard, and the feeling of it tipped him over the edge.
You were a dream he never wanted to wake up from.
You didn’t bother moving, clinging to him even tighter like you couldn’t bear to not be touching him in some way as you came down from your high. He smelled like sex, sweat, and that cologne of his that you loved. It was the reason you stole his clothes so much and why you were wearing his shirt even now.
Your first time with Caleb was the getaway drug, and now you were addicted to him, to having his hands caressing you all over and him whispering praises in your ear.
“Hey there,” He chuckled, rubbing your back. “All good?”
“Great even,” You mumbled, sitting up properly before finally lifting yourself off of him. You failed to register how jelly-like your legs felt, promptly losing your balance. He caught you before you fell, grinning.
“Can’t walk?” You could hear how smug he was without even having to look at him. It was then that you registered the burn in your thighs and huffed.
“Don’t sound so proud about it.”
“You’re no fun,” he pouted, leaving you to scoff as he helped you to your feet, following suit. “I’ll help you clean up. Do you wanna watch the new episode after?”
Ah yes. Of course, he’d start talking about anime after taking away your ability to stand. That had been the reason he had shown up at your dorm in the first place, but the moment he saw you wearing his shirt, it had quickly become an afterthought.
The whiplash you felt was indescribable, and you could only nod, letting him pick you up and carry you to the bathroom. After a quick shower and change of clothes, the two of you settled down with your laptop like nothing had happened, your head resting on his shoulder as you focused on the show.
Neither of you bothered to talk about your redefined friendship despite having sex regularly. It was just….a new addition. A benefit that you were both taking advantage of, nothing more and nothing less.
But even as you reminded yourself of that now, you found yourself doubting it.
There was something to be said about formal events.
You enjoyed getting dolled up as much as the next girl, but that was where the fun ended. Having to sit through the event was boring and not the way you liked to spend your Friday evenings. You would have much preferred staying in and catching up on some much-needed sleep.
The editor of your university’s paper, Jenna, had organised an affair that was being held in one of the college halls. She had worked very hard on it, inviting several alumni who were all successful in the fields of journalism and writing back so that the current batch of students had the chance to make connections. It was open to the entire student body, but she had made it clear that everyone on the paper was obligated to attend.
Connections were what helped people get further in life. You were grateful for the opportunity to interact with industry professionals, but didn’t understand why she had insisted on keeping it a black tie affair. That probably had something to do with keeping up appearances.
You stood off to the side, sipping on your cranberry juice from a cup that was made for something much more refined. So far, you had spoken to a couple of the guests, but seeing that you had been here for over an hour already, your social battery was slowly dying out. The dress you wore was a black number, floor length, form-fitting and plain except for the slit that reached up to a little above your knee. Perfect for an event like this, not too much and on power with what everyone else was wearing.
Still, it was a little overstimulating. You guzzled down the rest of your juice and placed the empty glass down on one of the tables.
“You’re welcome, by the way.”
You spun on your heels immediately at that voice, eyes widening and settling on the culprit who stood two, maybe three steps away from you.
“Caleb?” You asked in disbelief, taking in his presence. He was wearing a suit.
“The one and only,” he grinned, his hands stuffed in his pockets. “Here to rescue you from your boredom.”
“What are you even doing here?” To say this wasn’t his scene would be an understatement. He didn’t like wearing the whole suit getup, much preferring casual clothing. Hell, Caleb hadn’t even attended his high school prom (though when you asked why, he would never give you a straight answer), opting to spend the night in with you instead.
He looked unfairly good. The collar of his shirt hid those lovely collarbones of his and reminded you of how you had bit down on them the other day, the bottom of it tucked into black slacks. He had even worn dress shoes, instead of the sneakers he so loved and a tie around his neck. The entire getup.
“I literally just told you why. To get you out of here. Are you hard of hearing now?”
You returned his jibe with an exasperated sound. “I meant here, at this thing.”
“Oh. Well, you did mention it was open to anyone yesterday,” he shrugged, grabbing a glass of juice and sipping on it. “So that editor of yours technically can’t complain about me being here.”
That was true. Still, you found yourself bewildered as you stared at him. He was here. For some reason, even though he was allowed to be here, it didn’t make sense to you. You pressed your lips together and cocked your head to the side, studying him.
“So you dressed up and came here.…only to convince me to leave?” The notion sounded strange even to you. Why on earth would he do that? He finished up his drink and put it down next to your empty glass, taking a step closer to you. The simple movement had butterflies erupt in the pits of your stomach.
What the hell?
“Stop thinking so much. Do you want to stay?”
You considered it. “Not really, no.”
“Do you enjoy arguing with me for no reason, woman?” he muttered dryly under his breath, his eyes catching on something over your head. “On second thought, I think you should stay a little longer.”
Now you were just plain confused. One moment he was talking about saving you from boredom, and the next he was insisting you stay? Before you could undoubtedly start another argument just to spite him, he took you by your shoulders and spun you around, pointing in a certain direction. When you figured out what, or rather, who he was gesturing to, you couldn’t hide your gasp.
“Isn’t that the author you like?”
You could only nod dumbly. “Raymond.” Last year, you had a phase where you only read his books day in and day out, absorbing the stories he spun like a sponge. His books were the reason you had decided to start writing your own in the first place, inspired by his storytelling skills.
Caleb nudged your side gently, “Go.”
“How–” you cut yourself off, looking up at him. “How do you even remember that?” You weren’t sure why this entire interaction with him was throwing you off so much, but you felt completely unbalanced. You hadn’t spoken about Raymond or his work in a long time, so how did he know? He shrugged noncommittally.
“I know you.” He said it so plainly, like it was something trivial and basic, but his eyes bored into yours.
Had Caleb always looked at you with such quiet intensity?
He nudged your side gently, reminding you to move. Forcing yourself out of your stupor, you promised him you wouldn’t take too much time and walked over, buzzing with excitement.
The conversation itself wasn’t long, but it was insightful. He answered all your questions about the industry, and you even had the chance to share for appreciation for Raymond's work as well as ask him questions that you had about his novels. You gave him your utmost attention when he gave you advice, but when he started talking about his characters, your eyes and mind wandered.
Back to your best friend, who was waiting for you on the other end of the hall, leaning against one of the walls and scrolling through his phone. He didn’t give a flying fuck about this event, but had still come here for your sake, even when you hadn’t asked him to. He glanced up, his eyes meeting yours, and flashing you a small smile.
Oh.
You looked away and back at Raymond, nodding politely and tuning yourself back into the conversation. Internally, however, you were freaking out. Something was very wrong; that was the only reason you could conjure up at the moment for what was happening to you. How else could you explain the sudden sweatiness of your palms, or the odd, fluttery feeling in your stomach? Maybe it was the excitement you felt from meeting the author you loved so much, but even as you considered this possibility, you knew it wasn’t the answer you were looking for.
Oh.
Oh fuck.
This could not be happening. You plastered a smile on your face as you tried to pay attention to whatever Raymond was talking about, but the damage was done. Your brain had never been one to let go of a single thought you had, especially ones that had to do with Caleb. He had a hold on you that no one else did, and why was that?
Because you liked Caleb.
The horrifying realisation hit you, startling you out of your rapidly spiralling thought process. Blinking, you realised Raymond was done speaking.
“Thank you so much for your time,” You said, trying not to sound as troubled as you felt. The author smiled at you before turning to another student.
Swallowing the newfound lump in your throat, you turned around and walked back to Caleb. This was bad. Having sex with him was already vaguely immoral and probably something that shouldn’t have happened– and shouldn’t keep happening like it did– but having feelings for him? That was out of the question.
“Good talk?” He asked, slipping his phone into his pocket. The genuine interest he had in your excitement made the entire situation worse. Why were you noticing all this now, of all times? It wasn’t like he had suddenly turned into someone considerate. He had always been this way; it was written into his DNA.
You realised he had even tried to tame his hair for today. “It was great.”
“I’m glad. Now I can steal you away from this place.” His eyes were lit up with mischief, just like they did when the two of you were younger and he did something he wasn’t supposed to. Ever the rebel, this one.
You felt a little guilty. All this effort for you? It seemed completely useless. “Okay, but Caleb, seriously, you didn’t have to do this.”
He frowned. “Didn’t have to do what?”
“This!” You waved in his general direction and then gestured around. “I mean, you don’t even like wearing a suit, but here you are. It’s not like it's compulsory for you like it is for me. You could be doing anything else.” You were rambling, you knew, but it was hard to stop. He rolled his eyes.
“Has that stopped me before?”
You paused. “What do you mean?”
“I show up to your newsroom even though I’m sure Jenna wants to castrate me for breaking the rules so much.” He raised an eyebrow. “I attended that lecture of yours when you had a presentation. You know I’m here because I want to be.” You knew he said stuff like this all the time, you always were the recipient of his support. This was normal.
But it didn’t feel normal. For fucks sake, this was the boy you had grown up with. He had seen you fall off your bike, fail tests and puke your guts out when drunk. In each of those situations, he had also been the one to pick you up and bandage your wounds, help you study and hold your hair back for you.
Did he think it was an obligation now?
“You….you shouldn’t feel like you have to do that.” You said slowly, but he didn’t let you continue.
“Oh, please. Everyone knows that where you go, I go too.” He flicked your forehead, immediately receiving a glare in return. “We’re like…….” He stopped for a moment, eyebrows furrowing and lips pursing like they always did when he was thinking hard about something. Then he snapped his fingers. “We’re like those yoghurt-granola snack packs!”
You stared at him blankly. “What?”
“You know.” He decided to explain his stupid analogy, as if your head wasn’t muddled enough. “Those things you can buy at the grocery store. The small yoghurt tubs that have a container filled with granola on top of them? Like, they’re both okay separately, but much better when together. People buy those packs for a reason.” He slipped his phone back into his pockets and beamed at you. “We’re like that.”
Oh my god. That barely made any sense. You weren’t sure if you were mortified because of that terrible explanation or because it hadn’t put a damper on your newfound feelings for him. “You’re such a fucking dork.”
He feigned offence, holding his hand over his heart. “Excuse me? You mean cute, right?”
Right. Wait, no, you didn’t. Ugh. “I thinkx ridiculous.”
“Are you coming with me or not, Pips?”
“But Jenna insisted-”
He rubbed a hand over his face in annoyance before fixing you with a droll look. “Would you rather be here or be with me?”
Be with you.
You ignored the way your stomach flipped. You didn’t have the time or the mental stability to process everything that was happening to you right now. The logical part of your brain swooped in, telling you that you were just confused because of the sex. Yes, that was it. You did not have feelings for Caleb Xia.
Sighing, you relented. “You.” Saying that didn’t mean anything, after all. Nothing about the two of you meant anything, so there was no reason for you to be freaking out, even if it sounded like you had just confessed. A wide grin made a show on his face when he realised he had won, and he tilted his head towards the exit.
“Finally. Wanna get out of here?”
“Just to be clear, this is not what I meant when I asked if you wanted to get out of there.”
You huffed out a soft laugh, fingers curling around his tie as you tugged him closer. “No? Could have sworn you planned for us to end up in a janitor's closet.”
Caleb bit back a laugh of his own, knowing that making too much noise would get both of you in trouble. After leaving the event, somehow, his guiding hand on your hip had turned into the two of you making out in the hallway. You blamed the mess that your head was in for not realising what a bad idea that was immediately, but once you did, you did the most responsible thing you could think of.
And dragged him into the janitor's closet that was close by.
Naturally.
He braced a hand over your head on the cabinet that you were leaning against, essentially caging you in as he dipped his head to kiss you again. “Pretty sure that was you’re doing.”
“Excuse me? You’re the one who kissed me first!” You protested against his mouth, but could hardly complain when he kissed you like it was a relief to do so. Honestly, he was probably the best kisser you had ever experienced.
That must have been the reason for your spiralling thoughts. That and the amazing sex that you were so weak to.
Yep. That’s all. Anyone could be susceptible to such things.
“Can you blame me? Have you seen yourself in this dress?” His free hand slipped into the slit at your knee, slowly dragging the rest of the dress up until it was bunched up around your waist. “You’re stunning.”
He couldn’t stop kissing you. He knew he shouldn’t have kissed you out there like he had the right to, because he was well aware of the unspoken rules of this arrangement, but he couldn’t help it. If getting too comfortable with whatever you had going on with him was a crime, a sin, then he was a criminal of the highest order. The worst part? He didn’t feel a shred of guilt.
But you were wearing that fucking cherry lip gloss, and god knnows he had waited long enough to taste it.
Warmth spread over your chest first before it rushed to the apex between your legs. The control he seemed to have over your body was truly astounding. In his hands, you were putty.
“You don’t look so bad yourself,” You whispered back, loosening the knot of his tie and pulling it off completely, dropping it to the side. “This suits you.”
His lips twitched. “The suit suits me?”
“Shut up and kiss me, loser.”
He complied, grinning against your mouth as he pulled you into another earth-shattering kiss that did positively nothing to soothe your frayed nerves. Stubbornly, you pushed down the feelings bubbling around the confines of your heart, refusing to give them any attention if you could help it.
You gripped the front of his suit jacket, helping him peel it off his shoulders and letting it join his tie on the floor. Without warning, he pressed a knee in between your legs, and you nearly melted against him.
Sex was great. Sex with him was phenomenal. This was just the lust getting to you.
Caleb gripped the leg that your slit now exposed and lifted it, propping it up against his waist. He trailed his fingers against your inner thigh, his touch feather-light yet scorching at the same time. When his index and middle finger pressed against your clothed cunt, you were glad for the hot he had on you, pressed up against the cabinet, because you would have surely buckled if not.
“Wow,” he mumbled amusedly, pushing your panties to the side and teasing your wetness. “You really like the suit, huh?”
The fact that this type of interaction was now commonplace should have been the first sign that things had gone too far.
Usually, you couldn’t think straight when he touched you like this, but today it was all a mix of feeling way too much and dangerous, fleeting thoughts that made you want to tear your hair out.
“Maybe,” You peppered kisses along the column of his throat, determined to get out of your head and focus only on how good he could make you feel. Pleasure and person were entirely separate entities, and you would make sure it stayed that way.
“Suit kink.”
“Never say that again.”
He only smirked, plunging his fingers into you. All you could do was cry out as you gripped the front of his shirt, momentarily forgetting that you were supposed to be quiet. Quickly, his palm covered your mouth, muffling any further sounds you could make. “Can’t have you being loud here, princess. What if someone catches us?”
The way you practically gushed the moment he suggested someone catch you in such a compromising position was downright embarrassing. Raising an eyebrow, he leaned even lower and whispered. “Oh? You like that?”
You whined against his hand, cheeks flushing furiously. You began fiddling with the top buttons of his shirt, and he chuckled lowly.
“For someone who likes my suit so much, you sure are trying to get rid of it quickly.”
“For someone who was dying to kiss me two minutes ago, you talk too much.” You rocked your hips against his hand even as you sassed him back. He moved his hand from your mouth into your hair, carding it through gently, tugging slightly to tilt your head back for him so he could kiss you again, swallowing every sound you made.
No one could sue you for being attracted to a hot man. That was just biology.
You could feel the familiar tightening of your core, signalling your impending crash. You broke away from the kiss, licked your lips and palmed him over his pants, earning a hiss of pleasure in return.
“Don’t– don’t do that,” He choked out, and you smirked triumphantly, refusing to relent on your movements. Batting your eyelashes, you stared up at him through them in faux innocence, unaware that it affected him so much more than you thought.
“Just fuck me already.” You whined, half out of desperation for him and party because now you needed him to fuck you to prove to yourself that this was just sex. To be able to brush away all the compliments he dropped that seemed to go straight to your head, to get the intoxicaing fucking way he kissed you out of your head and away from further dissection. To stop the slow-burning feeling of yearning that was growing inside of you for the boy you had grown up with.
Because you couldn’t possibly have feelings for him. You shouldn’t.
“Fuck, okay,” He slipped his fingers out of you and unbuttoned his pants, releasing his cock. You would never get used to the sight of it, precum already leaking out of the tip; the image itself sending shivers down your spine in anticipation of him.
He pressed back against you, grinding it against your fluttering pussy, going right back to making out with you. It was like he was devouring you whole, claiming every part of you like it had always belonged to him. You could feel yourself get carried away again, forgetting that this was just something he and you did now.
And then he froze.
“Shit,” he muttered. “I don’t have a condom.”
You were too far gone to even care anymore. Cupping his face, you pulled him into another messy kiss, beyond delighted when he moaned, still rubbing his length through your slick folds with a want that rivalled your own. “Put it in.”
Caleb gritted his teeth. “Pips, thats–”
“I’m on birth control,” you kissed his jaw. “And I trust you. I’ve always trusted you.”
That was undeniably the truth. He was the one person in the world that you didn’t have to think twice about when it came to anything, no matter what the situation. He blinked down at you, pupils blown wide with desire but somehow still so focused on you, holding your sides so gently as he hesitated, silently dealing with the conflict in his head.
“I…..are you sure?”
Oh, this sweet, considerate boy. How could you not love him? The thought was instantly forced to be a passing one as you push it away, refusing to acknowledge it.
“Caleb, if you don’t stick your dick inside of me right now, I will cut it off.” The threat earned you a winded chuckle from his end, the strain in his face from holding back so painfully evident. Realising he needed another push, you looked into his eyes, bucking your hips against him and licking your lips as you purred. “Now, fuck me.”
There was a reason you phrased it like that. Crude and so filthy, the words set out a challenge for him. If there was one thing you knew about Caleb, it was that he could never back down from a challenge. His eyes darkened as he grabbed both your wrists and pinned them together above your head with one hand, positioning his cock at your entrance.
Without another warning, he slammed into you, once again covering your mouth to soften the obscenely loud broken moan that left you. He pressed his fingers against your lips, smirking mischievously.
“This is what you wanted, hmm?” He groaned in your ear as he fucked you hard, making it increasingly difficult for you to stay silent. You knew he was doing it on purpose, remembering how he had briefly confessed that he liked it when you were vocal, but here? Here it was risky and stupid, and you couldn’t believe how into it you were.
“Yes,” You gasped, biting his hand at a particularly hard thrust, doing your utmost best to keep all your noises to a minimum. He was just so good, and the feeling of him bare inside of you was almost too much for you.
“God baby, you feel incredible,” he panted, never relenting on his pace for even a second. His breathing was heavy in your ear, almost pained, along with soft grunts that only succeeded in making you even wetter.
“So b-big,” you could only whimper, too caught up in it all to speak properly.
He had well and truly ruined you for anyone else. Your heart and mind were at war with each other, but your body was perfectly content with how he held you like this. With nothing between you, he fucked you raw, and it felt so much more intimate than you thought it would have. You could feel everything, hyperaware of every touch and kiss and overwhelming drag of his cock in your sobbing cunt.
For a moment, you almost wished it wasn’t this good. If only you had never succumbed to your desires that day, maybe you wouldn’t have found yourself in this position, fighting so desperately against feelings that felt so wrong and right at the same time. All this was supposed to have been a temporary fix, a means to an end. Not the start of something you could never see through.
When both of you came, it was intense and devastating, holding onto each other like nothing else mattered. You could feel him fill you up with his cum and as you went limp, one last terrifying realisation making itself known to you.
It wasn’t just sex.
A shattered breath escaped you at the revelation, and you shut your eyes, trying to reason with yourself one last time, but to no avail. Caleb surrounded you completely, holding you up upright with so much care, so deliberately, that it made total sense why you felt this way. With unending affection, he pulled you against him and kissed the crown of your head.
“Thats my girl.”
Except you weren’t. And it would be better for everyone if you remembered that.
You were writing.
It had been so long since you had been able to write like this, but the ability had come rushing back to you all of a sudden. Your fingers flew across your keyboard as you steadily typed, focused and satisfied at the work you were producing for the first time in months.
It was two in the morning when you finally snapped out of your concentrated state, yawning as you shut your laptop. Stretching, you quietly padded to your bathroom to get ready for the night and go to bed. You couldn’t believe you had written almost half of the sex scene when even the prospect of starting it had sounded so unachievable not too long ago.
Courtesy of Caleb, you had plenty of material to pull from.
You splashed water on your face, hoping the cool temperature of it would help you stop thinking about him. To say you were frustrated with your feelings was an understatement; you outright despised them.
This was your fault, you knew damn well it was. If you were going to get a fuckbuddy, it should have been someone who you weren’t so close to, someone you had no personal connections with. Anyone but the best friend you've had since you were seven years old, who you knew like the back of your hand, who knew you like it was second nature to do so.
Gripping the sides of the sink, you shut your eyes, grounding yourself to the moment. Part of you wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it all. How on earth did you let yourself get in such a predicament?
You needed it to stop. For these confusing feelings to leave before things got even more complicated than they already were. Somehow, you needed to forget about them.
But how could you possibly do that? How were you supposed to forget the deliberate way he kissed you, or how good he made you feel when he looked at you that way? How were you supposed to get the scent of his cologne out of your sheets and closet, or pretend like you didn’t know what it was like to be touched by him?
How on earth were you supposed to get over being in love with him?
You didn’t even notice him walking in.
Writing for your book again meant that you had fallen behind quite a bit when it came to the work you had due for the paper. As a result, you had to stay behind and work late on the articles you had to present to Jenna, stuck at your desk in the newsroom when it was almost nine-thirty at night.
“Thought I’d find you here.”
Your eyes flickered up to find Caleb standing in front of your desk, one hand stuffed in his pockets and the other holding a bag of takeout from a diner that both of you liked. He gave you a soft, knowing smile that made your mouth go dry.
“Hey,” you straightened up in your seat, knowing that your posture tended to get worse the longer you wrote for. “You were looking for me?”
“Not exactly.” He grabbed a chair and parked it next to yours, sitting down. “I just figured you’d be working and forget to have dinner.”
“Oh.”
He was right, and you would have been embarrassed if this hadn’t happened before. Wordlessly, he began unpacking the takeout he had gotten. “Take a break for ten minutes and eat, okay?”
This was just like him. Knowing exactly when you needed to be taken care of while being well aware you could do just fine by yourself. You bit the inside of your cheek as you watched him, apprehensively nodding slowly.
“Okay.”
You grabbed a fry and began to chew, turning to face him and away from the computer. He looked the same as always, unkempt hair and all. It was like he knew you were tired and a little out of it today without you even having to tell him, falling into a comfortable silence as he ate with you.
There wasn’t another soul in this world that knew you so intimately. In the past, this wouldn’t have scared you, because you were so used to him and the ways he fit into your life so perfectly. Now, it frightened you to no end, reminding you of how much you had to lose when it came to Caleb. He was the most precious person in your life, which made it so much easier to fear losing him.
If there were rules when it came to having a best friend, you were certain you had broken all of them. Number one: Don’t sleep with your best friend. Already off to a rough start with that one, it seemed, but there was nothing you could do about it anymore. Number two: Don’t fall for your best friend. You doubted you even needed to go over the rest of the rules. Breaking those two had caused you enough damage.
Finishing up his food, he took a sip of his soda, noticing you were watching him intently. For the first time in a long time, he couldn’t quite decipher the look in your eyes. It almost felt as if you were hiding it from him on purpose.
He tilted the soda cup to you, silently asking if you wanted some of his. You leaned closer and took the straw in your mouth, taking a couple of sips before looking away.
Something was off. “Is everything okay?”
You pressed your lips together and gave him a half smile. “Yeah, everything's fine.”
Caleb narrowed his eyes at you, reaching out and propping a finger under your chin, lifting your face so you were forced to look at him.
“Pipsqueak,” He mumbled, dropping his gaze to your mouth for a split second, but it was enough to make you feel like you were set on fire. Like you were made of porcelain, he swiped his thumb next to your lower lip, rubbing away a stray crumb that had stuck there from your food. Then he looked at your mouth again, subconsciously leaning towards you as if he was about to kiss you.
Immediately, you jerked out of his touch. Guilt ate away at you when you noticed how he reacted to this, the flash of hurt that passed over his face as he frowned. As much as you hated being the cause of it, the way he was looking at you has started to inexplicably hurt. You were unable to stop the tenderness that unfolded in your chest anymore. It was potent, too real to fight against.
“We should stop.”
The words were out of your mouth before you could think about them any further, inciting confusion. He retracted his hand, the corners of his furrowed eyebrows tilting upwards. “Dinner? Because we’re pretty much done with that anyway.”
You could have taken advantage of his confusion and put this conversation off for a while, but you knew that letting this go on any longer would end up being torturous.
“No, Caleb,” You looked away, trying to ignore the way your throat seemed to close in on itself. “I’m not talking about dinner.”
“Then what are you talking about?” His voice took on that impossibly soft tone it did when he was trying to understand how you were feeling to properly help or sympathise with you. It was something he did when you were younger and got hurt, and he wanted to make sure you knew you weren’t dealing with it alone.
Sucking in a breath of air, you looked down at your hands in your lap, playing with your fingers. “I think we should stop having sex.”
A beat passed. You could feel the weight of his stare on you. “Okay.”
You weren’t sure where to go from there, your heart pounding within your ribcage like it was trying to escape. The light from your computer felt too harsh and the ticking of the clock hands was unnaturally loud in the stiff silence that settled over the two of you. Clearing his throat, he spoke again.
“Did…Did I do something?”
“No,” the caution yet dejected way he said it made you blurt that out quickly, refusing to let him think something was completely wrong. “You didn’t. At all. It’s just…..” You trailed off, biting your tongue and regretting bringing this up already. “I….I wrote the scene.”
“The scene?”
“The sex scene. In my book.” The awkwardness in your cadence is foreign to your ears and his. You had never been so apprehensive around him because you had never had a reason to. This was a first you despised vehemently, scorning the way you had to phrase everything so delicately, as if you didn’t, the damage caused would be irreparable.
“Right.” Now he had an unreadable look in his eyes too, matching yours.
“Right,” you echoed softly. “So there's no reason for anymore…...research.” Because research had spiralled into forgetting your regular roles when it came to each other. Research had made you aware of feelings that had been dormant your entire life and should have stayed that way.
In an ironic twist of fate, you had literally fucked around and found out.
“I see.”
You didn’t know what possessed you to keep talking when it was so obvious that both him and you wanted nothing more than to move on from this conversation. You risked a glance at him to find him aimlessly tracing the edge of his soda cup, eyes trained on the straw. “So we can go back to being just friends. Regular friends.”
The clarification made you wince. When his eyes met yours again, you were surprised to find something different in the way he looked at you– those dark purple depths swirling with an intensity that superseded their usual levels, startling you.
“We’ll always be friends, Y/n.”
Caleb didn’t call you pipsqueak. A minute detail that shouldn’t have shaken you at all, and yet here you were stuck on it in spite of the fact that he had just agreed to being friends again. Or rather, the normal definition of friends, because you weren’t ever anything more than that. You swallowed, turning back to your computer.
“Okay. I should get back to working on this article.”
Your dismissal of him was quiet but obvious. The air had started to get suffocating and you needed as much space from him as you could get until you sorted out the mess in your head, one that was your cross to bear. Your fault.
Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him nod and get to his feet, turning to leave, but hesitating for just a moment.
It was only when he exited the newsroom that you realised it wasn’t any easier to breathe without him there. It felt even harder now, like someone had their foot over your chest and was putting all their weight on it, letting gravity do the rest of the work. You pushed yourself away from your desk, the wheels under your chair smoothly rolling away until the back of it hit the wall behind you.
Even the impact of that wasn’t enough to shock you out of your misery. Surely, love wasn’t supposed to feel as cruel as it did right now, like claws sinking into your skin and making you bleed. It shouldn’t have felt wrong, but you knew that it was. Perhaps this was retribution for allowing yourself to indulge in something that was so clearly off-limits to you.
A familiar pressure built up behind your eyes as you turned resentful. The sting of your sorrow manifested as tears welled up and caught in your lower lashes. You shut your eyes, but not before those tears slid down your face, cementing the bitter, indisputable reality of your heartbreak.
Caleb stayed away.
He had known damn well that whatever was between the two of you wasn’t forever. It wasn’t even real, solely for the sake of your writing and the book you were so proud of. It was his fault for getting caught up in it all and expecting you to never call it off, to stay in that limbo with him forever.
Saying no to you was something he wasn't capable of. Not when he was ten and you were eight, and you wanted the last piece of cake even though it was his favourite flavour. Not when he was fifteen and you used to beg him to let you wear his shirts because you liked how oversized they were on you. Not when you would give him puppy eyes and sweetly ask him to cook those braised chicken wings you loved so much.
And not when you needed help with writing about sex.
Even if it went against all his morals and everything he had forced himself to believe for the past twelve years he had known you. He had held himself together around you for as long as he could remember, hands to himself and thoughts strictly friendly. Caleb was used to the best friend role. He was good at playing it, even when the script pained him to recite, he did so anyway with a smile on his face.
Because smiling back at him was you. It was always you, with your bright eyes and angelic laughter.
Caleb had accepted this role when he was only nine years old and had stuck to it ever since. He let it consume him, living in ignorant bliss as he silenced the pleas of his heart and what it wanted, no, begged for.
How was he supposed to know where to go from here? The script had deviated too much for him to return to its safety. He knew how your lip gloss tasted, sweet and inviting and maddening, just like everything else about you.
So he stayed away from you and your cherry lip gloss, hoping the marks it had left all over him would fade.
It had been almost two weeks since Caleb last set foot in the newsroom.
Jenna was overjoyed and Tara was suspicious. The latter asked you where your ‘boyfriend’ was, to which you refused to look at her as you muttered the reminder: he’s not my boyfriend. It felt like you were reminding yourself more than her, lacking any of your usual annoyance.
You supposed this was your fault as well. It wasn’t like you had made any effort to reach out either, stuck in your pathetic little cycle of self-pity and fear. You felt his absence, though, cutting deep into you and leaving you with a Caleb-sized hole in your life. The last time you experienced something like this was when he left for university for the first time and you were finishing up your senior year, suddenly having to deal with not having him around for months on end.
At least he was calling you back then, and when you joined him at university, it never happened again. You hadn’t realised what a big part of your life he was until he was missing from it.
God, you missed him.
You missed that stupid, smug chuckle of his when he knew you were getting riled up because of something he said, and his terrible sense of humour. The smirk on his face when you were losing an argument, and how he’d stick his tongue out when he was concentrating on something. Hell, you missed the sound of his voice and the comfort it brought you.
After you finished your work for the day, you walked out of the newsroom and down the hallways of the university building. The cool evening air swept around you, making you think of one of Caleb's jackets that was still in your dorm from the last time he had been, draped over your desk chair. You almost wished you had it with you right now.
Your feet carried you to the dining hall, reminding you of your need to eat through the wall of your troubled thoughts. It was not so much hunger as it was a necessity. Your appetite had been less than robust these past few days, your emotions weighing you down in more ways than one. You didn’t have him to remind you to eat or sleep, or run like a normal human being.
Grabbing an apple to appease your stomach, you bit into it and looked around, mentally going over everything else you had to do that day. Start an essay you had due the next week, beg the members of your group to do their parts of the presentation that was worth a whopping thirty percent of your grade and polish the last scene you had written for your book.
It turned out that your turbulent emotional state had translated into you being more productive than ever, throwing yourself into your studies and writing like you had never before. Anything to avoid thinking about him and what you felt. An unhealthy coping mechanism for sure, but it worked for you.
Kind of.
Unable to stomach anything else, you tossed the core of the apple into a nearby dustbin and left the dining hall, eager to make it back to your room. You hadn’t slept very well lately, and you wanted to get all your work out of the way before crashing. Sleeping, you discovered, was another excellent course of action to take when you wanted to avoid facing something, and at least it wasn’t downright unhealthy. The dark circles under your eyes would certainly thank you.
When you turned the corner, he was there.
Caleb stood there, just a few paces away from you in all his six-two glory. His back was turned to you, but you knew it was him, deep in conversation with his friend, Gideon. You were unable to do anything but stare, your pulse picking up in speed at the sight of him. You wondered if the chasm he had created between the two of you had affected him as much as it had you.
When he bid farewell to Gideon and turned, you panicked. When he saw you, you remained rooted to the spot, watching as his steps faltered and came to a stop. He looked almost as tired as you felt, dawdling briefly before speaking.
“Hey.”
Hey. Hey? Was that all he could say after refusing to look your way for over a week? Your apprehension flared up into anger, and you took three furious steps towards him, your docile stare melting into a glare.
“You sure talk a lot of shit about keeping you informed for someone who has been avoiding me.”
He winced. “I wasn’t….avoiding you.”
“Oh really? Could have fooled me.” You scowled at him as you took another step forward. You were pissed, and rightly so, but it stemmed more from how hurt you felt rather than any genuine anger.
Caleb didn’t bother to meet your eyes, opting to look off to the side instead. That stung a little more than you cared to admit. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled, shifting his weight from one foot to another. “Have you eaten yet?’ Barely five minutes around you, and he had already jumped into trying to take care of you. It was so infuriatingly like him.
Every time he didn’t want to face something, he would deflect and redirect the conversation. Your years together had taught you well, making it impossible for him to sidestep you even if he tried. You could tell he was avoiding you even when you were right in front of him.
“Stop changing the subject.”
You watched as his jaw tightened and relaxed, something he did when he was conflicted. All his tells were so laughably obvious to you, and yet you couldn’t make heads or tails of how he was acting right now, so forcibly distant and detached, like being close to you was painful. Your eyes burned.
“Do you hate me?” You asked, hating how your voice suddenly sounded so feeble. His eyes snapped back to yours, wide and defiant.
“I could never hate you.” The finality in the way he said it told you he was telling the truth, and yet, you couldn’t help but fall victim to the doubt creeping into your mind. He was looking right at you now– except he wasn’t really. It was more like he was looking through you.
“Then…then why?” You whispered, taking another tentative step forward. The space that both of you created, consciously or not, was unbearable. You just wanted things to go back to normal, was that so much to ask for?
“I don’t hate you. You just don’t understand.”
“Then make me understand!” You threw your hands up in the air in exasperation, wondering what the hell you had to do to make this conversation go somewhere, because right now it just felt like you were running in circles. “Caleb, please, just tell me why you’re avoiding me, because you are.”
He knew he was and hadn’t a single excuse, other than the reason he swore you never burdened you with. You were looking at him so pleadingly, grasping at straws to figure him out, but for the first time in his life, he found himself unable to give you an answer. Instead, his throat constricted, his anxiety keeping him silent.
“It’s my fault, isn’t it?” Your face crumbled, and upon witnessing it, so did his heart. Your lower lip trembled like a leaf on a windy day, and you bit down on it to stop it from doing so, doing your best to stay composed. Running a hand through your hair, you let out a shaky sigh. “I knew it, I should have never– we shouldn’t have slept together. That should have never happened and now everything is fucked up, and its all because of me.”
Yes. No. The answer wasn’t as straightforward as he needed it to be, and it paralysed him. The anguish you felt was on display for him and anyone who happened to walk by you to see, plain as day, as it twisted your features. It felt as if he had been stabbed in the gut when you backed away from him.
Turning away, you walked off. You had ruined things, you were sure of it, and it killed you. Once again, you let the rift between him and you grow with every step you took to escape the crash you had been responsible for.
A hand on your wrist. You gasped as he caught you, spinning you around and forcing you to face him once again.
Caleb had followed you into the gardens.
“Do you regret it?”
The question cut through you, and you gaped at him. The fervour you were so used to seeing in him suddenly returned, burning brightly in his eyes as he pinned you in place with them, his grip on your wrist never letting up. Question for question, with neither of you getting the answers you wanted.
You scoffed, rapidly blinking away the tears that you felt coming on. “If it's the reason things are weird between us, then yes! I do regret it. I need my best friend, Caleb. I need you.”
How could you not need him? He was your constant, the one person who had been by your side through thick and thin. You needed him in your life, by your side, in whatever way you were allowed to, even if it wasn’t what you truly wanted anymore.
He let go of your wrist. “I can’t do it.”
Your biggest fear was coming true right in front of your very eyes, and you hadn’t the faintest idea of how to stop it. It was taking form, bleeding into existence. You were losing him.
“You can’t do what?”
“I can’t be your friend. I just can’t.” He shook his head, shutting his eyes like he couldn’t bear to look at you.
Your voice comes out weak. Small. “But you said we’ll always be friends.”
“Well, I lied, okay! I can’t be your friend, not when–” He sucked in a breath, rubbing a hand over his face as he tried to reign himself in, stopping his outburst before it could happen. It wasn’t fair to you, none of this was, but he was at his breaking point. “I could do it before, but not anymore.”
“Why?” You whispered, those tears you had so valiantly fought off surging back. Once again, you felt like you had been trampled on, pinned down by a merciless gravity that had no regard for your need to breathe. You weren’t sure there was a reason to fight against it anymore.
He looked up at the darkening sky, deflating. Staying away from you hadn’t made it any better– if anything, it had only made it worse, his yearning to be beside you bubbling to an all-time high. There wasn’t a point in hiding anymore, not when it was turning out to be detrimental rather than soothing.
“Because,” he paused, peering up at the cloudy sky. He couldn’t see the stars. “I can’t go back to being your friend when I’ve tasted you. How am I supposed to act like I’ve never kissed you when I’ve had you in my bed? To pretend like I don’t know how it feels to have you like that? God, Y/n, I can’t do it.
Caleb, whom you had viewed as strong and untouchable all your life. Caleb, whom you had endlessly looked up to, sounded almost tortured, like it pained him to even have to tell you this.
“What are you saying?”
You hoped you didn’t look as terrified as you sounded. It felt as if someone had pulled the rug out from beneath you, but the ground underneath it was falling apart too, leaving you to stumble around and try to find your footing amidst the cracks that remained. If you fell now, you weren’t sure you’d ever be able to get up.
But that was the thing, wasn’t it? You had already fallen, and hard.
Caleb was stripped of his usual self-assuredness and confident smile. He was laid bare there in front of you, fixing you with a look that was so pained it tore through you.
“I’m in love with you.”
The confession ripped through you, although you didn’t register it at first. Those five words felt so improbable to have been said by him to you of all people that the only thing you could feel was disbelief. It just didn’t make sense. Why would something you longed to hear so badly be said with such sadness?
He mistook your stunned silence for aversion. He should have stopped there, given up and walked away, but now that he had finally, finally let it out, it was hard to stop. It was like a dam had broken within him; everything he had ever kept to himself when it came to you rushed out all at once.
“I’m in love with you, Y/n,” he said again, scoffing slightly at himself. No nicknames, just your name spoken in that reverent tone, like you were a divine being he was a devout follower of. “And it kills me because I know you’ll never see me as anything more than a best friend. You’ve made that very clear, and I never want to overstep, so I stayed away from you.”
“Caleb–”
He didn’t let you cut in. “I could do it when I didn’t know what it felt like to have you as something more than friends. The moment we crossed that line, it was all over for me. I would be your friend until I died if I didn’t know.” His hands were shaking, but they stayed by his sides, fingers curled into frustrated fists as he rambled.
“I–”
“But I can’t, Pips. I can’t do it anymore. I can’t be your best friend when I’ve loved you my entire life.” And you’re falling all over again, gravity pulling you down, down, down as something unfurled in your chest. “So please just–”
“Goddamnit Caleb, would you just shut up for one fucking minute!?”
You hadn’t meant to snap, but he was seriously to piss you off, going on and on without giving you the chance to speak your mind. Immediately, he clamped his mouth shut, preparing himself for the inevitable rejection he had imagined too many times to count in his head. You, on the other hand, thought you were going to faint, overwhelmed by everything that had just happened. It was everything you had convinced yourself was impossible.
And yet…
You kept your eyes locked onto his as you closed the distance between the two of you, so close now that you could feel the warmth radiating off of him, combating the chill in the evening air. Swallowing, you asked.
“You’re in love with me?”
He clenched his jaw and nodded. He knew what the consequences were, he was ready for them. It was about time he faced the truth anyway.
What he didn’t expect was for you to start laughing.
You clamped a hand over your mouth as incredulous laughter left you, eyes practically sparkling. Oddly enough, it sounded a little watery, like you were crying at the same time.
And then he realised you were, in fact, crying, tears streaming down your face. Alarmed, he stepped forward and cupped your face, instinctively wiping them away with the pads of his thumbs. This did nothing to dampen your hysterical laughter as you leaned into his touch.
“What the fuck?” He muttered, concern overtaking his previous, heartsick expression. “Are you dying or something?”
“Or something,” you managed to get out, gripping his arms, “We’re so stupid.”
“That…..okay, I’m officially confused. And a little scared.”
“Caleb,” you whispered once you stopped giggling, lethally soft. You looked up at him adoringly, eyes shining and tinged slightly red from your tears. “I’m in love with you, too.”
He froze, mouth falling open. He didn’t have to say anything, though, because honestly, he had said enough. It was your turn now.
You leaned further into his touch, nuzzling your cheek against his palm. “I think I’ve loved you for a long time, but I only realised after….after everything that happened between us.” You flushed, trying to word it as delicately as possible. “And I drove myself crazy because I thought you’d never see me that way–”
“I’ve always seen you that way.” He breathed out, those captivating eyes of his trained on you in wonder. Butterflies came to life in your stomach.
“– So I called it off. I said we needed to stop because I was so scared I’d lose you.”
By the time you finished, you were both staring at each other wide-eyed. His grip on you tightened, one hand falling to your waist as he tugged you closer.
“You love me?”
“I love you,” you nodded. “It just took me a while to figure it out.”
“Pipsqueak.” You had never been more grateful than you were right then to hear that stupid petname. “Oh my god, we are stupid.”
Without another word, Caleb pulled you into a kiss. You reciprocated instantly, wrapping your arms around his neck as you smiled against his lips, unable to contain yourself anymore. He kissed you like it was the only thing he ever wanted to do, holding you like you were precious, which to him, you undoubtedly were. It was your first proper kiss with him without any pretence or excuse surrounding it, and you couldn’t have asked for more.
Chuckling when you dissolved into more giddy giggles, he wiped away any stray tears from your face and rested his forehead against yours. After all these years waiting and hoping that you’d feel the same way, he knew he’d never let you go now.
“I love you, too.” It was a relief to say out loud and to your face, coming out of hiding and letting the truth of his feelings sit out in the light. You pecked his lips again and hugged him, revelling in his warmth and the delight of your feelings being returned. Your best friend loved you back, and everything in the world made sense again.
“Don’t be my best friend,” You mumbled fondly, cheek against his shoulder as you laid out your final request. “Just be mine.”
He smiled, an expression so dazzling you’d never forget it. “I’ll always be yours.”
When Caleb looked back at the sky, he could see the stars.
“Are you done?”
“Shh.”
You rolled your eyes, flopping onto the pile of plushes on your bed as you pulled out your phone and went through your messages. To be fair, it had barely been two minutes since you handed him your laptop, but you were impatient, wanting to know what he thought as soon as possible.
Caleb’s eyes were focused on the screen as he read, humming occasionally as he scrolled through the scene. If anyone had told you a year ago that you’d be letting him read a part of your writing, let alone a sex scene of all things, you would have either laughed in their face or had a mental breakdown.
Yet here you were. Life sure had a sense of humour.
Finally, after an agonising ten minutes, he spoke. “Wow.”
“Is it good?”
He shut your laptop and put it back on your desk carefully, before walking over to where you were. Then, he dropped himself onto the bed as well, purposely caging you in his arms and making sure you were trapped under his weight. Squealing, you hit his arm playfully.
“Caleb!”
Your boyfriend laughed mischievously, lifting his head so you could see the smirk that curled on his lips. “It was good. Very good.”
You sighed in relief. “Thank god.”
“So I must be really good in bed, huh?”
There it was. You groaned as you tried to push him off of you, even though you knew it was a futile task. “Don’t even try, you smug asshole.”
“What?” He asked, dripping in faux innocence. “I mean, you did use me for research purposes. Is it not a fair assumption to make?” He was so proud of it, and knew damn well that the entire sex scene he had just read had been falicitated because of him. Every part of it had been pulled from things the two of you had done, the thought of which made your skin heat up and your cheeks burn.
“You’re so annoying,” you huffed, giving up on trying to get him to stop squashing you. Instead, you adjusted, curling into him. Accepting this, he switched your positions, pulling you on top of him and resting his chin on your shoulder.
“You like it.”
“Unfortunately.”
You yelped when he pinched your side, but it dissolved into giggles when he began peppering kisses all over your face. Slipping his arm around your waist, he held you close, grining against your skin. If you had to stay like this forever, in his arms and under the glow of his radiant smile, you would be content.
“You’re an amazing writer, Pipsqueak,” he cradled your face in his hands, his love for you so achingly obvious in the way he looked at you that you wondered how you had never noticed it before. Rubbing his fingers against your cheek, he kissed your nose. “It would be just as great even if I hadn’t– uh– assisted.”
Though you snickered at him, you couldn’t stop yourself from beaming at his praise for your work. “I’m glad you did though,” you let him pull you closer, arm looping around your waist as you propped a leg over his. “Otherwise we might have never figured our shit out.”
He snorted. “Thank god for research. You would have kept me in the friendzone forever.”
“Hey!”
He silenced any further protests that you could have made, pressing his lips to yours in a sweet kiss. All possible complaints fled your mind the moment he did, eagerly kissing him back. You didn’t think you’d ever get enough of this and you had no idea how you had survived for so long while denying yourself of it.
Caleb had loved you for twelve years, steadily standing by your side and holding your hand even when you couldn’t see it. He had walked beside you through it all, the highest of highs and lowest of lows, lifting you up high over his shoulders with a grin on his face. He would never leave you behind, because he was your home. The one you had grown up with and wanted to wake up to everyday for the rest of your life.
He had taught you love without imposing it on you, silently showing it to you with every little thing he did. Your best friend. Your love. It had taken you a long time to catch up, but when you finally made it to the finish line, you found him waiting there for you patiently, holding out his hand for you to take.
The next time Tara called him your boyfriend, you didn’t correct her.
fin.
#love and deepspace#caleb love and deepspace#caleb x reader#lads x reader#love and deepspace x reader#caleb smut#caleb fluff#lads fluff#lads smut#love and deepspace smut#caleb x reader smut#lads caleb#caleb x mc#caleb x y/n
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𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗾𝘂𝗶𝗲𝘁 𝘀𝗶𝗱𝗲 𝗼𝗳 𝘁𝗵𝘂𝗻𝗱𝗲𝗿
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader
Synopsis: When a visit to his office leaves you shaken, Bucky becomes determined to take care of you.
Word Count: 4.4k
Warning(s): CEO!husband!bucky x wife!reader. protective!bucky. no use of y/n. use of nicknames sweetheart and angel. established (secret) relationship. reader is a damsel in distress. "GET YOUR HANDS OFF MY WIFE" 🗣🗣🗣 trope. public humiliation. physical violence (reader is manhandled - not by bucky). hurt/comfort. angst, fluff, smut (holy trifecta) (18+ mdni!!!). vaginal fingering. lots of praising. bucky is Scary™ and only soft for reader.
Author's Note: GUYS HI I'M ALIVE 👋🏼 so sorry for being MIA. work has been kicking my ass. I've literally been skipping lunch and working through weekends bcs of how crazy it is (yeah I know it's bad). but other than that, I've also been having the worst case of writer's block ever. I have three fics in my draft that I kept deleting and rewriting because none of them turned out good enough. this is the only half decent thing I managed to produce. not fully happy with this bcs I wanted to spend more time on it, but I've also been itching to put out something for you guys, so pls bear with me 😔 hopefully you'll still like it 🧡 don't forget to comment/like/reblog 💕
Bucky Barnes Masterlist
As soon as you step through the rotating doors, a relieved breath escapes your chest.
The rain continues to patter outside, merciless in their mission to soak everyone who dares to leave the comfort of their home. Your wet hoodie clings to you like second skin; your cotton skirt dripping on the marble floors below. The back of your neck scorches as you notice a few sharp glances sliding your way.
This is so not how you thought this day was going to go.
A quick coffee run with the girls had been the plan. The only plan. A chance to catch up with Wanda and Natasha amidst the unpredictability of everyone’s hectic schedules. Everything was going well. Up until the point you left the coffee shop, started the trek back towards the subway station, and realized something.
Your wallet was missing.
Not misplaced.
Not forgotten.
But actually missing.
You spent the next couple of hours retracing your steps—going back to the coffee shop, peering under evey chair and table, even asking the clueless barista if anyone had turned it in—but nothing. You even emptied your tote bag in the middle of the sidewalk at one point. Confirming that the wallet was, in fact, gone. To make matters worse, your phone had also died somewhere between Wanda showing you her latest painting project and Natasha's crude remarks about your sex life. In that raging desperation, you made a decision to resort to one last dramatic measure.
Bucky's office.
Inside your drenched sneakers, your toes curl. It’s silly for someone to feel this nervous about visiting their husband's place of work. But when the husband in question is none other than James Buchanan Barnes—CEO and founder of Barnes & Co.—you suppose the churning in your gut is somewhat justified. Especially when the prospect of visiting his office, impromptuly and without the dark cover of night, feels like crossing a threshold you've been avoiding for far too long.
You and Bucky have been together for over two years, married for one short, whirlwind month. The news of your wedding broke across the country like a hailstorm. Stirring a media frenzy and a nationwide intrigue revolving one question in particular.
Who is the woman that managed to conquer the heart of one of America's most eligible bachelors?
You've always dreaded the attention that comes with being Bucky's partner, hence why you asked to keep your identity a secret at the start of your relationship. And Bucky—despite having his reservations about not being able to love you loudly in front of the whole world—had agreed, but not before promising you that his world was yours to enter whenever you pleased.
You just never thought that the entrance would happen today.
The dribbles of rain have gathered into a puddle under your feet. You squirm as more eyes begin scrutinizing you as if you're a ketchup stain in their otherwise polished world of Rolexes and Armani-clad egos. Taking a deep breath, you will the thumping in your chest to abate, forcing your chin up as you stalk towards the front desk across the lobby.
The two receptionists are conversing among themselves when you approach, huddled over a phone on the desk. You’re about to open your mouth when the mention of a familiar name stops you dead in tracks.
“Bet she's just a ditzy arm candy,” one of them remarks. “I won’t be surprised if he found her at a yacht party.”
The other gasps scandalously, pausing mid-way of applying her dark red lipstick. “You think she's an escort?”
“I don’t think. I know.” The first one smirks. “But then again, a guy who looks like that? With that kind of money? Hell, he could probably get with any woman in the world.”
“Yeah, you're right. I'd gladly get on my knees and be the sidepiece if Bucky Barnes asked me.”
The two receptionists snicker.
A few paces away, you're standing with hands curled into fists, commanding the red hot emotion in your chest to dissipate before you do something you might regret.
Instead, you clear your throat.
Two pairs of eyes look up, and the moment they catch sight of you—teeth chattering and skirt trickling with mud—their expressions twist into something unpleasant. Dismissive. Judgemental in a way that causes your skin to crawl and your ears to ring.
“Can I help you?” asks the one with the red lipstick.
“Hi. Yes, please. I, uh—” you shift on your feet, “—I'm here to see Mr. Barnes.”
“He's in a meeting,” she replies, already tapping something on her keyboard. “Do you have an appointment?”
“No, but—”
“You need an appointment to see Mr. Barnes.” She smiles, so sickly sweet as she drags her eyes from your head to your toe. “I can't let you in. Sorry.”
“Okay. But I'm actually—”
“She said you can't go up, Ma’am,” the other receptionist interjects.
“If you could just call his office and tell them—”
“Mr. Barnes doesn't receive walk-ins,” says Red Lipstick, her gaze acrid when it lands on you. “Especially not from… strangers.”
You grit your teeth. “I'm his wife.”
The other receptionist snorts.
It takes everything in your power not to snap right then and there.
“Look,” you sigh, tugging at the hem of your drenched hoodie, “can I at least borrow a phone, then? Just to call his secretary?”
Red Lipstick sneers. “We're not a public phone booth.”
Next to her, the other receptionist doesn't even attempt to hide her smug smile. There is an ache prickling in the back of your eyes. You're soaked, freezing, and exhausted, and the last thing you need is to defend your identity in front of two people who seem to have resolved their judgement upon seeing your appearance. All you want to do right now is to get home, curl up in bed, and forget that this whole day ever happened in the first place.
“Fine,” you mutter, exhaling a stuttering breath, “I'll just wait then.”
You head towards the seating area several feet away, the leather squeaking the moment you sink down. Red Lipstick whispers something to her friend before picking up the desk phone.
Two minutes later, security shows up.
Chill licks up your spine as you watch the man in the uniform talking to the receptionist from earlier, the latter throwing daggers in your direction without bothering subtlety. You move your tote bag to your lap—as though the material can shield you from the impending confrontation—and clutch the canvas in a death grip when the security starts marching towards you.
“Ma'am.” The large man, all muscles and ear-piece, towers over you. “I need to ask you to leave the premises.”
You close your eyes.
This can't be happening.
“I'm not doing anything wrong.”
“You're causing a disruption.”
“Disruption?” you seethe, your voice shakier than you would like it to be. “I'm only sitting.”
“Please, Ma'am—”
“I'm just waiting for my husband, alright?” Your voice cracks. “Just—just please… give me five minutes. I'll just wait for his meeting to be over and—”
You don't get to finish your sentence.
Before you can fully process what is happening, the security guard has stomped forward, plunging his claws around your forearm, and jerks you up to your feet. You yelp as he begins to try and drag you away, scrambling to peel his vicious grip.
“Hey! What are you—? Let me go!”
“You need to stop resisting, Ma'am.”
“I'm not! Please, just… just let me go, you're hurting me!”
All around you, people have paused and begun watching. Businessmen halt mid-call. Women with perfect sleek buns turn their heads to lour at the sudden commotion. You're half certain that someone in the crowd has even pulled out a phone to record the whole thing.
And yet, none of them steps forward to help.
Shame creeps up your neck, burning in tandem with the ache that now travels through your arm. Your sneakers screech against the marble floors as the security heaves you across the lobby, unperturbed by your whines of pain and your desperate pleas.
No one seems to care.
That is until a voice breaks through your choked cries.
“What the hell is going on here?”
The crowd falls into a sudden hush, panting like the Red Sea to reveal the figure standing in front of the closing elevator doors.
Bucky Barnes.
His suit jacket is unbuttoned, tie slightly loosened from the tumult of the day. You can almost picture him tugging repeatedly at that piece of fabric as he sits in one of his tediously long meetings—the same tie that you bought for him several months prior. His steel-blue eyes scan the surroundings, flicking from the mass of foreign faces standing in his lobby to the scene that has seemingly rendered everyone frozen on their spot. His gaze lands on you—dripping, scared, and on the verge of crying—and immediately zeroes in on the security guard's iron grip around your forearm.
Bucky steps forward.
And something inside of him snaps.
"Get. Your fucking hands. Off my wife."
The meeting is running long.
Too long.
Bucky keeps glancing at the clock above the screen monitor, counting down the minutes until the longer hand strikes twelve. He barely hears the pitch being presented. Not when his mind isn't even present in the room. His phone sits face-down on the table, buzzing occasionally with email notifications, meeting reminders, missed phone calls, but not from the one person who matters the most.
You.
He sighs quietly.
When the final slide clicks off and the lights turn on again, Bucky doesn't waste time standing to his feet. “Good work,” he says, already halfway out of the door. “We'll review the proposal and follow up. That's all.”
He doesn’t even give his team a chance to respond.
The hallway is deserted as he walks past. Bucky enters his office and shuts the door behind him, checking his phone to see the last four messages he has sent to you.
[08.28 AM] Have fun with Wanda and Nat. I'll see you tonight, angel ❤️
[11.47 AM] Still with the girls, sweetheart?
[12.04 PM] Let me know once you're home
[01.58 PM] Angel?
His jaw clenches.
Bucky presses the call button and brings the device to his ear, cursing when the line goes straight to voicemail. You never do this—leave his messages hanging for hours like this. You always answer—with a text or a phone call, sometimes with a single emoji response when you're too busy or too tired to form a proper one. A total silence is unheard of, and Bucky knows that this can mean one of two things.
Either your phone is dead… or something is wrong.
Bucky’s gut plummets.
He hits another number on his phone, his driver instantly answering on the second ring.
“Bring the car to the front,” Bucky orders. “I'm heading home.”
“Yes, sir.”
Bucky moves in quick lightning. Gathering his things and shoving important documents into his briefcase. He leaves the office and stops by his secretary's desk, who shoots out of her seat immediately upon seeing him.
“Cancel everything else for today. I'm going home.”
“Wait, what? But, Mr. Barnes, you still have—”
“I don’t care,” he says, already turning towards the elevator. “I need to check on my wife.”
Inside the elevator, Bucky fiddles with his cuffs, trying not to imagine the worst. There is a good chance you probably just forgot to charge your phone and got way too caught up reuniting with your friends to notice the time. Maybe you're already back home, asleep, snoring softly into his pillow. Maybe there really is no reason for Bucky to worry.
But he does worry.
Bucky has been worried for sometime. Particularly since the story of your wedding broke a month ago.
He didn't say anything to keep you from stressing, but on the second week of your honeymoon in the Caribbean, Bucky received word from his security team that a stalker had tried to break into his house in Westchester. The perpetrator was caught and handed to the police before things could escalate, but it still wasn't enough to ease Bucky's mind. He had to relocate your residence temporarily to his penthouse in Manhattan—telling you a little white lie about doing some renovations at the house. Thankfully, you're none the wiser. You've always loved living at the heart of the bustling city, anyway.
The elevator doors open with a ding.
Bucky steps out, pausing in his tracks when he realizes there is a horde gathering in the lobby. People are murmuring among themselves, their necks craning as they attempt to sneak a peek at the center of the ruckus. Bucky's brows furrow.
“What the hell is going on here?” he bellows.
The crowd parts.
Bucky examines his surroundings. Seeing at least two people with their phones out, receptionists standing behind their desks, and heads turning towards a scene unfolding near the sofas.
There is a man there.
A man in uniform—a security guy—who has his hand around a woman's arm, trying to drag her away across the lobby.
The woman is drenched and shaking, voice hoarse from pleas that have fallen on deaf ears. When he finally catches her eyes—your eyes—blown wide with panic, the rest of the world seems to evaporate.
Bucky sees red.
“Get. Your fucking hands. Off my wife.”
The security guard falters, just for the briefest of milliseconds, but it's all Bucky needs to yank his hands off you. He shoves the guard so hard the man stumbles nearly five feet back. Bucky doesn't stop there—he grabs the guard by his collars, the man now trembling with fear in front of him. It doesn’t matter. Not to Bucky. Not after what he just saw this man was doing to you.
“Are you out of your goddamn mind?!” Bucky froths, face twisting into stone. “Touching my wife like that? Dragging her out? Do you want me to fucking kill you?!”
“S-Sir, I—”
“Bucky.”
His head snaps.
Your voice is meek beneath the tense air of the lobby, but it reaches him nonetheless. It always does. One short utterance of his name from you is all it takes for Bucky to loosen his grip on the security guard, his breath catching in his throat as he finally takes you in—soaked to the skin, shivering, shoes drenched under your feet.
Everything else melts away.
In two long strides, Bucky is now standing before you, his large palms cradling your face with a softness that startlingly opposes the man that has threatened death upon another human being five seconds ago. There is a pinch in his forehead as he studies your face. His face contorting as if the sight of you alone has plunged a blade so deeply into his soul.
“Sweetheart.” His voice breaks. “What happened?”
Your lips quiver. “I-I'm sorry, Bucky. I didn't mean to… I lost my wallet, and my phone’s dead. Then it just—it started raining, and I—I didn’t know what else to do—”
“Shh, angel. It's okay.” He tugs you close, arms wrapping around you without hesitation, not caring the fact that your rain-soaked clothes are probably ruining his expensive suit. You press into him, an involuntary shudder running through your limbs. “Shit, angel, you're freezing.”
Bucky shrugs out of his jacket and wraps it around your shoulders, firm hands rubbing your back to transfer some of his warmth to you. His voice is so unbearably tender as it falls on your ears.
“I’ve got you now,” he whispers. “You’re safe, angel. I’ve got you.”
Then, Bucky turns.
Slowly.
“You,” he barks at the security guard, blue eyes burning with hellfire. “Explain. Now.”
The guard swallows. “Sir, I-I didn’t know. The receptionist said she was causing a disturbance. Said she was crazy. Claimed she was your wife. I was just following—”
“She is my wife.” Bucky’s voice is deathly quiet. Venomous. “And you fucking manhandled her.”
“I-I didn’t mean to—”
Bucky turns his gaze towards the front desk.
The girl with the red lipstick is now as white as a sheet. Beside her, the other receptionist doesn't seem to be doing much better.
“Mr. Barnes,” Red Lipstick begins. “I didn’t—I didn’t know. She didn’t look like… She just sat on the furniture like she owned the place, and she—”
“She does own the damn place,” Bucky snaps. “And she told you who she was. And instead of doing the one job you have—calling my office—you humiliated her. Called security. Let this entire lobby watch while you treat her like dirt.”
“I—I was just trying to—”
Bucky raises his hand.
The girl's jaw snaps shut.
“I want all of you gone. Now. Security. Receptionists. Both of you. Fired. I don’t want to see any of you here again.”
The other receptionist tries to speak, “But sir—”
“Do you want me to fucking repeat myself?”
The three of them stay quiet.
Bucky turns back to you then, still enveloped in his jacket, looking smaller and more vulnerable than the person he knows you to be. Something inside him splinters at the sight.
“Let’s get you home, sweetheart,” he murmurs.
He guides you through the lobby, tucking you against his side as if he's afraid to let even an inch of space separate the two of you from now on. Before he reaches the rotating doors, Bucky halts his steps. He sweeps his gaze across the crowd, a raging flame in his sternum when he sees some people with their phones still out.
Bucky takes out his own mobile, typing in something without ever retracting his other arm away from your frame. Seconds later, his driver appears through the rotating doors, taking a subtle double take at your state, before nodding dutifully at the two of you.
“I want you to get all the names of the people in this lobby,” Bucky commands. “Give them to me by tomorrow. Check their phones. Confiscate them if you find anything of my wife. Prepare a fund to reimburse them for the device, we will not be returning them.”
The driver nods.
“Oh, by the way—” Bucky adds, gesturing at the security guard and the two receptionists, “—those three? I want them gone by the end of the day. Make sure to blacklist their names. Notify our partners as well.”
With that, Bucky leads you away again. Out of the office, out of the rumpus, and straight into the safety of his arms.
By the time you reach the apartment, New York City is in mourning.
The rain has exploded into a full-blown storm. Through the floor-to-ceiling windows, you can see the darkness that has befallen the entire city. The roar of thunder echoes through the floor, still rough, still formidable, but a little quieter now that you're swaddled in the safety of your home.
Next to you, another thunder is subsiding.
Bucky doesn't let go of your hand as you step further into the apartment. He holds you like you're procelain, tucking you a little closer into his side every time he feels a tremble running through you. His lips are pressed onto your temple as he leads you towards the hallway.
“You're shivering, sweetheart,” he points out. “Let me run you a bath, okay?”
You don't have the energy to respond.
In the bathroom, Bucky guides you to sit on the toilet. He moves through the space like a domesticated cyclone—filling in the tub, lighting up your favorite candles, adding in that lavender and eucalyptus oil that he knows you love. Steam is rising within minutes. Bucky turns back to you with the gaze of a man who is trying to spell out love with his eyes alone.
“I'm gonna take off your clothes now, alright?”
He sheds each layer with reverence. As if he was revealing your secrets rather than taking off rain-soaked worn cotton. Bucky pauses every now and then to squeeze your hand, peppering tiny kisses along the knuckles, shifting closer every time he detects gooesbumps on your skin.
The whole thing is so sweet.
He is so sweet.
And it makes the whole dam you've been straining to uphold finally collapses.
“I’m sorry,” you whisper, surprising him.
“Sorry?” Bucky is perplexed. “Angel, why are you sorry?”
“S-Sorry for… for showing up like that. For making a scene. I shouldn't—I must’ve embarrassed you—”
“Hey,” he says firmly, cupping your face in his hands. “No. Don’t do that.”
Tears cling to your lashes.
“You can never embarrass me, sweetheart. You’re my wife. The most important thing in my life. If anything, I should’ve been there sooner. None of this is on you.” Bucky brushes his nose to yours, massaging the nape of your neck. “I'm so sorry, angel. You didn’t deserve to go through any of that.”
Your breath stammers.
Bucky leans back and presses his lips to your forehead.
“Come on.” He smiles. So tender and loving you think you might unravel completely. “Let me take care of you.”
He helps you into the tub, guiding you down into the warmth with a steady hand on your back. The water laps against your skin, chasing the chill from your aching bones as well as your bruised heart. The next thing that comes out of your mouth is a relieved sigh.
Bucky moves to stand.
Your hand shoots out and curls around his wrist before he can rise.
“Join me,” is all you say.
He doesn’t need to be told twice.
Bucky never takes his eyes off you even when he starts stripping down his clothes. He steps behind you in the tub, tugging you to his chest the moment he has settled into the bath. Your whole body liquefies on instinct the second his arms engulf your middle.
“I’ve got you now,” he murmurs, pledging the words to your temple. “You’re safe.”
Bucky reaches for your soap, lathering his plams with the scent of lavender and peppermint. You sigh and sink deeper into his chest as you feel his touch working over your skin—shoulders, arms, the curve of your back. He kisses each spot every time he finishes rinsing it off, running his tongue down your neck, whispering praises with each breath.
“So strong. So brave.” He nips at your ear. “So proud of you, sweetheart. I love you so much.”
Bucky continues peppering your skin with kisses. Experimenting with the graze of his teeth and the scrape of his tongue. You squirm in his hold when his fingers begin swiping at your chest. Subtle, at first, but then he takes a nipple between his fingers and twist it just enough to make you mewl in delight.
It's the best goddamn sound he has ever heard on this planet.
He begins massaging your breast with his left hand, the other one sliding lower and lower with every bruise he is sucking into your neck. Bucky parts your nether lips, feeling you soft and compliant under his touch. You jolt in his arms the moment he skims over your sensitive nub.
“B-Bucky—”
“Shh, I got you, angel. Don't worry,” he soothes, burying his face in your throat. “Just feel me. Gonna make you feel so good, okay? Just lean back and relax for me.”
You follow his instruction, letting yourself fall back onto his chest. Bucky starts rubbing you slowly, earnestly, circling his fingers around the one place that is yearning for him, never quite touching it just to tease those breathless sounds out of you even further. In front of him, you're panting. Your hips grinding against his hand as you attempt to chase more of those heavenly feelings.
“Look at you,” Bucky muses, relishing the way you're chasing more of his touch. “Always so beautiful for me. You know that, don't you, sweetheart?”
“Bucky,” you whine.
“Shh, I know, angel. I know. Doing so good for me.”
Bucky rubs his fingers over your clit, groaning when the motion tears a wrecked sound out of your throat. He carries on with his ministrations, playing your body like a musician would their favorite instrument. Alternating between lazy strokes and desperate flicks that have you gasping and writhing against him.
“Oh God.” You close your eyes, brows creasing when Bucky eventually plunges two fingers into your heat.
He moves them in and out of you languidly. Curling his digits, feeling your walls contract and suck him deeper each time he stimulates that one spot that always paints your vision with stars. You're gripping his forearm now. Your head falling back onto his shoulder as his other hand slides downward towards your bundle of nerves.
Everything feels heightened.
Everything feels good.
You angle your head to the side and kiss his jaw as you feel a familiar knot forming in your abdomen.
“Bucky,” you whimper, locking your eyes with his. “I-I'm gonna—oh God, don't stop—I wanna—”
“Wanna cum, angel?” Bucky purrs, running his nose down your cheekbone. “Can feel you squeezing my fingers—shit. Go ahead, sweetheart. Let go for me. Let me see you.”
You come apart within seconds. The murmurs of Bucky's encouragement as your music and the kisses he leaves on your shoulder as your anchor. His fingers continue to drag in and out of you with reverence, prolonging your pleasure, never once relenting until he is sure you've given him everything that you could.
“That's it, sweetheart. You did so well.” He tilts your chin up, leaving a chaste kiss in the corner of your lips. “Such a good girl for me.”
He holds you until your breathing slows, until the thrum under your skin quietens and your nerve endings stop lighting up in flames. Bucky helps you out of the bath with a towel already warm in his hands, drying you carefully, each brush a well-concocted plan because he knows you deserve nothing less than the utmost form of care.
Once you're dressed, Bucky leads you to your shared bed. You're already half asleep by the time he tucks the covers around your frame, brushing his thumb across your cheek.
“I love you,” he confesses into the quiet. “You’re my whole world, angel.”
You blink at him, eyes drowsy but warm. “Love you, too.”
Bucky slides in beside you, pulling you close until your head is rested on his chest and your hand finds the steady beating of his heart.
Outside, the storm continues to rage. Anguish in its name and its promise, chasing thunders with the stable clatter of the rain.
Inside, though, it's quiet. A stretch of silence merely rustled by the intakes of breath and the soft snores of Bucky's whole life—his wife. His world. Kept securely inside the certainty of his embrace where nothing and no one else would be able to lay their hands on you.
And with that reassurance, Bucky closes his eyes, drifting off with his heart stitched solidly to yours.
#bucky barnes#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes x y/n#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x female reader#bucky barnes x f!reader#bucky barnes angst#bucky barnes fluff#bucky barnes smut#ceo bucky barnes#ceo!bucky barnes#husband bucky barnes#husband!bucky barnes#bucky barnes fic#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes imagine#bucky barnes au#sebastian stan#bucky x f!reader#bucky x female reader#bucky x y/n#bucky x you#bucky barnes masterlist#fawn is writing
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MANCHILD ⋆。°✩ lee heeseung



( WHY YOU ALWAYS COME RUNNING TO ME ) ── ex boyfriend!! lee heeseung x fem! reader
synopsis: in which you awkwardly cross paths with your ex-boyfriend. and for him to pick up a desperate phone call when you needed it the most (read part one here)
fic notes: ex boyfriend! lee heeseung x fem! reader, suggestive language, cursing, angst, a little bit of reconciliation, very slowburn interactions
kiara's notes: due to popular demand, y'all asked for a part two. y'all can thank my bestie @nocturnebite for actually helping me come up with a happy segway into this story because i was prolly gonna make it more angsty lmao. if this needs a part three —feel free to yell at me (it prolly does)
word count: 2.7k
his phone number blocked, the pictures of you both ripped in two and thrown in the trash. every memory of his face, of his lips kissing your skin, his laughter ringing in your ear —erased, deleted, gone. that was the end of the chapter between you and lee heeseung. and perhaps it was better off that way.
it had been months since you had last spoken to him. while you promised yourself that it was't a big deal, the hole in your heart was begging to be filled, replaced with someone else. it took some motivation to get yourself out of bed, to try going out to clubs, to put makeup on and make yourself presentable in public. he had made you an emotional train wreck, which meant dragging your shaky feet out on the ground to find the confidence that had seemingly left your body the day that he shattered your heart into a million pieces.
and while the confidence returned —your luck with finding a better boy to date seemed physically impossible. no literally. the saying "there are other fish in the sea," must have been a lie. because the men on your dating apps, the men that approached you at clubs, were absolutely horrendous in every way possible. that's not to say that they weren't attractive (in fact, many of them were drop dead gorgeous) but you could spot their imperfections from the first date.
if heeseung had done one thing right, it was for your eyes to be open to the men that would sit in front of you. from the way they ate their pasta to the way they would snake an arm around your waist. the attention to detail made it so easy for you to reject another date, you didn't want to pursue another romantic relationship if they were going to be the same as your ex-boyfriend. but the one thing that lee heeseung had cursed you with was the magnetization. no matter where you went, you were always attracting the same type of men. the "man child" and it was fucking annoying.
they were the ones that played hard to get, the ones that like to linger and make you squirm in your seat wondering if you were going to be given the chance to go on a second date. the ones who promised to pick you up for dinner at seven only for you to be sitting in your living room almost an hour later, wondering when they would show up. the ones who talked passionately about their own hobbies without even batting an eye when you spoke on your success. you don't know what you did to attract such a form of men —but it was completely exhausting.
you prayed that they would be different. so maybe that's why you found yourself getting ready for another date. another dude from another dating app you were on. he didn't seem like a "man child" (but that was just your optimism speaking). and yet, you found yourself waiting in the lobby of your apartment, looking at the hands on your watch tick forward. he was late —of course he was.
"you look nice,"
his voice was unexpected. like a random bolt of lightning striking a clear summer day. it immediately took you out of your bored dazed as you looked up to see him staring at you. how many months had it been since you'd see his face? how many times had you spent trying to block him out of your head? surely, this was a figment of your imagination —but the tiny smile that touched his lips professed that the man standing in front of you was real.
"um thanks," you awkwardly replied, feeling your cheeks turn pink as you politely accepted his compliment.
the silence that between the two of you was as thick as a slice of texas toast. after all, what was there to say? how could you casually strike up a conversation with someone who casually threw your heart to the side?
"are you going on a date?"
"something like that, if he's planning on showing up," you scoffed as you looked down at your phone. no new messages, brilliant.
"how are things with your going with your girlfriend?" you asked in a desperate attempt to change the subject. you were mentally begging that your date could show up any minute now to save you from the jaws of the awkward conversation you were forced to be in.
"we broke up,"
great, so much for making the conversation less awkward.
what were you supposed to say? "i'm sorry that you two broke up?" you weren't. in fact, there was some form of satisfaction knowing that things with his ex-girlfriend didn't work out again. and yet, you found yourself awkwardly shifting in your chair praying that some sort of words could slip out of your lips to answer heeseung.
"oh..."
"...yeah,"
as much as you were curious to know why the relationship had ended. you had no choice but to plant a tiny smile on your lips and let out a sigh of relief as your phone screen lit up. saved by the bell-ish. the likelihood of this date being better than your previous ones seemed unlikely but it was better than spending any more time with heeseung. those were minutes you were never going to get back.
"well, that's my date," you said as you got up from your seat and smoothed out your dress. for a minute, you could have sworn that there was a tiny grimace on his face when he heard those words slip out of your lips. but it was almost immediately replaced with a faint smile. it had to be your imagination.
"it was nice seeing you heeseung,"
and with a polite smile, you walked out of the lobby with confidence in your footsteps, masking the sinking pit of anxious feelings that swirled in your stomach. you had a date to worry about and yet, he was there crawling his way back into your mind like a parasite.
it had been so long since you'd last seen him. so why out of all places did you have to see him now? more importantly, what was he doing in the lobby of your apartment building?
───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────
your date was going horribly. not much of a surprise there. after being picked up forty minutes late, your date reeked of cologne. not that his cologne smelt bad, but it was like the man practically bathed in it. he was chivalrous enough to open the car door for you —that was about it. he chewed with his mouth open, he would constantly interrupt you when you had anything to say, and let's not forget how his phone wasn't silenced so you could hear the tinder notification constantly beeping on his phone.
you couldn't even keep track of what he was talking about. you were just waiting for the bill at this point. you were already planning on calling an uber instead of letting him drop you back at your place. the last thing you needed was his lips covered in pasta sauce trying to kiss you —ew.
"well, this has been a fun date but i should probably go home now," you started to say as you watched the waiter place the bill down in front of you. your date didn't even pay attention to what you had said, he took one glance at the bill and looked back up at you.
"aren't you going to pay?" he asked.
"excuse me?"
that was a quick slap to the face. now he was really racking up the points for being the worst date you've had. picking a fancy ass restaurant and expecting you to pay? of course, you should have picked up the sign sooner. there was a card on the dashboard of the car he picked you up in that was from some car rental business. he decided to pay for the most expensive bottle of wine and gorge himself on an expensive plate of food. great, another man child.
"i asked you out on the date, the least you can do is pay for the food," he replied casually while wiping the pasta sauce off of his chin.
"you've got to be fucking kidding me. is this what you do to all women that you take out on a date? order the most expensive meal and expect them to pay for it?" you snapped as you glared daggers at you date.
the fact that he didn't say anything made things even more upsetting. all he did was blink at you, as if you should have known this was how the date was supposed to go. "look, it's not that big of a deal. besides, i promise i'll make it up to you once we head back to your place," he said as he tried to place his hand on top of yours.
"oh really? is that what you think is going to happen? that i'm invite you back to back to my place and i'm gonna let you fuck with that tiny thing you call a penis?" you grit your teeth before getting up from your seat.
"go call your parents and ask them to help pay for your meal," you said as you opened your purse and threw some cash down in front of him. "here's my half of the bill," you added on before walking out of the restaurant, leaving behind your date jaw dropped and confused.
you stepped out of the restaurant into the darkened sky. the only thing lighting up the world in front of you were the city lights and the billboards that illuminated advertisements of happy smiling faces beaming in fluorescent colours in front of you.
while you should have felt relieved that you called it quits with that dude that just wanted to get in the sheets, there was something about this date that was the last straw. they were all the same, all of the dates that you had been on were just stupid men seeing you as another way to get their body count up. it was fucking disgusting. you craved the romantic life, you begged to be loved again, you wanted—
—and in that moment, your impulsiveness took over. you found yourself fishing your phone out of your purse, your hand going to the settings, clicking on a blocked phone number that you had memorized by heart, and pressing the call button.
you paced around in circles. a thousand thoughts accumulating in your head as you continued to hear the phone ring in your ear. until you heard his voice on the other line.
"hey, do you think you can pick me up?"
───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────
the car ride was completely silent. no questions asked, no small talk to be made, just you two sitting with the radio as ambience to fill the void that was between the two of you. you didn't think he was going to answer, let alone pick you up. yet, you found yourself in the same car with your ex-boyfriend, with lee heeseung, the man you swore you never wanted to see in a million years —all because some stupid date went horribly wrong.
for the first time in a while, you felt like you could actually breathe. like you could sit back and pause in a world that was constantly moving. or maybe it was because you were in a car with someone that you had once been vulnerable with, someone that you had completely poured your heart and soul to. whatever the reason, you were able to rest your head on the side of the window and relax in the passenger seat.
"so, do you want to talk about what happened?" there it was. the moment that you weren't necessarily dreading, but knew that was going to happen. it was only a matter of time before he was going to confront you about the situation. or why you decided to call him up out of all people.
"not really," you muttered. you refused to make eye contact with him. one look into those doe-like eyes and hating him was a lost cause. you couldn't give in to him that easily.
"it's just, all of these dates that i've been going on are awful," you started as you finally moved your head away from the window and turned to look at him. "i mean, every guy i've been going out with these past couple of months have been the same. i'm so sick of attracting men that act like children!" you groaned as you threw your hands up into the air.
heeseung only chuckled as you finally started opening up to him again. there was something about seeing your face getting all red and flustered that made his heart skip a beat. he wanted to tell you, he needed to tell you—
"—he asked me to pay for the meal, hee. the dude literally ordered the most expensive meal on the menu and expected that i was going to pay—"
"—you called just me hee,"
you paused and turned to look at heeseung who was staring directly at you. thankfully you two were at a red light, so it wasn't like any car was going to come crashing into you but still. the nickname had slipped out of your tongue so casually that you didn't even notice yourself say it. but he did.
you didn't say anything to him after that. it was an instant "keep your lips" quiet moment after that. he caught you slipping once, you weren't going to let it happen again. so when he drove into the parking garage of your apartment complex you couldn't help but eagerly take off your seatbelt.
"well, thanks for the ride," you said already moving to open the car door. but before you could make a swift exit, heeseung was already out of the car, outside opening the door for you.
what was this feeling that was swelling up in your chest? you should be hating him right now. yet, you didn't shoo him away when he started to walk with you up to your apartment. he didn't say anything, just had his hands in his pockets, keeping his eye out for anyone that seemed suspicious. it was the tiny things that made your heart continue to skip a beat, even when you knew that you shouldn't.
"you know you didn't need to walk me to my door," you said as you fished your keys out of your purse.
"i know, i just figured that maybe it would save you from any other creeps trying to hit on you," he replied with a shrug of his shoulders.
"i appreciate it, heeseung. thanks for picking me up tonight. i honestly didn't think that you were going to pick up the phone,"
"well i'm glad i did. i've missed talking to you,"
you could only nod and smile at his comment. and then came the awkwardness that you two were so familiar with. it's not like you could give him a hug, or the usual kiss on the cheek when you first started dating. you two were just strangers, exes that picked up the phone for one small favour. nothing more nothing less.
"have a good night, heeseung,"
"sweet dreams,"
and while you watched him walk down the hallway as you stepped into your apartment, your stomach was greeted with the same pit of butterflies fluttering around. you shook your head, you couldn't fall for him again, that would mean neglecting everything that he had done. the way that he had taken your heart, smashed it into a million pieces and left you lying trying to fix everything he had broken.
but he answered your phone call.
you watched him turn the corner, a sigh escaping your lips before you closed the door behind you. now was not the time to catch feelings for the man that had cursed you to find every "man child" in the city. now was not the time to fill the hole in your heart with the same man who inflicted the damage you were trying to fix.
but everything about that night had brought back the tiny spark that you had put out so long. the wave of emotions coming back like a tide the more you played them over in your head. and so you went to bed with a confused head and a stomach swirling with butterflies.
he had left you once before. but he came back.
if only he never answered your phone call at all.
taglist: @keehoes @daisyintherainsposts @evxnsbae @douqhnxtss @mimimovv @sunooqvrlsx
reblogs, likes, comments & feedback are appreciated!
#enhypen#enhypen x reader#enhypen angst#lee heeseung#heeseung x reader#heeseung angst#heeseung au#enhypen scenarios#enhypen imagines#enhypen heeseung#enhypen au#enhypen heeseung fic#heeseung fic#heeseung fluff#lee heeseung angst#lee heeseung x you#lee heeseung x reader#enha#heeseung x you#heeseung scenarios#heeseung imagines
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I've seen a lot of talk about how hell affected Edwin's pain tolerance, but not very much breaking down how it seems to have affected the way he manages emotion. So to that end, here we go:
Edwin Payne vs emotions (and how his no good very bad helltime messed with him something awful)
Dead Boy Detectives does a very good job early on of establishing the fact that Edwin is not particularly good with people. He's stilted, he's repressed, and though he can be incredibly kind to the people he cares about, he can also be quite abrasive, particularly to those he doesn't know well.
Time and time again, we see Charles step in to be the face man. Charles is the one to greet the clients, to take note of their names, to set them at ease. Charles is the one to support Crystal emotionally, and his interactions with Edwin seem to imply that he's done the same for Edwin, over the years. Charles has to remind Edwin to mind his bedside manner, and he explains to Crystal that Edwin forgets how to talk to people sometimes, because of how long he spent in hell.
In short, these boys compensate for each other's strengths and weaknesses in a lot of ways, and Charles is very much the one doing the emotional heavy lifting in this partnership.
And there's a reason for that, laid out in the text and subtext all throughout the show, and the narrative handles it brilliantly.
Edwin's actor does a fantastic job in expressing the character's reactions – or rather, lack of them. Because in the most shocking scenes throughout the show, Edwin often doesn't seem as horrified as the others in the face of events that ought to be horrific. In the Devlin house, he seems as though the murders scarcely affect him. When the jumper at the top of the lighthouse throws herself down, he's downright composed in comparison to everyone else.
And Edwin repeatedly shows or expresses that emotion makes him uncomfortable. When Crystal and Charles are fighting in episode five, he requests that they set their feelings aside until the case is finished. At the end of the episode, he says that the day has been entirely too full of emotions for his taste.
So, what is it specifically about emotion that bothers him so much?
In hell, emotion meant an awful, bloody death.
Panicking over potential incoming horrors? Nope, sorry, too loud. Dead again. Having a sobbing breakdown in a corner? Nope, sorry, too loud. Injured and trying to keep it down so it doesn't get worse? Nope, sorry, that's too loud, too.
Again and again, we see Edwin trying to tamp down on his emotions, but also, tellingly, trying to keep his emotions subdued and quiet.
When Charles finds him in hell, he's crying without making a single sound. When Esther starts to torture him in episode eight, he doesn't scream at first. He's trained himself out of making noise when something hurts or frightens him.
Of course he wants to set emotions aside until the case is done. He's spent seventy years learning what happens if you don't. You take care of business first. If, and only if, there's an after? That's when you let yourself feel.
Early on, when Edwin and Charles need to find the correct book but Edwin is unable to access their office due to the Cat King's bracelet, Edwin is upset. He's frustrated and out of sorts, blocked from making progress on the thing he knows he needs to be doing – hurting himself trying to get his arm through the mirror until Charles stops him. It's Charles who has to step in and help him calm down. It's Charles who has to remind him to breathe through what is very likely a panicked throwback to those times when if he could not solve his way out of a problem, it would very literally get him killed. In this scene, we get a brief glimpse of how Edwin looks when he starts to lose his grip on his rigid control.
And that's before we even get to these things:

Because as awful as the doll spider was, it wasn't the only thing skulking around the Doll House. Charles stumbles across misery wraiths when he goes to rescue Edwin from hell – and we know from the Devlin house episode that Edwin is extremely aware of what they do and how they operate. They were in his space, looking for despair to feed off during a time when he had it in spades.
Taken all together? It's an absolutely heartbreaking picture.
This boy seemed a little socially awkward before his death, from what we see of his time before hell. But afterward? He's had seventy long years of having to teach himself to regulate his own emotions, under pain of excruciating torture if he didn't do it well enough.
With an object lesson like that, over and over again, for literal decades, it's no wonder that Edwin has such a hard time navigating emotions and everything surrounding them.
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Leaked documents



Enha’s reaction when the HYBE leaked documents talk about kicking fem!8th member out… hurt/comfort, 1k words, mentions of iland (that deserves a tw) and haters… requested by 🩵 anon
Heeseung
His heart absolutely breaks 💔
Even in Iland he'd spent countless hours encouraging you, telling you just how talented you were and how much you deserved to debut
When you'd first debuted and gotten hate for being 'out of place' in the boy group, he was in protection mode at every single schedule
Always distracting you from antis and keeping you close on stage
He reminds you just how talented you are, and probably calls Bang Sihyuk himself
"If you ever remove Yn from this group you will need to find a replacement for me as well."
He does NOT play
If you're out, so is he
You're not allowed to go anywhere by yourself for the next few weeks
"Hee I'm just going to the convenience store."
"Yeah? And I'm coming too."
If you get recognized or heckled boy will he have something to say
He's scary
Jay
He's the only one that can get you out of your room
You locked yourself away as soon as you saw the article, but he sits outside your closed door talking into the wood for twenty minutes
When you finally open it up, he's caging you in his arms
"Remember what we promised as trainees?" He asks once the two of you are laid down in your bed
You mumble and he rolls his eyes.
"What was that?"
"You said you'd always take care of me."
"Exactly. And you said you'd let me."
You bury yourself further into his chest, and he strokes a hand through your hair
"We'd never let that happen."
He sticks to his word, taking care of you extra attentively for the next few weeks
He lets you cry and rant about it as many times as you need, insisting that you aren't annoying and you're allowed to be as upset as you want
Jake
Another hugger
Swears up and down he'd kick down every door in the building if they ever tried to take you from him
"Jakey, you couldn't even break a board during our karate episode."
"Because the board wasn't trying to take my baby from me! My love for you would make me strong!"
Okay Hulk 🙄
He makes a post on Weverse that night that includes an old picture of you two together with the caption 'What would I do without you?'
He's perfectly content to stay stowed away in your room doing nothing for the next few days
And when you do have a meeting at the building, he's stuck to your side the whole time
Gives nasty looks to the CEO himself
He acts like they're going to literally rip you away from him, he's holding on to you for dear life every time you have practice
Sunghoon
He's actually shocked because you keep complaining that they made comments about how he looked
No way you're more upset about them calling him ugly than you are about them discussing possibly removing you from the group
"You need to fix your priorities, love."
"My priorities are fine, thank you very much! Sales probably would be better if I was gone, I know that's true. But calling the prettiest boy ever ugly? That's a crime."
He shuts that down REAL FAST
"Sales would not be better, because we'd be miserable without you. Our careers would suffer the minute you left this building. Don't act like you don't matter in this."
You can't even respond
This might be the most fired up he's ever been, and he's staring straight into your soul eyes and you can't help but tear up
"C'mere," he pulls you tighter against him
"It's okay to be upset. They're crazy for thinking we'd survive without you. I wouldn't make it an hour."
Sunoo
He lets you process however you need, but he refuses to listen to you say lies about his favorite person
"I don't want to drag the group down."
He stares at you like you're crazy
"Drag us down?? Sweetheart, you embarrassed us every single week on Iland."
You roll your eyes, but he's insistent
"I know you probably trauma blocked most of it out, but I remember how hard they were on you for being a girl, and yet every week you made them eat their words. You couldn't drag us down if you tried."
He runs his fingers through your hair and starts a loose braid in it, adoring the way you melt into him as he does so
There's a scream from somewhere in the dorm, followed shortly after by a crashing sound that you pay zero attention to
"Besides, I'd probably have killed one of these idiots without you."
This gets a laugh out of you, a real one, and he smiles proudly
"We're always gonna need you."
Jungwon
He's by your side the SECOND the news comes out
He doesn't make a single comment about the ugly crying you're currently doing
He just kneels on the carpet next to your bed and holds your hands with so much softness
He dips his head until you can see him, wanting to have eye contact so you can see his sincerity
"We wouldn't be enhypen without you. You’re part of us.”
He uses his thumb to wipe the tears off of your cheeks and lets you tug him closer
"Besides, what kind of leader would I be if I let them take our girl? The boys can barely survive without you when you go to shower.”
He counts it as an accomplishment when you let out an airy laugh, and he places a kiss on your forehead
“I’m not gonna let you go, that’s a promise.”
Riki
When I tell you they had to hold this boy down
Oh he’s ANGRY
Literally glaring holes into his phone when he reads it the first time
Jay wrestles him down before he can go knocking on their CEO’s door
He makes better use of his time by trapping you with his entire body the moment he sees you
“You are never allowed out of my sight. I will keep you here forever.”
You sigh, that’s the dream
“No one else gets my girl if they aren’t gonna appreciate her like they should.”
There’s no humor in his voice, and it makes your heart stutter
“You deserve to be loved so much better.”
Praises you in every single show or content you film afterward
Will straight up tell people to shut up if they say anything negative about you, media training is for the weak
#enhypen scenarios#enhypen x reader#enhypen headcanons#enhypen reactions#heeseung scenarios#enhypen jay scenarios#enhypen jake scenarios#sunoo scenarios#jungwon scenarios#riki scenarios#heeseung x reader#enhypen jay x reader#jay x reader#enhypen jake x reader#jake x reader#sunoo x reader#enhypen sunoo x reader#jungwon x reader#enhypen jungwon x reader#enhypen niki x reader#riki x reader
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Pedro Pascal x Reader
Summary: You and Pedro get married and build a life together
•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••
Pedro had exactly one job don’t peek at your dress before the wedding.
He failed.
Or rather he tried to fail. Hovered outside your dressing area more than once. Got caught twice.
“Pedro,” your stylist laughed, blocking the doorway with a makeup brush, “she’s not ready.”
“Can I just hear her voice? I swear it calms my heart rate.”
You poked your head out with an amused smile. “Baby, go rehearse your vows.”
“I did,” he groaned. “I’ve rehearsed them so many times, I could deliver them in six languages. “Then go hug your sister or drink water. Something bride-adjacent.”
He sighed dramatically but obeyed, muttering, “This is psychological warfare,” as he walked away.
The moment he saw you at the end of the aisle, the world fell away.
You walked slow, heart thudding in your chest, veil trailing behind you, eyes locked on his. He looked like he couldn’t breathe.
Pedro’s lips parted like he was about to say something, but nothing came out.
His hand came up to cover his mouth, and yeah he cried.
Not loud. Not messy. Just quiet, stunned tears at the sight of you.
“Wow,” he whispered as you reached him. “You’re how are you real?”
“You’re gonna make me cry,” you choked, laughing and blinking rapidly.
“Too late,” he murmured, wiping your tear gently with his thumb. “We’re a mess.”
“A very beautiful, expensive mess,” you whispered.
The vows were perfect. Honest. A little funny. Very you. When you both said “I do,” it felt like the most natural thing in the world.
Pedro kissed you like he’d waited a lifetime.
You were pretty sure he had.
You escaped to a tiny seaside villa on the Amalfi Coast.
It was warm and golden, quiet and undisturbed. Pedro wore linen shirts and went barefoot everywhere. You lived in oversized sunglasses and sundresses and spent every day with no plans.
You made breakfast together. Napped under palm trees. Read books with your legs tangled on the couch. He kissed your shoulder every time he passed by.
One afternoon, you were lying on a hammock, reading, when he plopped down beside you with a lazy grin.
“Wanna know something?” he said, brushing your hair back.
“What?”
“I’m obsessed with you.”
You smiled. “You told me that yesterday.”
“I need to keep reminding you. In case you forget.”
“You’re literally wearing a shirt that says ‘Husband’ right now.”
He looked down at his chest. “And I’ll be wearing it forever.”
You laughed, leaning into him. “I’m not going anywhere.”
That night, you danced barefoot in the kitchen while pasta boiled and the sun set pink and slow through the windows. Pedro held you close, humming something under his breath, one hand splayed over the small of your back like he never wanted to let go.
“Mi esposa,” he whispered.
You closed your eyes.
Mine
The Amalfi air was heavy with heat, thick with salt, and scented with blooming citrus. The sun was just dipping below the cliffs when Pedro found you on the balcony.
You were leaning against the railing in one of his linen shirts bare legs, wild hair, skin kissed golden by the sun.
He stared.
“You know,” he said, voice low and rough, “you’re gonna kill me walking around like that.”
You turned, lazy smile tugging at your lips. “It’s your shirt.”
“Exactly. My shirt. My wife.” His voice dipped as he walked over, slow and unhurried. “Mine.”
He pressed a kiss to your bare shoulder, then another just beneath your jaw. His hands came to rest on your waist familiar, possessive.
“Pedro,” you murmured, tilting your head back slightly as his lips dragged along your neck. “We haven’t even had dinner.”
“I’ll eat later,” he whispered, grinning against your skin. “Right now I’m busy.”
He scooped you up before you could sass him again laughing as you gasped, legs wrapping instinctively around his waist. He kissed you like you were something sacred and sinful all at once, walking you back inside without once breaking contact.
You landed on the bed in a tangle of limbs and breathless laughter.
He hovered over you, dark eyes scanning your face with reverence. “I can’t believe I married you.”
“Believe it,” you whispered. “Now come show me how much you love your wife.”
And oh, he did.
Soft and slow at first fingers tracing every inch like he had all the time in the world. He kissed down your stomach, whispered things in Spanish that made your breath hitch, murmured “so beautiful” like a prayer against your skin.
The room filled with the sound of crashing waves outside and the kind of soft moans that only come from feeling completely adored.
Later, with your body tangled under the sheets and his chest pressed to your back, he wrapped an arm tightly around your waist.
“I’m never going to stop touching you,” he whispered against your shoulder, voice hoarse.
You turned in his arms, pressing a sleepy kiss to his chest. “Good. I’d be offended if you tried.”
He chuckled low and warm, thumb brushing lazy circles into your hip.
“I love you, cariño,” he whispered.
You smiled against his skin. “I know. You prove it every night
It started with saltines.
You were halfway through a bag at 8:00 a.m., wrapped in Pedro’s hoodie, when he walked into the kitchen, paused, and blinked.
“You okay?” he asked, eyeing the crackers and your pale face.
“I think…” You hesitated, then met his eyes. “I might be.”
He blinked. “Might be what?”
You held up a pregnancy test box.
His entire soul left his body.
Pedro, usually calm and charismatic and smooth under pressure, became unhinged in the most adorable way.
“Wait” he said, voice pitching up an octave. “You think you’re pregnant? Like with a baby?”
You nodded slowly.
He sat down. Hard.
“I need water? A pillow? CPR?”
You laughed, tearful and nervous. “I haven’t even taken the test yet. I wanted to wait for you.”
He immediately launched into action. “Okay. Yes. Let’s go. Take it. I’ll be outside the door. I’ll hold your hand if you want. Or not. I don’t want to make it weird. Is this weird? Are we ready? I think I’m going to throw up in a supportive way.” You kissed him, short and sure. “Just breathe. I love you. That part’s constant.”
Five minutes later, you opened the bathroom door and held up the test.
Two lines.
Positive.
Pedro stared at it, then at you. Then his face crumpled.
“Oh my God,” he whispered, stepping forward and gently cradling your face. “We made a little us.”
Tears streamed down his cheeks.
Then yours.
You both sank to the bathroom floor in a heap of laughter, tears, and an unspoken vow to love this tiny future human with every ounce of your souls. Pedro became insufferable in the best way.
He wouldn’t let you lift anything. Not even your coffee mug.
“You’re literally growing bones in your body. You’re on rest duty.”
He bought seven kinds of prenatal vitamins, built the crib at 2 a.m. just because he was “too excited to sleep,” and downloaded a baby tracker app that gave you both weekly fruit comparisons.
“You’re an avocado today,” he told your bump one morning, kissing it softly. “A delicious little avocado.”
You snorted. “Are you flirting with the fetus?”
“Obviously. I flirt with anything that shares your DNA.”
By month five, your belly popped and Pedro melted.
He’d lift your shirt just to talk to it. Constantly. Random conversations. Love letters. Full bedtime stories.
“This is your mamá,” he whispered one night, curled beside you, one hand on your belly. “She’s funny and smart and the most beautiful person in the world. If you take after her, you’re gonna be perfect.”
You teared up. “You’re gonna make me cry again.”
He smiled and kissed your stomach. “Join the club.”
It hit him for real one night in bed.
You were asleep, curled up with a hand resting on your bump. Pedro was watching you, gently stroking your hair, when the baby kicked for the first time.
His eyes widened.
Then he lost it.
He laughed, gasped, cried all at once his hand frozen in place, heart pounding like a drum.
“Hey,” he whispered to your bump, voice shaky with wonder. “Hi, baby. I’m your dad.”
You stirred, half-asleep, and reached for him.
“Kick?” you mumbled.
He nodded, pressing your hand to the spot.
Another thump.
And just like that, Pedro Pascal fell in love all over again.
With the baby. With you.
With the life you’d built together
The first contraction hit at 3:17 a.m.
You groaned in your sleep, hand clenching the sheets, and Pedro sat up instantly eyes wide, curls a mess, completely alert despite having just been snoring.
“What what is it? Are you okay? Is it the baby? Is it gas?”
“Definitely not gas,” you gritted out.
He launched into motion.
“Okay. Bag. I packed the bag. Shoes. Where are your shoes? I’ll carry you. No, I’ll wheel you. We don’t have a wheelchair shit, why don’t we have a wheelchair?!”
You grabbed his wrist and squeezed. “Breathe, husband.”
He looked down at you, wild-eyed. “You’re in labor and you’re telling me to breathe?”
You nodded.
He exhaled shakily, then kissed your forehead. “Let’s go have a baby.”
The hospital room was warm and buzzing with quiet chaos soft beeping monitors, nurses shuffling, the low hum of the world shifting around you.
Pedro never left your side. Not once.
He held your hand through every contraction, pressed kisses to your damp forehead, whispered sweet nonsense in your ear like “you’re doing so good, baby, I’m right here, I’ve got you.”
When the pain got worse, when your eyes blurred with tears, he wiped them away and whispered “I wish I could take this for you” like a prayer.
You didn’t say it then, but you knew if he could he would have. In a heartbeat.
Hours passed. Time bent and blurred.
Then suddenly it was happening real, raw, unstoppable.
“Okay, sweetheart,” the doctor said, “on the next one, you’re gonna push.”
Pedro stood beside you, gripping your hand tight, eyes locked on yours.
“You can do this,” he whispered. “You’re the strongest person I’ve ever met.”
“I hate you,” you cried.
“I know,” he nodded, already crying. “I still love you so much.”
And then One push. Two.
A cry not yours.
Tiny. Piercing. New.
The room changed.
You collapsed back against the pillows, exhausted and shaking. Pedro stared at the tiny, crying bundle in the doctor’s arms like he’d just seen God.
“Oh my god,” he choked. “Oh my god. That’s that’s ours. That’s our baby.”
Tears streamed down his face, unstoppable.
You watched them place the baby on your chest, watched Pedro reach out with trembling hands to touch the tiniest fingers.
“Hi,” he whispered, voice broken and full of awe. “I’m your dad.”
Later, in the soft quiet of a hospital room bathed in sunrise, Pedro held your baby to his chest shirtless, skin to skin, eyes wet and shining.
You watched from the bed, completely overwhelmed.
He looked at you with pure, stunned devotion.
“You made this,” he said softly. “You made this little miracle.”
“We made them,” you whispered.
He leaned over, kissed your forehead, your cheek, your lips. “You are the love of my life.”
Then he kissed your baby’s head and whispered, “And you? You’re my heart walking outside my body now.”
And just like that in a quiet room, with your new family everything in the world made sense
#pedro pascal#pedro pascal imagine#pedro pascal x reader#the last of us#the last of us x reader#the last of us imagine#joel miller#joel miller x imagine#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#joel miller x y/n
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Garden | Joaquin Torres
A/N: Heyyyy yall guess who's finally back because a hispanic man had me barking at my TV again?! That's right, oh so secksi big lexi is here with a novel of a fic. Also big shoutout and thank you to my lover @love-chx for beta-ing this and just being a thirsty freak with me over this man. I wouldn't have finished this fic without u bb <3 Anyways if yall wanna thirst ab this man with me my inbox is always open to fellow whores like myself. Also CHILDHOOD FRIENDS TO ENEMIES TO LOVERS BOOM SHAKA LAKA YES GOD!!! This is also canon-divergent with a few small CABNW references, also this is named after Garden by SZA tee hee
Summary: Y/n Y/l/n and Joaquin Torres had spent their entire childhood together, but growing up meant growing apart, and when travesty after travesty struck the world, their paths couldn't have been more polarized. But sometimes paths are meant to be crossed again, and there's always a chance for change
Warnings: angst, THIRD PERSON POV, use of Y/N, forced super soldier serum injections (scene not depicted), mentions of murder, mentions of war crimes (not explicitly stated), readers kind of a bitch ngl, cursing, mentions of violence, mentions of burns/Joaquin literally being shot out of the sky, SMUT: hair pulling, minor neck grabbing/choking, spitting, hickies, bruises, kissing (with tongue omg), oral (m receiving + a lil ball worship if you squint), handjobs, unprotected P in V, creampie, swallowing, handj*bs, dirty talk, lowkey sub!joaquin dom!reader vibes
Word Count: 20.8k
Joaquin Torres x Fem!Reader (reader has vague descriptions regarding having long-ish hair, but it's typically described to be braided/blown out/wavy post-braids, Joaquin does in fact stare at the reader's ass, but all booties matter purr, reader's great grandparents are also immigrants, non specified)
(Given the opportunity I'd kiss him on the mouth) AS ALWAYS MINORS DNI!!!
Miami, circa 2005-2006
Summers in Miami were anything but forgiving, filled with the kind of heat that made people question their own sanity, in combination with high levels of humidity that left an almost sticky film on one’s skin. It was like hell sometimes.
Hurricane season was always rough too, storms that would rock through cities and towns along the coast.
The nicer neighborhoods always seemed better off after the Hurricanes, meanwhile smaller, poverty stricken areas were always left in the dust to fend for themselves. Sure the city and counties had done their best, but power outages lasted days, sometimes weeks, and entire businesses would be destroyed, and communities were left to rebuild things together.
That same sense of community is what had brought Y/n Y/l/n and Joaquin Torres together. He moved to Miami from Mexico a little over a year ago, coming to the United States in May of 2005 with his grandmother and mother. They’d left in hopes of finding something better for him, chasing the American Dream like many migrants south of the border often did.
It wasn’t an easy process, but with family and an established sense of structure in Miami, it made the process a bit smoother for the family.
The y/l/n family had been living in Miami for decades, having genuine roots and history in the neighborhood, they had always been strong community leaders. Constantly volunteering to help at the schools, preparing meals for their neighbors, hosting several block parties and barbecues throughout the summers, and most notably, always lending a helping hand when it came to anyone’s children.
They embodied the saying ‘it takes a village’.
When the Torres family moved to the neighborhood, y/n’s mother was the first to introduce herself to them, offering to send her eldest sons over to help them move in, and even inviting them over for dinner ten minutes into meeting them.
That single action led Joaquin Torres to Y/n Y/l/n two days following his move, and it led to the both of them being inseparable for years, a friendship that started with her shoving him into the asphalt when he’d clearly cheated at street hockey then proceeded to lie about it.
She was the one to knock him down, and she was also the one to help him up and drag him up the street to her house, mumbling about how she was sorry for shoving him, and muttering to herself about him being a ‘wimp’ for ending up with bloody scrapes along his legs.
He also had watched her mother lecture her about how it was wrong of her to push him, and the moment he’d laughed, her mother started lecturing him. The concern laced harsh words easily flowing from the older woman’s mouth had his eyes wide, she’d even managed to throw a few Spanish words in the mix.
Sure he knew that she spoke Spanish, but he didn’t quite understand where her family was from. That was also another conversation her mother had with him a few months later when he’d pestered Y/n about why her family spoke Spanish if they didn’t exactly look hispanic.
They’d been in Miami for generations, it made perfect sense that they’d known Spanish.
She had also yelled at him, but to be completely honest, she wasn’t exactly the sweetest girl on the planet.
As a six year old, she was mean. Meaner than most, yet somehow she possessed her mother’s caring spirit, which led to her showing anyone she cared for the epitome of tough love.
The summer of 2006, the both of them had spent most of their time outside together, walking through the neighborhood, talking about anything and everything that would interest two seven year olds. She’d pestered him about his hair, stating that he needed a haircut because he looked like her Tia’s new puppy (the woman had been gifted a white fluffy terrier by her most recent boyfriend), and he’d responded by saying she looked like a tree from ‘Horton Hears a Who’ due to her large frizzy hair.
Humidity was not a friend to either of them.
They’d also made a friendship pact that summer, they’d seen it in some random movie that his Abuela had rented from the local Blockbuster, and had decided that since they were already good friends, they’d both slice their palms with one of her dad’s razors, then shake.
Except they both ended up with deep cuts and had to be taken to the emergency room, where they had to foolishly explain that they’d not only schemed to steal her father’s razor, but had also gone through the process of cleaning it with a random bottle of isopropyl alcohol before slicing their palms to imitate a blood pact from a movie that they were probably too young to be watching.
Both of their mother’s yelled at them that night, at the same time. Then her father yelled at them both.
When they thought they were done being lectured, his Abuela yelled at them in Spanish.
That Summer they’d also gone to the beach with their families together, and her father had buried them both in the sand, leading to a photo of their heads and portions of their upper bodies sticking out while they both glared at the camera.
When school had started back up, they were in the same class, which meant they’d caused quite the ruckus together, either laughing too loudly, talking way too much, or throwing things at one another. It was worse when their teacher tried to separate them, leading them to throw crumpled up paper balls at one another followed by miniature paper airplanes.
He’d also gotten into his first real fight with another boy two months into the school year, he’d called her names, pulled on one of her braids, and usually she would’ve responded, but her mother had recently told her that she needed to stop acting out in school.
So, like the good best friend he was, Joaquin didn’t hesitate to punch the other boy in the face at recess when he’d caught the kid pestering her. That decision also led to her high fiving him, and the both of them getting sent home and placed on a two day suspension.
Summer of 2017
The end of high school is a major milestone for many. Getting the opportunity to not only graduate, but graduate with honors was something that Y/n and Joaquin had worked incredibly hard to achieve, sure the both of them did run into several hiccups along the way, mainly surrounding Y/n’s need to get into fights and Joaquin’s need to constantly and consistently defend her. WAIT DONT FOCUS ON THAT HAHA I WASNT SURE IF THE COMMA WENT THERE
Most thought the two would’ve been together by now, having been friends for nearly ten years, not only friends, but the best of friends and practically inseparable, and yet they’d never crossed the line between friendship and something more. It wasn’t something that they’d planned on doing either.
Anytime their parents would talk about it, the both of them would swiftly deny the suggestion, looks of disgust on their faces as they looked at one another, then back at their families. It wasn’t until prom night that they’d both even considered seeing one another romantically.
They hadn’t acted on it, nor had they ever shared the thought with each other.
They’d gone together, mostly because his girlfriend had broken up with him at the last minute, or rather, y/n had forced her to break up with him after finding out that Julia had been cheating on him for a few weeks. She’d also threatened to ‘knock her front teeth in’ if she refused to do so. She’d also made sure that Joaquin knew that his now ex-girlfriend had been cheating on him, showing him a series of screenshots that a mutual friend had sent her.
When he showed up at her house in an all black tux, she’d been caught off guard. It was rare that Joaquin was dressed up, so rare that she almost didn’t recognize him, brows knit together as she stared at him from the front porch of her family’s home.
She thought that he actually looked handsome. Sure, she’d always known that Joaquin wasn’t ugly, that much was obvious, but she’d never really given it a second thought. Not even when all of her friends would rant and rave about how ‘hot’ he was, or how he was super attractive and she was an idiot for not ‘jumping his bones’.
He’d been growing his hair out a bit. It was slightly slicked back, but the curls along the back of his head were still defined. He held a corsage in his hand, the vibrant red roses sat in a sealed clear plastic box, and it matched the rose pin to his suit.
He’d been staring at her, his lips slightly parted, brows raised. At that exact moment he finally understood what all of his friends had said about her. The guys had always given him shit, saying that he was an absolute idiot for ignoring what was right in front of him. Some guys on the team had even asked him for his approval to ask her out; he’d always shrugged them off and said something along the lines of ‘go for it, but good luck’.
She’d never really given anyone a chance, sure there were a few guys here and there, and that douchebag lifeguard last summer, but outside of that, Y/n rejected pretty much everyone.
It got to the point where their mothers had asked if she was gay, which was an incredibly uncomfortable conversation, to say the least.
He was still staring, he knew she’d be wearing black, which had made coordinating with her at the last minute a lot easier since he already had a black suit. But he didn’t know that she’d be wearing a satin black dress with a neckline that plunged enough to make him blush, the fabric itself hugging all of her curves, and her hair that was typically braided, was now blown out and framing her face perfectly.
He dropped the corsage, then scrambled to pick it back up.
Things had gone back to normal the second she’d mocked him for dropping it; they’d both snapped out of their own trances, and had taken a myriad of photos. Then they’d been off.
The dance was fine, it wasn’t spectacular, but it was fun enough. They’d jumped up and down and screamed random party songs together, laughing with one another and their shared friends.
Then the slow songs started, and at first she’d decided to sit things out while he spoke with one of his friends, but after a few minutes, he had asked her to dance.
The moment their eyes met during the slow dance was the moment they’d both been dreading their entire lives. They’d realized that maybe everyone else was right about them, and maybe they’d just been too stupid to notice.
But they’d brushed it off when the song changed, awkwardly laughing together while nodding their heads, ignoring the fact that a few seconds ago they were a little too close with his forehead resting against hers and their lips millimeters apart.
Both of them had internally vowed to never speak of that night again.
Then graduation happened. After getting their diplomas, they’d posed for more photos, laughed with one another, and ended up taking one of their favorite pictures together. Joaquin’s hand was around her waist as they both held up a singular middle finger while making a similar face—one eye shut with their tongue out.
She’d gotten into Florida State University, and Joaquin decided to go to the Air Force. Of course Joaquin applied to college, but he wasn’t like Y/n, he hadn’t received a multitude of scholarships with different choices and the last thing he wanted to do was take out a series of loans that would leave him in thousands in debt, especially considering he’d wanted to do his best to avoid putting any other financial pressure on his family.
They’d spent most of that summer together, both with the knowledge that it’d truly be their last real summer together, at home, with one another.
He was set to go to basic training the same day that she’d be moving into her dorm.
So the night before they’d gone to the beach together, both sitting side by side on the sand, watching the sunset.
“Quino, things are gonna be different now, aren’t they?” she leaned into him, her head against his shoulder while she gazed forward. Meanwhile he’d gone from looking at the skyline, to looking down at her as he nodded his head.
“We can’t exactly be kids forever, Sunshine.”
he scoffed, lifting her head to look at him, eyes trailing along his features as if she was trying to commit this moment to memory, taking in every single detail as if she’d be able to remember this in fifteen years.
“We’re eighteen, it’s not like we have to have it all figured out y’know. We could pack everything up and run away.”
He smiled, laughing at her while rolling his eyes slightly.
“Yeah, but we’d have to flee the country. I signed a contract with the Air Force. Maybe we run off to somewhere small, off grid.”
She nodded along, elbowing him slightly, while holding back her smile.
They both knew that wasn’t possible. It really was time to grow up, time to part ways, at least temporarily.
“You still gonna write to me?”
He nodded his head at that. “Why wouldn’t I? Who’s gonna laugh at me suffering through basic training? Besides, y’know I write killer letters.”
She shook her head at that, shoving some sand in his direction.“You have shit grammar, Quino.”
He smiled at her, shrugging. “So? You still know what I mean!”
She laughed again, now standing up and brushing her thighs off before giving him an expectant look. Joaquin nodded along as he got up off the sand, then she kicked off her shoes, and grabbed his hand, already running towards the water.
“Hell no! That water’s freezing!”
She glanced over her shoulder at him. In that moment, at the sight of the golden hue reflecting against her skin, and the outline of the orange, purple, and pink skyline surrounding her figure like an aura from the heavens, he realized that he might’ve been in love with her.
It was truly a terrible moment to realize that.
“Oh, don’t be such a baby. C’mon, it’s our last real night as teenagers. Embrace it you doofus!”
Then she was pulling him along again, and somewhere along the way, he’d managed to kick his shoes off and toss his phone in a pile with their shared belongings before getting pulled into the water.
They’d stayed out until two in the morning that night, and on their walk back through the neighborhood together, she wrapped her pinky around his as they moved in sync, trudging through the long sidewalks in their damp clothes together, knowing that in a few hours he’d be setting course to the airport then he’d be en route to San Antonio.
Meanwhile, she’d be starting the seven hour road trip to Florida State University with her parents while her dad towed a mini U-haul trailer on the back of his truck.
He always walked her to her door, even though they only lived a few houses apart and his house was the first they’d passed. She stood on the small front porch, key in the door as she faced away from him. A singular sniffle was what made him realize she’d been crying.
“Hey, hey, Sunshine look at me.”
She shook her head, looking down at the dimly lit door knob illuminated by the old porch light. The bulb nearly dead at this rate. Her father always said he’d get around to changing it, but it had been sitting the same way for the entire summer.
He was quick to move behind her, one hand on her shoulder, the other on her waist as he slowly turned her to face him. She tried to shove him off, but his grip was firm, and he’d managed to spin her toward him despite her resistance
“Things are gonna be fine. I’ll write to you, you’ll write to me. We’ll still be friends, still get to come home to the same neighborhood with our families, alright? Still gonna be best friends—” He raised his palm, showing the near identical scar that they’d both shared “—see? Friends for life, made a shitty blood pact and everything.”
She nodded at him, sniffling before pulling him into a hug.
“I’m gonna miss you, you idiot.” he laughed at her, easily hugging her back, slightly squeezing as he nodded.
“I’ll miss you too, Sunshine. Don’t forget about me when you’re over there in enemy territory, got it?”
She laughed, shoving him away, shaking her head as she rolled her eyes.“I would’ve picked Miami if they’d given me more money. I guess the Seminoles just got better funding, huh?” she teased him, sniffling again as she smiled, the both of them still holding onto each other, as they held eye contact.
Then, they were both leaning in, and slowly but surely, their lips were millimeters apart again—just like prom night.
The door opening had them pulling apart harshly, practically tripping over one another as her father stared at them through the screen door, blinking several times, brows knit together as he unlocked the door.
“I don’t know what the hell you two are doing out here, but finish your goodbyes, and Joaquin, go the hell home. I’ll miss you kid.”
He nodded at her father, laughing at his somewhat stern tone before facing her again. Then Joaquin raised both brows, tilting his head before lifting up a singular pinky.“Promise me you’ll write?”
She smiled, nodding at that before locking her pinky with his. “Promise me you’ll respond when you’re not busy getting your ass kicked?”
He nodded.
Then Joaquin said goodbye to her father and made his way down the porch steps, walking along the sidewalk.Glancing back, he to offer another wave before making his way back to his house.
The next morning, they’d both gone their separate ways, one to college, the other to the Air Force.
Washington D.C. 2027, Six Weeks Prior
The interrogation room was cold, colder than it should’ve been for the middle of the summer in Washington D.C. of all places. Hell, half of the city didn’t have working air conditioners, but it made sense that a police precinct less than twenty minutes from the Capitol building would have an air conditioning system that actually worked.
That’s how it was now;where there was money, there were luxuries.
Y/n sat in the uncomfortable metal chair situated in the middle of the room, hands cuffed to the large metallic table in front of her with her ankles stuck to the legs of the chair. They’d known she would be able to break free at any second, but she wasn’t an animal, or some monster, and she wouldn’t be portrayed as such.
A criminal? Yes. But a monster? Never.
She was wearing a black leather jacket, and clearly it wasn’t warm enough, because she’d had goosebumps along her skin, and her nose burned at the feeling of the cold air. Then again, anything cold had a tendency to bother her, side effects of the bootleg black market serum that’d been forcefully injected into her somewhere between Europe and Madripoor.
Everything from that period was a bit fuzzy.
They’d had her in this room for nearly two hours. For the first twenty minutes, they’d tried to question her, and she simply ignored them or answered them solely in Spanish. When they’d found someone who did speak Spanish fluently, she started speaking French.
Then everyone had left, leaving her like an animal in a zoo exhibit, the bright fluorescent lights shining down on her while they watched from behind the one-way mirror. Three cameras in the room, all with a flashing red light, letting her know that they’d been recording the entire time.
She was a few minutes away from breaking out of the cuffs and throwing them at one of the cameras, but then the door opened. She scoffed at the sight of Sam Wilson: the new Captain America.f she was honest, she liked the guy and she hadn’t heard anything negative about him…well, from anyone who actually had any sense.
The negatives were usually from racist morons, but Sam Wilson was a great Captain America.. He fit the morals and values, and from what she’d heard, he was genuinely a good person, and those were very rare these days.
She would’ve been perfectly fine if it was just Sam, but when his new protege walked in behind him, she couldn’t hold back the scoff of annoyance.
It’d been years since she’d actually seen him in person.
She’d unconsciously squeezed her right hand, the same hand that a thin horizontal scar sat on— the same scar that he had on his right hand.
Sam’s gaze was focused on the file in hand so he’d missed the glare that she was shooting at Joaquin, and his sudden stiff demeanor. They’d both sat across from her, and the sounds of metal scraping against the tiled floors made her cringe. Then, Sam tossed the file on the table, the papers sliding out of the manilla folder and towards her.
Different criminal charges, alleged photographs of her at global crime scenes, a series of witness descriptions—anything and everything that could possibly incriminate her, outside of genuine substantial evidence.
“Didn’t know Captain America did jail calls, thought that was reserved for the Raft.”
Sam shook his head at that, raising a single brow as he looked at her.
He knew she hadn’t even hit thirty yet. The girl was still young, and from her records, she’d had so much potential, potential to do good. Yet here she was. Not only did she graduate with honors from Florida State University, she was a Stark scholar her freshman year, having interned directly for Tony at one point, president of several campus organizations, had not only a full ride to the university, but was also given several merit based scholarships during her time there, had significant research that was involved in several scientific journal publications, and she had even been an intern for the department of defense.
He also knew that the world wasn’t the best place following the Snap in 2018; it impacted everyone drastically. Some vouched that it was a great time, but a lot of people had suffered, and the world was left to grieve and mourn for five years.
“Well, now you do know that. Care to share how you’re involved with Serpent?”
She rolled her eyes at that, shaking her head and letting out a sigh. “I’m not.”
Sam raised a brow, opening the file and pointing at not one, but two images of Y/N very clearly speaking with one of Serpent’s main shot callers, Sidewinder himself. “Then explain your relation to Sidewinder”
“That’s not me in the photo.” She blinked several times, clearly bored of the conversation.
Joaquin just stared in silence, it was probably the most quiet he’d been in years, staring at his childhood best friend turned wanted criminal. He never understood what happened to her. They’d kept in touch when he’d gone to boot camp, and even after that, when she was in college and he was getting his deployment orders, she always wrote to him.
They’d written to one another, even after the Blip.
He knew her family had been blipped away, and he also knew that was a major turning point for her. She’d spent most of her time on her studies, overworking herself to the point of exhaustion, distracting herself from the truth.
Two years into the Blip they lost contact. He knew she was still in school, but he was stationed overseas, and the time zones, plus the stress of life had gotten to them both.
He tried to find her again when he was stateside, tried to got to the neighborhood, only to find new families living in the house that had been in her family for decades. He’d also found out that the county government had forcefully repossessed the house. They’d gone to court over it and she’d lost.
All he’d known was that she did end up graduating, and as a last ditch effort, she invited him to her graduation. She’d written to him a lot, but turns out most of those letters had gotten lost along the way. The Blip had left several economic issues, and had impacted a multitude of different industries, which accounted for the loss of most of her letters. The ones he’d finally gotten from her were all stacked up, scattered thoughts throughout three years—references to things he didn’t really get, random bits and pieces from stories he’d assumed he would never get to read, and most importantly, the invitation to her graduation.
Typically he would’ve been able to request time for that andhe wished he got the letter on time, wished that he would’ve been able to go to Florida State (although begrudgingly) and watch his best friend cross the stage and get her degree, especially considering he’d be one of the few people there for her after what happened to her family.
Seeing her was like seeing a ghost, except now he was seeing the ghost of who she was, of who she could’ve been. The woman across from him wasn’t the same girl that he’d seen all those years ago.
It’d been almost nine years. Nine years since he’d properly gotten to see her. He still remembers the way her voice sounded that night, the last night they were genuinely together.
“Stop staring, Torres”
His eyes widened at the sound of her voice, or rather, the sound of his name leaving her lips, because it wasn’t the same. It wasn’t his first name, or one of the several different nicknames she’d granted him over the years; there was no friendly tone, just venom.
He blinked a few times, brows knit together as he glanced at Sam, who was already looking at him with a curious expression.Sam looked between the both of them, glancing between the woman across from them, then back to Joaquin.
“Wait a goddamn minute, you two know each other?!”
She scoffed at that, shaking her head.
“Not anymore.”
It was cold. Deep down, she knew that the response hurt Joaquin, but when she needed him, he wasn’t there. She hadn’t heard back from him in years. All she could do was sit and bury herself into her academics, striving to be the best of the best in hopes of becoming something or make her family proud.
She remembered the heartbreak she’d felt each time she hadn’t gotten a letter back. Then she sent him her graduation date, an invitation, and had even included a ticket.
He didn’t show up.
She was alone in the world, left with no family, and she was hurt. Her home was gone, her family was missing, disappearing for what could’ve been forever, and she had nothing but a college degree and the few bins of stuff she’d had left.
The Blip had led to several criminal organizations skyrocketing, and it just so happened that Florida was home to a few of them, organizations that were using illegal alien technology to create weapons of destruction, organizations that had focuses in overthrowing minor governments, organizations that went hand in hand with any and all underground and black market affairs.
So she’d taken advantage of that, used her brains to actually prove herself, and once they���d found a good use for her, she was helping engineer weapons. Thenshe was helping with mass production on a global front and she’d spent time traveling, doing illegal arms deals, and even wooing other crime bosses.
That’s how she ended up tied in with Serpent, it wasn’t exactly difficult to hack into their secure systems, nor was it hard to convince them that they needed her, villains without real weapons couldn’t actually do much. Things had gone pretty smoothly until she’d been practically kidnapped, taken to a remote space, and used as a test subject for a new brand of super soldier serum following the arrest of the Flag Smashers.
She wasn’t proud of her actions following the injection, she knew she had blood on her hands, but it wasn’t her fault, not when they’d treated her like a lab rat.
“Okay, we’ll talk about whatever history you two have later. Right now, you need to come clean about your involvement with Serpent, or you’re looking at thirty years in the Raft.”
She simply shrugged again, raising a brow before glancing down at the photos again. It was very apparent that it was her, and she had been mid argument with Sidewinder, who she should’ve just killed—another regret truly.
Then she lifted her wrists, and the cuffs snapped as if they’d been made of paper.
“That answer your question, Cap?”
His eyes widened t, glancing from her wrists to the broken steel on the table. Sam watched as she pulled the documents closer, raising a single brow at the different photos and angles from the conversation.
“So it’s true then, they’re still experimenting on people?”
Sshe laughed at that, nodding her head.
“Sure are, now can we get to the Raft already?, Pretty sure I can break out.-Ddefinitely not as secure as some would believe. I’ll take that sentence now.” She looked at the one way mirror, snapping her fingers a few times, as if she was summoning the cops to arrest her yet again.
“You’re not going to the Raft Sun- Uh- Y/l/n.”
Sshe glanced back at Joaquin now, shaking her head at him. Any semblance of a smirk had left her face, now it was as if she’d been devoid of any emotion.
“Don’t call me that. You don’t get to call me that anymore.” She clenched her jaw, looking away from him and towards Sam.
“I can help you. I know you’ve got a plethora of connections in the realm of illegal arms dealing, not to mention you’ve also been the brains behind a lot of the weapons that we’ve found, confiscated, and examined. I like your signature that you leave on them, too.”
She smirked at that, nodding her head, then sifted through the photos, finding the close up of one of the larger automatic rifles she’d built, except this one relied solely on Chitauri energy-based ammunition. It didn’t need bullets, and she’d engraved the outline of a small bird onto the handle.
“What can I say? It’s part of the brand. Now, I don’t need help Cap, what I need is to get the hell out of the U.S.”
He nodded his head at that, pulling some folder papers out of his jacket pocket. Unfolding them, he slid the documents across the table.
“Here are my terms. I can get you a presidential pardon for your crimes, a pardon that would allow you to be back in the states without hiding out. A pardon that would get you a fresh start. But you’re gonna need to start being honest here.”
Her brows were knit together as she slowly grasped the papers, eyes scanning along the different legal terms as she flipped through the pages.
It was clear that she had to cooperate with Sam if she wanted the pardon. It guaranteed that she’d no longer be deemed as a war criminal ora domestic terrorist. That would also ensure that she’d be able to go back home, to see her family, to be someone else, to be anyone but the person she’d become.
“If I agree to this, you promise my family’s gonna be alright?” She looked up at Sam.
In that moment, he could see through her walls. He could see a scared girl that had lost everyone to the Blip, a girl that had fallen into this lifestyle because it was her only real choice.
Sam nodded at her, handing her a pen. “If you sign them now, you have my word.”
She took the pen slowly, jaw clenched as she stared at the pages. It was almost too good to be true. However, a clause that stated any divergence from the very clearly outlined plan, which included court mandated therapy sessions, would result in her imprisonment, bringing her back to reality.
“What the hell do you need from me anyways? I’m not some hero, I don’t even think I count as a good person anymore. Don’t you have more happy and hopeful people like him to recruit?” She motioned towards Joaquin without even looking at him.
Joaquin was dealing with his own inner turmoil, there were so many things he wanted to say to her, so many things that he hadn’t gotten the chance to express. He’d waited years to see her again, and now, even if she was a bit rough around the edges, he felt almost happy to see her and know that she was alright—even if she was a wanted criminal.
But he was disappointed that she’d managed to become what she was now.
“Well, truthfully, you’re smart. Smarter than most. And with your network, we could do a lot of good, starting stateside, and moving from there. Besides, not everyone that does good has to be a hero. Just like not everyone who’s done bad shit, is a bad person.”
She nodded slowly, then glanced back at the files.
“Sidewinder has a bounty on his head.Some big crime boss in Madripoor is pissed that Serpent didn’t deliver on their end of a large weapons deal a few months back. It was supposed to be some covert scam. They’d get the wired funds, stay stateside, or really anywhere other than Madripoor—y’know places that have real laws, and they’d be able to avoid the consequences.”
She sighed, glancing at the photo. “Tried to get me to speed a few manufacturing processes up.ell, no first he practically threatened me. but y'know the whole serum thing kinda reduces any real threat at this rate. Told me that if I helped him out, I’d get seven million.”
Sam nodded at the information. “Did you take the deal?”
She simply shrugged then shook her head.“And have a ten million dollar bounty on my head? Hell no. I told him I was out of the business.Besides, can’t really have any high paying deals with shady government officials if I’m legally not supposed to be seen within the United States, or any U.S. territories.”
Then she signed the contract, putting the pen on top of the indented papers and slide them back to Sam. She still avoided Joaquin’s stare, she had nothing positive to say to him, and the last thing she wanted to hear was a lecture about the person she’d become from the one person that had abandoned her.
Maybe if she wasn’t aware that he didn’t blip, then maybe she wouldn’t have held the grudge. But one of the last letters she’d gotten from him was after the Blip, so she knew he was okay, she knew he was alive.
“Welcome to the team, kid.” Sam placed his right hand out, and she easily grasped it, shaking on the deal.
Baltimore MD, 2027 Five Weeks Prior
If there was a word that could fully describe the relationship between the two former best friends, it would be strained, but that was a severe understatement. Over the past week they’d been staying in the same house in the suburbs of Baltimore county. Sam had stated that Y/n needed to be under constant supervision, mainly because part of him was still a bit weary with her.
He hadn’t given her a reason not to trust her, not yet at least. But with a criminal record as substantial as hers, within the short time span of about four years, she was definitely someone to keep an eye on.
It wasn’t the first time Sam had opted to help in the rehabilitation of a criminal. To be fair, he’d placed a lot of hope in several different people, and most of the time, they truly did change. There were people like Karli Morgenthau, the former leader of the Flag Smashers that had been victim to the circumstance of the Blip, followed by the reversal of it all.She was willing to do better, willing to change, but it was too late for her.
Sam wouldn’t admit it aloud, but he held a lot of regret whenever he thought of the girl, even if it was several years ago. Some deaths weren’t easily let go of, especially those that could’ve been prevented.
Maybe that was why he’d had so much faith in Y/n, he knew she wasn’t always the way she is now, that much was confirmed by the long winded rant that Joaquin had gone on the second they were out of the precinct.He’d spoken for what felt like hours about his former childhood best friend, and at some point, Sam had started tuning him out.
Of course Sam was going to be there to support Joaquin, who was clearly in love with his former friend, but at some point in time, he naturally tuned out the constant chatter.
Things hadn’t gone smoothly whatsoever at the house, mainly because when Joaquin had tried to speak with her, she’d quite literally thrown a pan at him, slammed several doors in his face, sprayed him with a water hose, and had even opted to fully abandon her meals just to get away from him. She did eventually come back and clean up after herself, but at the moment, she wanted nothing to do with him.
When he tried to sit with her in silence, she’d roll her eyes and storm off.
She hadn’t said a single word to him, and he was still doing his best to make amends with her, even though he really didn’t know what he had to make up for.
Today was no different, she’d ignored him and acted as if he didn’t exist, any time he’d enter a shared common space, she’d leave. It didn’t matter if she was in the middle of doing something, she’d find a way to leave as swiftly as possible.
Joaquin was over it, completely and utterly over it.
But before he could attempt to be confrontational and most likely get his ass kicked, there were several knocks at the front door, and of course, he was the one to open it.
In the doorway stood Dr. Christina Raynor, the same therapist that had worked with Bucky Barnes following his presidential pardon journey. It had taken several phone calls, and a lot of flaunting the title of Captain America for Sam to actually get her to do house calls for Y/n. It wasn’t exactly easy, and he didn’t trust that she’d be able to go to her appointments on a consistent basis.
So he brought the appointments to her.
“Ah, Captain Torres. You’re not the person I’m here for, but a lovely surprise nonetheless.” She motioned for him to step aside, and when he did, she entered the home.
She’d taken a few minutes to look around. It wasn’t the fanciest of homes, but it was a nice house to live in, with three bedrooms total, a few bathrooms, and two floors, not including the basement. The place was small, but it didn’t feel small, it was nice, cozy even.
It made sense why Sam chose a place like this for her.
“So where is she? I’m sure she’s well aware of our appointment today.” Joaquin’s brows knit together. Truthfully, he wasn’t even aware of the appointment. Then again, it’s not like Y/n had said a single word to him over the past seven days. If her nonverbal communication said anything, it was that she didn’t want a single thing to do with him.
“Uh, upstairs, probably. We don’t really talk much.”
She slowly nodded her head at him.“And why is that? Sam said the two of you knew each other well.”
He scratched the back of his neck, glancing towards the staircase, then back at Dr. Raynor.
“Well, we did.We grew up together in Miami, but then she went to college and I enlisted, and then the Blip happened, and it’s been a while. So, we know each other, but I don’t think well would be the right way to describe it.”
She observed him as if she was taking note of everything he’d been saying. It gave Joaquin a minor spark of anxiety, but he chose to ignore it, closing the front door, then proceeding to guide her in the direction of the room that Y/n had occupied.
He knocked on the door several times, and the silence that followed was mildly concerning.
“Hello, it’s Dr. Raynor, here for our three o’ clock appointment.”
The door opened, and at the sight of Joaquin, she rolled her eyes, but then she glanced at Dr. Raynor. The older woman stared directly at her, so Y/n stepped to the side, motioning for her to come in before slamming the door in Joaquin’s face.
“So, Joaquin tells me that you two grew up together. I think for today’s sessions, we should start there.” Y/n blinked a few times, watching as Dr. Raynor moved towards the windows, pulling one of the few chairs in the room with her, leaving it closest to the window, then took another and left it across the room.She took a seat at the one furthest from the window, opting to cross one leg over the other.
Y/n was hesitant as she sat down, arms crossed in front of her chest, a look of irritation on her features.“We grew up together. A lot of people grow up together, what's the big deal?” The negativity in her tone was unmistakable, that in combination with her clenched jaw, stiff posture, and now shaking leg, emphasized not only the anger in her words, but the stress in her body.
“Well, Sam tells me that you’ve pretty recently started going downhill, sorry, not really a better way to say that. Don’t worry I won’t make you make amends with the people you’ve wronged and go through some long winded process to make things better. Truthfully, most of the time, you can’t make things from the past better, but you can work on the future. But, that does rely on looking back a bit, pinpointing the start of all of this.”
She groaned, shaking her head.“I know how it all started, I don’t need a shrink to psychoanalyze me and tell me when I turned into a shitty person.”
Dr. Raynor nodded, watching as Y/n glanced outside, her gaze focused on the neighborhood around them.“Okay, so tell me about that then.”
She thought the girl would fight, but she didn't; she just took a deep breath and nodded her head.
Joaquin stood outside of the room, hesitating as he debated leaving or eavesdropping, he knew it was wrong of him to stay, but he also wanted to know what went wrong, what caused all of this. More importantly, he wanted to know how to fix it.
But he knew this wasn’t the right way to fix things, so he headed down the hall, opting to go back downstairs and get back to work. He had a few systems that needed some adjustments, so he’d occupy himself with that for now.
Her eyes traced the skyline, taking in the angular tilts of every rooftop against the soft blue hues of the sky. She hated talking about the Blip, she hated even thinking about it. There wasn’t a time that she’d ever felt so lost and so alone.
“After the Blip, I mean, to be fair I was okayish the first year, but my family was blipped away, and with my shit luck, all of my friends were also blipped away. Well, except for Torres, but at that point he’d already been deployed. We still talked for a while at least, he wrote me and I wrote him, then maybe two years in, he uh, he stopped writing Or maybe he didn’t, but I stopped getting them.”
She blinked a few times, trying to ignore the burn of tears welling in her eyes as she avoided Dr. Raynor’s gaze.
“I dunno, I was just alone. I did keep writing though, and I drowned myself in my academics. I interned for all of the big major hard hitters, I had merit scholarships that I was positive I didn’t really deserve because someone more capable was most likely blipped away. But y’know, it was a good distraction.”
She paused again, this time wiping a few tears away, Dr. Raynor took minimal notes, mostly on her mannerisms rather than her history.
“Then I graduated, and no one was there, and I went back home, and no one was there either, then the county took my family’s house. I went to court, but I was poor and I couldn’t afford a good lawyer, so they won. They won and they took my family’s house.”
Raynor nodded her head, raising a single brow at the very clear emotion. Prior to this, based on her file, the few interrogation tapes she’d viewed, and what she’d gathered from Sam, the girl in front of her wasn’t very emotional. She was meticulous, logical, and a complete smart ass.
This was a good sign.
“Tell me about the house.”
She nodded, eyes still focused outside.“My great grandfather had purchased the land when they migrated over, it took him decades to buy it. He’d worked for twenty years before he was able to afford it. Even back then, when inflation wasn’t kicking everyone’s ass, it was still hard for an immigrant to get something as solid as land. Over the years my family has always lived in that house. It’s been passed down through the generations. Or at least, it was until they took it from us.”
She let out a deep breath, wiping away a few more tears.
“I grew up there y’know, my brothers are all older than me by at least eight years, then I met Quino, and we spent years causing a ruckus there. I don’t think I really have a singular bad memory being there, from being home.”
She sighed, running a hand along her face for a moment before turning to face Dr. Raynor.
“My parents got the house back, and this time I had the money, sure it was dirty money, but I got them the lawyer after the blip, I couldn’t even go see them physically, I’d already had too many warrants in the U.S., but I made sure we had what was ours again.”
Dr. Raynor nodded her head, glancing down at her watch for a moment.
“I want you to tell me about your family.”
The two spent the next thirty minutes speaking about Y/n’s family, starting from her grandparents who were both deceased, to her parents, to her siblings that she hadn’t spoken to in years. She’d even mentioned Joaquin’s family, stating that they weren’t blood relatives, but they were still family nonetheless.
That’s also how Dr. Raynor found out that Joaquin’s mother had been Blipped away.
By the time that the session was over, Y/n had cried more than she’d cried in the past three years, and she actually felt a little better about the world, maybe therapy wasn’t just some ‘mumbo jumbo’ that they tried to force onto people. Then again, it could’ve also been the simple act of having the opportunity to actually speak with someone about her issues that had made her feel better.
She was quick to walk Dr. Raynor out, but when heading downstairs, she realized that Joaquin was no longer alone.Based on the loud voices and laughter, Sam was also present, along with someone else.
Sam rounded the corner, a wide smile on his face as he said his hellos to Dr. Raynor, shaking her hand for a moment before glancing at Y/n, taking in her bloodshot eyes
“Session go well then?”
“As well as pouring my heart and soul out to a complete stranger can go.”
Washington D.C., 2027, Four Weeks Prior
“Sam this is stupid, I’m not gonna waltz into the White House and ask for a damn expedite on a pardon from the Hulk Hunter of all people!”
He shushed her, making eye contact through the rear view mirror as he drove. She sighed, brows knit together, frustration evident in her features.
It was bad enough he had her wearing business professional attire. There was nothing that she hated more than dressing up, especially in blazers and button ups, not to mention the obnoxious pencil skirt that he insisted she wear. This had to have been her own personal hell.
Maybe that was it, she’d died and was forced to live in this lifetime as a karmic cycle.
Then, to make matters worse, Joaquin was currently sitting in the front seat of the SUV, doing his best not to look back at her, knowing she’d probably find something to throw at him, or worse, she’d curse at him again.
Over the past few days she’d moved on from giving him the complete silent treatment, which might’ve been nice if she wasn’t verbally assaulting him any chance she’d get. It made sense that she would want to push him away, but being cursed out constantly was the last thing he needed.
Joaquin was getting tired of it.
He was beyond frustrated with her, especially given the fact that Sam had practically dropped him off with her and stated that he was the best bet for ‘fixing her’ as if she needed to be fixed. What she needed was a hug, or maybe a xanax, he had no idea, but Joaquin knew the last thing she needed was him.
Sure they’d grown up together, but they were drastically different at this point.
“Well, you can’t start on a new foot if you’re dragging a ball and chain the size of Australia with you everywhere you go.”
Y/n knew that Sam had a point, but she didn’t want to accept that.She was looking down at her hands, her left thumb nervously running along the thin scar decorating her right palm.“I didn’t even do anything that bad.”
Sam laughed at that, shaking his head.“Yes, because contributing to several global wars by distributing biomechanical alien tech based weapons isn’t anything bad. Not to mention working with several major underground crime families.”
She shushed him, kneeing his chair like an angry little kid on a long car ride.
“To be fair, at least you didn’t really kill anyone.”
She rolled her eyes at Joaquin’s input, glaring at him from her seat.
“Also, not technically true, Joaquin.” Sam nodded as he spoke, finally making it through the plethora of security gates and guards, being able to actually park the car in the underground garage that was typically utilized for staff-only vehicles.
Y/n was relatively silent as she got out of the car, adjusting her skirt uncomfortably before following Sam’s lead, rolling her eyes at Joaquin when he walked beside her.
When they were younger, they always walked together, and she remembered the way that she’d gravitate towards Joaquin, linking her pinky with his, especially when she was nervous about something. She felt as if she was fighting that part of herself, doing her best to ignore what was probably her inner child—or at least that’s what Dr. Raynor described it as.
He chose the worst time to extend an olive branch, she flinched the second his hand brushed against hers. At first she assumed it was an accident, but the second time she took a few steps away from him, putting some distance between them both.
She hated being patted down, but , it was part of the process, and as the security did so all she could do was roll her eyes and hold her arms up.
Sam gave her a pointed look when they stood in front of the oval office doors.
“It’s now or never kid, time to right your wrongs.ell, at least start righting your wrongs.”
She nodded slowly, running her thumb along the scar on her palm again as she followed Sam and Joaquin inside.
Truthfully, the entire time that President Ross spoke, she simply nodded her head, offering faint and forced smiles, doing her best not to have a fully fledged panic attack. She could practically feel the anxiety thrumming through her heart, and it was getting harder to breathe, she needed to relax, needed to calm down.
Then the President shook her hand and she had no idea what he was saying, she just nodded her head at him, eyes a bit glossy as she fought the nervous tears.
Joaquin noticed it first, he could see how stiff she was. It wasn’t normal, or at least, it wasn’t what he was now used to. She looked almost afraid, or maybe it was panic. Then he noticed her rubbing her palm, and he knew it was panic, she’d always done that, it started when they were kids, and now it was resurfacing.
He excused himself, and in the process, also excused her, a single hand on her lower back, guiding her with him as they stepped out of the office, leaving Sam and President Ross to speak with one another.
She didn’t have the energy to curse at him, she needed some air.
Joaquin guided her movements, taking her to one of the smaller more secluded gardens outside, a place that most of the public wasn’t allowed.
“Sunshine, you need to breathe.”
She nodded her head at him, vision a bit hazy as she tried to focus on breathing. She hadn’t realized that her panicking had gotten this bad, the anxiety practically surging through her, she was too busy overthinking about everything she’d done over the past four years, trying to piece together the fuzzy pieces, trying to remember who she really was.
It was clear that just talking to her wasn’t helping, so he stepped forward, gently placing one hand on the side of her face, practically caressing her warm skin as he held eye contact with her.
“I need you to breathe. You’re okay, everythings okay. Ross approved the pardon, you just need to follow through with Dr. Raynor. You’ll be alright, Sunshine”. He spoke slowly and quietly, and for the first time in a long time, he felt as if he was really seeing her.“Take a deep breath. Exactly, in and out—just like that.”
She nodded along, following his lead until she finally felt like her heart wasn’t going to beat out of her own chest.
There was something calming about Joaquin, and maybe if she’d genuinely let him in again, she would know that it was just his presence overall that calmed her down.
But it was never that easy.
Then she was shoving him away from her, blinking a few times when she finally realized how close they were.
She let out a cynical laugh, shaking her head at him. “Can’t you just leave me the hell alone?!” He stared for a moment, face void of any emotion for a few seconds.
“What the hell is your problem, Sunshine! I mean come on, I’ve been trying to talk to you for two weeks.I haven’t seen you in almost ten years at this point, and God, I’m so tired of this weird silent treatment, oh lets be mean as hell to Joaquin fiasco. I just want to be there for you!” his voice was getting louder as he ranted to her.
“Seriously?!” she raised both brows at his outburst, rolling her eyes.
When she tried to walk away, he stepped in front of her, blocking her way, knowing she couldn’t exactly shove him. They were at the White House for her presidential pardon, any and everything that she did could easily get it ripped away from her.
“Stop calling me that! It’s not my freaking name!” Her voice was loud as she yelled at him, swatting his extended arm away from her, he rolled his eyes, letting out a deep sigh, shaking his head.
“I don’t give a shit if it’s your name, I’ve always called you Sunshine! What the hell is so different now?!”
She let out another cynical laugh at that, fighting the urge to shove him away from her.
“Everything is different Torres! Every single fucking thing is different! You’re arguing with me in a garden outside of the damn White House where I have to get a fucking presidential pardon because I’m a god damn criminal. But you…Torres, you’re a freakin Avenger! We’ve never been more different!” Her voice cracked as she yelled back at him, her eyes burned as she felt them start to water, and she did her best to make sure she wouldn’t shed a single tear around him.
“It doesn’t have to be! You don’t have to be like that anymore! It’s a fresh start for a reason! You’re so god damn stubborn that you refuse to see yourself as anything but what you’ve been over the past few years. Newsflash,Sunshine, the Blip wasn’t good to all of us.It brought out the worst in a lot of people! You don’t have to be that same person anymore!”
She shook her head at that.“What the hell would you know about what happened to me? You weren’t even there. Do you know how many times I wrote to you?! How many days I stayed up hoping that maybe I’d hear back from the one person I knew was still around?” Her voice cracked again as she spoke, her bottom lip quivering by the time she’d finished shouting at him. Her heart was practically pounding and her ears were ringing, her skin was flushed and all she could focus on was trying not to cry, trying to hold it all in.
She hated crying.
Once the first tear fell, it was as if the floodgates had been unleashed. She couldn’t hold it in, but she wouldn’t allow herself to break down, not like this. So she turned on her heel, hands clenched in fists as she started walking down the stone path, steadying her breath as she shook her head.
But his voice had her stopping in her tracks, still turned away from him.
“You think I didn’t write you? Do you know the kind of shit I had to see when I was overseas, the shit I wished I had someone to talk to about?! I never stopped writing to you! Then I waited and waited for your letters! They were the only thing that got me through in the beginning, you were the only one.”
He was exhausted, he’d been exhausted for years. Sure he’d found productive distractions, he’d even found parts of himself he’d thought he lost after the Blip. But there was always something missing, and that something had been her. She’d always been there, she was one of the largest constants in his life, then suddenly, things got hard, and she’d been gone.
She wasn’t the only one who had felt loss, that had felt that sense of loneliness.
But he didn’t know how to say that, he didn’t know how to let her know that he’d been hurting too, that the hurt hadn’t just gone away. But it wasn’t numbing, not like it had been that first year they’d lost contact. He’d managed to stay busy, working his ass off in the Air Force, using his own skill set, and expanding on it.
He’d spent years drowning himself in work, sure he still had family back home, but it wasn’t easy going home, it wasn’t feasible for the most part. He’d been overseas for years, and in all of that time, he’d hardly gotten to speak to any of his family or friends. But he did his best to not let that loneliness overcome him.
So he’d done his best to show his superiors that he wasn’t just intelligent and athletic, but also diligent, committed, and useful.
That’s how he’d ended up meeting Sam that day in Tunisia, after years of climbing the ranks. There was so much he wanted to tell her, so much that she wouldn’t hear.
His voice cracked as he spoke “You act like I forgot you, I’ve never forgotten you, Sunshine.”
She shook her head at that. Looking down at the ground, feeling the tears falling faster.“I don’t wanna hear that from you. Now leave me the hell alone Torres”
Then she walked away, heels clicking against the pavement as she walked through the lush space, shaking her head while wiping away her tears.
Baltimore M.D., Three Weeks Prior
“I’m not avoiding the question!” Y/n shook her head, jaw clenched as she stared at Dr. Raynor. They were currently sitting in the living room of the house that Sam had called her ‘new temporary home’.
She was seated on the large burnt orange sofa in the middle of the room, one leg crossed on the oversized cushion she sat on, the other extended in front of her, foot resting on the edge of the small glass coffee table in the room. She held a throw pillow in her lap, glaring at Dr. Raynor who sat across from her, except in the room itself, she was technically diagonal as the recliner she sat in was angled away.
Of course the small brown leather bound notebook was still in her hand alongside a black ink pen that she jotted down notes with.
The woman sighed, adjusting her glasses as she glanced back down at the notebook, clearly making a note of Y/n’s defensive behavior.
“Yes, yes you are avoiding the question, It was a simple ask, what do you think your genuine purpose is? I’m not asking for an essay, most people have some kind of answer, some would say to work, others would say to help, I’ve even had clients say their last purpose is to make amends. If you don’t have an answer—then that itself is an answer as well. But you? You’ve completely disregarded the question”.
Y/n sighed, shaking her head again as she glanced down at her hands, the skin around her cuticles were peeling, some of it red, some of it scabbed, from her constant need to pick or fidget.
The question was simple in thought. Dr. Raynor had asked the question ten minutes ago, and for the past ten minutes, Y/n had done her best to avoid it, opting to bring up random thoughts, extend on previous things, and ask her therapist questions instead.
She knew for a fact she’d been avoiding the doctor’s question.
Mainly because she’d always thought her purpose would be to do something good, something great even. To find the next biggest scientific discovery, to use her smarts for the benefit of helpful research, to engineer something substantial, to expand upon biomedical sciences and studies.
Instead she was technically an ex-arms dealer, the engineer behind a series of potentially country-ending-weapons and machinery, a contributor to several global wars, and a literal felon with a criminal record. Not to mention the fact that she couldn’t leave the jurisdiction of the State of Maryland or Washington D.C. without pre-approved supervision.
She used to believe that maybe, on the simplest level, her purpose was to help those in need. To help those who were sick, those who were wounded, those injured in wars, but instead, she was part of the reason for those injuries in wars.
“Okay, so I don’t have an answer then.”
Dr. Raynor shook her head “now you’re just lying to me, y’know for a global criminal considered a national threat, you’re a horrible liar” she took a note of that as well.
Y/n sighed, looking up at Dr. Raynor then back down at her hands, specifically at her right palm, running her left thumb over it again. Tracing the scar, back and forth, several times over.
The only reason they’d had today’s therapy session in the living room was because Joaquin had been called into work late last night, some local mission that Sam needed intelligence backup on. It worked out perfectly, she’d finally gotten a day of peace and quiet.
That and her usual therapy session didn’t need to be in the mess that was her room, and Dr. Raynor wouldn’t be able to jot down any notes about the disastrous state that the bedroom was in.
“Fine. When I was a kid, I wanted to help people. Do something good y’know, my mom always said with as smart as I was, I’d be able to find the cure to the most untreatable diseases. I uh, I remember when Quin—Torres, uh yeah, Torres, would tell me that I’d be able to make a real difference for people like us y’know, people who grew up in poor areas with shit access to things like health care and real genuine medical treatments. But it all seems so far-fetched now.”
She took a deep breath after that, finally looking over at Dr. Raynor, who’s brows were knit together as she listened, then she took another note, it was short, and quick.
“You do know that you still have time to do that, right? In a world like this, where aliens, gods, and superheros are all real, there’s really no such thing as an aspiration that’s far-fetched,”
“That’s what Quino used to say to me, said we could be anything since aliens were real,” she smiled, shaking her head while looking down at her palms again.
“Tell me about your friendship with Joaquin.”
She coughed at first, slightly taken aback before shaking her head at Dr. Raynor.
“I’m being serious, I’d like to know more about your past, and he seems to be a consistent figure”
She sighed, nodding her head “I dunno, like I said before, we grew up together, we were best friends for years, our families are friends, they always told us we’d get married someday, that way our families could just be one big family y’know. We were close for a long time, he was my closest confidant.”
The session ended shortly after that, mainly because time had run out, and Y/n had nothing to really respond with, sure the words of encouragement were nice, and even if they made complete sense from a logical perspective, morally, Y/n didn’t think she really deserved a second chance.
Maybe that was why this entire predicament was so difficult. It was hard to adjust, hard to accept that Sam Wilson had really given her a second chance, that maybe she’d actually be able to do some good and be able to actually help people instead of hurt them.
She’d sat in the living room once Dr. Raynor had left, opting to use one of the large throw blankets on the couch, covering herself to get comfortable, eventually opting to lay down, TV now on as she mindlessly scrolled through the channels, well at least, things were mindless until Y/n caught the local News.
Then her eyes widened as she sat up swiftly, a recorded footage feed showing Captain America and the Falcon mid air, both fighting what looked to be missiles over the Indian Ocean. She wasn’t even sure if they were actually fighting, it looked more like they were trying to lure them away, and at first they’d been doing a great job.
Then Joaquin had been hit, and not only had he been hit, he’d crash landed into the Indian Ocean. Based on the timestamps on the footage, that had happened almost four hours ago.
It was like she was on autopilot, immediately standing up, eyes wide as she rushed to gather her things and put on whatever clothes she could quickly find. Sam had mentioned that if anything ever happened, they’d be rushed to the hospital at the air force base twenty minutes outside of Washington D.C., so what did Y/n decide to do?
Steal Joaquin’s keys and drive herself to that hospital.
It didn’t help that she’d been questioned at the security gate, and then they’d also tried arresting her, which did lead to a very unnecessary fight, but she defended herself by stating they’d triggered her fight or flight response by putting their hands on her first and practically ripping her out of the car that was registered in Joaquin’s name.
To be fair, she’d even told them that they’d been living together, and that he should’ve been flown in by then, or at the very least, he’d be arriving shortly. She had also tried showing them the paperwork that Sam had provided to her, all of it had been filed electronically, notarized, and in the legal sense, it was concrete proof that she was no longer a wanted criminal.
Technically, she wasn’t exactly a regular civilian either. There was some subclass that she’d fallen under after being experimented on, and then, of course, being a former enemy of the state wasn’t the best title for someone actively trying to get onto a military base, especially when they had zero military clearance or involvement.
It had taken two additional hours for her to actually get to the hospital on base, and the only reason they hadn’t fully arrested her was because Sam had managed to find her.
The walk to the hospital, and through the halls was quiet. Sure there was the general noise and ambiance of a hospital, plus the stench of alcohol and antiseptics, and the ongoing background chatter between staff and patients, plus the beeping of different machines, but between Y/n and Sam, they were silent.
Sam felt guilty, guilty for it all, as if it was his fault that this had happened.The past twenty four hours had been miserable, everything that could’ve gone wrong, had gone wrong. He’d even gotten guidance from Bucky Barnes of all people, sure he loved Buck, but at the same time, getting guidance from one of the least level-headed people he knew was tragic.
Now he had to deal with Y/n, who he practically ripped away from several military police after she’d taken down two of their guards after claiming that they’d hit her first. Truthfully, he wouldn’t be shocked if they had acted with aggression towards the girl, her record was beyond worrisome and she did have several red flags that equated to violent tendencies.
But he also knew that she was worried, the concern was practically oozing off of her.
She acted as if she hated Joaquin, but Sam knew that she was just hurt, and it was the kind of hurt that would take time to heal. It wasn’t exactly easy for her to go back to normal, especially when the past five years have been anything but normal.
They walked side by side, neither wanting to be the first to speak, at least until they’d reached the door to the room he was currently admitted into. It was a recovery room, he’d just gotten out of surgery about half an hour ago, his entire right shoulder had been burned and partially broken, not to mention the bits and pieces of metal that had pierced through his skin from his suit, wings, and the shrapnel from the missile.
With the blinds to Joaquin’s room being open, Y/n could see him lying in the hospital bed, elevated, from where she stood. His upper body had been bandaged, but she could see bits and pieces of his burnt skin along his jawline and his neck.
He even had a few cuts and scrapes on his face, but they weren’t major, not like the burns, breaks, and fractures.
It broke her heart to see him like that.
“Y’know, he really needs you right now. He’s probably needed you for a long time. Same way you’ve needed him.”
She nodded her head at Sam, jaw clenched and brows knit together, as she blinked rapidly, trying to force the tears away at the sight of Joaquin unconscious in the hospital bed.
“I can’t do this Sam.” With that she’d walked off in the opposite direction, wiping her tears away as fast as possible, but it was no use, they’d kept falling.
Washington D.C. Air Force Base, Two Weeks Prior
To say that it was easy getting Y/n on and off base over the time span of a week would’ve been a bold faced lie, Sam had to pull several strings for it to happen, especially considering her not so subtle fight with several members of their military police unit. It would’ve been easier if she hadn't won the fight by a landslide. He had to pull the Captain America card several times, and even stated that he was taking her under his wing.
Once she was officially allowed on base, and considering that’s also where his main headquarters was based out of, it was much easier for her to have somewhere to be while Joaquin was in the hospital on the opposite end of the Air Force campus. She hadn’t gone to see him again, instead she’d spent her time bothering Sam, hacking into random systems, and going through their records.
She’d even managed to pull the records on the super soldier serum that she’d been injected with, she found out its origins, even found records of illegal tests, experiments, and medical data from overseas that had been discovered through a series of raids and top secret missions.
Every single day Sam would ask if she wanted to go see him, he’d try to convince her, and she’d always decline. He’d even mentioned that Joaquin had asked for her a few times.
Although he wasn’t fully conscious.
So she’d decided that maybe it was time to go see him, she couldn’t hide from seeing him forever.Sure she was mean to him, and she did push him away, but she’d never ever wished harm onto him, and she never would. At one point in time he’d meant the world to her, and if Dr. Raynor was right about anything, she was right about the fact that Y/n needed to work on opening up to people again, and letting them in.
So she left Sam’s office space and made her way to the hospital, glaring at a few officers that had given her questioning looks. By the time she’d made it to the hospital she was nervous, so nervous that she couldn’t bring herself to go into his room, she’d managed to get directions to his floor and now she was standing outside of the door, arms crossed as she tried to give herself a mental pep talk.
Then her soul had practically left her body the second an older woman spoke to her.
“Going inside sweetheart? You’ve been out here for about twenty two minutes now.”
Y/n slowly shook her head at the older nurse, taking note of her badge that read ‘Shirley ICU RN’. Her hair was fully grey and pulled up into a ponytail, she couldn’t have been taller than Joaquin’s abuela—the woman standing at a whopping 5’1—and she was full of life.
“Uh no, I don’t think he’d want me in there with him, not the person I am today at least.”
She shook her head at that, raising a single brow.“I think it sounds like you don’t want to be in there because of the person you are today, y’know, I saw the way you looked at him when you’d first came last week. I don’t know your history with Captain Torres, but I know he means a lot to you. Remember sweetheart, holding grudges only does harm in the end, it’s easier to forgive and keep moving forward.”
With that she reassuringly patted Y/n’s forearm, offered another smile, then made her way down the hall towards another room.
When Sam had gone looking for Y/n to ask if she was going to come see Joaquin today, she wasn’t there, and naturally he , but after about fifteen minutes he’d found the note that she left on his desk that read ‘Going to go see him’.
That’s how he found her sitting in the uncomfortably stiff cushioned chair beside his hospital bed, tear stained cheeks and bloodshot eyes, looking right at Joaquin as she held his right hand with her own, or rather she held onto his right hand even though his stayed open.
She hadn’t noticed Sam at first, too busy sniffling as her eyes kept retracing the burns along his shoulder and neck, the previous dressing had been removed, the nurses stating that it would be good for the burn to ‘breathe’—whatever the hell that meant. Sam had also watched as she reached over with her left hand, slightly brushing the loose curls along his hairline back.
He was typically very put together, his hair never really fell out of place, and Y/n knew that, he’d always been particular about how he liked his hair.
She shook her head at him, eyes tracing each and every ridge, line, and curve of his face.
“You’re such an asshole,” she’d mumbled, looking at him.
“Glad you finally gave him a visit.”
Her eyes widened as she sat up, left hand instantly moving away from Joaquin, but she’d instinctively squeezed his right/ The moment she was about to respond to Sam with a witty remark, Joaquin had squeezed her hand.
Sam caught the movement too, his eyes widening as he approached the bed, now standing at the foot of it as he glanced at Joaquin, who’s features were slowly but surely moving, brows knit together, his eyes squeezed shut even harder, then he slowly opened them, blinking a few times, struggling to adjust to the bright fluorescent lights in combination with the sun shining in from outside.
“S-sunshine?” his voice was hoarse, throat dry, and he was confused as he started to process everything around him.
“Glad to see you’re finally waking up, kid”
He slowly nodded his head, easily seeing Sam in front of him, however he didn’t register Y/n next to him, not until he went to move his hand and realized someone was holding it, then he shifted his head a bit, rolling it to the side, a little groggy still as his vision focused on the woman beside him.
He could feel her squeezing his hand, and he let out a slight laugh. Although it didn’t really sound like a laugh, more like a dry breathy cough.
Then one of the nurses walked into the room, she was an older woman who had taken the time to speak with Y/n before she’d gone into the hospital room, giving her a few pieces of helpful advice about actually being there for someone.
The nurse smiled at the sight of Joaquin waking up, and she approached the bed with a small cup of water, taking the time to raise his bed, letting him sit up a bit more before helping him with the water.
The entire time Y/n didn’t let go of his hand, and he’d made the effort to hold onto hers as well.
“It’s good you’re awake Captain Torres, we were getting a bit worried about our resident hero.”
He nodded his head groggily, smiling slightly.
Her assessment took about ten minutes, she’d asked him several questions to see what he remembered to judge his cognitive function, and she’d also asked him to move certain body parts of his, which he could mostly do. It was a bit uncomfortable, but it showed that while he was injured, it wasn’t anything debilitating.
Everyone was quiet as she took his vitals, making several notes before letting them know that she’d let his care team know that he was awake.
He finally looked over at Y/n again, a small smile on his face “Sunshine, how long was I out?” His voice was still hoarse, but it sounded a bit better, as if he was getting used to talking again.
“Consistently? A week, but they said you were in and out for the first week.”
He nodded his head at that before looking over at Sam. “Did I at least look cool in the air?”
She lightly slapped him on his side, meanwhile Sam shook his head, hands in his pockets with a small smile on his face.
“Yes, you looked cool in the air. Now I’m gonna give you two some time.I’ll be back in a bit, I’m sure you have a lot to talk about." With that, he left the room, closing the door behind him.
Joaquin took a deep breath, now looking over at her again, meanwhile she did her best to avoid his stare, gaze moving around the room, taking in the small details that she truly didn’t care for such as the small crack in the drywall above the door, the several wires behind the bed, all tangled as they connected the medical machinery to the bed, a power source, and most importantly Joaquin.
She’d even realized that the table on the opposite side of him didn’t match the table closest to her, it was clearly the older version of the side table.
“Have you been crying?”
She rolled her eyes at him, silently nodding her head
“Why?”
That had her looking at him as if he had three heads, eyes squinted as she craned her neck back a bit.“Why have I been crying? I dunno because I had to watch you get shot out of the air by a goddamn missile then crash land into the ocean? Plus you’ve been hospitalized for two weeks, one of which involved a medically induced coma?!”
He slowly nodded his head, squeezing her hand again.
“I thought you hated me.”
She took a deep breath at that, jaw clenched as she shook her head.“No you moron, I don’t hate you, I just—I dunno okay Dr. Raynor has had me thinking and I guess talking to Nurse Shirley and just—just-fuck shut up!”
He nodded his head slowly at her frustration, he was still a little groggy, and it was clear that whatever pain medications they had him on were strong.
He looked down at himself, doing his best to see his lower chest and lower body, noticing the few wires and patches under his hospital gown, and he’d even been able to see the burn along his chest, it was clear he’d screwed up going after that missile, he just wanted to impress Sam. Hell, he wanted to impress the entire world.
“I missed you, y’know.”
She shook her head at his words, bottom lip quivering.“Of course you did”
He nodded at that, now looking at her again, and this time, she couldn’t help but get closer, leaning into his space as she brushed his curls away from his face, doing her best to fix his hair. He smiled at her look of focus, the same concentrated look that she’d had since they were kids.
Her brows were furrowed and it was clear that she’d been biting her tongue slightly with her teeth, lips barely spread as she focused on what she was doing.
“I’m sorry I didn’t come to your graduation, I didn’t get the letter on time.”
His voice was quiet, and that was what finally broke her, the tears were flowing along her cheeks while she looked at him, shaking her head as she nodded.
“I’m sorry I held it against you, but Jesus, I’ve never felt more alone, I didn’t have anyone. Then I needed you and you just, you weren’t there—and it hurt so fucking bad.”
He nodded at that, a singular tear of his own sliding down his face. “It was hard, wasn’t it?”
She nodded at his question, sniffling, squeezing his hand a little tighter.Harder than anything I’ve ever experienced. I guess that's why it was so easy to fall into shitty habits and routines.”
He nodded at that, eyes trailing along her figure, taking in her disheveled state. She’d been stressed, that much was obvious.“Yeah, you’ve got quite the rap sheet now.” He was teasing her, and for a second, things felt normal, it felt like they were seventeen in Miami again, going back and forth with each other while sitting outside on the hood of her dad’s truck.
“What can I say, being a criminal mastermind was quite the regrettable career choice out of college.”
He raises both brows.“I’d say so, too.”
And in that moment, they’d both realized that she was still close to him, she could’ve moved at any point in time, but she didn’t. His eyes took in the details of her face, slowly but surely taking note of everything that had changed about her over the years, there wasn’t much, truthfully she looked almost the same, just a little older now.
The same way that he’d grown up, so had she.
Then he was leaning forward, ignoring the radiating pain from his shoulder and his ribcage, slowly lifting his left hand until it was resting against her face.
Neither of them had moved away.
Her gaze had shifted from his eyes to his lips, back and forth, and she wasn’t sure if it was the overwhelming emotions rushing through her, or the close proximity of Joaquin, or maybe even a mixture of both, but she’d been the one to lean closer, connecting their lips.
The kiss was soft and careful, just as it was sweet and gentle.
He smiled against her lips, they moved slowly in sync with one another, and she squeezed his right hand again, her left hand now finding its way to his jaw as she kissed him.
Once they’d finally pulled apart she rested her forehead against his.“Promise me you won’t get shot out of the fucking sky again”
He laughed. “Only if you promise me you won’t go back to being a war criminal.”
She rolled her eyes, giving him one last quick peck before standing up fully. “I mean, I guess I could give Sam’s plan a shot.”
Washington D.C. Air Force Base, Present Day
Joaquin’s major rehabilitation plan involved a multitude of physical therapy, specialist visits, and most importantly, he had to stay on base. Meaning, he couldn’t leave the Air Force base unless it was on a work related trip that didn’t involve being the Falcon.
Even after sustaining his injuries the doctors were a bit shocked that he was up and moving around so quickly, it’d been about two weeks since his accident, and one week since he’d been fully awake and functional. They tried to get him to stay in the hospital, stating that they would be able to move him to a more comfortable room, but he swiftly declined, stating that if he had to be on base, he’d prefer to be in his office space, considering it also had a somewhat private attached living quarters.
It wasn’t the biggest living area, it was practically the size of a studio apartment, but it was enough for him to actually have his own space. Well, almost his own space.
Instead of him being Y/n’s babysitter, she was his.
Sam had advised her that he trusted her enough at this point to make sure Joaquin was alright, it also helped that the two of them were on a genuine speaking basis again, and following their kiss two weeks ago, they’d been friends again.
They truly were the epitome of old friends that could catch up in the time span of an hour, it was as if nothing had changed, as if they hadn’t gone nine years without seeing one another.
The day that he’d woken up, following their kiss, they’d talked for hours about anything and everything. She’d told him about the less than legal activities that she’d been involved in, even did her best to describe her stint in Madripoor before and after being injected with the serum. That was something that did worry Joaquin, especially considering she couldn’t really piece those memories all the way together.
But she’d reassured him that there were no lasting harmful side effects of the serum, her body had adjusted to it, and now it was just a part of her whether she liked it or not.
He’d told her about his different missions, even let her know about the day that he’d met Sam, which she did tease him about, knowing that the Falcon was his childhood hero.
Then he was moved into the lackluster studio space attached to his shared office with Sam, and Y/n had spent two days cleaning and organizing it, the first day was about cleaning, the second she’d been driving to Baltimore to get their things, then she’d practically bullied some of the men that typically worked under Joaquin into helping her move things.
Sure she could’ve done it on her own, but everything was bulky all together and it would’ve taken more than one trip.
Joaquin still hadn’t fully processed that Y/n was fully back in his life again, she’d apologized profusely for the way she’d been treating him, he knew that she was hurting, he also knew that she wasn’t the best when it came to coping with her emotions.
He’d forgiven her a week into having her back in his life.
But she didn’t need to know that, nor did she need to know that she had him wrapped around her finger. He’d do anything and everything for her.
He’d always been that way when it came to her.
What he hadn’t expected was the immediate resurgence of the feelings that he’d harbored for her when they were younger, the same feelings that he’d tried to rationalize the day he’d left for bootcamp. He was never able to truly define them, he couldn’t exactly let himself fully accept and acknowledge that he’d been in love with his childhood best friend.
Not now and not then, well maybe now. Things were different, they were adults now, adults who would most likely be spending a lot more time together for a while, plus she wasn’t on the run and he wasn’t somewhere overseas.
They were currently in the main office, Y/n was busy researching super soldier serum, she’d found herself heavily invested in this over the past few weeks, and in her downtime she’d take advantage of the various softwares and technologies they had.
It was a good distraction.
She was currently reviewing the various interrogation tapes and video diaries from one of the last few hydra bases that had managed to survive well into the blip. It was remote, somewhere in the middle of Russia’s countryside, and the diaries documented failed experiments, potential recreations of the Red Skull, and even notes on how to adjust and ‘train’ soldiers like The Winter Soldier himself.
She stood in front of one of the large table-top touch screen monitors, gaze focused on different feeds, manuscripts, and translations.
Meanwhile Joaquin was seated on the large sectional, his feet propped up on the small coffee table in front of him while his laptop was in his lap where he was supposed to be doing some work and reviewing some encrypted data that Sam had sent over.
However, his gaze was held on Y/n, more specifically, on her lower half. It was hot outside, so she’d been wearing shorts a lot more often, however these shorts-if one could even call them that, were so short that anytime she bent forward he could see the bottom of her ass, and it had him biting his bottom lip while blushing.
Not to mention they weren’t exactly fitted shorts, but they weren’t overly loose, and he was positive they were made of something soft like cotton based on the way the fabric sat. Then she’d shift and he’d see the way her thighs and ass would slightly jiggle, and at this rate, he was losing his internal battle.
They hadn’t even spoken about the kiss, maybe it was a one time thing, or maybe it was a pity kiss on her behalf. He tried to blame it on the emotions of the moment, but truly, he’d wanted to kiss her for a long time.
Then she dropped her notebook, mumbling a quick ‘shit’ before stepping to the side, now fully bending over, back arched while she reached to grab the notebook that had slid between the desk itself and one of Sam’s large filing cabinets.
The entire time she was mumbling curse words and his jaw was practically on the floor. The way he was looking at her was down right perverted, his entire face was on fire at this rate and he was positive he was sweating.
But he couldn’t tear his gaze away as he traced his eyes over the span of her legs, then towards her ass, and now her legs were somewhat spread and the thin little shorts she had on were riding up, meanwhile the more she moved, the more the fat of her ass moved, and the more she spread her legs, the more prevalent the outline of her cunt between her thighs became.
The fact that she had on thin little red panties wasn’t helping either, his brain was short circuiting.
Then she’d grabbed the notebook, standing back up and doing a small victory cheer, except when she turned around to check on Joaquin, his gaze was on the laptop screen in front of him and he would’ve looked normal if he hadn’t been so red and flushed.
It was somewhat concerning, especially because she’d been so involved in her own research and task at hand, that she hadn’t realized he’d been staring at her. So, she placed her notebook on the table in front of her then waltzed right towards him.
He was praying she didn’t catch him staring, and he was also angling his laptop to hide his very evident ‘issue’ that had occurred because of his staring.
“Torres, are you okay?” she blinked a few times, now looking down at him, moving while very clearly examining him.
He nodded his head and did his best to act nonchalant, pretending to type something, meanwhile he had a small sticky note open on his laptop and was typing random letters into it.
But then she got closer, shutting his laptop to gather his full attention, her brows were knit together, her eyes quickly scanning his figure over and over again, double checking that she hadn’t missed anything or that something wasn’t wrong.
Then to make matters worse, she was even closer now, one of her legs brushing against his while she propped herself up with her other knee on the sofa cushion beside him, now leaning into his space, before placing the back of her hand on his forehead, then his cheek.
“Why the hell are you burning up?! Do I need to call one of the nurses?!”
He shook his head, gently swatting her hands away while avoiding her gaze“I-I’m uh fine. Trust me I’m just a little hot—it’s fine” she squinted her eyes at him, not buying his horrible lie.
“Tell me the truth, are you feeling okay?” Then she grabbed his chin, slowly tilting his head towards her, both of her brows now raised as she looked at him with an expectant look on her face.
The motion shouldn’t have turned him on as much as it did. It also didn’t help that he was already turned on.
“I’m fine, I promise, just hot ‘s all”
She nodded.“Okay, you want me to turn the air on?”
He shook his head at her.
“But you said you’re hot Torres”
He groaned, nodding his head while grasping her wrist, pulling her hand away from his face slowly and carefully.“I’m fine, it’s probably a side effect from the pain meds or something.”
She raised a single brow at that, now finally catching him in his lies. “You’re not taking any pain meds, you literally argued with me about it yesterday because you said you’re not gonna risk getting reliant on narcotics, and heat flashes sure as hell are not a side effect of ibuprofen.”
The way that she was concerned about him was also turning him on, it was so nurturing and sweet, but also a little mean, and honestly, this was the worst time for him to be acting like some kind of horny teenager. He’d always known Y/n was attractive, but this was absolutely insane to him.
It could’ve also been the fact that she was so comfortable around him too, prior to this current living arrangement, she’d never worn anything like that in the other house, not for the almost month that they’d lived together. Now she was walking around in little shorts, and he couldn’t even think about the top that she’d worn last night.
She’d been sleeping on the sectional, stating that she wasn’t going to just start sharing a bed with him, and then she’d told him that she’d slept in way worse places than their expensive ‘cloud of a sofa’ when he tried to protest.
But it made sense to go to sleep comfortably, however, he hadn’t expected for her to walk into the room and give him his antibiotics for the shrapnel wounds wearing a little pair of shorts and a fitted, cropped tank top with nothing under. He’d very clearly seen the outline of her breasts, alongside her nipples poking through the thin fabric, and he did his best not to watch the way her chest bounced as she walked.
Maybe he was acting like this because he hadn’t had sex in a while, but sex wasn’t ever a huge priority for him, sure he slept with people from time to time, but he didn’t go out of his way to seek out people to sleep with.
The last time he’d thought about Y/n like this was when they were nineteen and he’d actually managed to come home to visit for the winter holidays. She’d shown up to his family’s annual christmas party in a fitted off the shoulder red dress with a white faux fur neckline and a similar trim at the bottom of the dress.
Everyone from the neighborhood had been invited, plus his extended family, and their friends. It was always a huge deal for everyone to come together around the holidays, but what he hadn’t expected was for her to show up like a Christmas vixen.
What had gotten to him though, was when she’d bent over to grab something from the oven for his abuela, and he’d been flashed her barely-covered ass, only adorned in what he assumed was a thin black thong.
He’d also made a scene out of it, rushing behind her to pull her dress down some before harshly whispering to her that she needed to ‘put her ass away’, which led to her shooting up, nearly dropping the hot pan in her hands while she whispered that she’d forgotten to put on her shorts because she was rushing out of the house.
After that, he made sure to walk her back to her house so she could change, then they walked back together. But that night, all he could think about was how she looked bent over in her skimpy panties and her little dress, and it was sending his mind into overdrive.
“Hello, earth to Joaquin?!” She snapped her fingers a few times in front of his face, and he’d blinked and finally realized that she’d been talking to him the entire time. But now he was stuck on the sound of his name from her lips.
“What’d you say?”
She rolled her eyes, arms crossed in front of her chest.“I said earth to Torres, I’ve been talking to you for like five minutes and you’ve been zoned out thinking about whatever the fuck.”
He slowly nodded, brows now knit together as he stared at her before shaking his head.“No, you didn’t call me Torres.”
She sighed, hands now on her hips, irritation evident on her features.“Okay, big deal, I called you your name, I’m trying to make sure you’re okay and you’re over here in la la land! I should kick your ass!”
He shook his head at that, now leaning back into the couch, except usually when he’d relax, he’d move his laptop, but he made no effort to do so, so mindlessly Y/n reached forward to grab it, then he surged forward too, grasping it and holding it in place with a panicked expression.
He’d also lightly shoved her back, making her laugh as she tried to regain her footing, however she hadn’t processed that she’d still been leaning into the sofa, so when he’d pushed her, she’d started falling backwards in a fit of giggles—but instead of catching herself, she simply grasped his left arm and had managed to pull him down with her.
Both of them were now lying on the ground or rather, she was on the ground while he was above her. They were laughing at one another, except Joaquin had barely managed to balance himself on his left arm, and it was a bit wobbly, which had them even closer than before.
Then they both suddenly got quiet, now realizing how close they’d actually been.
His gaze was glued to her lips, meanwhile her eyes were trailing his features again, then she paused on his lips, and truthfully, neither of them were sure who’d made the first move, but their lips were connected again, except this kiss wasn’t slow, soft, or sweet.
It wasn’t anything like the kiss they’d shared a few days ago.
This kiss was fueled by frustration from both ends, as if they’d been pouring years of emotion back into one another. One of her hands was now in his hair, lightly tugging at the strands while her other hand slowly slid beneath his shirt, fingers gently running along the warm ridges of skin.
They were both fighting for control, it was clear that Joaquin wanted to win, however, the second she pulled his hair with a bit more force, he groaned against her lips, and his arm wobbled.
That had her pulling back, brows knit together as she caught her breath, looking from his kiss swollen lips to his eyes, then towards his left arm. She’d then realized that his right hand had been lightly caressing her jaw, however the position looked uncomfortable for him, and she knew he was straining too hard.
“Get up.”
He blinked a few times, caught off guard by the sudden demand, then she was shoving him, making sure it wasn’t too hard. He could feel her hesitating when her hand was closer to his right shoulder.
He slowly nodded, listening to her.
“Did I do something wrong?”
She shook her head, now standing up before giving him an expectant look, so he slowly got off of the ground, and he also made sure to check that his laptop that had hit the floor was alright—it was okay enough.
Then she pushed him back onto the couch.
“Y’know you really shouldn’t be over extending yourself, Torres.”
He nodded his head, watching as she easily straddled his lap—then both of their eyes widened the second she was properly situated against him. There were a few moments of silence before Y/n started laughing again.
“You’re seriously hard right now? Wait,is that why you were being so weird?!”
He groaned again, this time covering his face with his hands feeling overly embarrassed as if she wasn’t the one on his lap right now. It also didn’t help that with each movement, it was as if she was slowly grinding against him and he wanted nothing more than to moan.
She was still giggling, shaking her head while she gently pried his hands from his face.
“Oh c’mon Torres, it’s only natural, don’t be shy about it,” she smirked, her teasing tone had him nodding his head, then she leaned closer to him, trailing a few open mouthed kisses along his jaw, then moving towards the left side of his neck, lightly nipping at his skin, tongue trailing over the marks she’d left behind.
Meanwhile she slowly moved her hips against him, letting out a few gasps, enjoying the friction against her core. His hands gripped her thighs, fingers digging into the soft skin while he leaned his head back and a bit to the side, giving her more room.
Her hands were shifting his shirt up, nails lightly tracing along his abdomen, the feeling making his mind fuzzy.
“Take it off, Torres.”
He blinked a few times, nodding his head at her words as he scrambled to pull his shirt off, tossing it to the side somewhere, then her lips were back on him, but each time he tried to lean forward-she’d push him back against the cushions.
Then her lips were back on him, except now she was slowly moving lower and lower, leaving a trail of minor bite marks and bruises along his skin before she was situated between his legs, now on her knees looking up at him. He hadn’t even realized that she’d been on the ground, his eyes had been shut while he leaned back, enjoying the feeling of her lips and teeth against his skin.
He’d been dreaming about this moment for years.
Seeing her looking up at him from between his legs had his mind short circuiting, then she started undoing his belt while still holding eye contact with him.
Truthfully, it was a feat in and of itself, she’d been nervous, but she was doing her best to play it off. Once she managed to undo his belt, she raised a single brow at him, as if asking for his permission, which had him practically whimpering as he nodded his head.
His eyes were slightly hooded, lips parted while he tried to steady his breathing, and he’d kept running his left hand through his hair.
By the time that she’d undid his jeans and slid her hand into his pants, he was already biting down on his lip, chest rapidly rising and falling at the feeling of her hand against him, the only thing stopping her from actually touching him had been the thin layer of fabric separating the both of them.
She’d been palming him over his briefs, a smirk on her face at his quiet moans.
Then she tugged on his jeans a bit more and pulled his cock out, her eyes widening at the size of it, he was bigger than she’d expected, and he was certainly thicker than she’d thought. But it almost made sense, Joaquin had never really been scrawny, he’d always been broad, but now he’d filled out a lot more, the years in the Air Force had been good to his physique.
“Shit you don’t have to—”
She cut him off, shushing him as she scooted a bit closer, now leaning over him as she slowly spit onto the tip of his cock before spreading it around with her thumb. “Let me take care of you Joaquin.”
He nodded his head, her voice so soft and sweet, his heart was practically hammering out of his chest.
“O-okay—” then he moaned, it wasn’t a quiet moan either, it was loud and throaty. She’d wrapped her lips around the tip of his cock, tongue swirling around the thick mushroom tip, then she pulled back, tracing her tongue along the weeping slit, the pleasure made him shudder.
She wrapped her right hand around his thick shaft, slowly raising it up and down, spitting on his cock again, using it as a lubricant to keep her motions fluid.
“You’re always saving everyone, always being the hero, taking care of everything else. Can I take care of you this time?”
He nodded his head, his entire body was on fire, it was as if he’d been possessed, maybe she was possessing him, maybe she was actually a witch and this is how’d she’d kill him.
Or maybe, just maybe, the love that he’d thought he’d been over, the love that he’d felt for her was making things one hundred times more intense.
“I wanna hear you say it, baby.”
He whimpered, brows knit together as he looked down at her.“Yes-please-do it-do anything you want to me-fuck ‘m all yours, promise”
That made her heart flutter.
Then she was taking him into her mouth again, inch by inch, and when she’d finally gagged on him, he let out another guttural moan, struggling to keep his hands still, then she’d looked back up at him and he felt like he was about to pass out.
She took her time with him, slowly bobbing her head along his cock, letting her spit trail along his thick shaft, some of it even dribbling down her chin while she used her right hand on what she couldn’t fit in her mouth.
He finally placed his hand in her hair, it was a bit frizzy and wavy from being in braids and he’d gathered what he could, holding it in a ponytail, keeping it out of her face while she focused on sucking his cock. She’d even hollowed her cheeks, moving herself a bit faster, taking a little more of him down her throat.
This was downright sinful.
His ears were practically ringing as he fought the urge to buck his hips into her mouth, but the faster she moved her head, the closer he was to cumming.
Then she pulled back, a string of spit connecting her lips to the tip of his cock, he blinked a few times, heavy breaths leaving his lips when he watched her smirk, then she was leaning down, her tongue tracing the veins on the underside of his cock for a few seconds before she’d moved lower-that has his eyes widening.
She didn’t hesitate to trail her tongue along his balls, then she’d taken them in her mouth and he’d pulled her hair so hard it stung, but she’d just moaned, moving back up to his dick again, tongue back along the shaft before she wrapped her lips around the tip, tongue swirling around it again.
Meanwhile both of her hands were pumping and slightly twisting along his shaft, he’d bucked his hips a few times but she’d ignored it, watching as he writhed above her.
“Fuck-baby I’m gonna cum-fuck-you gotta stop before I cum-” he was borderline whining, voice a bit higher as he tried to catch his breath and tried to hold back, then she moved again.
“I want you to cum, so cum Joaquin” she’d practically demanded it, and that sent him over the edge, as her hands moved, he was cumming, thick spurts of cum shooting from his cock, trailing along her fingers, then she’d pulled the head back into her mouth, swallowing the rest of it before moving back, licking along her fingers before using her thumb to slowly drag the mixture of spit and cum along her chin into her mouth, dragging it against her bottom lip.
He thought she was done, he was already getting soft, but clearly she was a fan of torturing him.
She’d brought the sensitive tip of his cock back into her mouth, sucking on it as she stared at him, moaning around it for a few seconds, as if she was milking him dry.
The overstimulation made his eyes water as he shook his head at her.
“Baby, fuck-give me a minute-please-oh-” he whimpered when she took more of him into her mouth, lightly running her teeth along the sides of his cock before pulling away, letting him go with a ‘pop’. Then she kissed his tip, and out of everything she’d just done to him, that was downright filthy.
“You gonna let me keep goin’ Quino?” his jaw dropped at the nickname, watching as she stood up, easily slipping her shorts off, then straddled his lap again, leaving just enough room between them for her to spit on his cock and go back to fisting it.
To say he was overly sensitive was an understatement, however that hadn’t stopped him from getting hard, not when she was on his lap making him pant like a dog.
“Don’t call me that right now.”
She laughed at his strained voice, leaning a little closer to him, resting her forehead against his as she kept her motions up.“Why not, Quino?”
He moaned, shaking his head.“F-fuck, you know why.”
She shrugged at that, moving back a little bit, she looked at him as if she was on death row and he was her last meal. “No I don’t Quino, you gonna tell me why I can’t call you that?, I’ve always called you that.” Her tone was mocking and degrading, he shook his head again, now bucking his hips into her hand, watching her bite her bottom lip, he was hard again, his head was spinning, his heart was racing, and he was five second away from telling her he’d been in love with her his entire life.
He moaned, using his left hand to grab her neck, pulling her into a kiss, practically slamming his lips into hers.
She was surprised by the motion, especially considering she could still taste him on her tongue.
Joaquin didn’t care about that, he was practically drowning in her. The kiss was rough, it was all teeth and tongue, the both of them swallowing one another’s moans as she ground herself against one of his thighs while slowly and lazily playing with his cock.
He pulled away first “I need to be inside of you-” and as he tried to push her off, attempting to switch positions, she used her enhanced strength to push him back into his spot while shaking her head.
“You're still hurt, or did cumming make you forget that?”
He rolled his eyes, shaking his head.“It’s nothing I can’t handle, Sunshine”
She shushed him again, giving him a pointed look.“No, your shoulders still hurt, you have a long recovery, no way in hell you’re about to make things worse because you want to have sex.”
He groaned, nose scrunched with his eyebrows furrowed.“So we’re not having sex anymore?” he sounded unsure of himself, and that made her laugh again, shaking her head, their previously heated exchange now filled with a combination of their laughter. She smiled at him, rolling her eyes playfully.
“Do you trust me, Quino?”
He groaned at the nickname, nodding his head, trying to ignore the butterflies he was feeling in his abdomen. He felt like he did the last night they’d spent together after high school, he was undoubtedly in love with her, and that love was all consuming.
“That’s not my name.”
She shushed him, moving her body forward now, easily sliding her panties to the side before slowly gliding his cock against her sopping cunt, practically coating him in her essence, teasing him.
“Yes it is, or would you prefer Joaquin?” She leaned closer to him, lips brushing against the shell of his ear “You want me to call you Joaquin when you’re inside of me? Tell you how good you feel against my tight little cunt, huh Joaquin?”
He moaned again, eyes squeezed shut at the feeling of her lining his tip up with her entrance, then she was sliding down,taking all of him.
She moaned at the stretch, resting her head against his shoulder as she took him inch by inch until she was stuffed to the hilt, clenching around his thick cock,whimpering at the burning stretch.
“‘S so fuckin big-feels so fuckin good”
He nodded at that, his hands now holding onto her waist, fingers digging into her skin hard enough to bruise trying to keep his composure. Then she’d fluttered around him over and over again while slowly grinding herself against him-enjoying the feeling of being so full.
“Should’ve done this a long time ago-shouldn’t have let you go so easy.” Her words were quiet as she finally started moving, bringing her body upwards, then slowly back down, setting a slow pace-rambling against the crook of his neck.
“Missed you so much, Quino”
He moaned, nodding his head as she moved against him, hands now moving, pulling her even closer to him.“I-oh shit-missed you too-S-sunshine.” He was stuttering at this point, head thrown back as she bounced on his cock, she was gradually building her pace, doing her best to keep things gentle, to make sure he’d be okay.
She kissed along his throat again, except this time, she moved, shifting towards his right side, peppering soft open mouthed kisses along his scarred skin, the doctors had said the burns were pretty superficial around his neck and shoulders, he’d scar, but it wasn’t as major as his other injuries.
If this wasn’t genuine love, he had no idea what love was supposed to feel like.
She was moving faster now, her moans a little louder against his skin, it was as if the only sounds in the room were their shared breathy moans, the sloshing sound of her cunt, and the sound of their skin.
Then she reached between her thighs, fingers easily finding her clit as she kissed him again, it was difficult to focus on kissing him, their lips were moving, but it was sloppy, they’d been moaning against one another while she bounced a bit faster.
He used his left hand to move hers out of the way, two fingers now focused on rubbing fast half-circles against her swollen bud-earning several high pitched whimpers as she kept her movements up, cunt clenching around his cock as she lost her rhythm.
“I’m gonna cum-fuck Quino I’m gonna cum.” She was whimpering, her forehead resting against one of his shoulders again as she grasped onto his forearms.
“Just like that, you’re doing so good-so good for me baby.”
She nodded her head, feeling herself getting closer and closer to the edge.
Meanwhile he was doing everything in his power not to cum again, his mind was hazy and his only real goal was to make her cum first, he knew she was close, so he started bucking his hips up into her-knowing she wouldn’t argue with him right now-not when she was like this.
That sent her over the edge, moaning out a string of expletives and his name, alongside a few jumbled words, begging him to cum again.
“W-where?”
She whimpered again, hips still moving slowly, “Inside-fuck need it inside, Quino.”
That pushed him over, and in his own orgasmic haze he hadn’t realized what he’d been moaning.
“Fuck-fuck-so perfect-shit I love you-oh god love you so much”
The both of them sat in a comfortable silence as they came down from their highs, then she slowly started sliding off of him, wincing at the soreness of her cunt, followed by the feeling of his cum leaking out of her.
She slowly stood up, and instead of saying anything, she simply gave him an expectant look, that look resulted in the both of them being in the shower together, she was washing his hair for him, the intimacy of it all made her heart flutter even if he was complaining that she was doing it wrong.
“How the hell do you wash hair wrong, Quino? I have more hair than you, I think I know what I’m doing” her response was a bit snappy, however the few giggles that left her lips after reassured him that she wasn’t mad at him, besides he wasn’t even supposed to be lifting his shoulders too much, she was doing him a favor.
“Okay, there, now rinse it pretty boy.”He nodded at that, looking back over his shoulder, smiling at her.
When he was done rinsing his hair, he’d volunteered to wash her back, it made both of them laugh, however as she stood in front of him, he took the time to glide his fingers along the deep indented scars in her skin, brows furrowed as he realized this was what she had left to show fro everything she’d been put through for years.
“I’m sorry this happened to you.”
She shook her head at that. “Don’t be, you should see the other guys,” she laughed softly, rolling her shoulders back when his touch tickled her, a smile on her face.
She turned to face him now, and they held eye contact for a few moments, as if they’d been taking one another in for the first time in a long time.“Is what you said true?”
He blinked a few times, caught off guard by the question—trying to rack his brain to figure out what she was referring to.
Then she raised a single brow “You don’t remember do you? Y’know it’s very in character for you to confess your love to me while literally cumming inside of me, then forgetting that you said something so major.”
His eyes widened, practically popping out of his skull.“Well- I uh, y’know we’ve known each other for a long time, and uh-well I guess old feelings uh y’know resurfaced when we were, well doing that-”
She cut him off with a smile “Doing that huh? We’re literally butt ass naked in a shower together and you can’t say having sex? Really Quino?”
He scoffed.“Stop making fun of me when I’m trying to explain myself to you!”
She laughed at him, a little louder than she meant to, then she tried to hold it in, biting her bottom lip, the same way she always had when they were younger.“Okay-sheesh-sorry lover boy-go on and tell me how much you love me.” She was teasing him now, and he couldn’t help but shake his head at that, droplets of water splashing her from the motion.
Then he got closer, wrapping his arms around her waist as he looked at her, their faces only a few inches apart at this rate, the water bouncing against their skin as he pulled them closer to the shower head.“You got me okay, I’ve been in love with you since we were kids, you totally broke my heart when you were all cold to me for a month even if we hadn’t seen each other in years, you’ve always been the one for me, Sunshine, even if you are a reformed war criminal.”
Her jaw dropped at his jokes, shoving him.“You asshole!” she couldn’t hold in her fit of giggles. “Is now a bad time to say that I wanted to kiss you on prom night?” he shook his head.
“No, because I wanted to kiss you too—but we can make up for lost time. Besides Sam said I need a long term babysitter. Okay, now it’s your turn to say you love me, too.”
She laughed again, smiling at him as she held eye contact, then she kissed him, it was practically a peck.“I guess I love you too, you loser. Although it did take you crash landing into the ocean for me to realize that. Now can we please get out of the shower before I prune up like a raisin?”
He raised a brow before reaching back to turn off the showerhead. “You do know that prunes and raisins are two different dried fruits right?”
-
Thanks for reading secksies <3
#zoot writes#joaquin torres x reader#joaquin torres x y/n#joaquin torres angst#joaquin torres smut#joaquin torres fluff#joaquin torres x you#joaquin torres imagine#joaquin torres fic#joaquin torres fanficiton#id kiss him on the mouth 10x over bye felicia
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sticky | kim minji

things between you and minji are... sticky this summer.
— childhood friends to lovers, summer trip, soccer player!reader, slowish burn, lowkey bromance, futchish READER 💜
contains : cursing, kinda slight makeoutism, a lot of bro and dude, just a little bit of angst but i promise its literally nothing, NOT proofread at all i am tireeeddd
wc: 13.7k words
inspired by : Sticky — KISS OF LIFE
You're not really sure how you got here.
You’re watching the sunset at the beach with Kim Minji, your hand in between hers and the sand below you, your face two inches from her own, your lips two seconds away from colliding.
Actually, let's rewind.
It’s summer! It's been 3 long years of being away in Seoul. A soccer scholarship was always great, and you were having a fantastic time with your teammates and classmates, but you were completely burnt out after these exhausting last 6 months.
Korea University Anam Tigers proudly win 3rd place in the U-League for the first half of the season. 5 wins, 2 draws, 3 losses. Not too bad. You did better last year, but you're sure you'll recover and bounce back during the second half. Or maybe it was the alcohol and smell of grilled beef that was making you emotional.
After you finalize your amazing speech with a broken voice and a tear threatening to leave your eye, you realize you're actually quite drunk. The applause of your teammates startles you, and they may be mocking your sentimental state with their laughs and ‘aww’s and teasing pushes, but they cheer you on anyway.
“Han Y/N!” One of your teammates, Hsu Nientsu, also pretty tipsy, nudges your left arm as you sit back down, “Don't get so sensitive with us now!”
“Our Y/Nie gets emotional when drunk, huh?” Central striker Ahn Yujin, leader of the team, pinches one of your red cheeks from across the table, action to which you groan at.
“I just…” You sigh, drowsy and teary eyes block your vision yet you can still tell all your teammates are looking at you. “I really love our team and want us to do our best…” You make a mental note to never get drunk with your team again when they coo at you for a second time.
“Well then,” Oh Haewon starts pouring you another shot (she usually would make you pour it yourself, but your flimsy arms and hung head bring out the instinct to take care of you instead), “Let's climb up the leaderboard for Leftie!” She declares as she leaves the small glass of soju on your side of the table.
You hate the nickname. Nientsu came up with it the first year of your scholarship because when you were supposed to be in central midfield you spent most of your time on the left side of the field, for some reason. Her broken Korean and teasing nature muttered the name in an attempt to mock you and everyone started repeating after. You can't complain much about it. It stuck too well.
You take the shot and grimace at the bitter taste of alcohol. You're still not used to it even after countless team dinners.
Won Haneul, your roommate, best friend and goalkeeper, laughs at your expression. The other girls have already picked up their own conversation, yet she seems very entertained at your drunken state, “Unnie, are you sure you don't want to go?” You've told her multiple times to drop the formalities, it's a one year difference; she keeps refusing.
You look to your right and you (hardly) see her looking at you worried, but still smiling. It takes a couple seconds for you to process her words. “I… I think I should go.” You slur, you're sure you'll die if you take another shot.
Haneul nods, understanding as always. “Guys, I think me and Y/N unnie are gonna head back now!” You hear your teammates complain and whine but you can't make out anything they're saying.
“I'm too drunk!” You try your best to scold them, “And I have my last class tomorrow…”
A soccer scholarship didn't mean you were just in Seoul to play soccer and get drunk with your friends. You also had to study and attend classes, like everyone else. Maybe you would've had it easier if you had chosen Physical Education as your major. But no, you had chosen Media and Communication for some reason.
At least it was the last class before break.
“Go then! Quick! Get away!” You hear Jung Sunhye drunkenly shoo you two away. It makes you giggle. You wave goodbye to your teammates with your frail arms, it makes you look like a car rental inflatable. You hear a chorus of ‘sleep well’s and ‘Bye Y/N’s.
Haneul holds you as you walk out of the BBQ place, and then a cold wave of air hits you right when you realize you have to go up the hill to get to your dorm. You don't know if the chill you get in your spine is from the cool late night air or the dread of borderline hiking while drunk.
“Haneul, I'm sorry.” You don't even want to look at her in fear of getting dizzy. You're only a few steps up the hill but you're already breathing a little heavy. However, your apologetic expression is enough for her to understand your feelings.
“It's okay, unnie!” She's such a joy to have around not only as a teammate but as a friend. You hope her kindness never leads her to getting taken advantage of. You and the other girls would ruin the life of whoever could even dare.
“I'm really grateful for you, y’know?” You probably shouldn't talk while you're rapidly growing out of breath, but you're already sentimental.
“I'm flattered.” She says with a light laugh while pushing you from behind, making it easier for you to walk upwards.
“Are you going back to Suwon this summer?” You ask after a while of more heavy steps. Haneul had also gotten a scholarship and moved from Suwon to Seoul, therefore getting to be roommates with you.
“Mhm! Gonna go see my parents.” Her voice turns a little softer and you notice even when you're mostly out of your conscious mind. “What about you, unnie? Are you gonna stay here?”
It's been three years since you left your hometown and replaced the ocean with the river. Three years since you left your friends behind. Three years since leaving your mom and dad.
Of course you missed them. How could you not? It's not like you were avoiding them, the last summers were just filled to the brim with practice and studying and everything got tangled and you didn't even leave time for yourself.
That's over, though. You can already see yourself on the shore.
And then you're at the bus terminal. Hands shaky and heavy steps, just like the ones you took walking up the hill of your dorm building. You carry your backpack at your front and hold your gym bag on your left hand. You wait in line to step inside your bus and you think you're ready to fall asleep for the whole ride.
But once you're settled in your seat, your thoughts leave you restless.
There's a fear in the back of your mind that your friends will treat you differently when you arrive.
You've been gone for 3 years, and you talk slightly less now. But the group chat is still active, and you talk with them when you're allowed the time to. It's not like you've gone completely radio silent and disappeared from their lives.
It's just scary to be back.
But the scariest thing by far is the fear of being proven wrong. The fear of still liking her.
See, ever since you were a kid running around with a ball between your feet, you've had a crush on Kim Minji.
Neighborhood pretty girl. Class president in elementary, middle and high school. Best grades in your year. The most crushable girl ever.
You remember the first day you met her. You actually think about it a lot.
You were 7, playing soccer with your friend Gyuvin on the beach at sunset hours. There was no real goal to kick the ball towards, you were just trying to steal the ball from each other and keep it as long as possible. But then Gyuvin gets a little too close to taking the ball, and in panic you pass it to your right.
But there's no one to your right. And you realize you've just kicked it towards three girls about your same age building a sandcastle.
You see the ball roll away further and further away from you and Gyuvin, and closer and closer to the castle, and the girls don't seem to notice.
You don't know why you're frozen. You could've stopped the ball by now if you had run after it. Gyuvin notices your lack of movement and becomes the one who shouts instead, “BALL!”
It seems to wake both the girls and you up from your daze, and suddenly you're running as fast as you can to catch the ball before it collides with the sand clump. And you manage to catch it.
You had thrown yourself into the sand, and the ball gets stopped by your arms. But your head crashes into the sandcastle instead. It doesn't collapse completely, and it didn't hurt that much, but it suddenly knocked you out for a few seconds.
You hear Gyuvin’s voice behind you when your mind is back in its place. “We're really sorry! We'll help you patch it back up!” You shake of the sand from your head when you sit back up, and you can finally take a good look at the three girls.
They looked pissed.
The smallest of the girls speaks, “I guess you can help. You're lucky it didn't fall on your head.” She points at you and you feel guilt engulf your cheeks with its warmth.
“Great!” Your friend helps you shake off some of the remaining sand off of your head, “Let's get to work, Y/N!”
You're confused at his enthusiasm, you were just playing soccer with him a few seconds ago and now he wants to build a sandcastle with some girls you just met? “But… we were-”
Gyuvin cuts you off, “It's the least we can do. We almost destroyed it.” It makes sense, but you're still a little reluctant. You grab a shovel anyways.
Your friend is already introducing himself when you start digging a hole into the sand, “I'm Kim Gyuvin! What are your names?”
The short girl with short hair that spoke to you before is the first one to answer, “I'm Hanni Pham! I'm from Australia but we moved here a year ago.”
“Your parents like fish, huh?” The boy's joke makes Hanni's mouth open wide and her eyes dilate a good amount.
“How did you know?!”
“I'm Seol Yoona.” Says a girl with a voice so quiet you have to ask Gyuvin what her name was right after she said it, “What did she say?”
“Seol Yoona.” He repeats, and you get back to digging with a nod, not before you give an apologetic smile to the girl.
The last girl introduces herself, “I'm Kim Minji.” You notice three things about her. Her voice is deeper than the other two girls, her eyebrows are really pretty, and she's wearing a blue clip on her hair.
All three of the girls are pretty, but if Gyuvin asks you later who you thought was the prettiest you are sure you'll say Minji.
Said girl notices you've been doing nothing but dig since you started introducing yourselves. “What's the hole for?” She says.
“I'm gonna put water in it to make wet sand. It's going to make it easier to build and harder to collapse.” And right after you say that you stand up, bucket in hand, ready to go and fetch water from the shining ocean behind you.
But just as you're about to go, the girl with the pretty eyebrows calls out again, “What's your name? You never told us.” Right.
“Han Y/N.” You tell her with a smile.
“Han Y/N.” She repeats your name back to you, like you're not supposed to know it already. It sounds pretty coming from her.
The sunset glow crashes in the sea and bounces back into the eyes of the girl. You see them glisten as she looks into yours. Your heart starts beating as fast as it was when you were running around earlier.
“Don’t ever play soccer near my sandcastles.”
You look like an idiot, laughing by yourself in your seat. It's already night when you feel the bus stop in its tracks. You realize it's slightly warmer than when you departed, even at these hours of the night.
You're here. And you're not laughing anymore.
Everything you dread is getting closer by the second, and you don't want to face it.
It's been three years since the last time you saw your friends, since you saw Minji. Three years of only speaking to her in the group chat. Three years of believing you've gotten over her when in reality you were just getting distracted.
Because if you had truly moved on you wouldn't be worrying about moving on.
You step out of your bus and smell the scent of the ocean. Your worries fade away for the rest of the night. You'll worry about that tomorrow.
You're home.
It’s around 10:30 P.M. Knowing your parents they wouldn’t be asleep right now. They’re probably watching replays of soccer matches or some strange animal documentary. Even after three years you can tread lightly towards your home. Not much has changed.
The street lights are dim, and the wooden floor boards of the port are not much louder than the last time they squeaked beneath your feet. You take a picture of the moon watching over the dancing waves, then keep walking.
You wish you don’t run into any of your friends on the way to your house. It’s not like you don’t want to see them, but it’s late, and you couldn’t catch even a wink of sleep the whole ride. You just want to see your parents and sleep in between the warmth of their bodies like you did when you were just a kid. You chuckle at the memory.
You step into your neighborhood. Most of the lights are turned off, but you can hear a couple of things as you walk deeper into the block. Crickets, waves, and a couple different TV stations.
You get closer to the neighboring house from yours. Gyuvin’s house. The lights in the first floor are off, but there’s a dim light coming from the window of the bedroom facing the street. It (probably still) belonged to Gyuvin himself. You don’t really know what he’s doing at this hour of the night, but you won’t bother him right now, even when you get the urge to text him something like ‘look out ur window’.
You hear the voice of a commentator from outside the door of your house. They were watching replays. Knew it. You think about what to do next. It’ll be too loud if you ring the doorbell, Gyuvin might notice you’re here and come around to investigate, And then you get a sudden, bright idea.
You set your gym bag on the ground and start typing your mom’s number to call her, clicking on her contact when it shows up. You take a big breath and wait for her to answer, it doesn’t take her long.
“Hello, baby! What’s going on?” There’s a twinge of worry in her voice but she always answers so happily when you call her. You chuckle deviously, mischief is about to begin.
“Hi mama! I sent you guys a surprise, I’m calling to make sure if the package arrived safely. Sorry about the time, by the way.” You try to mask the smile appearing on your lips as you talk.
“A package?” She seems confused, “I.. We didn’t get anything.” She sounds a little more concerned.
“Really? Can you check the door? Maybe it came late.”
“I don’t think it’d come this late, darling.”
“Just check, ma. Please.” You hang up. You feel a little sorry for leaving your mother bothered and confused, but you try to telepathically tell her it’ll be worth it.
Your heartbeat starts picking up its pace when you hear the door unlock. You put your phone in your pocket and pick your bag up again.
When the door opens, the first thing you notice is your mom’s disheveled hair, probably from laying on the couch and watching TV. The second thing you notice is that her eyes immediately fall on the doorstep, and she frowns when she finds nothing. The third thing you notice is that, even before she realizes you’re there, she’s already taking out her phone to call you again, but she sees a pair of shoes in front of her before she gets around to doing that.
Her eyes travel from your old sneakers to the top of your head, and then they fall back at your face. Her jaw drops and her eyes look like they hold the moonlight in them when she realizes it’s actually you.
“Y/Nie…” She’s a little breathless when she says your name, and you laugh at the sound of rustling behind her. Your dad probably heard her.
“Hello!” You simply greet. Your father appears shortly behind your mother and you send a wave at him when you see he’s making the exact same expression as her. “Am I going to be outside all night? That’s how you greet your daughter?”
Your mother throws herself at you with a hearty laugh, it makes you happy too. “When did you get here?!” She asks, a little too loud for your liking, but you won’t complain. You pull away to greet your dad, who was frozen on the doorframe.
“Just now, actually.” Your father is in shock, but he does his best to hug you back, and the hug gets tighter when he finally understands it’s really his daughter. You giggle a little at his lack of words, then tap his back a little rougher when you start struggling to breathe, “Hey! Not so tight!”
He lets go and you hear him laugh more calmly now. “Let’s go in. Gyuvin doesn’t know I’m here yet and I want to surprise him tomorrow.” Your mom closes the door behind you, and then hits you on the back, quite roughly for your taste.
“How dare you not tell us you were coming?!” She rubs the same spot where she hit you when she hears you hiss at the pain, “It was a surprise!” You argue.
“Did you have dinner?” Your dad asks already in the kitchen, and your stomach growls even before you can respond. You giggle shyly at the noise, “I’ll take that as a no.” He says, “Go sit with your mom and watch TV with her. I’ll heat up something.”
“Oh, we’re not watching anything. You’re gonna tell me everything you’ve been doing.” Your mother taps the seat beside her on the couch, which you gladly take. “How was the season?”
You’re so happy to be back.
You wake up with the sunrise.
You fully expected to open your eyes and be hugging your mom while your dad was already up in the kitchen. And that did happen, except you wake up with your back sore from falling asleep on the couch. Your dad is in the kitchen, making breakfast for you three.
You rub your eyes and yawn. It wasn’t that late, you woke up pretty early actually. 8:27 A.M. Maybe it’s because your body is used to waking up early. Your dad looks back at you and laughs at your messy hair, smiles brighter when he sees one of your mom’s arms sticking out of the couch. “Rise and shine!” He says brightly.
“Morning…” The sound of your croaky voice seems to wake up your mom, as she’s already rubbing her face.
“Smells good.” She says in the same tone as you. “Is it almost done?”
“I just finished. Come take a seat.” Your dad turns off the gas from the stove. The scent of kimchi jjigae fills your home, and it makes you feel a lot more energized even before having a taste of it.
You run your hand through your hair to try and make it more presentable. Your mother goes up to your dad to ask for a taste, he waits for her approval. You start setting the cutlery and it makes you think of the mornings before school, but rather than getting sentimental, you enjoy the moment with a smile.
“Y/Nie, do you want apple juice?” Your mom asks with the fridge open, you just nod as you sit down.
When the three of you sit down to finally eat, you start to realize how much you actually missed this. You spent your mornings in Seoul either eating a quick and not-really-filling meal, or eating an energy bar and a vending machine kimbap with your teammates before practice. You don’t remember the last time you had a hearty breakfast.
The sound of laughter and birds chirping combined with the smell of a home cooked meal and the warmth of a seaside morning couldn’t compare to any of the emotions that crossed your heart whenever you won a match.
Your mom and dad gossip to you about your neighbors and everything you missed while you were away.
You don’t find it hard to believe when they tell you that the weird old man that used to drink his nights away at the port got arrested. One of your neighbors' sons dropped out of college to be a model, Kim Sunoo apparently. Good for him, you always thought he had a pretty face.
Supposedly, Minji keeps her title as the number 1 student even in college. You’re not surprised, but you do feel full all of a sudden. There’s just a little bit of stew left when you groan, “Ah… I’m full…”
Your mom raises an eyebrow, “Already?” She looks at your bowl and laughs, “Nevermind, you finished pretty fast.”
“Do you eat well in Seoul?” Your dad asks. You feel a little flustered at the question and stutter when you answer, “I mean… not in the morning, but I eat pretty healthily the rest of the day. Me and Haneul prepare meals when we have afternoon practice. I’d say we’re pretty good cooks.”
Your parents laugh, “I guess we’ll put you to the test one day.” Your mom nudges you, “And it’s ‘Haneul and I’, by the way.”
The correction makes your eyes roll as you stand up to wash your dishes, “Yeah, yeah, grammar queen. I’m gonna go take a shower and go to Gyuvin’s to surprise him, ‘kay?”
“Aye aye, captain!” Either your parents planned to do the same move and say the same thing at the same time beforehand, or they’re literal soulmates.
You get out of the shower and choose a simple outfit- some baggy, ripped jeans and a graphic tee that you found in your closet (you asked your mom if it was clean enough for you to wear, considering the closet looked a little dusty; she said it was fine). The shirt felt a little tight around the arms and it was quite smaller than you expected, but it wasn’t uncomfortable at all. If anything it made the outfit more interesting.
So you stand outside your friend's house, with nothing in your hands but a smile on your face. You’re not really sure if it’ll be him or his mom answering the door, but you hope either of them will be happy to see you.
You ring the doorbell, and immediately hear footsteps get closer from inside. You don’t know if your heart is going to race everytime this happens, but you just hope you get used to the feeling. The door opens and you're met with a familiar face, Ms. Kim, Gyuvin’s mom, dressed up and ready to go to work. It’s summer, though?
“Y/Nie?” She looks delighted to see you, and yet quite surprised. “You came back!”
You give her a bright smile after you bow in respect, “Good morning, Ms. Kim! How have you been?”
She steps back in a manner to invite you inside, “Oh, I’ve been well, dear. Gyuvin told me you weren’t able to visit these past years. We all missed you very much.” Her words surprise you, and you feel a little guilt squeezing your heart for two seconds.
“I’m glad to hear that, Ms.” She walks around the kitchen, packing what seems to be a lunchbox into her bag, yet still giving you her full attention. “Are you heading to work?” You ask curiously.
“Oh, yeah.” She looks a little agitated, “They don’t give me breaks, baby. I work for the news now!”
“Oh! How has that been going?”
She stops in her tracks, “Honestly, quite great.” She says, and you both laugh together. “Does Gyuvin know you’re here? I imagine he’s who you came to see.”
“He doesn’t.” The woman looks quite surprised. “I wanted to surprise him. I arrived just yesterday.”
“Oh honey, you’re gonna give him a heart attack.” She laughs and you chuckle, “I hope not!” You say,
“He’s in his room. He’s probably still asleep, but he’ll wake up if you knock hard enough. Make sure he doesn’t think you’re me, then he won’t get up.” The woman unlocks the door, coat hanging from her arm and bag over her shoulder, when she sees you nod. “I heard you won third place this half, right?”
“That’s right, ma’am.” You proudly say.
“Go Tigers!” Is the last thing she says before she walks out of the door. What a charming woman. You smile at yourself before walking up the stairs to your friend’s room.
Knock knock. No answer.
Knock knock knock. A groan.
KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK. A louder groan.
“Kim Gyuvin, I will bust your door down.” You yell, “You think my legs haven’t gotten stronger?”
Fast stomps and the sound of a clutter of objects falling on the ground startle you slightly. The door opens so roughly you wonder if Gyuvin himself has also gotten stronger.
“Y/N?!”
“What fell on the ground?” You chuckle. He hugs you, possibly tighter than your dad. You didn’t quite expect it, but you welcome it anyway.
He pulls away like he’s checking if you’re not a hologram. You laugh the hardest when he pokes your cheek. He looks relieved, then mad. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?! When did you get here?!”
“I got here yesterday. You were still awake, I think. But I wanted to greet you properly, and I was really tired last night.” You explain with a little bit of remorse.
“Dude!” He hugs you once again, “Bro, I can’t believe you're back!” You hug him just as tightly. “I’m really happy I’m here.”
He pushes you lightly with a smirk, “Don’t get sappy on me.” He teases, “Congrats on third place, tiger.” You cringe at the nickname and push him back.
“Eww!” You both laugh, and you notice the bundle of things he has on the floor of his room, “You dropped all that?”
Gyuvin looks back, and pushes you out of his room, closing the door in shame. Unbelievable.
You hear him pick up the things and put them back in place, until he finally opens the door again. You’re right where he left you. “Get dressed. Your mom made you breakfast.”
“Wait, help me pick an outfit!” You’ve been here for less than a day and he’s already being annoying. Like always.
“Bro, I’m wearing a shirt that’s too small for me, I am not the one to ask for fashion help.”
“That’s your fault for getting swole!” You hear him yell while you go down the stairs. Maybe nothing's really changed.
You’re back at the kitchen. You look at the lonely plate at the table, it doesn’t look very appetizing. It’s not like it’s a bad meal, it’s an omelet and toast, but when you touch it it’s abnormally cold. Fuck you Gyuvin. He was probably supposed to wake up a while ago.
You take the plate and place it in the microwave, one minute should be fine. You open the fridge and snoop around to see if they still- yup, they still have a box of the triangle juice boxes you and Gyuvin always shared at school. Apple was your favorite. You’re sure he or his mom won’t mind you taking one while you wait for the food to heat up.
You take the little plastic straw attached to the juice box and stab it into the designated hole. Just as you close the fridge, you hear the shutter sound effect from a phone. You turn around and see Gyuvin already dressed up and smiling at his phone.
“Did you take a picture of me?” You ask. The microwave beeps, “That’s your food.”
“Check the group chat.” He says as he walks past you to the microwave. You take out your phone and rest your elbows on the counter when you open up the group chat. Gyuvin named it “Beach boys”, even when he himself was the only male.
You’re immediately met with a picture of you from your side, stabbing a hole into your apple juice box. You looked at yourself in the mirror this morning, but you only realize how tight the sleeves of your shirt look when you stare at the photo. “Damn…” You mutter
“Ow! Ow! Hot!” Gyuvin yelps as he walks beside you, plate in his hands. He sits down at the table while you scroll back up to check the other messages.
gyuv | 9:44 A.M.
guys Y/N got so swole its actually insane
sully | 9:44 A.M.
Well yeah shes an athlete what were u expecting
henny | 9:44 A.M.
did she post something on ig?
where is this coming from
minj | 9:44 A.M.
Good morning first of all
gyuv | 9:45 A.M.
yeah but ud expect her legs to get bigger or her thighs idk
tell me why this absolute gremlin has bigger biceps than me
i feel threatened
this feels like a bro code violation
henny | 9:45 A.M.
this feels more like you just being insecure
i checked her ig and theres nothing?
sully | 9:45 A.M.
Vin are you hallucinating be honest
minj | 9:45 A.M.
Why gremlin
If anything the gremlin is hanni
henny | 9:45 A.M.
literally so out of pocket
what compelled you to say that
gyuv | 9:46 A.M.
[1 attachment]
henny | 9:46 A.M.
Gyuvin is that ur fuckign house
is that han Y/N in your fucking house.
minj | 9:46 A.M.
What the hell
You | 9:46 A.M.
hi guys!
henny | 9:47 A.M.
Han Y/N are you in gyuvins fucking house
You | 9:47 A.M.
possibly
gyuv | 9:47 A.M.
[1 attachment]
guys im shaking theres a uleague third place winner in my kitchen
im so honored
sully | 9:47 A.M.
Omg she did get swole
Hiii Y/N
gyuv | 9:47 A.M.
RIGHT
IM SAYING LIKE
U DONT EVEM USE UR ARMS IN SOCCER
henny | 9:47 A.M.
Y/N when the FUCK did u get here
im gonna start vrying omg
You | 9:48 A.M.
i got here yesterday at night
i wanted to surprise u guys but ig gyuvin got too excited
pham hanni DO NOT CRY
hi sullyyy !!
henny | 9:48 A.M.
ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS
You | 9:48 A.M.
stop cursing so much omg
minj | 9:48 A.M.
This is actually crazy
How could you say nothing to us
I feel lowkey betrayed Han Y/N
You | 9:48 A.M.
IM SORRY???
so surprises are the worst thing in the world now huh
gyuvs mom was so much happier to see me than you guys fr
going back to seoul
it seems im not welcome
henny | 9:48 A.M.
Y/N actually stop playing rn
where do we meet
You | 9:49 A.M
me and gyuv will pick u guys up
were going to the soccer field
but i got money from the scholarship so we can buy stuff on the way
gyuv | 9:49 A.M.
guys just to be clear i had literally no idea she was here
she showed up at my house 20 mins ago
sully | 9:49 A.M.
Omg we can go to that antique shop thats close to our high school
henny | 9:50
literally how r u so calm abt this
minj | 9:50 A.M.
Maybe ur just abnormal
You cackle loudly at Minji's last text.
When you arrive at Yoona's house, she's already waiting for you two on her porch. She looks a little taller than when you last saw her. Her eyes light up when she sees you arrive.
“Y/N!” She runs up to you and hugs you so tightly your breath falls a little short. What's with everyone and suffocating you lately? “I missed you so much!”
“I missed you too, Sully!” You smile at her when you pull back, and the first thing she does is poke your arm. Her jaw drops in awe at the toughness of the muscle and it makes you laugh.
Gyuvin comes up behind you both with his arms open and a silly smirk, “Where my hug at?” It's quite awful. Yoona gags and sends him a distasteful look, which quickly shuts him down
You missed this. And it’s like this - full of banter and laughs - the whole way to Hanni’s house, the three of you take turns at making fun of each other, with the brief recurring tease at your job as an athlete.
Your friends like to brag about you being a college athlete, and a good one at that, but they certainly enjoyed sitting you up on a pedestal as a joke. They talked about you like you were the main star of the national team when in reality most people had little to no idea who you were even on campus, with the exception of the Yujin fans who tried using you to get close to her.
“Y/N, I promise you, when you make it on the national team, there’s gonna be a ton of fan accounts for you.” You’re in the middle of pushing Gyuvin away and blushing at his comment, about to contradict him when you hear a voice calling you.
“Han Y/N!” You don’t even realize you were already at Hanni’s house when you look towards the sound and two girls are waiting for you at the steps of a big house.
The first thing you notice is Hanni’s hair. She cut it, a fuckass (affectionately) bob that looked exactly like the one she wore the first time you ever met her.
The second thing you notice is that Minji is right beside her, already smiling at you. She stands up from the steps she and Hanni were sitting on and shakes off the dust from her pants. She wears a simple white graphic shirt and oversized blue jeans, beige puffer jacket hanging off her arms, and she looks so much taller than how she did when she was 16.
(That’s weird, shouldn’t she have stopped growing by then?)
The third thing you notice is your heartbeat suddenly racing when her eyes and yours meet for the first time in three years.
It beats at the same pace it did when the afternoon sun hit her face when you were 7. It beats at the same pace it did when you stared at her sitting by the window in middle school. It beats at the same pace it did when she sat beside you on the bus and fell asleep with her head on your shoulder.
Nothing has changed. Nothing at all.
It hits you like a bullet through your chest, but you try your best to ignore it as Hanni runs towards you.
“You asshole!” She yells with a smile on her face, and it contaminates your lips when she hugs you. She doesn’t hug you as tightly, but it’s longer than you expected. When she finally pulls away from you you touch the short strands of hair that cover her ears.
“What happened here?” You ask, watching in awe at the striking change.
“I kind of had an existential crisis last night.” She responds shyly while caressing her trimmed locks. “Minji helped me make it look better. It did not look good when I did it. They didn’t know either!” She points at the two behind you, both of them with their jaws hanging when you look back.
“Dude, you literally look seven again.” You say. You don’t mean it in a teasing way, she genuinely looks younger, but you reconsider telling her that when she hits you in the arm. Hanni widens her eyes at the unexpected roughness, “What the hell… you did get swole.”
“Can we stop talking about that?” The topic of your arms is starting to tire you, but it’s mostly embarrassing, so you groan at the mention.
You hear Minji laugh when Hanni goes up to the other two and they immediately start touching her new hair. It makes you laugh too, but you gasp a little when you feel a hand touch your shoulder.
“Hey.” She says, her god-damned pretty eyes look at you so sweetly, and her voice is so soft, and-
“Hey!” You say before thoughts about her take up your brain and you awkwardly freeze.
She smiles right before she hugs you, and it’s surprisingly warm, but you’re sure most of it comes from your own blood rushing everywhere inside you.
Everything about her is gentle, her eyes, her voice, her embrace. It’s a complete one-eighty in contrast to the tightness of everyone else who’s put their arms around you for the past two days.
“I missed you.” She says so delicately, almost quiet, even if she says it right next to your ear. And you’re about to melt, and she has no idea, so you hug her back, a little less soft than how she does, and say “I missed you too.”
It comes out a lot more calmly than you expect it, and you internally praise yourself for not making a fool out of yourself. It’s not like you want to pull away, but you might start sweating if you don’t.
You take your arms off her back and her warmth suddenly fades away. When she looks at your face again, there’s a small grin painting her lips, “Congrats on the win.” She pokes at your shoulder and you laugh at the gesture.
“It’s only third place. I want first.”
“Oh wow!” Her amused smile makes you dizzy, “Didn’t know you were so ambitious.”
“People change, I guess.” You giggle with her. But you haven’t really changed at all.
“Well, you better get first place, tiger.” She teases and you groan even louder at the nickname as you get away from her to join your friends. Maybe getting over Minji won’t be so hard.
Getting over Minji is going to be fucking impossible. Matter of fact, you're sure it’s never gonna happen. You’re going to be 45 and still think about her, and it’s going to slowly kill you.
You stare as she holds a little cow plush in her hands, inspecting it carefully. Her round eyes shine just like the glossy buttons of the doll. You think of a believable excuse before you take your phone out of your pocket and open the camera app.
You zoom in and despise how your fingers tremble before you snap a photo of the girl, unbeknownst to her.
Gyuvin comes up behind you, his voice is quiet yet it still startles you, “What’s the pic for?”
You look at him with widened eyes and bring your hand to your chest. “Just… memories.” Truth lies within your (not quite) excuse. “I want to look back on things like this when I go back to Seoul.”
The boy narrows his eyes at you and smirks, “So sappy.” He teases, so you zoom out the camera to 0.5 and take a bad close up of his face, “Hey!” He laughs.
You get away and put your phone back in your pocket to look at more of the items in the store. Many things catch your eye, small, shiny, weird, big, you could buy it all if you had the money to.
You walk around the shop, your eyes examine all the items on the old wooden tables and your fingers lightly brush on some of the more eye-catching trinkets. You stare at the little ceramic figurines of dogs and cats and other animals and mentally consider buying the little calico cat on the far left.
There are some cute keychains with little black and white designs as you pass by. You add them to your roster too. Hanni’s voice catches your attention from a few steps away.
“Y/N! What do you think of this cardigan?” She’s in the clothing section of the store, sporting a vintage cream colored wool cardigan with little brown stripes on the sides of the sleeves. It’s a little big on her, but oversized is trendy so it’s fine.
“It’s cute!” Your eyes glance towards some of the clothes behind her, “I like that one better though.” You point at the blue-gray checkered sweater behind her and she frowns in confusion when she looks at it, “Y/N, that’s so ugly.” Guess you don’t have an eye for fashion.
“Oh well…” You sigh and keep looking for more artifacts.
As you walk around, you accidentally bump the top of your head on some of the ornaments that hang on the ceiling, the sound of multiple wind chimes emerge a little before your quiet “Ow!”, which grabs the attention of Yoona and Gyuvin.
“You okay?” The girl asks in concern, but you can hear her hold back a laugh between her teeth. Gyuvin isn’t so subtle, his laughs resonating on the walls of the shop.
“Yeah, I’m fine.” You assure Yoona as you rub your forehead with your eyes closed, turned away in embarrassment. When your eyes open again, they land on an item that makes you freeze a little.
A small, pale blue hair clip. It looked oddly similar, if not exactly the same as the one Minji wore on the first day you met. The clip she lost on that same day while the five of you swam in the ocean together.
You remember her being so upset when she realized it wasn’t there anymore, so much she cried silently on the way back to your respective houses. She was over the sadness of losing it in less than a week, but it stuck with you after Hanni told you in a whisper that it was the first time she ever saw Minji cry.
You immediately take the clip in your hands, the first item you’re certain you will buy. Actually, you buy it in that same instant. Thankfully, none of your friends seem to notice your quiet purchase, too engrossed in their own item search.
The five of you spend around 40 minutes in total in that damn shop, and you could kind of tell the owner was getting sick of Gyuvin’s constant questions on how he acquired the items. “They’re mostly donations or things I find on trips. I don’t know anything else.” He says.
In the end, you bought a few more things apart from the hair clip. You did end up buying the little calico cat figurine, a silver necklace with a spiral pendant, a pack of stamps with really cool designs, and a love letter.
There was a cardboard box sitting on a chair in one corner of the shop with a sign that said “Old Love Letters, ₩300 Each”, and not only is it something you’ve never seen anyone sell before, but it’s also cheap. How could you not buy a chance to snoop around in unknown people’s love lives?
You put your stuff in the little tote bag Yoona had bought for you. She said the design made her think of you (it had three monochrome fish painted over it).
Now you’re making your way towards the nearest soccer field. You used to play there all the time with Gyuvin, sometimes the other girls joined, or some of the other kids in the neighborhood.
The five of you walked with you right in the middle, like you were the center of a K-pop group. It definitely made you stand out to the locals of the neighborhoods you passed through, and some of them even recognized you and went as far as to congratulate you.
Did your parents tell the entire town about your rank in the league?
“It’s like I’m walking with a celebrity.” Hanni voices just as you get back from shaking hands with one of the old men of the neighborhood. As much as you enjoy the praise and congratulations, it’s a little embarrassing to acknowledge you’re gaining a lot more fame within this town. You imagine this is how famous soccer players feel everytime they go out in public.
“Microcelebrity.” You clarify, “Aren’t you an influencer?” You recall Hanni spamming the group chat one time in the first year of high school because one of her Instagram posts had gone viral. After a while of her videos getting more and more views, she started gaining a small following and could be considered a daily-life influencer.
“Yeah, but most of my followers aren’t from here so I don’t get recognized everytime I go out.”
“To be fair, this is the first time this has happened to me. My parents probably told the whole town about this.”
“Oh, they sure did. Even my mom found out.” Minji states, to your surprise. Minji’s mother was well known for not liking any sports at all, and it’s not that she hated them, she just wasn’t interested. She didn’t even know who Messi or Ronaldo were.
“Wow… I knew they liked to gossip, but that’s… crazy.” You scratch your nape shyly. Your parents are known for finding out everything, but you didn’t know they also told everything they knew.
“She didn’t really know what anything meant but she was very happy for you.” She says with a smile.
Oh! There’s a strange giddy feeling that shows up as a smile on your face you can’t hold back. You’re not really sure what to say, but you don’t even have to worry about it, because before you realize you’re already at the field, and when the boys that are playing there take notice of your presence, all you can hear is screams.
Sounds of “Y/N Noona!”, “No way it’s Y/N!”, “You’re back?!” get closer as the match pauses and they start running towards you. Most of them are your high school classmates, some are your younger neighbors or underclassmen you played with during recess.
You get closer and they bombard you with hugs and questions, with countless reminders of how much they missed you. One of them complains about you not answering his texts, and another boy defends you by excusing your forgetfulness on being busy.
“Okay, okay. I’ll make it up to you with a match, okay?”
You end up playing for two hours straight, the first half with your friends as a team, but after a while it seemed like the only one with energy left was you. Not even Gyuvin could keep up your pace.
“No wonder she’s an athlete.” Hanni says, fanning herself under the shadow of a tree that trespassed the field enclosure. Your friends were all sitting down on the ground, watching attentively at the match you played against the boys while chatting.
It was 5v1 and you were winning 4-2.
Minji watched carefully at the way you carried yourself on the field, so graceful and yet not passive at all, a different perspective compared to how you usually are.
There's a little bit of sweat that glistens on your forehead, and after playing for such a long time you only now start to look slightly tired. “I pray everyday she makes it to the national team and gets rich.” Gyuvin says.
“Same.” Hanni answers, laying down on a blanket over the warm grass and resting her head on her bag and it makes Yoona laugh when she grumbles at the discomfort of feeling all the crystals she bought on the back of her head.
The boys score another goal at you, so you decide to get serious and start playing like you would at a normal university match. Minji stares when you run faster and slide through the opponents so easily. She kind of wonders if she could calculate your speed mentally.
Field length = 55 meters, Penalty area length = 9 meters
You were around 9.2 meters from the halfway line and traveled around 18 meters in a straight line, Minji counts 4 seconds.
18/4 = 5 m/s, 1 m/s = 3.6 km/h, 5 * 3.6 = 18 km/h
Han Y/N’s speed in that one moment was 18 km/h.
The average maximum sprint speed of La Liga athletes was 30 km/h, according to an NLM article (don’t ask Minji how she knows that; she isn’t even studying medicine).
Suddenly Minji feels the need to see you play an actual serious match.
“I don’t think you need to pray.” She says with a smirk, standing up from the ground and wiping away the bristles of grass stuck to her jeans. “She has it in the bag.”
The others notice her taking out her wallet from her pocket, “Can you buy me a Fanta?” Gyuvin makes puppy eyes at Minji, even while knowing they never work on her, or anyone for that matter.
She gives him nothing but a wave and walks away, “She’s not getting you shit, dude.” Hanni kicks Gyuvin in the back with the tip of her foot and Yoona laughs at the scene.
The grocery store is not far away at all, only a block from the field, and Minji treads lightly with her mind made up on what to buy. A bag of chips and two glasses of apple juice, and maybe a strawberry lollipop for Hanni, NOT cherry, she notes.
The owner is an older lady who used to babysit Minji’s mom. She’s seen her countless times in her life so it’s easy for her to greet her brightly. “It’s been so long, Minji!” The woman greets her, her aged features morphing into a kind smile.
It’s true, it has been a long time. She doesn’t really come here that often anymore unless she’s taking a walk out of boredom or walking the neighbors dog when she’s out of town. She used to come here all the time when you all went to play soccer, but the matches got less and less frequent after you left, mostly because the only one who actually wanted to play was Gyuvin.
Minji makes her way to the drink section of the store and lights up when she sees the chilled glasses of apple juice right where she remembers them being. She was honestly surprised you hadn’t brought a water bottle with you when you left, and maybe just water would be healthier and hydrate you better, but she’d rather make you happier with your favorite drink.
(You would’ve been happy enough even if she just brought you water.)
The glass is cold when it reaches her hand, a nice contrast from the heat of the afternoon sun. She was starting to get a little hungry so maybe instead of chips she’d get a sandwich. Maybe she’ll get two.
She excuses herself in her mind, she’s not excluding her other friends! It’s just… this day is about you, of course her focus would be you. And maybe tomorrow. And maybe the whole time you’re here. She laughs at herself while walking up to the counter. She meant it when she told you she missed you.
“That would be ₩4,200 but I’ll give to you for ₩4,000 because I missed you.” The woman beams her a warm smile and Minji can’t help but return it. She hands her 4,200 won anyways and is out the door before the woman can complain. “Bye, Mrs. Do!”
Minji walks back with a smile on her face, the wind hits and blows her hair back. Some leaves and dust get blown her way too but she doesn’t have to squint her eyes because they already do that when she smiles.
The sun isn’t as bright and the rays don’t burn her skin anymore. She hears louds screams just as she’s getting closer to the field, and when she looks through the gaps of the metal enclosure she sees Gyuvin running up to hug you while the boys you were playing with fall to the ground in defeat.
She missed your win. Minji puckers up her bottom lip and sighs, shoulders shrugging helplessly.
You hadn’t even realized she had left until you see her enter the field again, so you send her a light smile she almost doesn’t catch. She looks back to the other girls and when her eyes meet Hanni laying on the grass she realizes she forgot her strawberry lollipop. Oh well.
She sits down next to Yoona and takes her sandwich out of her bag.
“What’d you buy?”
“Just stuff. Nothing for Gyuvin.”
Yoona laughs at the comment. “The apple juice is for Y/N, right?” Minji nods as she looks at you tap the boys on the back to cheer them up, “You can have the other one if you want.”
Minji was just about to open the packaging of her sandwich when she sees you and Gyuvin walk towards her. She quickly stops her actions and takes the other cold glass from the plastic bag, struggles a little to open the lid, and just as you take your last step she holds the cold apple juice to your face, or the closest to it her arm could reach.
You’re a little taken aback, but luckily you don’t blush at her act. Instead you just smile at her, mirroring Minji’s own kind smile and take the glass from her hand. “Thanks.” You say before you take a sip.
Both of your hearts feel full, yours at the flavor of apple that fills your tastebuds and calms the thirst of running for hours, and hers at the fact she made you even just a little happy with such a small action.
You gulp down probably half the glass down and end it with a “Ah~” that makes your friends laugh. “You still do that?” Hanni sits up and rests her hands behind her on the grass.
“What do you mean?”
“You’ve done that since you were a kid.” Minji says and your eyebrows raise,”Really?” All your friends nod.
“I never noticed.”
Minji goes back to her sandwich as you and Gyuvin sit down in front of the other three. You’re tired now, but you don’t wanna lay on the grass because you say it makes you itch, so you try resting your body weight on Gyuvin, to which he adamantly pushes you away, “You’re heavy, Y/N!”
“What the hell, bro. I’m literally not?” You pout at him to try and get him to surrender but he just pushes you away harder every time you try to lay your back against him.
“Go lay on Minji or something, not me.” He says as he pushes you for the last time, you hear Hanni laugh.
You look at Minji and she’s already putting away the plastic bag she had on her lap. Oh, okay, yeah, no biggie. No problem at all.
You do a great impression of acting normal and move to sit next to her. “The shadow is better on this side anyways.” You fake whine at the boy as Minji grabs your shoulder and guides you to rest your back on top of her legs.
You turn your body so that you face her and hope she can’t tell your heart starts beating faster when you notice she’s already looking down at you. It’s a beautiful scene.
Minji’s face, the green leaves of the trees behind her and the sun peeking through the gaps, the wind blowing her hair a little to the side, the way her eyes smile at the same time she does. “Hey.”
“Hey.” You answer.
Everything about this is normal! You have to close your eyes so you believe it, and you start to after a few seconds. Everything about this is normal. It feels so normal and you love it.
It’s soothing. The wind caresses your face and you lose focus on the conversation your friends were having beside you.
And then Minji starts running her fingers through your hair and you lose focus on anything that’s not her.
Your heartbeat picks up for a few seconds and then it doesn’t. And then it’s all calm again. Your eyes are closed but your mind pictures Minji so vividly, smiling at you sweetly while her eyes. Her loving eyes.
God, you hope you’re not blushing, because you can already feel yourself getting warm all over. Thankfully, the gentle breeze is there to save you when you need it.
And then there’s a moment where everything, the breeze, Minji’s hands caressing you, and the sound of playful conversation, all merge at the perfect moment and you experience a calm that feels heavenly. Almost divine, and it sends you into instant slumber.
You don’t really remember every detail of what you dream of, you just remember it being about Minji, Seoul and snow. Either way, you know it had something to do with her confessing her feelings to you after you win nationals. You remember that you froze after she kissed you, then called your name after she saw you not move.
“Y/N! Y/N!” You hear your name being called out, then your body being shaked roughly. “Y/N!” You hear loudly before you wake yourself up.
“Sorry!” You don’t know what you’re apologizing for until your body jerks away and your forehead almost hits Minji’s. “Oh, sorry.”
“You fell asleep.” She states the obvious with a giggle.
“No shit, queen.” You hear Hanni laugh loudly at your response. “How long was I out for?”
“It’s 5:25.” Yoona says behind you, only then you realize they were already packing up and it was time to go. Where? You have no idea.
“Shit. Sorry guys.” You sit back up and stretch your muscles before you can stand properly.
“My legs fell asleep, you know?” Minji announces, and when you look back at her she has a teasing smirk on her face.
“Yeah, well, maybe blame Gyuv for that.” You answer sassily, but you can’t help but feel a little guilty.
Said male goes to grab the tote bag Yoona got you and the half finished apple juice you left behind and holds the bag it to your face while you’re still stretching, “Hurry up, girl. We gotta go to the beach before sunset.” He throws the bag at you and you catch it just in time.
“Careful! I have a cat in there!”
You arrive at the beach at exactly 6:00 P.M. and as soon as you get to the sand Gyuvin is already taking his shoes and shirt off. You look at everyone, confused on the plan you never actually listened to.
“We were going to swim?”
“Do you not want to?” Hanni asks.
“I don’t know…” You look at your friends with a sorry expression. You were already worn out from the whole match, and even after you slept a whole two hours on Minji’s lap, you still felt a little tired. “I’m kinda drained guys.”
“Bro… How could you?” Minji looks at you like she’s so betrayed and you laugh at her annoying little face that’s also so pretty and cute and annoying
“Bro… I’m sorry.” You play along. Calling the love of your life “bro” is crazy.
Okay, “love of your life” is an exaggeration (it’s literally not, in every sense of the word literally).
“I’ll watch your bags and take pics!” You tried bargaining, and they look at you like you’re crazy. “Guys, please, we can come swim tomorrow. The beach is not going anywhere considering we literally live beside it.”
Then Yoona gets real close to you and whispers, “You’ll pay for this.” then takes off her shoes.
“What the hell, man.”
Gyuvin and Yoona are already running at the sea and splashing each other, they don’t actually care about you not joining. Hanni hands you her bag with a strange force and you don’t know where it came from, “Take care of my babies.” She says.
“Your… babies?”
“My crystals.”
“Oh, right. I will.”
Minji walks up to you when Hanni walks away and hands you her jacket and another bag, this time plastic, “There’s one sandwich left in there. I told Gyubin not to eat it and I didn’t think he was going to listen but he did, surprisingly.” She tells you with a smile.
“Thanks. Very thoughtful of you man.” Alright, pack it up.
Minji sends you one last smile before she leaves and your heart beats when her eyes squint too. You watch her disappear into the waves and smile. You take out your phone and take a picture of your friends all swimming and playing in the water, their silhouettes clashing with the sun that was just about to set. It’s so pretty you make it your lock screen immediately.
You take out a blanket from Hanni’s bag, the same one she was laying on in the soccer field, and spread it on the ground to sit down. You take off your sneakers before they get filled with sand and take comfort in the warmth of the sand beneath you.
You stare at your friends for a bit, a beautiful picture presented just for you. You’re so happy to be back. Your stomach lets out a loud grumble before you even get to tear up. What a way to ruin the mood.
You take the bag Minji gave you and take out the sandwich. Ham, bacon, cheese, lettuce- oh, who cares. You take a bite out of it and it tastes like home. She definitely bought it from Mrs. Do.
It eases your hunger quite well. You hear the waves crash and Minji’s laugh from far away and, what a beautiful sound. What a beautiful person. You think of Minji and think of beautiful, not just from her appearance but her soul. What a beautiful soul.
You take your last bite and your stomach feels full, but you feel a little empty and can’t pinpoint what it is. You feel like you’re forgetting something. You reach for your new bag and search for whatever it seems you're forgetting.
Oh, right, the letter. Suddenly you feel excited.
The sun starts just in time. What a way to set the mood. You take out the white envelope and notice it still has some scent remaining. It kinda smells like something Minji used to wear, jasmine and liquorice. You didn’t smell it on her today, though.
You notice the envelope doesn’t have a sender or recipient name anywhere on it, nowhere at all. Maybe they didn’t plan to send it, or they changed the envelope at the shop. Eager to know more, you rip the envelope, careful not to damage the letter itself.
You take it out and take a deep breath to prepare yourself. You’re probably a little more excited than you should be, but whatever. You’re excited to intrude on a stranger's possibly failed love confession.
Except when you unfold the page, it’s not from a stranger.
You panic and fold the letter closed just as fast as you had opened it. You must have misread, right?
You open it again and the top says “Kim Minji, 23rd of June, 2021” like it’s a diary.
It must be another Kim Minji. There are hundreds of thousands in South Korea. It could be anyone. Anyone at all. So you keep reading in hopes it’s someone who’s not the girl swimming in the sea just a few meters away from you.
Dear Y/N,
It’s not a stranger. It’s Kim Minji. Your Kim Minji. You’re reading an old love letter from Kim Minji. You bought a love letter from Kim Minji for 300 won.
Wait, why is it addressed to you?
Now, you’re more confused than shocked. Now, you have to find out. You were going to put it down and not read it to not intrude and break your own heart, but now you have to find out why on Earth the first two words are Dear Y/N written in Kim Minji’s handwriting. So you keep reading.
Dear Y/N, I hope this finds you well. If you’re reading this, I gave this to you on the 24th or maybe even earlier on a strike of confidence. I hope you’re not keeping yourself up to read this at midnight. I wanted to tell you something I’ve been keeping for a long time before you leave for Seoul. Maybe it’s a selfish thing to do, and it won’t keep you from departing, but I think it would be worse to tell you this through text and I can’t bring myself to say it to your face.
I have feelings for you. Real romantic feelings. I like you a lot.
I like possibly everything about you and it’s killing me that I’m so scared and unable to tell you. I don’t even know what I’m so afraid of, really. Probably rejection, but even if you did like me back I still have to live without you for four years. My wish of you coming to visit me will probably depend on how harsh your rejection is, but I’d still like to see you back regardless.
When you first told us you got that scholarship for Korea University, I was so happy and proud of you. In a perfect world I would have kissed you and told you how happy I was for you and maybe even gone with you. But it’s not a perfect world and I just told you “Congratulations!” and you’re leaving tomorrow, without me.
I’m not one to take pictures, if anything that’s you, but right now I wish I had an album full of photos of you, of us, because I don’t know how I’ll make it without seeing you everyday. I think I won’t, actually. I hope you consider letting me borrow the photo album full of the countless pictures you take, even if they’re not of you they might fill the void you leave in my heart.
Anything from you will suffice, I think, but just your memory is not enough.
I kinda wish you could stay, but I also know you’re going to do your best over there and I hope you fulfill your dream of being a professional player. When you said you were going to choose to study mass communication I thought “that must mean she’s going to communicate with us a lot!” I hope it does. I hope you don’t miss us too much, but I do hope you miss me a little bit more.
I’ve never written a love letter before, if you could even call this that, so excuse me if this is not a good one, I’m sorry. I should probably state what I like most about you, but I don’t even know where to begin.
I love the way you’re driven to do your best even at the smallest of things. When we first met, you built us the best sand castle I had ever seen in my short life of seven years. The sandcastle was still standing when we went to visit it the next day.
You do your best at school, even when it gets hard for you, and I love that you’re not afraid to ask for help when you really need it. I kind of envy that if I’m honest. I hope you become the best student in your major.
I remember the time we babysat Ms.Yoon’s daughter and you were the only one who knew how to change her diapers and at what time to feed her. I also love how good you are with kids and sometimes it makes me think of very inappropriate thoughts of building a family together, but I won’t get into that because I don’t want to be weirder than I’m already being right now.
I love the way you always try your best to make me smile when I’m upset or stressed and even just the thought of you going out of your way to care is enough for my heart to melt. When I got sick in middle school while my mom was out of town you came to my house every day and made me chicken soup. I think that was the day I started thinking of you as more than just a friend.
I love the way you look when you put your hair up in a ponytail. I used to stare at you the entire time we watched you play during recess in middle school.
I love the way you’re clumsy and you’re never embarrassed about it. You always get up when you fall and you don’t pretend it doesn’t hurt when you scrape your knees. And I love the way you still try to smile when I’m patching up your wounds.
I love the way you always want the best for us and encourage us to be ambitious. I wouldn’t be on top of my class if it weren’t for you.
I love the way you like cats and they like you back. They always hiss at me unless you’re around. Maybe it’s a sign that we should be together all the time.
I love the way you say Ah~ when you finish drinking water after playing soccer.
I love (you) the way you love apple juice. I hope you feel the same. – Kim Minji
P.s. if you don’t i also understand and you’re free to do whatever you want with this letter.
You have no idea at what point you started to tear up, but you only realize when a tear falls from your eye into the paper and blurs the ink in the last “Minji”.
You don’t even process anything around you at that point. All you can think about is that Minji liked you 3 years ago and never told you and now you don’t even know if she still likes you.
No matter how much you think about it, you would’ve absolutely given her your photo album, if only the letter had actually gotten to you when it was supposed to.
“I saw you open the letter from over there, I came here to be nosy.” You can’t tell anything she says because you’re so entranced but you can tell it’s Minji’s voice. You freeze when she sits beside you.
“Is it any good?” She asks before realizing you’re completely paralyzed. “Hey, are you crying?” She touches your shoulder in concern, and it wakes you up a little bit, but the only thing you can do is hand her the letter.
She stares at you for a few seconds before she finally takes the page and mutters, “Oh.”
You don’t really want to look at her, and you don’t know what comes over you that makes you turn your head anyways. The red sun rays hit her face in a way that makes her tan skin glow. Her hair is damp and her shirt is stuck to her body but you don’t dare to look.
She’s clearly just as shocked as you are to see the object in her hands. And she still looks so beautiful. “Y/N, I-” You wipe your tears and sniff before she turns and see them in your eyes.
“Was this the one you bought?” You nod, and she looks back at it with her mouth hung low. “I… was wondering where this went. I thought I lost it.”
“You didn’t send it? At all?” Minji shakes her head. Wow, this is so great. “Why didn’t you?”
“I was supposed to give it to you before you left. I was hoping it would make you stay, but then I thought I was being too selfish and… just didn’t.” There’s clearly some regret still left in her face and the wind starts to blow. You hand her the jacket you put down next to your friends’ bags. “Thanks.” She says as she puts it on. You turn away to look at the sunset and gather your thoughts.
There’s no expression on your face for Minji to read, and for some reason she starts getting worried. “Y/N… I- It’s been three years, you don’t have to worry about-”
“Do you still?” You ask while looking away at the sea.
Minji stays quiet.
“Do you?”
She still keeps quiet. You turn to face her.
“Please tell me the truth, Minji.”
There’s something about how the sun makes your eyes glow and how you say her name that sabotages Minji at not giving in.
“Yes.” She speaks out with a sigh, “I do. I still do.”
You don’t know if your heart is beating faster or slower, but you feel it beat stronger. You turn away to get your bag, Minji just watches, her eyebrows slightly furrowed in distress and curiosity. The only thing she wants right now is to know how you feel.
You reach inside your bag for something, and Minji can’t really tell what it is when you take it out.
Finally, you extend the pale blue hair clip in your hand, “I have liked you since we were seven, Minji.” The girl looks at the clip then at you, her round eyes widened in disbelief.
“Are you serious?”
You hold your hand closer to her, urging her to take the gift before you sniff once again, “I saw this and thought of you. It looks like the one you had when we first met, that’s the day I started liking you. I haven’t stopped since.”
Minji takes the clip from your hands and feels herself tear up, says nothing, stares at it, then stares at you.
“We’ve known each other for thirteen years and I’ve loved you for thirteen of them.”
“I had no idea.”
“We had no idea.”
“We knew nothing about everything.” It’s now Minji’s turn to sniffle but still smiles as she wipes away the tears that threaten to fall from her eyes.
“How could you never say anything? Thirteen years, Y/N.” Minji complains while caressing the blue clip in her hands like it’s a precious stone. “Thirteen.”
“I got distracted with soccer.” Minji laughs with you and pushes you away by the shoulder. “Every goal I’ve ever made has been for you, though,”
“That’s so cheesy.” Minji giggles to herself as she pops the clip open and places it on her hair, it snaps shut with a ‘click’. “What do you think?” She says, turning to you. She tries to ignore your eyes and how sweetly they look at her.
“I think I love you more than I love apple juice.”
That’s the last thing you say before Minji smiles and gets shy, she looks away but her hand searches for yours and you help her by placing yours over hers. She fights back by taking it back and placing hers on top of yours. It makes you laugh.
The sound of your laugh takes her attention and now she stares directly at you, a smile on her own face. Her cheeks now take a reddish color, and her eyes shine like the reflection of the sunlight on the water. It feels like a deja vu.
You think you could stare at Minji’s face all day and not complain. You think maybe she thinks so too with how intensely she’s looking at you.
You raise your eyebrow when her eyes trail down from your eyes to your lips, and she seems to notice when your lips form a smirk. “What?” She giggles at herself, her already red cheeks turn an even darker shade.
“I saw that.”
“Weren’t we about to?”
“So straightforward, You should’ve been like that when sending that letter.”
“Oh my god, shut up.”
Is the last thing she says before she leans forward, she hesitates a little bit and her eyes go from your lips to your eyes, a shine of expectancy as if asking for permission, even when she already has it.
She’s about to close the gap when the both of you hear a chorus of gasps from the sea. It takes your attention. Hanni, Gyuvin and Yoona are all pushing each other giggling and gasping, hands on their mouths. You hear a faint “It’s finally happening.”, You can’t tell who it’s from though.
Minji is visibly annoyed, yells “Look away!” and it bounces in the waves. It’s actually insane how dumb she looks, red cheeks, furrowed eyebrows, pouty, perfect lips. It takes you everything to control yourself and even then you still can’t help grabbing her face gently and turning it towards you to finally, once and for all, kiss her.
You don’t really care if your friends actually turned away or not, because you can’t really tell with how glorious it feels to kiss Minji. It almost feels holy. You feel like you died and went to heaven in five minutes.
It’s a new feeling, a new experience, and it feels so familiar at the same time. Like flowing with the waves, like dancing with the wind, like drowning in apple juice, drowning in love.
Your lips dance like that for a while. At one point Minji’s hand goes up to your face and it’s such a warm feeling it makes you smile into the kiss. You start running out of breath and you don’t even notice. You could die happily if it meant dying with Minji’s lips on yours.
But then your stupid survival instincts kick in and it’s such a shame you have to pull away.
Both of your breaths are heavy and you burst out in laughter at the same time when your eyes meet. When your laughs die down your eyes fall on the pale blue clip that adorned Minji’s head. “You look so cute.”
“Says you.”
And then you hear cheering from the beach again. “Finally!” Hanni yells. You watch in astonishment, “Did she know?” You ask Minji while the both of you watch the three of your friends jump up and down in the water.
“I have no idea. I didn’t tell her. She might’ve noticed.” The cogs start to turn in your brains.
“They all did.” You and Minji say at the same time, then laugh at the same time. What a friendship of thirteen years does to you. And when you see Gyuvin and Hanni get up from the water and get closer to you, you realize you’re about to be ambushed.
“Oh, hell no.” You mumble right before you stand up and grab your bag. Minji just looks at you confused, “Come on, get up. They’re wet.” But Minji doesn’t seem to cooperate.
“Dude!” You grab her hand and pull her up as you run away as far as possible from your friends. You don’t even realize where you’re going, but laughing with Minji while running on the sand at sunset feels heavenly.
You look back and Minji struggles to keep up. Gyuvin and Hanni don’t look anywhere close and they probably decided to just let the both of you go, so you stop running.”
“We…” Minji rests her hands on her knees as she catches her breath, “We didn’t have to run that much. I’m not the soccer player here.”
You send her an apologetic smile, “Sorry…”
Minji now can stand up and breathe stably. She looks back and there’s no one behind. “So, where do we go now?”
“Home. You need to get changed or else you’re gonna get sick.” You walk towards her to touch her shirt, “It’s still damp.”
“Isn’t your house nearby?” She asks, “I live further away, and it’ll be night by the time we get to my house.”
You squint your eyes at her, “My clothes won’t fit on you, they barely fit on me.” You flex your bicep and the sleeve gets so tight it’s going to cut your blood flow if you keep it like that. “And I haven’t seen your mom yet.”
“And I want to have dinner with your parents.” She confesses. “My first official meeting with them as your girlfriend.” You never actually established that but it’s not like you’re going to refuse the offer.
“You’re actually so annoying, bro.”
“Says you, bro.”
“I’m your girlfriend, bro.”
“No shit, bro.” Minji holds her hand out for you to take it, and you gladly do. You start walking in silence for a little bit.
“Also, my mom won’t let us make out at my house.”
“Okay, that’s enough, bro.” You take your hand back and walk faster to get away from Minji. She immediately sprints to catch up and stick to you.
“I was kidding!” She tries to grab your hand but you refuse it and take it back. “Hey! Hold my hand!”
You look at her and wouldn’t you know, she’s making puppy eyes at you. It makes you give in, it never fails. “You’re so sticky.”
“You wanna know something?” She says as you start walking together again.
“What?”
“When you kissed me it tasted like apple juice.”
end.
🗒️ probably one of my favorite things i've written i giggled a lot and had fun writing this.. there's probably lots of mistakes here and there but i beg u pls ignore it bc im dizzy i can't look at words anymore. Minecraft coming soon! love u guys 🫂
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Theo is Liam's anchor, okay? It's basically canon, right? But can we talk about how absurd the reason is?
I mean what happens is literally this: Theo, after basing his entire life plan on triggering Liam's rage, comes back from hell, looks at Liam, looks at his IED, looks at the pack having trouble controlling him and is like "well maybe continuing to push violence on a kid who's been abused his whole life isn't the way to control his violence" and surprise, surprise, HE'S RIGHT.
Like, that's pretty much Liam's story.
1. We don't know much about his childhood but it's likely that he was abused by his biological father (seriously how often do we see Liam interact peacefully with a grown man? Maybe Coach and partly David but nothing more).
2. There are several things that suggest that Liam has always had social/relationship issues: it is clear that he had behavioral issues well before the diagnosis (the fight with Hayden) and that he was often excluded (his only friend is Mason) and maybe even bullied (his comfort zone is literally a team sport made to vent aggression in a healthy way and at the same time bond with other people).
3. Brett. Briam or not, whatever happened between them is as toxic as Chernobyl: can we talk about how tragic the zoo scene is? It is literally physical, psychological and emotional violence all together in the only space that Liam considered safe, which was lacrosse.
4. The management of his IED. This is probably a detail but I have always found the risperidone thing absurd because usually this kind of disorder is treated with a lot of psychotherapy (especially in young subjects) and drugs are a kind of safety/stabilization net. From the way it is told in the series instead it seems that Liam went to a psychiatrist who gave him a sheet with a diagnosis and a blister of pills and Liam spent weeks (the time of transfer from one school to another) like a zombie. They really literally inactivated him as if he were a bomb.
5. Liam's transformation was perhaps one of the most traumatic (of those we see). When he tells David that it was his fault that Scott broke his ankle? The scene on the roof? When they trick him into going to the "party" at the lake house? When he says that his parents will see him as a monster? When Mason tells him that he is ignoring him and Liam can't tell him why? It is so heartbreaking that I could cry.
6. After the transformation Liam doesn't have a second to rest or understand what he has become and how to deal with it: first he literally develops a form of PTSD because of the Berserkers with nightmares and hallucinations (AT 14 YEARS OLD) then he is put on a list where his death is worth 8 million dollars (the printer scene is horrifying) and finally he is thrown into a well by one of his teammates (another crack in his "safe place") with the knowledge that he has a wound that will kill him. ALL THIS WITHOUT HE BEING ABLE TO TALK ABOUT IT TO ANYONE BECAUSE MASON DIDN'T KNOW ANYTHING.
7. Theo (and yes, unfortunately we can't rule it out). Theo turns Liam into the monster he's afraid of being, literally, and if Liam doesn't kill Scott it's just for a series of completely random circumstances. And obviously the consequences of this are devastating both for the treatment he receives from others (justifiable of course) and for his own mind which obviously doesn't help him process what happened.
8. In all of this what everyone does to block his fits of rage is using further violence (which could be linked to having actually suffered physical abuse). Scott and Stiles push him into the shower multiple times (and we clearly see him hit his head), Derek picks him up by the neck in the locker room, Brett tackles him on the field, Theo knocks him out at the zoo (5 times), etc...
Liam has lived in a spiral of endless violence practically his entire life and Theo after TWO times of seeing him have one of his outbursts (the Brett shirt scene and the scene with Nolan at the zoo) understands that violence does not calm him down or help him but is only a temporary defuse that actually adds to the spiral. Theo watches Liam TWICE have a tantrum and then manages to calm him down only by talking to him about how to cover up a murder.
Theo literally knows nothing about the world except death and fear and violence and yet he goes to Liam and manages to give him an ALTERNATIVE. Theo goes to Liam and is like "just because violence is what you're used to doesn't mean it's your only option". Theo is the only one who somehow manages to find a flaw in Liam's system that pulls him out of that spiral of violence instead of pushing him into it. Theo who is literally the apotheosis of violence in all its forms is the only one who manages to treat Liam with kindness.
Theo is the only one who can always treat Liam as if he were someone fragile instead of something unstable.
#Liam just need a hug#My baby 😭#thiam#teen wolf#liam dunbar#teen wolf thiam#headcanon#character analysis#theo reaken
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(this post is abt byler! EVERYTHING IS INTENTIONAL EVEN THE SMALLEST STUFF)
This year ive been directing a school movie and let me tell u, we spent 6 or 7 months just figuring out EVERY detail, in script and camera work and then composition so EVERYTHING IN A SHOW/MOVIE IS INTENTIONAL!!!
Like there cant be ANY unnecesaary lines or shots or scenes that dont end up being useful to the story and our mentor (a producer) was very insistent on that
Then when we started filming the shots had to be perfect, like we spent at least 30mins to set up the lightz
And then more time constantly redoing shots making sure the actors do the EXPRESSIONS right and the tone of the lines and allat SO..
No, finn wolfhard doesnt just have some crazy crush on noah and he didnt speak in that tone just cause


No, their nice romantic lights didnt just die here and they had to use the ugliest ones imaginable (also noah couldve simply WENT ON BREAK while they were filming this if they didnt want him in THE love confession of THE couple)
No, they didnt make finn CRUMPLE UP BOTH OF EL'S LETTER TO MIKE because they wanted to go on lunch break already and didnt care (+ literally showing a shot of mike throwing the second letter in the TRASH. Like, a shot only for that. Even such a simple shot would require multiple takes.)


No, they didnt unknowingly do an interruption trope MANY TIMES with mike and will... And yes, they do know that trope is used for romance scenes if they dont live under a rock... (Cant put more examples because image limit but ykwim)

Oh my god this scene... Why would they let finn to do all these flirty faces if it wasnt something deeper (they made noah do all that for a reason as is confirmed - but FINN WAS DOING BASICALLY THE SAME THING). He NEVER does this even with el, let alone check her out. Also why would there be such an emphasis on "friends... best friends🥹🥹🥹" if they were actually friends - we KNOW they're friends - unless theyre not just friends 😮😮 thats not something you do if you've done 3 seasons of such a popular well-regarded show with good writing


And then this - if you go outside regularly you know natural light dont look like that, esp not for the whole time of filming a long scene like this. So, why would they put so much effort into another heart to heart with mike and will, but completely give up on THE LITERAL LOVE CONFESSION OF THE LITERAL MAIN COUPLE. Just looking at this scene you can see it's warm, inviting, even if what they're talking about here isnt that at all. So what do u feel when u look at the mileven love confession? Exactly bruh it's the complete opposite

And last but not least, the final scene - what we are MEANT TO BE LEFT WITH and probably the most important, in the school movie we were discussing and directing the end scene with most care
So, obviously mike and will's breath is synced which CANT BE A COINCIDENCE only because if you want breathing to be seen on camera u have to breathe pretty deeply but the characters are supposed to be scared so thats obvious, but they also chose to make them breathe in sync... If they didnt want people to read into it they WOULD RE SHOOT IT bc personally it was very visible when i first saw the scene and i was like hmm🤔

So just this 3second clip was very planned out and if that dont convince you everything is planned idk what will. Oh also the very obvious blocking of all the couples at the very end AND MIKE AND WILL IN THE MIDDLE - MEANT to draw your attention to them, along with el standing alone, again in the middle
#ngl all throughout the working on our movie it was constantly stuff#that some anti byler ppl have been saying all the time#that evrything is a coincidence#well im here to tell u they were wrong BAD#byler#anti mileven#stranger things#mike wheeler#will byers
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WDYM Anakin is Luke and Leia's dad
I dunno if this post will reach the Star Wars fandom but I hope it does because I'm sure you all will get a good laugh at me.
As of recent I have developed a good hiperfixation for Star Wars, the thing is I knew nothing. NOTHING about Star Wars besides the fact it had aliens and...a war...in space? And funny swords. And main character is Luke or something, I spent over 20 years ignoring anything about Star Wars and somehow missing most references out there.
And recently, literally less than a month ago I saw a gif and said to my partner "oh this guy this guy looks cool, this gif looks nice" and he said "Oh well, he's a good character." And it all developed into me watching Clone Wars, the animated series you know and...and I was kinda blown away, on my opinion the show IS GREAT. And I love every character and their interactions, I love how much they focus on side characters, and they all seem very well written. I got hiperfixated really fast and saw Anakin and I was like "Omg, babygirl. He's a blorbo now."
And because of the show, this was super unexpected, but somehow I also got, really got, into the ship with Padmé because omg, cool woman. Literal happy squeaky noises of someone who was in a bad state and needed some good ol' distraction and comfort.
Now, like I said I knew nothing about Star Wars as a whole. And I still haven't watched the movies, besides the ocassional gif?
So imagine my shock, my surprise, my...bewilderment when I realized.
"Wait a minute, LUKE IS ANAKIN'S SON?! HOLY-"
Ladies, gentleman, and others, I think I came very late to this party and I don't even know how it took me so long.
Not only that, but because of this sudden love for the series, I went to my friends circle like "BESTIE, GUESS WHAT, I HAVE A NEW BLROBO AND A NEW FAV SHIP AND EEEP"
And my friends are like "omg that's amazing, what is it?"
I tell them, and of course they all know these characters and they all react like they know this very bad secret fact and I got told several times already "Please, don't watch the episodes 2 and 3 alone, it will hurt."
I feel like blissfully walking among rainbows and blue skies while everyone else know that my future is doomed. Somehow.
(Uncomfortable silence)
Not only that, but then I spent a whole deal of time thinking "Where the heck I have seen these guys" cus there was some fmailiarity I couldn't just point out and then one day I woke up, brushed my teeth and of all sudden I realized and it was such a shock.
Do you know how SURREAL is to get very into a character, and into a ship, and then realize they're the same from that super widespread meme that has been around for who knows how much time?
I swear I thought that meme was from some old medieval fantasy movies or something.
But alas, Star Wars now is EVERYWHERE. People do references to Star Wars ALL THE TIME and it's just now I'm catching them.
I got spoilers. From a meme. In a youtube review that had nothing to do with Star Wars hah. Everything is a spoiler, the world is an apparent spoiler. Now I'm here, trying to avoid spoilers from something everyone seems to know, even my family knows. It's so surreal and I wouldn't have it any other way 😂
Anyways, if you read until here, know that a wild ride still waits me, cuz I'm only starting Season 3 of Clone Wars and I don't plan to watch the movies until I finish the series.
And yes, I made this blog just to ramble freely about SW and draw stuff because it sparked my inspiration after a long art block.
Have this doodle I drew after watching the two first episodes, my offering for you reaching this far.

Note: Wouldn't Anakin and Padmé's ship name be Animé? Cuz that's hilarious.
#rambling#star wars#star wars fandom#anakin skywalker#darth vader#the clone wars#sw tcw#tcw#tcw fanart#clone wars
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Street Food
Summary: he gets frustrated after standing in line in dead winter for street food with you. then you decide to do the most scandalous thing to do prior to even dating: hold hands with him


It’s dark. It’s cold. It’s snowing. And it’s cold.
It’s the middle of winter and all five of you, you and team Sabbath, are in line for the next open table in the street food-selling tent. Why he or any one on the team, for that matter, thought it was a good idea to listen to you, he has no idea. But he’s definitely regretting it, gritting his teeth and shivering in the cold.
“We just should’ve gone to the BBQ place.” Vinny pulls the zipper up his jacket as the other two males grunts. It’s not just them but also the rest of the line that’s suffering. Parkas reaching their calves, thick scarves, gloves, and boots. Some groups are even going as far as to press against each other to build up more body heat.
“Come on, don’t be like that.” You roll your eyes only to scrunch your nose and pull your scarf up to block the breeze that blows into your face. “The food’s good and cheap. I promise, it’ll be worth it.”
Wooin can feel another vein about to pop from his neck, his pent up frustration close to exploding to its max. Do you even realize that’s what you’ve been saying the past thirty minutes? Look where that got them now!
“It better be.” Wooin hisses. He keeps his arms wrapped around his torso, squeezing them in hopes that’d warm him up. It’s so cold and he’s only in a sweater dammit. “We could’ve been already eating, not freezing our ass off. But no, instead all of us decided to be dumb, listen to you, and actually stay in line. If this place isn’t good you’re paying the next three-“ He stops as he catches Hyuk and Joker shuffling closer towards you.
Those little- he’s pretty sure he made it clear he’s the only one allowed to be physically chummy with you. Did they really think he wouldn’t notice? His scowl deepens when Hyuk merely raises an eyebrow at him. That prick.
“Oh, for goodness sake-just shut up!” You huff, at your wit end with all the complaining coming from all directions. “It’s your own fault for refusing to even wear gloves when I literally told you to wear thicker clothes!”
Suddenly, he freezes as it registers: you, of all people, the person who absolutely abhors his physical touches, just grabbed his hands and stuffed them in your pocket. Initiate hand holding and keep holding his with zero hesitation. Warmth traveling from your palm to his, hell your and his fingers are locked-!
You don’t pay attention, seemingly too fed up to care. But the rest of the team notices, especially with how he simply stays quiet rather than rampaging like he normally does. One look by each of them and Vinny tilts his head down with a hand covering his mouth. Joker has to turn away, both him and the red head’s shoulders shaking nonstop.
It’s at the sound of the shutter going off, he snaps out of it. Keeping a note in the back of his mind to get at Hyuk afterwards, his lips stretch widely across his face; his grin resembling Cheshire.
“Babe, if you wanted to hold hands you could’ve just asked.”
He’s quick to tighten his grip as you try to pull his hands out and shove them away. But no matter how hard you shake, he doesn’t let go. Up and down his arms goes only for him to cackle as he starts swinging yours and his around, asking if this was what you actually wanted. The rest of the time gets spent like this, where he continues to irritate you with full intentions to not let go. It almost makes this whole thing worth it considering this is a first from you and of course, him being the awful person he is, he wants to relish it as long as he can. On the side, Joker and Hyuk start making bets on who will be successful in getting things to go their way. Poor Vinny adds this event as another reason as to why he shouldn’t have not joined the team in the first place.
Wooin does get sulky when you let go, the excuse of you needing your hands to eat (yes, he was ready to feed you just so he could at least keep A hand). However, he has to admit. The place seriously sells good street food. Even better when a discount was applied because you were friends with the grandma running it.
“Come on, it’s just a hand.”
“Like I’ll let you when you’re going get all weird about it again!”
Just like that, the second you all leave the tent, he goes at it harder to tease you as you dodge at every attempt.
“He totally has a crush.” Hyuk sighs in exasperation, seeing Wooin’s tendency instantly worsen.
“...Yeah. He does.”
All three flinch when their eyes happen to meet Wooin’s glaring ones.
“...I heard that.”
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TGCF reread new finds #1
Xie Lian actively and consciously knows that he is attracted to HC the MOMENT THEY MEET in the Ox Cart. Like it’s not just blank gay panic, he knows.
His beauty was deadly like a sword, sharp and mesmerising. Xie Lian only met his eyes for a moment, then lowered his eyes in defeat.
MATE, normally wouldn’t you continue to be mesmerised and can’t peel your eyes away? That is, UNLESS YOURE WHIPPED. XL knows that SL's looks affect him to this degree. Defeat is the key word here.
Also
The distance between them had closed too fast. he suddenly didn't know what to do[...]Xie Lian blanked on the spot. He watched as the tall and slender youth walked away with his giant bag of junk as if it were the most natural thing in the world to do, and it made him mutter inwardly, Forgive my sins.
Making a rich young lad carry your things? Making him sleep in your crappy temple? That doesn't warrant the weighty thought? FORGIVE WHAT SINS Xie Lian??!!!
Many village girls saw (HC) and blushed [...] Xie Lian didn't know what they were going to ask, but felt instinctively that it must be stopped at once, and cried, "No!"
Jealous jealous boi! XL WAS POSSESSIVE after ONE night spent together at Puqi Shrine. Didn’t XL just say to SL that he will have no problem in the love department because girls will throw themselves at him? Yo, why are you cock-blocking? Everyone says HC is insane, no XL is equally insane for the other!
Also, when HC revealed that it's his real skin after the Banyue arc, XL instinctively poked him. Then
He looked at his own finger then hid it away, betraying nothing of his thoughts.
What thoughts XL ?!! Explain yourself right now!
Jumping back to OX CART scene, Xie Lian's character development was foreshadowed when they were talking about the gifting of ghost ashes.
Book 1: Xie Lian sighed. "It certainly is painful to think about, to have given everything for love and lose everything in return."
This is what Xie Lian is most afraid of! Like even thinking back to Xie Lian pushing Feng Xin away in Book 4, he definitely operated under that mindset. Love is a risk, it's something to be feared. Even now 800+ years later, he still feels that way and doesn't allow himself to get close to anyone. It just hits so much harder thinking that he operated under that for so many centuries.
Then Hua Cheng says
"What there to be afraid of? If it were me, I'd have no regrets giving away my ashes"
Which I think really changed the way that Xie Lian thought about love. Book 5 Xie Lian completely operates with Love is empowering and isn't something to be afraid of.
TGCF isn't about XL realising his feelings, literally from Book 1 it's about him wondering if it's worthwhile to act on them.
Three things, is this person worth losing cultivation over for?
He needs the reassurance that this person must reciprocate his feelings.
Then HC changed his perspective on love from FEAR -> EMPOWERMENT.
XL is soooo self-aware (unlike SQQ from SVSSS and WWX from MDZS), he's an unreliable narrator in the way that he doesn't reveal everything to the reader, especially his own feelings until he was absolutely sure that there really was both a physical and romantic attraction. I wanted to make this post to dispel the assumption for XL it was easy to forego 800+ years of cultivation. It was not? He ABSOLUTELY thought about it carefully.
#honestly without the thousand caves reveal these two gays would still be 👉👈🥺 at each other#I was inspired by grimbravado's tumblr#tgcf#mxtx#heaven official's blessing#also these are my own perspectives#take it with a grain of salt#hualian#hua cheng#tian guan ci fu#xie lian#feng xin#fenglian#TGCF meta
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Stan and Ford share a single brain cell.
Literally.
It’s the very special brain cell that turns the holder into a genius. It also likes to suck up all new knowledge it can find.
You lose the brain cell? You lose the knowledge.
As children no one was sure which one of them was the smart twin. Maybe they both were. Maybe neither.
The brain cell holder switched freely depending on who needed it the most. However, the older they got the more Ford used it.
He actually liked to study and feed the brain cell, unlike Stan who just shrugged and let Ford have it most of the time. It’s not like he needed it for much anyway except for getting a passing grade on a test. 5 minutes were usually more than enough.
This was all fine until it wasn’t. Until Ford did all the work, put all the effort into studying, only for Stan to steal and misuse his efforts whenever it was convenient for him to do so.
And let’s not forget that time when Stan skipped school and took control over the brain cell right when Ford was supposed to give a presentation.
Ford was the main holder of the brain cell. All his knowledge and studies went into it. Without the brain cell he was no longer a genius and he couldn't fall back on the knowledge he acquired.
Needless to say the fall out of that presentation wasn’t pretty and Stan promised Ford not to use the brain cell unless Ford allowed it.
He kept that promise even when he shouldn’t have. He never took control over the brain cell to check if Ford’s project was really still working as intended, because he didn’t want to break Ford’s trust and lose him over it.
After he got kicked out however, the promise meant nothing. Stan still used the brain cell rarely, but he used it. He had to use it to survive, though he tried to only use it in emergencies or when Ford was sleeping and the brain cell was not in use, which as the years went by became a concerning rare occasion.
One time Stan stole the brain cell from Ford and read all books he could find on the importance of sleep and yeeted the brain cell back to Ford, hoping he would get the message.
Another time he spent a day wrestling Ford mentally for the brain cell just to learn how to cook basic meals because their mother was worried about Ford's eating habits.
These occasions were few and far in between. So few in fact that a certain dream demon never quite figured out what was going on. He was however slightly impressed and very frustrated with how well guarded the important parts of Ford’s mind were.
Ford never mentioned it, in part because sharing the brain cell has always been as natural as breathing and in part because he was ashamed Bill would think less of him if he knew that the genius mind he chose wasn’t truly Ford's alone.
And then Bill betrayed Ford and the age old question of who the smart twin was finally got its answer.
It was Stanley. With or without the brain cell Ford knew, Stanley would have never been this stupid. He would’ve seen through Bill from the start.
Ford’s stupidity has doomed the world and Ford has no way to stop it. Bill owned him.
Oh, but he doesn’t own the important part right? He hasn’t cracked the brain cell yet. The one thing he needed to activate the portal was still out of his reach.
Ford has no way to keep Bill out of his mind, but years ago he found a way to keep the brain cell out. It was supposed to be an emergency measure if Stan one day decided to keep the brain cell permanently, but it will now be used for the exact opposite.
So Ford threw the brain cell into Stan’s mind, blocked it with an unbreakable spell from coming back and fell asleep smiling.
Let Bill do whatever he wanted with his mind and body, Ford was useless to him now.
Meanwhile Stan wakes up with the knowledge of how to destroy the world and dull emptiness where his brother’s presence used to be.
Meanwhile Ford, with the math skills of a second grader, drinks a mental smoothie and laughs at Bill flipping his shit over Ford suddenly being an idiot.
“Ah, sorry Bill. Could you dumb it down a little? I have no idea what you just said.”
#gravity falls#stanley pines#stanford pines#them able to mentally fight over the damn brain cell or just yeet it into the others mind is very funny to me for some reason#i'm also imagining them switching it back an forth duing a fight or the play a prank#or the brain cell getting passed around like a hot potato#as kids ford had to force stan to learn how to read without the brain cell which stan so didnt understand#its not like he would ever not be able to use the brain cell right?#ironically then Ford started to always have the brain cell so without it he knows very little#hes not dumb#quite smart in fact - for someone who isnt a born genius#but he knows very littlw#if they ever lose the brain cell stan would be the “smarter” one#...ford would catch up and overtake him soon enough though. even if its not as easy anymore#hed just relearn everything#he's still a damn nerd#brain cell-kun is not interessted in memories so it doesnt eat them up#just knowledge#this idea is so stupid#ford happily thinks everything is save now#that is until stan comes rushing to gravity falls and destroys the whole plan#but for now Ford gets to laugh at bill#and drink.his smoothies
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as someone who loves comics, hell as someone who got into this fandom because of comics, the comics-reading fandom commentary i keep running into that seems set on villainizing non-comics reading and fanon-enjoying members of fandom by complaining about the fic that gets published is seriously exhausting at best and deeply frustrating at its worst.
and let me preface this by saying, if you actually want to try and analyze perceived trends in good faith, by all means, do your fandom meta, so long as you are not treating other people like problems that require solutions. the solution starts with you. focus on changing your mindset from that of entitlement to appreciation. you are not owed quality fic- whatever that looks like to you. a fic not being to your preference doesn’t make it any less a labor of love, a creation that someone spent their free time putting together and sharing.
also i do scroll/block. i am not being “forced” to engage with this rhetoric. still, the prevalence disheartens me because this attitude runs in direct contradiction to what my understanding of fandom/ao3 is.
is fandom not the space to have fun with our blorbos? to share headcanons and art and analysis and connect with those who share our love and vision? do you forget that the A in AO3 stands for Archive? that the T in OTW stands for Transformative? why is it so offensive for someone to write and post a fic, to an archive, that is OOC to you that you have to complain about it in a public tumblr post? why does seeing someone enjoy and/or create something you dislike warrant you going to the town square and bitching? what gives you the authority to tell someone whether or not they deserve to exist in the fandom? are we not all guests?
just because we’re all in one fandom doesn’t mean you are the target audience for every creation. especially in big fandoms, where the breadth of interpretations is vast. like. you do know that even if every person who posted a batman fic read the comics, you still wouldn’t like every fic? something not being canon to you, while perfectly valid, doesn’t change the fact that it is or was canon and therefore may very well be canon to someone else. and vice versa! not to mention that someone can read the exact same comics and reach an entirely different conclusion. they can love the same character and see them totally differently.
y’all stroll up to a sprawling potluck, see some dishes you dislike, and start crashing out like. pause for a second. damn. you don’t have to eat any of that!! i don’t really care if you have a hard time finding fic you like, because, what? you think that makes you special? do you want a medal or consolation prize for doing what literally everyone who uses ao3 has to do to find fic they like if they’re picky? should i marvel at your commitment to only consuming that which has the finest of characterization, the most artful prose, the deepest, most esoteric insights? give me a break. what a first world problem.
“but they’re not even really fans of-” shut up. just shut up. keep that stuff in dms or the appropriate discord servers. private places where someone can’t accidentally stumble across them and get hurt. people come to fandom for so many reasons, why risk ruining something that is bringing someone comfort and community just because you dislike seeing blorbo written that way?
yes, it is up to individuals to curate the experience they have in fandom. it is their prerogative to block/scroll/not click on that fic that is clearly tagged with something they dislike. but it is not up to you to try and curate the Fandom itself. do you see the difference? you can make your own discord server and decide the rules, you can make your own archive and decide the TOS, you can and should make your space a space you enjoy being in. but the Fandom as a whole? that’s not yours.
like tagging is a very important part of good etiquette on ao3 imo, but the discourse over what fic can/should be has gotten so out of hand that my friend, who loves superboy and reads his comics, worries about what fandom tag to use for their fics that aren't canon compliant. hell, i tag all my fics that do not directly deal with a comics canon incident as "Batman - All Media Types" and not "[Character] Comics", even though i've read tons of comics and they are solely what i base my characterization off of because i'm paranoid about someone coming into my comments and giving me grief about it not being canon accurate enough, or being the inspiration of a vaguepost. what a sad environment that has been built. why should there be any stress over whether a transformative work belongs under the applicable fandom tags? what a bastardization of fandom etiquette to push for people to only tag with X fandom if they've "earned" it, if the fic is something that a Real fan would want to read. dgmw, i'm grateful that the Batman - AMT tag still exists, i think it's an extremely useful catchall, but the way that people weaponize the fandom tags is just so disappointing. and also? honestly? a little chronically online. because it presumes that ao3 authors will also be present on other fandom spaces to know the "rules", which is absurd. someone should not need to be involved on tumblr, or any other site, to know how to tag on ao3. following the rules as outlined on ao3 itself should be sufficient.
“well i enjoy venting-” yes, okay, i’m sorry that you lack the empathy to understand why your actions are discourteous. and like, to be crystal clear, i am strictly opposing vent posts/vagueblogging that calls out/complains about fic specificially. stuff like “i’m so sick of seeing people write X fic” or “saw this fic, why would anyone write a fic like this?” it’s not a legitimate question. it’s not a legitimate question, because the answer is simple even if you dislike it. they wrote it because they wanted to. that’s the only reason anyone needs to write a fic. and guess what, the great thing is that there’s an equally simple answer for why someone may not want to read a fic- because they don’t want to!
not that it matters, but i’m not saying this because i just love every single part of fanon and every fic is right up my alley- no. not only am i incredibly picky, but my tastes have shifted over time. past me adored some fics that i would scroll right past now- and those fics aren’t bad, i can re-read the ones i remembered to bookmark and see why i liked them. and i read fics now that past me would/did scroll past. i just don’t think my personal enjoyment of a fic should have any bearing on whether or not that fic should be allowed to exist- unless ofc, it’s my own fic. and even then, i, personally, orphan stuff, i don’t delete akdhfkdhf.
we are all guests. we are all playing with IP we don’t own. we do a disservice to ourselves and others when we forget that.
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Ok ok ok hear me out for a second. What if Simon has dimples?
I know that in reality, even if he did have dimples, the chances of you knowing is probably slim to none. I mean, it’s not like that man is exactly forthcoming when it comes to sharing his identity with others, right? For Christ’s sake, his own teammates have likely seen his bare face only a handful of times. I doubt the number of times they’ve seen him visibly express any kind of emotion is much better.
But just imagine that you do get a chance to see his dimples; that you’re one of the lucky few that can say you’ve had a glimpse of the real man beneath the mask. Imagine you’re sitting in a dingy pub one night, shooting the shit with your mates, trying to slyly admire the rare peep you have of your Lieutenant’s unmasked face. Maybe Johnny or Kyle or whomever tells some dumb joke that gets the whole group laughing, and as you instinctively look over to catch Simon’s reaction, imagine the awe that would overtake you upon spotting his lopsided grin.
In all the time you’ve worked with Simon, you must’ve imagined what his smile looks like a thousand times. In your mind’s eye, you’ve conjured up a hundred different variations – how his lips would part, his nose would crinkle, his cheeks would round with gentle amusement. But in all those fantasies, all those hours spent daydreaming, you never, not once in your life, imagined he could have dimples. And now that you’re quite literally face to face with the evidence, you wonder how you could have ever been so daft to exclude them.
And it’s amazing, really, how much those two little indentations seem to instantly transform Simon’s face. They shave about 10, even 15 years off his age, imbuing him with this sort of boyishness that offsets his otherwise grisly appearance. To most people, the sight before you would be nothing remarkable – a smile no different than any other. But to you, this cheek-splitting grin reveals so much more. It shows you that beneath the scars and the marks and the brutal reminders of his past lies a handsome, benign man just begging to be noticed.
Of course, with the way you’re admiring him like he’s a block of marble carved by Michelangelo himself, sooner or later Simon is bound to feel the weight of your gaze pressing into him. So when he turns to look at you with that quizzical notch to his brow, you’re quick to swivel your head in the opposite direction, but not before meeting his eye for a second or two.
Shame heats the back of your neck for having been caught staring at your Lieutenant, burning a hole in the side of your head from where he now peers at you. And yet, despite your sense of embarrassment, there’s another feeling boiling away in your belly. It’s a curious sensation, tingly almost, like how you imagine a child feels the first time they witness a magnificent fireworks display.
In all honesty, you feel like you could float out of your seat right now, not stopping until you reach the Earth’s upper atmosphere. It’s like one look at Simon’s infectious smile has fundamentally rewired your brain. Though by the time you risk another glance at him his dimples have totally vanished, that doesn’t stop that giddy feeling from churning inside you, nor does it stop your mind from racing.
And so for the rest of the night, as you sit in that dark pub only half listening to conversations going on around you, you make a silent vow to yourself. You swear to do everything in your power to make Simon smile again and to keep him smiling for as long as physically possible, because, in your eyes, there’s not a prettier sight in this world to behold.
#from here on this is now a 'simon riley's imaginary dimples' stan account#simon riley#simon ghost riley#simon riley x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#ghost x reader#simon riley x you#simon riley fluff#simon riley fanfic#ghost cod#ghost mw2#cod x reader#call of duty x reader#cod mw2#call of duty#modern warfare 2
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