#so keep an eye out for it! n thanks for reading :)

[inseobts]

Omg I absolutely adore your Law fics!! I’d love to read about a fake dating scenario between a Strawhat reader and Law in Wano like you did with Zoro. He’d be such a cutie 🥰

Thank you 🙏

Undercover Affection

law x strawhat!reader

a/n: omg I was so excited to write this aknakjd it doesn't really follow the canon events tho

words count: 5.1k

tags: fake dating, fake marriage, teasing, wano arc

masterlist || ao3 || ko-fi

You and Trafalgar D. Water Law, notorious pirate and doctor, stand side by side in the bustling marketplace, trying to blend in as a newlywed couple. Law, wearing his usual stoic expression, is clearly out of his element, while you can’t help but smile at how ridiculous the whole situation is.

"Stop grinning like that" he mutters, adjusting the fake wedding ring you insisted on putting on his finger. He glares at you, but you only giggle louder.

"Oh, come on, it’s not so bad. We’ve got to make it convincing" you tease, leaning closer to him with exaggerated affection. His irritation is almost palpable.

"I don't need you hanging off me like that. We're here for a mission, not for you to play around." His voice is calm, but the faint redness creeping up his neck betrays him.

You smirk, knowing exactly how much it bothers him "But I love how grumpy you get when I do this. It’s like a whole new side of you."

You look at him with playful eyes, wrapping your arm around his, deliberately snuggling closer, and watching the slight twitch in his jaw.

"You're insufferable" he grumbles, but you can tell from the way his eyes flicker to yours that he's secretly enjoying it. Even if he won't admit it, you know this act is something he didn’t expect and now he can’t stop thinking about it.

You wink at him “You know, you’re really cute when you’re angry.”

Law scoffs but the tips of his ears go red, which only makes you smirk wider.

The two of you continue to walk through the crowded streets of Wano, and the people around you don't seem to pay much attention, at least not to Law. But you, on the other hand, draw plenty of stares. It's almost laughable how you're both playing the part of a loving couple so well. You’re sure the act would’ve made some people second-guess themselves, if not for your obvious affection for Law.

“Do you really have to hold my hand like this?” Law mutters, trying to keep his face neutral. His tone is deadpan, but his hand doesn't pull away, even though he clearly wants to.

“Yes, I do. It’s important for the cover, we're married, remember?” You tighten your grip slightly, watching him try his hardest to stay composed, and you can’t help but relish in how embarrassed he looks.

“...I’m going to regret this” he mutters under his breath, his voice barely audible.

“No, you won’t,” you say sweetly, squeezing his hand with a grin “You like it.”

Law doesn’t say anything for a moment. His face remains impassive, but you can see the little vein in his forehead twitching. It’s clear that he’s not nearly as indifferent as he’s trying to make himself seem.

Before he can retort, you pull his arm, dragging him towards a stand with fresh produce "Look! They have strawberries!!"

You start picking up the plump, red fruit, inspecting it with exaggerated curiosity. Law watches you, his arms crossed, a frown on his face.

"You’re acting like a child," he observes dryly, clearly disinterested. But you know he’s watching, and deep down, you know that he’s silently amused.

“You’re just mad because I’m having fun. Don’t worry, I'll buy you some too” you say, but the moment you say it, you know he’ll probably refuse it.

Law doesn't respond, but you catch the tiniest glimmer of amusement in his eyes, just for a moment. His mouth tightens, but it’s not out of frustration anymore. It’s something else, something softer, though he’d never admit it.

You turn to him and offer one of the strawberries "Want one? You might smile for once."

He takes the strawberry reluctantly, muttering under his breath, "You're impossible" but you can see the corners of his mouth twitch, as if the smallest hint of a smile might want to escape.

The night comes, and you’re both sitting around a small campfire outside of town, eating a simple meal. Law’s still in his pirate garb, but you’ve managed to dress him up in something a little more traditional, at least in a way that blends with the locals. He looks even more irritated now that he’s out of his comfort zone, but you can’t help but stare at him.

"You know, you really should smile more," you say casually, picking at the food in front of you "You’d be less grumpy."

Law shoots you a glare, his gaze cold but somehow fond "I don’t need to smile."

“You say that, but you do smile sometimes, even when you don’t mean to,” you tease, leaning your head on your hand "Like when you're all annoyed. It’s cute."

His eyebrow twitches, and you immediately know you’ve hit a nerve.

"I do not get 'annoyed'," he hisses "I’m just... trying to survive being stuck here."

“Oh sure, but I’ve noticed something,” you say, leaning in with a smirk “Every time I annoy you, you get this cute little angry face. It’s the best part of the day.”

Law scowls harder, trying to maintain his composure, but you can see the way his face softens ever so slightly, as if he’s secretly enjoying your teasing.

“I’m not cute” he mutters, but his voice lacks its usual edge.

“Oh, trust me, you’re definitely cute. Especially when you try to hide it” you say, reaching over to poke his cheek, making him flinch.

“Don’t touch me” he warns, his patience thinning, but there's no real heat behind it.

You pull your hand back with a grin, trying to hide your glee “I bet I can get you to smile before this mission is over.”

“You won’t" he says, though there's a hint of challenge in his voice.

You wink at him “Wanna bet?”

Law looks at you for a long moment, his eyes narrowing. But you both know it’s a challenge he’s already lost.

The next morning, the Heart Pirates gather. You and Law make your way back after a quick stop in the town. You’re both still playing the role of a happily married couple, though your grin and the slight blush on Law’s face tell a different story.

"Morning, you two" Bepo greets with a wave as you approach the group. He gives you both a curious glance but doesn’t comment right away. You notice his ears twitch slightly, as if he’s trying to figure something out.

"Morning" you reply sweetly, wrapping your arm around Law's waist. You can’t resist leaning into him just a little, making sure everyone notices.

Shachi and Penguin, standing nearby, exchange a quick look.

Law doesn't want to draw attention to it, but he's well aware of the curious stares from his crew.

"What's going on between you two?" Penguin asks, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow "I thought we were supposed to be working undercover, not pretending to be... a couple." He says "couple" with exaggerated air quotes, making sure the whole group hears it.

You giggle, looking up at Law "Oh, we are, don't worry. Usopp said we should go undercover as a freshly married couple, right, honey?" you say, dragging out the last word with far too much affection, but you actually did it to tease him. In facts, Law’s face tenses, and you can almost see the steam coming out of his ears.

Bepo looks between the two of you, his expression softer than the others "You’re really convincing" he says, a faint blush creeping up on his cheeks. He clearly doesn’t quite understand the situation but seems to be happy for you, or at least trying to be supportive.

“You’re making him uncomfortable, y/n” Shachi teases, nudging you playfully.

“Well, it's a fake marriage after all” you reply with a grin “If he likes it or not we have to make it seem real, especially because we almost got caught”

Law huffs, crossing his arms tightly “We’re not really married. It’s a cover for the mission. And you...” He points at Shachi, who seems way too entertained by the situation “...don’t have to comment on it.”

"Sure, sure, but tell me this," Shachi continues, leaning in as though he's unraveling a great mystery "How come every time I look over, you're so close? So touchy-feely for just a mission. There’s gotta be something going on.”

Penguin snickers in the background, enjoying the show “Shachi might be onto something, Law. You sure you’re not falling for y/n?”

You wink at Law, watching his patience fray a little more “Oh, I think he’s already there” you say, making sure to be extra teasing.

Law narrows his eyes, clearly not thrilled at the idea of his crew picking up on this “I am not! Stop messing around, all of you. We have more important things to focus on.”

But you can tell that beneath the irritation, there’s a hint of something else, embarrassment? Maybe even… a little fondness?

“I’m just saying,” Bepo starts, his voice soft but sincere “you two look so natural together. It’s kind of adorable.”

Your eyes soften, and you offer Bepo a warm smile "I’m glad someone sees it that way," you reply, winking at Law again. He’s practically fuming now, but there's a twinkle in his eyes that he’s not quite able to hide.

“Adorable?” Law scoffs, his face now an unmistakable shade of red “I swear, you’re all insane.” He glares at his crew, but even the glare doesn't hide how his heart's racing just a little.

Later that evening, as you and Law sit around the campfire again, this time with the rest of the Heart Pirates on watch duty, the teasing continues, though now it’s less playful and more knowing. Everyone’s fully aware that something’s up between you two, and it’s clear that you’ve been having a lot of fun with the idea.

“Alright, alright, let’s just get this out of the way," Shachi starts, taking a seat beside you and leaning in conspiratorially "Who fell first?”

Law doesn’t even look at you, but you can feel his discomfort radiating “We’re not doing this” he mutters with an exasperated sigh.

But the teasing continues, the Heart Pirates are all looking at you two with amusement in their eyes. Bepo and Penguin are now watching you closely, seemingly trying to pick up on every little interaction, while Shachi just can’t stop himself from pressing the issue.

“You two are definitely more than just a cover story,” Shachi says, grinning from ear to ear “You’re always so close, so... affectionate.”

“Yeah!” Penguin chimes in, clearly enjoying the drama “It’s like you guys are really a thing.”

Law remains silent for a few beats, his jaw clenched, clearly holding his frustration in check. But you notice the tightening of his fists and the way his eyes flicker with irritation.

You glance over at him, but before you can even tease him again, you notice his patience clearly running out “That’s enough” he snaps, voice low but sharp.

The whole group falls quiet, the sudden intensity of his voice making them look at him with wide eyes.

“I don’t like this attention, alright?” Law’s voice is colder now, his usual calm demeanor replaced by something harder, something… serious. His gaze shifts to you, and you’re caught off guard by how harsh his words are “I don’t like you hanging off me all the time, I don’t like being treated like your husband, and I don’t like you constantly teasing me. We’re not a couple, y/n. We’re not even close enough for you to call me your friend, let alone you husband...”

The words hit like a slap, and for a moment, all you can do is stare at him in disbelief. His face is set in a frown, his usual stoic expression replaced by something colder, more distant. You feel a pang in your chest, your heart sinking at how genuine he seems.

The rest of the crew falls silent, unsure of what to say.

You take a step back, your arm slipping as you pull away. Your eyes flicker down to the ground, trying to hide the hurt that's suddenly swelling inside you.

You’re not sure why, but the way he said it, so blunt, so final, makes you believe him. Maybe you had been too forward. Maybe you pushed him too far, even if you were just jocking around.

You try to force a smile, but it feels weak, forced "Right," you say quietly, your voice barely above a whisper "I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel this uncomfortable."

Law doesn’t respond, too focused on his crew and the way they’re looking at him. The awkward silence stretches, and you find yourself drifting further away. You can’t bring yourself to joke anymore, to tease him as you had before. The sting of his words cuts deeper than you want to admit.

The rest of the evening goes by in an uncomfortable silence. You eat your meal, your eyes occasionally flicking toward Law, but you can’t bring yourself to look at him for long. Every time you do, you feel the weight of his words echoing in your mind.

The next few days feel... different. You’ve stopped teasing him, stopped getting close like you used to. Whenever you have to interact, you’re careful to keep your distance, avoiding any unnecessary physical contact. You act as professional as possible, keeping the focus entirely on the mission.

It doesn’t escape the Heart Pirates’ notice, though. They watch as the dynamics between you and Law change. You’re not the playful couple anymore. Instead, you seem more distant, more reserved—especially around Law.

Shachi notices first "Hey, y/n, everything okay?" he asks one morning as you sit near the ship’s edge, watching the horizon. He knows something’s off, and though he doesn’t want to pry, he can’t help but ask.

You force a smile, but it doesn’t reach your eyes “Yeah. Just tired, that’s all.”

Bepo, who’s been quietly observing, speaks up hesitantly “You haven’t been... teasing him anymore. Are you two—”

“We’re fine,” you interrupt quickly, too quickly. You don’t want to explain. You don’t even know what to say "Just focusing on the mission, as it should have been from the very start"

The conversation ends there, but you can feel the weight of their concern. They’re noticing the shift, the sudden distance between you and Law. But none of them, especially not Law, know how to fix it.

Days pass in Wano, and you continue to keep your distance from Law, though the tension between the two of you feels thicker than ever. Every time you’re near him, the awkwardness is palpable. But something else is happening in the background.

The Strawhats are back in Wano. After all the time you’ve spent apart.

It’s in the middle of a bustling market square, where you and Law are walking around trying to gather some supplies for the mission, when you spot them. You freeze, your heart racing. Your breath catches in your throat when your eyes land on Sanji.

Without thinking, you let everything fall from your hands and sprint toward him. Sanji’s back is turned, so he doesn’t see you coming until it’s too late. You throw yourself into his arms with tears in your eyes, overwhelmed with relief.

“Sanji!” you exclaim, your voice muffled against his chest as you cling to him.

Sanji’s eyes widen in surprise, but then he smiles softly, his arms wrapping around you “Hey there, y/n” he says, his tone warm “It’s been a while, huh?”

You pull back slightly, wiping at your eyes with the back of your hand “I’ve missed you so much” you admit softly.

Sanji raises an eyebrow, but his smile softens “It’s good to see you too. Looks like you’ve got a lot on your mind, though. You okay?”

You hesitate for a moment, then give a small nod “Yeah... I’m fine now. I just... I’ve been through some stuff. But I’m glad you’re here.”

Law watched everything, staying back. As soon as he saw you hugging the cook, he took everything you dropped and left you alone with them, even because it looks like you forgot about him.

The next day, you find yourself meeting up with Sanji at his little noodle shop. You’ve told him everything, how you and Law have been pretending to be a married couple, how your feelings have gotten tangled up, and how, after Law’s harsh words, you’ve pulled away to keep things professional. You tell him about the emotional distance between you and Law, and the complicated feelings you’re dealing with.

“I don’t know what to do anymore,” you admit, your hands twisting nervously in your lap “I feel like I’m losing him. He doesn’t want me around, and it’s driving me crazy. But I don’t know how to fix it.”

Sanji’s expression softens as he listens to you, his gaze gentle

“I thought it was just supposed to be a cover” you murmur, “but somewhere along the way, it stopped feeling like one. And now... now it feels like everything’s falling apart.” You pause, looking down “I think I care about him more than I thought I did.”

Sanji reaches out, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze “You’ve got a good heart, y/n. And I know Law is a complicated guy. But if you care about him, you need to figure out what you want. You’re not just a cover story, okay?”

You meet his gaze, feeling a sense of clarity you hadn’t realized you were missing “You’re right. I just wish I knew how to fix it.”

Sanji leans in, his voice dropping lower “It’s okay to take things slow. And if you want to... maybe you could start by not hiding from him anymore.”

Before you can respond, you both hear some footsteps approaching. You quickly stand up and walk away from the alley, but you notice people beginning to gossip behind you.

“You heard about y/n and her husband, right?” one woman whispers to her friend.

“Yeah, I heard she’s been cheating on him with that blonde guy. Can you believe that? I mean, the nerve!” another woman replies, her voice dripping with gossip.

The words hit you like a punch in the gut. You feel your face flush with embarrassment and frustration. Cheating? How did they come up with that?

You try to ignore it, but it’s hard. The whispers follow you as you walk back to the group, and you can feel the sting of their words deep in your chest.

Later that evening, as you rejoin Law and the rest of the crew, you notice his usual cold demeanor has shifted. He’s standing by the fire, his back to you, as if he’s been waiting for you. When you approach, he doesn’t immediately acknowledge you.

"Are you... okay?" you ask softly, but you can see the frustration in his posture. He doesn’t respond immediately, but his jaw tightens.

“I don’t appreciate people talking about my personal life like that, true or not...” Law says, his voice low and clipped “You’ve been avoiding me for days, and now I hear rumors? What’s going on?”

Your stomach twists in knots “Law...”

“I don't care about you and the blondie but...” he cuts you off, his gaze icy “I can’t focus when people are talking about me like that, especially if we're supposed to be undercover here.”

You feel your throat tighten, the weight of his words sinking in. He’s frustrated, and his anger makes your heart ache “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen, you know Sanji is my friend, people just don't know the truth and make things up” you admit, your voice shaky.

Law sighs, running a hand through his hair, looking as if he’s about to snap “Then stop avoiding me. We’re in this together, but if you keep pushing me away, I’m not sure what we’re doing anymore... we can't bring so much attention on us.”

The atmosphere between you and Law is still tense. You don’t want things to spiral even further, so you suggest an idea, something that might distract from the tension and let everyone cool off for a while.

"Why don’t we go grab some food?" you suggest, your voice a little hesitant but hopeful.

Law turns to you, his expression neutral “You think food is going to help?”

You shrug, trying to lighten the mood "Maybe. Besides, I’ve been hearing about this noodle shop... the chef is called Sanji, I think?... I’ve heard it’s good..."

Law’s brows furrow, but his interest is piqued "Sanji? You think going right to him won't worsen things?"

You nod "Maybe if people see us all together, as three good friends, they're going to stop talk about me cheating..."

He looks at you for a moment, then sighs, clearly not wanting to be left alone with his thoughts any longer "Fine. Let’s go."

The small noodle spot is tucked away in a corner of Wano, busy and filled with the warmth of the cooking. When you and Law arrive, you’re greeted immediately by Sanji’s bright smile, but there’s something in his eyes that softens when he sees you. He’s not as flirtatious as usual, and there’s a sharpness in his gaze as he sees the tension between you and Law.

"Well, well, if it isn’t the infamous 'married couple'" Sanji says, his voice light, though there’s an edge to it now.

You try to smooth things over, grinning at him “Yeah, we’re here to eat...”

It’s time to kill the rumors.

“We’ll sit over here,” you say quickly, guiding Law to a seat “Make it clear to everyone that we’re... still a team.”

Law sits down stiffly, clearly not thrilled, but it’s obvious he’s playing along. He keeps his eyes ahead, refusing to acknowledge Sanji’s deliberate coldness toward him.

Sanji brings over bowls of noodles with flair, but his attitude towards Law remains distant, even a little antagonistic. He makes sure to place the food right in front of you, offering a special smile "Just for you, y/n. A little something extra special, like always."

He looks at you, and his smile softens just a bit. But when his eyes flick to Law, the warmth vanishes, and the tension in the room grows thicker.

Law doesn’t react right away, but you can feel the change in him. His jaw tightens, his body language growing even more tense than it was before. He clenches his fist under the table, clearly irritated.

"Stop playing games," Law mutters, his voice low and tight with barely contained frustration "Just serve the food and stop making this weird."

Sanji, clearly not intimidated, shrugs "If you don’t like how things are going, maybe you should take a look at how you’re treating her. It’s obvious you’ve got no control over the situation"

You flinch at the words, but Sanji’s eyes flicker to you in a way that makes you feel a bit guilty. You didn’t want this to turn into some kind of game, but now, it’s getting harder to keep things under wraps.

You look at Law, hoping to redirect the conversation "Let’s just eat," you say, trying to keep things casual "We need to look like a normal couple to the town. We don’t want any more rumors."

Law gives you a long, searching look before nodding "Fine. But we’re done with the theatrics, understood?"

As the meal progresses, the silence between you, Sanji, and Law grows thicker. The tension is almost unbearable, but it’s working, people around are starting to get the message. Law and you are a team, no matter the rumors, and the gossip about you "cheating" slowly starts to fade as the focus shifts to you two sitting together.

Sanji seems to settle into his role. He occasionally glances at you, making sure you’re taken care of, but the icy distance he’s putting between himself and Law is unmistakable. Law notices it too, and while he’s trying to keep his cool, it’s clear it’s starting to get under his skin.

Finally, Sanji returns to the counter, his back turned, leaving you and Law in silence. It’s the perfect opportunity to clear the air, but neither of you speaks.

You glance at Law, noticing the frustration in his eyes. He doesn’t like this. Doesn’t like the way Sanji is treating you, doesn’t like the way he’s feeling about the whole situation.

You try to lighten the mood, but it’s hard to ignore the tightness in his shoulders "You know, we’re supposed to be a married couple, not a couple of kids at a playground."

Law narrows his eyes at you "I didn’t sign up for this. The mission’s getting complicated."

You try to ignore the tug in your chest, a bit of confusion creeping in "It’s just a cover, Law. Nothing’s changed. We’re just doing what we need to do."

But the words hang there, and even though you say them, you know that things aren’t so simple anymore. You feel it, and you know Law does too.

As you leave the shop together, the streets of Wano no longer seem as welcoming as before. The weight of the situation presses down on you, and Law’s behavior is starting to affect you in ways you didn’t expect. You can’t figure out if it’s the mission weighing on him, or if it’s something more.

After the meal at Sanji’s, the rumors finally start dying down, but the damage between you and Law lingers. The tension is unbearable, Law barely looks at you, and you, still hurt from his earlier words, keep your distance.

Sanji notices. The crew notices. Even the damn town notices.

One evening, as you sit outside the inn you and Law have been staying at for your undercover mission, you overhear some locals whispering.

“They say that woman is still in love with her husband, but he doesn’t care for her.” “Shame. She looks miserable.” “She was always all so cute and clingy to him but she stopped entirely, he must’ve pushed her away.”

You clench your fists. It’s one thing to suffer in silence, but another to hear strangers pitying you.

Law suddenly walks past you, pausing for a second before speaking, “Go inside.” His voice is firm but quiet.

You don’t move “Why do you care?” you murmur, not looking at him “You made it clear I was just a nuisance to you and it's just a mission, which is almost over anyway given Zoro and Luffy are making trubles after trubles...”

Law exhales sharply “I never—” He stops, frustrated, before running a hand down his face “Listen, I was trying to stop myself from—” He cuts himself off again, jaw clenched.

You finally turn to him “From what?”

His silence is enough of an answer.

Your heart clenches, but you shake your head “You don’t have to force yourself to tolerate me anymore, Law. We’ll finish the mission, and after that—”

“Enough,” he snaps, suddenly grabbing your wrist. His grip is firm but not painful, just desperate “You don’t get to decide that.”

Your eyes widen as he pulls you toward him, his voice low but intense “I was a damn coward,” he mutters “You—you were always in my space, always teasing me, and I—” He exhales sharply “I pushed you away because I—”

You hold your breath.

“I fell for you” Law finally admits, looking at you with something raw and vulnerable in his gaze “I fell so hard, and I didn’t know how to deal with it.”

Your heart nearly stops.

“You what?”

He groans, looking away “I can’t stand you ignoring me. I can’t stand watching you with Sanji, even though I know it’s nothing. And I hate that I made you think I didn’t care.”

The words hit you like a storm, leaving you speechless. He looks genuinely frustrated, at himself.

You swallow hard before whispering, “So what do we do now?”

Law looks at you, his grip tightening slightly “You tell me,” he murmurs, voice quieter now “Because if you still want me, then I—” He hesitates, then sighs “I don’t want this to be fake anymore.”

Your breath hitches.

For the first time in weeks, you grin “I mean... I think it's too soon to talk about marriage, isn't it?”

Law groans, rolling his eyes “Unbelievable.”

You laugh, and before you can stop yourself, you tug him down into a kiss.

And just like that, the mission doesn’t feel so complicated anymore.

Back on the Polar Tang, the Heart Pirates immediately notice the change.

Law still wears his usual scowl, still grumbles under his breath whenever you tease him, but there’s no real bite behind his words anymore. The biggest difference? He lets you get away with it.

You lean against his side as he studies a map, chin resting on his shoulder. He doesn’t shove you off like he used to, he just sighs heavily, pretending to ignore you.

“Oi, captain,” Shachi calls out, smirking “Didn’t you say you hated being touched?”

Penguin snickers “Yeah, man, what happened to all that complaining? Because right now, it looks like you like it.”

Law doesn’t even look up, but you can see the way his jaw tightens, the tips of his ears turning pink “Shut up” he mutters, flipping a page of the map aggressively.

“Oh, come on, it’s adorable,” Bepo chimes in, tail wagging “You used to be all grumpy whenever she clung to you, and now you just accept it?”

You grin, tilting your head up to look at him “Aww, so you do like my attention.”

His eye twitches “I didn’t say that.”

“But you didn’t deny it.”

Shachi and Penguin lose it, laughing while Bepo beams like a proud parent.

Law exhales through his nose, rubbing his temples. But despite the grumbling, he doesn’t move you away. And that’s when it clicks.

Shachi leans back, crossing his arms “Y’know, I think we all got it wrong before.”

Penguin nods, smirking “Yeah. We thought y/n was the lost cause, but—”

They both turn to Law, who immediately tenses, as if he knows what’s coming.

“You actually fell harder.”

The room falls silent.

You blink up at him, waiting for his reaction.

Law glares at his crew, looking about two seconds away from using Room just to teleport them out of his sight. But instead, he lets out a sharp exhale, shutting his eyes for a moment. When he opens them again, he just mutters “Unbelievable.”

You beam and press a quick kiss to his cheek, watching as his face turns bright red.

Yeah. Maybe being undercover in Wano wasn’t such a disaster after all.

[theetherealbloom]

IT COULD HAPPEN TO YOU - CH.7

Chapter Seven: What Are You Doing To Me Now?

Summary: You find yourself sharing a hotel suite with Pedro Pascal while working on the set of Fantastic Four: First Steps. Despite your different roles—he’s the star, and you’re behind the scenes. Nothing could ever happen between you two… right?

Paring: Pedro Pascal x F!Reader

Warnings: Age-Gap Romance (Not Specified), Eventual SMUT, Crush, FLUFF, Slight Angst, Trope(s), Swearing, Anxiety, Lots of Cliches, Cheesy Dialogue, Romance, Kissing, Real People Fiction, Cameras, Paparazzi, Social Media, Swoonworthy, One-Room Trope, They were roommates, Strangers-to-Lovers, Actors, Hallmark Tropes, the reader can sing and play guitar, the reader is shorter than Pedro, the reader has hair, Alternate Universe, Awkward!Reader, Shy!Reader, Fan Girl!Reader, Cringe, Embarrassment, Starstruck, 

Word Count: 8.3k

A/N: ISTG last chapter— ya’ll comments had me wheezing and dying of laughter PLEASE— MY BAD, I DIDN’T MEAN TO GIVE PEDRO A HEART ATTACK LMAOOOO. Anyways, enjoy this little filler of a chapter. That’s 8k words long LMAO…

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

Song: The blue by Gracie Abrams

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PINEWOOD STUDIOS — AFTERNOON

“You still need to change.”

The words tumble out before you can stop them, and you immediately want to crawl into a hole. Out of everything you could have said, that’s what your brain decided on?

Pedro blinks at you.

Then, as if just realizing it himself, he looks down at his suit—a bright, unmistakable blue, the bold insignia stretched across his chest.

Mr. Fantastic.

A literal superhero, walking through the lot, guiding you with steady hands like you were the fragile one. It’s so utterly absurd you almost laugh.

“Huh,” he says, eyebrows raising in mild amusement. “Guess I forgot.”

You shake your head, half-exasperated, half-fond. The adrenaline is starting to wear off, leaving a dull ache in its place, and for the first time since the accident, the weight of everything presses in.

The stitches in your arm pull when you move too fast, a sharp reminder that this was real. That you’d actually shoved Pedro out of the way and taken the hit yourself.

He hasn’t let you forget it, either.

Not in the way his fingers still ghost over your wrist, as if testing to make sure you’re solid. Not in the way he keeps looking at you, his expression unreadable, like he’s trying to work through something in his head but hasn’t found the words yet.

And now, on top of it all, you still need to check in with Jess, confirm with Matt that you’re cleared for the day, and figure out if you need to file for medical leave.

So much for an easy afternoon.

You make your way across the lot, Pedro still at your side, his presence warm and steady. When you find Matt and Jess, they’re already deep in conversation with Rob Beggs, the safety manager. The area where the light rig fell is cordoned off now, crew members carefully maneuvering around it as they assess the situation.

The moment Jess spots you, her face crumples into something equal parts relief and guilt.

“Oh my god, are you okay?” she asks, stepping forward like she wants to hug you but stops herself at the last second, eyeing your injured arm. “Shit, I’m so sorry—”

“Jess, no,” you interject quickly, shaking your head. “This wasn’t your fault. Accidents happen.”

“Still, I feel awful,” Matt adds, rubbing the back of his neck. “We should have double-checked the rigging before calling everyone in.”

“And we’re going to,” Rob says, tone firm but even. “I’m running a full investigation on this. We’ll figure out where the breakdown happened and make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

You nod, appreciating the sentiment but also not wanting to linger on it. The last thing you want is for everyone to start treating you like glass.

“I’m okay,” you say, offering them what you hope is a reassuring smile. “Just a few stitches. I’ll live.”

“Damn right you will,” a familiar voice cuts in.

Daisy.

She and Omar appear from the side, both of them looking equally relieved and exasperated.

“You scared the hell out of us,” Omar says, shaking his head. “One second everything was fine, and then—boom. We see you on the ground, bleeding.”

You wince. “Yeah. That part wasn’t fun.”

“No shit,” Daisy mutters. Then her eyes flick to Pedro, who still hasn’t strayed far from your side. Her gaze sharpens just slightly.

“You sticking to her like glue for the rest of the day or what?” she teases, but there’s an underlying note of curiosity there.

Pedro doesn’t even hesitate.

“Yep.”

You glance at him, surprised by how easily the answer leaves him. His expression is relaxed, but there’s something in his eyes, something quietly unwavering, that makes your stomach flip.

Daisy arches a brow, but she doesn’t push.

Instead, she just shakes her head, smirking slightly. “Figures.”

Omar huffs a laugh. “Well, at least she’s in good hands.”

You feel your face heat, and Pedro, the absolute menace, just looks utterly unbothered, like he was always meant to be standing here next to you. Like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“Alright,” Jess sighs, rubbing her temples. “You’re cleared for the day. If you need extra time off, just let me know.”

You nod. “Thanks, Jess.”

“Now,” Matt adds, giving Pedro a once-over, “please tell me you’re not actually taking her back to the hotel like that.”

Pedro glances down at himself again.

Then he shrugs. “I dunno. Kinda think it adds character.”

You groan, covering your face with your good hand.

“Just go change, man,” Omar snorts.

Pedro grins, but then his attention shifts back to you, and the humor fades just slightly, replaced with something softer. Something quieter.

“I’ll be quick,” he says, voice low. “Stay here, okay?”

You nod, and the second he steps away, you exhale, feeling the weight of everything settle just a little heavier on your shoulders.

Daisy nudges you.

“So,” she drawls, a knowing glint in her eye. “Anything you wanna share?”

Your face burns.

“Nope.”

Omar snickers. “Yeah, sure.”

You huff, shaking your head, but you don’t say anything else. Because honestly?

You’re not sure how to explain what just happened.

Or how you’re supposed to go back to normal after it.

You don’t know how Pedro managed to convince Matt and Jess to call it an early day, but somehow, he did. Maybe it was the way he asked, firm yet gentle, leaving no room for argument, or maybe they saw the concern in his eyes—the kind that couldn’t be faked. Either way, production had been shut down for the day.

Besides, Rob had said they needed to check the cameras, review the footage, and determine exactly what went wrong.

Now, you were surrounded by Vanessa, Ebon, and Joseph, their voices overlapping as they checked in on you.

“Oh my god, are you sure you’re okay?” Vanessa asked, wide-eyed, her hand hovering near your arm as if she was scared you’d break.

“Yeah, you took quite the hit,” Ebon added, shaking his head. “Looked bad from where we were standing.”

Joseph crossed his arms, his brow furrowed. “They need to get that sorted out before we continue filming. It could’ve been worse.”

You nodded, offering them a small smile, trying to shake off the lingering adrenaline and the way their concern made you feel more fragile than you wanted to admit.

“I’m fine, really,” you reassured them. “Just a couple of stitches. No big deal.”

But your voice wavered slightly, betraying the truth. Your hands were still cold, your heart still hadn’t settled into its usual rhythm. You wanted to be strong—to be the girl who brushed things off with a laugh. You’d always been that girl.

Then Pedro emerged from his trailer.

He’d finally changed out of the Mr. Fantastic suit, trading in the blue spandex for a soft black sweater and dark jeans, but he still had that look—the same one he’d had since the moment the accident happened. Like he hadn’t been able to let out a full breath since.

His eyes found yours instantly.

“Hey.”

You swallowed, your mouth suddenly dry. “Hey.”

Pedro ignored everyone else, his focus entirely on you as he closed the distance between you. The warmth of his presence was immediate and grounding, and when he reached out—his fingers ghosting over the bandage on your forehead—you felt yourself sway slightly.

“You should be resting,” he murmured, his voice lower, softer, meant just for you.

“I’ll rest when I get home.”

His lips pressed into a thin line. “You sure you’re okay?”

You nodded, but something in your expression must’ve given you away, because Pedro exhaled through his nose, his hand coming up to cup the side of your face before he could think better of it.

“You scared the shit out of me.”

His thumb brushed over your cheekbone, barely there, but enough to send a shiver down your spine. You were very aware of the way the others had fallen silent, watching the moment unfold. But Pedro didn’t seem to care, and you... you couldn’t bring yourself to pull away.

“I didn’t mean to.” The words came out quieter than you intended.

His brows knit together like he was about to say something else, but then Matt called out from the other side of the lot, breaking the moment.

Pedro sighed, dropping his hand, but not before giving your shoulder a small squeeze. “Let me take you back to the hotel. You shouldn’t be dealing with all of this right now.”

Your instinct was to protest, to insist that you were fine, that you could handle it. But the truth was, the idea of getting away from set, from all the eyes and whispers, sounded... nice.

So you swallowed your pride, glanced up at Pedro, and nodded.

“Okay.”

His shoulders loosened slightly, like he’d been waiting for you to agree. “Okay.”

And just like that, he was guiding you toward the parking lot, his hand ghosting over your lower back, protective, steady, like he was ready to catch you if you stumbled.

You exhaled, letting yourself lean into the warmth of him, just a little. Just for now.

The black van was already waiting at the curb, engine humming softly as the late afternoon light spilled golden streaks over the lot. Pedro kept a firm but gentle hand on the small of your back as he guided you inside, like he was afraid you might disappear if he let go.  

Albert, the driver, glanced back as you climbed in. “Miss,” he greeted with a polite nod, his eyes flickering briefly to Pedro as if silently assessing whether you were okay.  

You gave him a small smile. “Hey, Albert.”  

Once everyone was settled, the doors shut with a soft thud, sealing you into the familiar bubble of the ride back to the hotel.  

“I think after today, we deserve drinks.” Joseph stretched out his legs with a groan, his head thumping lightly against the headrest. “Preferably something strong. Maybe something that could wipe today from my memory entirely.”  

You let out a quiet laugh but shook your head. “Thanks, but no alcohol for me.” You scrunched your nose, pulling a face. “Kind of wanna keep all my blood inside me for now.”  

Pedro made a noise next to you—something between amusement and disapproval—as he shot you a sidelong glance. “Yeah, no tequila shots for you, querida. Not when you just got stitched up.”  

“Ugh, I was gonna say wine, but sure, make me sound like a total mess,” Joseph quipped.  

Vanessa smirked. “You are a mess.”  

Ebon chuckled. “At least you admit it.”  

The conversation carried on, the lighthearted teasing making the tension from earlier slowly fade. You felt yourself relax, your body sinking a little deeper into the seat. But even as the laughter filled the van, you remained acutely aware of the warmth beside you—the way Pedro’s thigh pressed lightly against yours, the way his arm rested along the back of the seat, close but not quite touching you.  

And when you glanced at him, you found his gaze already on you, something unreadable in those deep brown eyes.  

You looked away first.

The drive back to the hotel stretched longer than expected, traffic turning the usual route into a slow crawl. London streets, thick with impatient drivers and red taillights, blurred into a haze outside the window. Rain had started to drizzle, streaking the glass with soft, uneven patterns. The low hum of conversation filled the van, punctuated by the occasional groan from Joseph whenever the vehicle lurched forward, only to stop again moments later.  

You let your head rest against the window, watching the world pass in slow motion. The warmth of the van, the steady rhythm of the rain, and the quiet murmur of voices lulled you into something close to drowsiness. Your body ached—not unbearably, but enough that exhaustion tugged at you with each passing second.  

Pedro shifted beside you, the movement drawing your attention. His arm, which had been loosely draped along the back of the seat, dipped slightly, fingertips ghosting over your shoulder in a touch so light you almost imagined it.  

“You okay?” His voice was low, meant only for you.  

You hummed, turning your head slightly but keeping your gaze on the rain-slicked streets. “Yeah. Just tired.”  

His fingers flexed, the briefest hesitation before he let his hand settle—gentle and warm—on your arm. Not overbearing. Just there. Just enough.  

You should sit up straighter. You should move, make some joke, shake off the way his presence settled around you like something protective, something safe. But you didn’t. Instead, you let yourself relax, the weight of exhaustion pressing heavier against you.  

The next time the van jolted to another stop, your body leaned instinctively toward the nearest solid thing—Pedro.  

You felt it the moment your head made contact with his shoulder. The way he stiffened, just for a beat, before exhaling like he’d been holding his breath. You started to move away, an apology forming on your lips, but before you could, his hand found your knee—just the lightest touch, grounding, reassuring.  

“Stay,” he murmured.  

You weren’t sure if he even realized he’d said it.  

But you did. And you stayed.  

The voices around you blended, fading into the background as your eyelids grew heavier. Pedro’s breathing was steady beneath your cheek, the rise and fall of his chest lulling you into something dangerously close to comfort. His scent—faint traces of cologne and whatever they used to take off the makeup from set—wrapped around you, familiar and warm.  

Outside, the rain kept falling. The city moved in slow motion.  

And in the middle of it all, you slept, tucked safely into the space Pedro had made for you.

Pedro stilled when he felt the full weight of you against him.  

At first, he thought you were just resting your eyes, letting exhaustion settle in after the long, chaotic day. But then your breathing slowed, deepened, the kind of rhythm that only came with sleep.  

Carefully, he glanced down at you. Your face was relaxed now, lips slightly parted, the tension that had clung to you all day finally melting away. A soft, barely-there snore slipped past your lips, and—fuck—his heart clenched.  

Then he felt it.  

A faint warmth against his shoulder.  

He shifted ever so slightly, and sure enough—yep. You were drooling.  

He should probably mind. He should probably shake you awake or shift you off of him. But the thought didn’t even cross his mind.  

Instead, he swallowed past the lump in his throat and stayed perfectly still.  

Because if this was all he got—this fleeting moment of quiet, of you trusting him enough to let your guard down, to lean on him like this—he wasn’t about to ruin it.  

Still, guilt gnawed at him. The scene kept playing in his head. The accident. The way his stomach had dropped when he saw you hit the ground. The way you had looked up at him afterward, trying to play it off like it was nothing, even though he knew better. Even though he knew you.  

He could have lost you today.  

The thought made his grip tighten ever so slightly against his knee, his other hand twitching with the urge to reach for you. To make sure you were really here.  

And then there was that look.  

The one you had given him. The one that sent something sharp and undeniable curling in his chest. The one that told him—without words—that whatever this was between you, it wasn’t just in his head.  

He could have kissed you then.  

He should have.  

But it hadn’t been the right time. Not after what had happened. Not when you were still reeling from it, still patching yourself up.  

But fuck, it’s going to keep him up at night.  

He wants you.  

And he knows—knows—that you want him too.  

The van hit another bump, jostling you slightly, and instinctively, he shifted, tucking you closer so your head wouldn’t slip from his shoulder.  

You murmured something in your sleep, a soft sigh, curling the tiniest bit toward him. And Pedro?  

Pedro let himself enjoy it. Just for now. Just for tonight.

CHILTERN FIREHOUSE HOTEL — EVENING  

A gentle voice coaxed you from sleep.  

“We’re here.”  

You stirred, warmth pressed against your cheek, the rhythmic hum of the van’s engine fading as the vehicle rolled to a stop. Your mind felt sluggish, still tangled in the remnants of sleep, but then—oh God.  

Your head had been resting on him.  

Panic flickered through you as you jerked upright, realizing with horror that you had not only slept on Pedro’s shoulder but also left a small damp patch on the fabric of his hoodie.  

“Oh my—shit.” You wiped hastily at your mouth, mortified. “I didn’t mean to—Jesus, I drooled all over you. I’m so—”  

Pedro chuckled, low and amused, shaking his head. “It’s fine.” His voice softened. “Just don’t move too much. Remember—your stitches.”  

The reminder stopped you in your tracks. Right. Your stitches. Your ribs ached dully, a reminder of the accident earlier on set. You swallowed, nodding.  

“Right,” you murmured.  

Across from you, Joseph twisted in his seat, smirking slightly. “You good?”  

“Yeah.” Your voice was still rough with sleep. You cleared your throat and tried again. “M’good.”  

Vanessa gave you a sympathetic look, her expression warm. “You should probably head up and rest.”  

You nodded again, still feeling a little disoriented. The van door slid open, letting in the cool London air. One by one, everyone filed out, stretching and murmuring about what to do next. Pedro moved to step out, then hesitated, glancing back at you.  

“You coming?” he asked, voice low, just for you.  

You blinked, forcing yourself to move. Your limbs felt heavy, your body still craving rest. As you started to climb out, your footing wavered slightly—maybe from exhaustion, maybe from the dull ache in your side.  

Pedro was there in an instant.  

His hand hovered near the small of your back, not quite touching, but close enough to steady you. Close enough to say, I’ve got you.  

You inhaled, just for a moment, letting yourself take comfort in his presence. 

The warmth of the hotel lobby wrapped around you as you stepped inside, the soft hum of distant conversation and the faint scent of polished wood and expensive cologne filling the air. Pedro stayed close, his presence a quiet reassurance, his hand hovering near your lower back again, never quite touching, but there.  

You made your way toward the elevators, pressing the call button. When the doors slid open, you stepped inside with a sigh, exhaustion settling deep into your bones. You tapped your keycard, pressing the button for your floor before instinctively pressing Pedro’s as well.  

“Nope,” he said immediately, crossing his arms.  

You turned, blinking up at him. “What?”  

“You’re staying with me tonight.”  

Your lips parted in surprise. “Excuse me?”  

Pedro sighed, like he had already expected you to put up a fight. “Someone needs to look after you.”  

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head. “Pedro, I’ll be fine. They’re just stitches. I’m just gonna head to bed early—” You punctuated the statement with a yawn, covering your mouth with the back of your hand.  

Pedro gave you that look. That firm, stubborn, no-room-for-argument look, the one you’d seen him use when he was absolutely set on something.  

You narrowed your eyes. “What?”  

“Just stay in the suite,” he said, softer this time. “Please. You can use your old room.”  

Your brows furrowed. “Pedro, my stuff is still in my room.”  

“Then I’ll stay with you.”  

Your breath hitched. “What?”  

Pedro shrugged, like it was the most casual suggestion in the world. “If you won’t stay in my suite, then I’ll stay in yours.”  

You stared at him, your heart thudding a little too loudly in your ears. The idea of sharing a space with Pedro for the night—of waking up knowing he was just a room away, of the quiet intimacy of existing in the same space—made your stomach flip.  

“You don’t have to do that,” you said, voice quieter now.  

He tilted his head, studying you. “I want to.”  

The elevator dinged, signaling your floor. The doors slid open, but neither of you moved. The air between you was charged, thick with something unspoken, something there.  

You hesitated. He was giving you a choice.  

You exhaled, already knowing you were going to give in before the words even left your mouth.  

“Fine…” you muttered, crossing your arms. “If it makes you feel better.” You glanced up at him and sighed. “Now put away your puppy eyes.”  

Pedro grinned, all smug warmth and victory, but there was something softer in his eyes—relief, maybe. Like he was glad you weren’t pushing him away.  

“I’ll just grab some of my stuff. I’ll be right back,” he said, already stepping back toward the elevator panel to press his floor again.  

You shot him a teasing look. “Better hurry, or I might just pass out before you get there.”  

Pedro narrowed his eyes playfully. “Seven minutes,” he said, like it was a challenge.  

You smirked as the doors slid shut, leaving you alone with the quiet hum of the hallway.  

By the time you got to your room, exhaustion was already creeping in. You barely had the energy to kick off your shoes before flopping onto the bed, sighing into the plush comforter. You told yourself you’d just close your eyes for a moment—just a second.  

Then, exactly seven minutes later, the sound of your doorbell rang through the room.

You rolled off the bed with a groggy sigh, rubbing your eyes as you shuffled toward the door. When you pulled it open, Pedro was standing there, looking so effortlessly comfortable it made your stomach flip.  

A plain black tee stretched across his broad chest, the soft fabric hanging loosely over the curve of his arms. Grey sweatpants sat low on his hips, the kind that made your brain short-circuit for a second longer than you wanted to admit. He’d traded his usual contacts for his square-framed glasses, the ones that made him look just a little too good, like a university professor who knew exactly how to ruin you with a well-placed argument.  

In one hand, he held a small duffle bag, the strap slung over his shoulder like he belonged here, like this was routine. Like you’d done this before.  

Pedro’s gaze flicked over you, taking in your half-lidded eyes and the way you leaned against the doorframe, still fighting off the edges of sleep.  

“You didn’t pass out,” he noted, amused.  

“Almost did,” you mumbled, stepping back to let him in.  

Pedro walked past you, his familiar scent trailing after him—clean, warm, a mix of something woody and subtle, like cedar and spice. He moved easily around the space, setting his bag down by the chair, toeing off his sneakers before glancing back at you.  

“You should get some rest,” he said, softer now.  

You folded your arms over your chest, suddenly hyper-aware of the fact that you were still in the clothes you wore earlier, your sweater slightly rumpled from your half-nap. “I was resting until someone rang my doorbell exactly seven minutes after leaving.”  

Pedro just smiled, unapologetic. “I said I’d be quick.”  

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t fight the small grin tugging at your lips.  

Then, as if the weight of the day finally caught up to him, Pedro let out a long breath, rubbing a hand over his jaw before tilting his head at you. His gaze softened, the humor fading just a little.  

“How’s your side?”  

You hesitated, glancing down like you could see the stitches through your clothes. “Fine,” you said, but it wasn’t very convincing.  

Pedro’s brows pulled together. “Let me see.”  

You blinked. “What?”  

“Just—let me check, make sure it’s not bleeding or anything.”  

You frowned, the shyness creeping back in. “Pedro, I can—”  

“You could,” he interrupted gently, stepping closer, “but you won’t.” His voice dipped into something quieter, something coaxing. “Just let me take care of you, okay?”  

Your breath hitched.  

You should’ve argued, should’ve batted away his concern with another stubborn insistence that you were fine. But he was looking at you like that—like you were something fragile and precious, something worth worrying over.  

And maybe a part of you wanted to be taken care of.  

You swallowed, nodding once.  

Pedro exhaled, something unspoken passing between you, before he gestured toward the bed. “Sit.”  

You did.  

He knelt in front of you, hands careful as he helped you lift the hem of your sweater, just enough to check the bandages covering your side. His fingers barely grazed your skin, but it was enough to send a shiver up your spine.  

Pedro stilled.  

His gaze flicked up to yours, like he’d felt it too.  

For a moment, neither of you moved. The room felt smaller, the air thicker.  

Then, finally, he spoke—voice rough, quiet.  

“You scared the shit out of me today.”

“So you’ve said…” You mumbled.

Pedro huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head as he carefully smoothed the fabric of your sweater back down. His hands lingered for half a second too long, fingertips brushing against your waist before he pulled away.  

“You’re impossible,” he muttered, but there was no real bite to it—just exhaustion, something fond underneath.  

You swallowed past the warmth creeping up your neck and cleared your throat. “I, uh—I need to shower.”  

Pedro’s expression shifted instantly, concern knitting his brows together. “Careful with your stitches.”  

“I know,” you sighed, already pushing yourself up from the bed. “I just—” You hesitated, suddenly aware of how gross you felt. Your sweater was stiff in places, dried with sweat and blood, and your skin itched from the grime of the day. “I just need to wash this all off.”  

Pedro’s gaze softened, but his jaw ticked, like he was biting back a hundred different things he wanted to say.  

Instead, he nodded. “Okay.”  

You quickly gathered your pajamas and underwear, started toward the bathroom, then paused at the door, glancing over your shoulder. “Don’t—” You hesitated, shifting awkwardly. “Don’t leave, okay?”  

Pedro blinked, something flickering behind his eyes before he nodded again. “I won’t.”  

That was all you needed.  

You closed the bathroom door behind you and exhaled, pressing your forehead against the cool wood for a second longer than necessary. Your heart was beating too fast.  

You shook it off, moving to turn on the water, making sure it wasn’t too hot—you didn’t want to irritate the stitches. The mirror caught your reflection, and you winced. You looked exhausted, dark circles under your eyes, dried blood streaked near your collar. No wonder Pedro had been hovering.  

Carefully, you peeled off your clothes, mindful of your injury as you stepped under the spray. Warm water cascaded over you, washing away the dirt and the tension, and you sighed in relief.  

The moment you stepped out of the bathroom, warmth wrapped around you—not just from the plush hotel robe you’d thrown on, but from the scent of food lingering in the air. Something rich, comforting.  

Pedro sat on the edge of the couch, scrolling through his phone, but his head snapped up the second he heard you. His eyes flickered over you, scanning for any signs of discomfort, lingering too long on the bandages at your side before he forced himself to meet your gaze.  

He offered you a small smile. “I ordered room service for dinner. Figured you needed something to eat before your next set of meds.”  

Your stomach answered before you could, a low grumble betraying just how little you’d eaten today.  

Pedro smirked. “Guess I made the right call.”  

You rolled your eyes, but the truth was, you were grateful. The thoughtfulness of it made your chest ache in a way that had nothing to do with your stitches.  

“What’d you get?” You padded over, tucking damp hair behind your ear as you settled onto the small couch beside him.  

“Chicken soup, because, you know—doctor’s orders.” He lifted the lid with a flourish, steam curling into the air. “And some pasta, just in case you wanted something more solid.”  

Your lips twitched. “You really thought this through, huh?”  

Pedro shrugged, too casual. “You’re my responsibility tonight.”  

Something about the way he said it made your breath catch. He didn’t say it like it was an obligation. He said it like it was a fact. Like he wanted it to be.  

You looked away, focusing on the soup as you picked up a spoon. “Thanks,” you murmured.  

Pedro watched you for a beat before nodding. “Anytime.”

The silence between you was warm, familiar. The kind that didn’t need to be filled.  

You focused on your food, spooning up the broth, letting the heat soothe you from the inside out. The warmth of it settled deep in your chest, easing away the tightness that had been there since the accident. Pedro had been right—this was exactly what you needed.  

Across from you, Pedro twirled his fork through his pasta absentmindedly, but he wasn’t eating much. His eyes kept flicking toward you, like he was checking, making sure you were still here, still breathing.  

“You should eat,” you murmured, not looking up from your bowl.  

Pedro let out a small breath of amusement. “You sound like me.”  

You lifted a brow. “Guess it’s contagious.”  

He smirked but didn’t argue, finally taking a bite of his food. You kept eating, but the weight of his gaze never fully left you. It sat there, unspoken, lingering between the spaces of your breath and the scrape of silverware against ceramic.  

After a while, you set your spoon down and leaned back against the couch, stretching your legs out. Pedro’s eyes flickered to your bandages again, his jaw tightening slightly.  

Pedro’s gaze flickered down to your bandages again, his jaw tightening slightly.  

“You have no idea how much you worried me today,” he murmured, voice rough around the edges.  

You exhaled slowly. “I know.”  

“I mean it,” he said, setting his plate aside. He shifted closer, his knee brushing against yours, grounding himself in the warmth of you. “One second, you were fine, and the next…” He shook his head, running a hand through his curls. “I keep thinking—if things had gone differently…”  

“Hey.” Your voice was soft but firm. You reached out without thinking, resting a hand over his. His fingers twitched under yours, like he was resisting the urge to hold on.  

“I’m okay,” you reassured him. “It was just an accident.”  

Pedro let out a humorless huff. “That doesn’t make it any less terrifying.”  

You swallowed, your fingers curling slightly over his. “I know.”  

For a long moment, neither of you spoke. The distant sounds of the city hummed beyond the hotel window, the murmur of footsteps passing by in the hallway. But here, in this quiet little bubble, it was just the two of you.  

Pedro’s fingers twitched again, then slowly, finally, curled around yours. He didn’t squeeze, didn’t hold too tightly. Just enough to tell you he was still here. That he wasn’t letting go.  

Your throat felt tight, emotions tangling up somewhere in your chest.  

“Pedro,” you started, but you didn’t know what to say.  

He looked at you then, really looked at you. And for the first time all night, you didn’t look away.  

There was something in his eyes—something raw, something real. It made your heart stumble in your chest.  

He swallowed, his voice barely above a whisper. “You need to drink your meds.”

“Right.” You nodded and reached for the bottle of water on the nightstand and twisted the cap off with a sigh. Pedro, ever watchful, pushed the packet of pills closer to you with two fingers.  

“Go on,” he urged, tilting his head.  

You huffed but took the meds anyway, popping them into your mouth and swallowing them down with a gulp of water. The whole time, Pedro watched you like a hawk, arms crossed over his chest, his face full of barely restrained concern.  

“There. Happy?” you mumbled, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.  

Pedro narrowed his eyes slightly, but the corner of his mouth twitched. “Very.”  

“You’re being a little much,” you teased, setting the bottle down.  

He arched a brow. “A little much?”  

“You’re hovering. You’re being—” You gestured vaguely at him. “Like a mother hen.”  

Pedro let out a short laugh, shaking his head. “Damn right I am. Someone’s gotta make sure you’re not out here trying to tough it out on your own.”  

You looked away, your fingers fidgeting in your lap. He wasn’t wrong. You’d spent so much of your life trying to prove that you didn’t need anyone, that you could handle things on your own. But having him here, fussing over you, making sure you took your meds, ordering you food—it was… nice.  

Really nice.  

You cleared your throat, suddenly feeling warm all over. “Well, thanks,” you muttered, voice softer this time.  

Pedro studied you for a beat, then gave a small nod, like he understood. Like he saw right through you.  

You busied yourself adjusting the pillows, trying to ignore how much your heart was racing. But then you froze.  

There was only one bed.  

Your eyes darted to Pedro’s, and you saw the exact moment he noticed, too. His lips parted slightly, gaze flicking from you to the bed and back again.  

“Oh,” you said.  

Pedro exhaled sharply, rubbing the back of his neck. “I can take the floor.”  

You blinked. “What?”  

“The floor,” he repeated. “I’ll sleep there.”  

You frowned, looking between him and the thick, undoubtedly uncomfortable carpet. “Absolutely the fuck not.”  

Pedro smirked, clearly amused by your sudden shift in tone. “Wow. Strong words.”  

“I’m serious, Pedro.” You crossed your arms. “Your back will hate you forever.”  

His smirk widened into a grin. “Are you calling me old?”  

Your mouth opened, then closed. “No! I—I’m just saying, you’ll wake up sore as hell and—ugh.” You groaned, pressing your fingers to your temples.  

Pedro chuckled, shaking his head. “Relax, I’m just messing with you.”  

You glared at him, flustered beyond belief. “Not funny.”  

“Very funny.”  

You threw a pillow at him. He caught it effortlessly, still grinning like a damn idiot.  

“You’re sleeping in the bed,” you grumbled, trying to regain some of your dignity.  

Pedro held up his hands in mock surrender. “Fine. But if I wake up with an elbow to the ribs, I’m filing a complaint.”  

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t fight the smile tugging at your lips.  

One bed. Pedro Pascal. You.  

You were doomed.

You climb into bed first, carefully maneuvering around your injury as you settle against the pillows. Pedro follows soon after, turning off the last of the lights, leaving only the bedside lamp casting a soft, golden glow over the room. The space between you is small—closer than what two people who are just friends probably should be—but neither of you move to fix it.  

For a moment, the only sounds in the room are the quiet hum of the heater and the occasional creak of the hotel settling. Then, Pedro shifts slightly, resting his head on his hand as he looks at you.  

“Isn’t it weird?” he murmurs.  

You blink sleepily. “What?”  

“You changed rooms… and now we’re in the same bed.” His voice is thoughtful, like he’s only just realizing the weight of the situation.  

You snort. “Maybe I’m cursed.”  

Pedro chuckles, low and warm. “Nah, can’t be cursed if you end up spending more time with me.” His grin is downright smug.  

You roll your eyes, but you’re smiling. “Okay, superstar, calm down.”  

Pedro huffs out a soft laugh, shaking his head. “I’m just saying. If this is a curse, it’s not a bad one.”  

You open your mouth to argue—because really, who just casually says things like that?—but the words catch in your throat when you realize how close he really is. His face is relaxed in the dim light, his eyes dark and unreadable, his curls a little mussed from the day.  

Your heart stumbles.  

It should be weird, lying here with him like this, but somehow… it isn’t.  

Somehow, it feels like the most natural thing in the world.

The quiet hum of the night settles around you, the warmth of the sheets and the steady presence of Pedro beside you making it all too easy to forget the chaos of the day.  

You should be sleeping, but instead, you’re scrolling on your phone, the dim glow illuminating your face as you read. The soft, rhythmic sound of Pedro’s breathing makes you think he’s fallen asleep—until his voice rumbles low in the quiet.  

“You always do that before bed?”  

You nearly jump, clutching your phone against your chest. “Do what?”  

Pedro’s lips twitch in amusement. “Read.”  

You swallow. Shit.  

“Yeah?” you say, trying to sound nonchalant.  

Pedro props himself up on one elbow, peering at your phone. “What are you reading?”  

Your body goes rigid. Oh god.  

You’re reading fanfiction. Specifically, his character’s fanfiction.  

Absolutely not. You cannot let this man know.  

“Nothing,” you say too quickly, locking your phone and placing it screen-down on the nightstand.  

Pedro raises a brow, clearly unconvinced. “Uh-huh. Sure.”  

You can feel the heat creeping up your neck, and you turn away, mumbling, “It’s nothing important.”  

Pedro hums, amused, but thankfully doesn’t push further. Instead, he settles back down, stretching one arm under the pillow.  

“Alright, secrets,” he teases, voice laced with sleep. “Guess I’ll just have to wonder.”  

You groan. “Go to sleep, Pedro.”  

He chuckles, the sound warm and deep. “Fine, fine.”  

A comfortable silence blankets the room, the kind that makes your eyelids grow heavier. The warmth of Pedro beside you—solid, steady, real—only adds to it, pulling you deeper into rest.  

And before you know it, you’re asleep.

CHILTERN FIREHOUSE HOTEL — EARLY MORNING

The muffled chime of your alarm cuts through the quiet, dragging you from the depths of sleep. You groan, blindly reaching for your phone on the nightstand, smacking at the screen until the sound dies out.

As you settle back into the pillows, intending to steal a few more minutes of sleep, that's when you feel it.

Warmth. Solid and everywhere.

Your drowsy brain takes a second to catch up, to process the strong arm slung over your waist, the steady rise and fall of a broad chest against your back, the way his legs are tangled with yours, locking you in place.

And then—oh.

Something hard presses against the curve of your ass.

Your breath catches.

Oh.

Heat floods your face instantly. The realization slams into you with the force of a freight train. Pedro is wrapped around you, his body flush against yours, and—yep, there’s no mistaking that.

You go completely still, hoping—praying—that maybe, maybe he’s still asleep, that he’s not aware of how intimately you’re pressed together.

A slow, deep inhale against your shoulder tells you otherwise.

Shit.

You can feel the moment he wakes up, the way his breathing shifts, the faintest tensing of his muscles. And then—

A sleepy, raspy groan vibrates against your skin.

Pedro shifts slightly behind you, his grip on your waist tightening for the briefest moment before his entire body goes rigid.

Silence.

You can practically hear the gears turning in his still half-asleep brain.

“…Fuck,” he mutters under his breath.

Your entire body feels like it’s on fire.

His hand flexes against your stomach before he very, very slowly starts to pull away, but in doing so, he shifts again—and you feel everything for a split second longer than you should.

A tiny, humiliating sound escapes the back of your throat.

Pedro freezes.

Oh, god. Kill me now.

“…Did you just whimper?” His voice is still thick with sleep, rough and laced with amusement.

“No…” you mumble, barely above a whisper.

He shifts slightly, just enough for you to feel him again, solid and unmistakable.

Your breath stutters.

Pedro lets out a low, knowing chuckle, his lips brushing against your shoulder as he murmurs, “Mmm. I think you did.”

You want to die.

Or maybe kill him. Either option seems preferable to this moment.

“You’re imagining things,” you mutter, voice strained as you try to ignore the way heat licks up your spine.

“Am I?” His arm tightens slightly around your waist, his fingers splaying against your stomach in a way that makes your breath catch.

God, he’s so warm.

You swallow, heart hammering against your ribs. “Pedro.”

Pedro hums in response, low and teasing, the sound vibrating against your skin.  

You shiver, heat pooling deep in your stomach. He’s still so close—his breath warm against your jaw, his fingers resting against your waist, firm and grounding.  

You don’t know who moves first.  

Maybe it’s you, tilting your head just slightly, your lips parting in anticipation. Or maybe it’s him, the way his nose grazes your cheek, the way he exhales shakily, like he’s been fighting this just as much as you have.  

And then his lips are on yours.  

Soft at first, like he’s giving you the chance to pull away, to stop this before it can spiral into something neither of you can take back.  

But you don’t pull away.  

Instead, you press into him, fingers gripping onto the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer.  

Pedro groans low in his throat, something almost desperate unraveling between you. His hand slips under your shirt, fingers splaying against the bare skin of your waist, not pushing—just holding. His lips part against yours, deepening the kiss, tongue sweeping against yours in a slow, intoxicating glide.  

You sigh into him, utterly lost in the way he tastes, the way he feels.  

Then he shifts, leaning more of his weight onto you, and a sharp twinge shoots through your side. You inhale sharply, wincing.  

Pedro immediately freezes.  

His lips break from yours, breath warm and uneven against your jaw. “Shit.” He pulls back, eyes scanning your face, concern flickering in the deep brown of his gaze. “Did I—did I hurt you?”  

You shake your head, blinking away the haze of want clouding your thoughts. “No, I’m okay. Just… a little sore.”  

His lips press into a thin line, and then he’s pulling away completely, his hands gentle as he brushes a thumb over your hip. “I shouldn’t have—”  

You cut him off with a soft laugh. “Pedro, you didn’t break me.”  

His brows pinch together, still looking unsure. But then his gaze flickers to the clock on the nightstand, and he mutters a quiet fuck.  

You glance at the time. “What?”  

“I have to be on set in thirty minutes.” He groans, rubbing a hand down his face. “I gotta get dressed.”  

Your heart sinks.  

You don’t even try to hide it, the disappointment settling deep in your bones. But it’s not just that he has to leave—it’s the way he pulls away so fast, the way his hands are gone from your skin, the way reality rushes back in like a cold slap to the face.  

What if that kiss was a mistake? 

What if he didn’t mean it, not really? What if it was just the heat of the moment, an impulse he already regrets?  

You swallow hard, trying to school your expression, trying not to let the spiral show on your face.  

But Pedro catches it anyway.  

He stops halfway through buttoning his shirt, his gaze snapping to yours. His brows furrow, that warm, knowing look settling into his features. “No.”  

You blink. “What?”  

He shakes his head, stepping closer, voice firm. “No. I know that face.”  

You press your lips together, looking away, but Pedro doesn’t let you retreat.  

His fingers find your chin, tilting your face back toward him. His eyes are soft, earnest, searching yours. “That kiss wasn’t a mistake.”  

You open your mouth, but nothing comes out.  

Pedro exhales, his thumb brushing gently over your cheek. “I like you.” His voice is rough, almost exasperated, like he can’t believe he even has to say it out loud. “Fuck, I like you.”  

Your stomach flips. “You do?”  

His lips twitch into a small, crooked smile. “Yeah. I do.” He presses his forehead against yours, letting out a breathy chuckle. “And I really wish I didn’t have to leave right now.”  

You let out a soft laugh, the tension in your chest easing just a little. “Me too.”  

Pedro lingers a second longer before groaning, pulling away. “Okay. I really do have to go.” He finishes buttoning his shirt in record time, shoving on his jacket, running a hand through his messy hair.  

And yet—before he reaches the door, he turns back, pointing at you. “Take your meds. We’ll talk more later when I get back.”  

You roll your eyes. “Yes, dad.”  

“I’m serious,” he says, giving you a pointed look. “Rest, take your meds, don’t do anything stupid.”  

You huff, crossing your arms. “You’re really bossy, you know that?”  

Pedro smirks, walking backward toward the door. “Yeah? And you really like it.”  

You grab a pillow and launch it at him.  

He laughs, catching it before it can hit the floor, and then he’s gone—leaving behind the ghost of his touch, the lingering taste of his lips, and the undeniable truth that you are absolutely, utterly screwed.

The moment the door clicks shut, you stare at it for a solid five seconds.  

Then—  

You let out a muffled squeal, practically throwing yourself onto the bed, hugging your pillow close to your chest as you kick your feet.  

Oh my god.  

Oh. My. God.  

Did that really just happen? Did Pedro fucking Pascal just kiss you? Did he say—no, did he actually say he likes you? Out loud? Like, in real life?  

You bury your face into the pillow, squeezing your eyes shut. This has to be a dream. Some fever-induced hallucination from the painkillers, because there is no way this is actually happening to you.  

Your stomach flips as you replay every second of it—the warmth of his hands on your skin, the way his lips moved against yours, the way he groaned into your mouth. Jesus. Your body feels like it’s buzzing, and you don’t know if you’ll ever recover from this.  

Then, like a bucket of cold water, a terrifying realization crashes over you.  

He doesn’t know. 

You push yourself up, staring blankly at the wall as the horror sinks in.  

He doesn’t know you’ve been reading fanfiction about him. About his characters. About him doing things that— 

You slap a hand over your mouth.  

Oh God.  

This is the worst thing that has ever happened to you.  

What if he ever finds out? What if he ever catches you again, peeking at your phone, and this time you don’t have the composure to hide it? What if he sees the ungodly amount of saved bookmarks you have?  

You flop back onto the bed, groaning into your pillow.  

Oh. Oh no.  

The fanfiction was bad enough. But then—  

Your stomach drops.  

The TikTok edits.  

The candid photos.  

The folder.  

You physically sit up in bed, gripping the pillow like it’s the only thing tethering you to reality. The folder on your phone—hidden in the depths of your camera roll, labeled something totally inconspicuous like Receipts or Taxes—is filled with candid pictures, behind-the-scenes clips, and so many thirst edits of Pedro Pascal set to unholy audio.  

You squeeze your eyes shut, cringing so hard your whole body tenses.  

You can never let him near your phone.  

Ever.  

What if he finds the one edit with him as Jack Daniels? The one that made you short-circuit the first time you saw it? Or the compilation of him laughing, looking stupidly charming, set to some overly romantic Taylor Swift song?  

Jesus Christ.  

You groan, flopping back against the pillows, dragging your hands down your face.  

This is bad.  

Like, really bad.  

Because not only have you been a lowkey (very highkey) fangirl for years, but now you’ve kissed him. Now he likes you. Now there’s a very real possibility that this could actually go somewhere.  

And if he ever finds out just how deep your obsession goes?  

You’re changing your name and moving to a remote island.

End Notes:

Well… IT HAS BEEN HINTED AT. TIME AND TIME AGAIN. That you are a fan girl so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Oh God, what if he finds out 😃

Ya’ll they kissed! YAYYY!!

Awww you have a week off to rest and heal up girlieeee heuheuh

Look at Pedro being a mind reader. Love that for you!

We love a reassuring king. Gimme that shit. 

Yes, this is a little filler chapter before absolute chaos… oh hrm I meant… nothing what?

TAGLIST: @comfortzonequeen @christinamadsen @liciafonseca @greenwitchfromthewoods @iqr-x @southernbe @maryfanson @brittmb115 @taytay0403 @whimsiwitchy @zymiii @sarahhxx03 @leilanixx @lilasskicker-23 @https-murdock @barnescamboy @widowsvail @senhoritamayblog @morganlolitta @suzysface @reidsworld @xmaykeca @dontlookatme121 @mandaloriankait @picketniffler @pedrofan @mystickittytaco @enchantingchildkitten @seven-seas-of-fuck-you @ro-nahime-things @senhoritamayblog @hermionelove @ashhlsstuff @hidden-behind-the-fourth-wall @youusunshineyoutemptress @klajmekkk @aomi-nabi

[hugheshischier4313]

YOU MISS HIM DON'T YOU | Q. HUGHES

𝗣𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 | Quinn Hughes x fem!reader 

𝗪𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 | Emotional cheating (not on Quinn),  angst, fluff, oblivious!reader and Quinn, soft!Quinn, neighbors-to-lovers, reader x OC (Andrew, reader's boyfriend), alcohol, flirting. 

𝗦𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 | Months into your friendship with Quinn the two of you finally admit to what's been there all along. 

 🎧 Playlist | 📷 Pinterest Board

Based on a scene in Season 3 of Desperate Housewives (No spoilers in the writing. Bolded words are quoted from the show): “Don't tell me nothing happened. We’ve been fighting over this all week. You miss him, don't you?”

𝗪/𝗖 | 6.8K

𝗔/𝗡 | hi lovelies, thank you for being patient with me for the full fic of this idea. The lines indicate time jumps, they jump back and forth to different scenarios of reader and Quinn through the time they have spent together. I absolutely love these two and this idea and I couldn't find a perfect ending. I rewrote multiple endings and ultimately decided to just make a part two when I finally figure it out. Hope you enjoy, love ya!

It had been a wonderful night, the wine glass in your hand still full, the bottle sitting on the coffee table. The random episode of Bob's Burgers in the background forgotten, adding nothing more than a soft glow to the room. As you sat there listening to Quinn talk about his summer back in Michigan, you found yourself examining him. The way his eyes roam the room as he speaks, the smiles before he lets out a laugh and the way his hands run through his hair occasionally.

"You should have visited, even for just a weekend. You would have thought this was way more entertaining if you were there." Quinn teased as he finished his story. You pushed down the feeling of guilt as you smiled back at him, poking a finger into his shoulder. "I wouldn't have let you live it down if I had been there. So it's probably for the best," You teased back, but the truth was you had wanted to visit Quinn over the off-season, but when the time came, life had another plan.

_________________________________

"You should come down for the week. The sunrise and sunset alone would make the trip worth it. Imagine spending your week off by the lake, a beautiful sky for you to take pictures of. I can send you a ticket, just say the word." As the smile crept onto your face, so did the slightest tinge of pink. You had been putting away groceries when your AirPods had read the message out loud. Quinn had a habit of making fun of your love for the sky. Always calling you out, shrieking, 'The sky is so pretty' like you had repeatedly done (in a terrible attempt to match your voice). You swear you could hear it through the text despite him being over 2,000 miles apart. 

When Andrew's call came through, you found your phone and typed the text about sending it. "Y/N! I got it, I got the promotion!" His voice came booming out, and the excitement was evident in his voice. "Congratulations, Andrew!" you reciprocated his excitement. "And what better time than before you have a week off. I was thinking of going away for the week, maybe Banff? I'll rent us the cabin we had when we went last time." He kept ranting, too excited to keep anything in, but his voice was drowned out by the thought of Quinn. 

"I have to go, but I'll send you the flight information later tonight. I can't wait to see you." Andrews's voice didn't falter, almost like he was on autopilot, just rambling what he knew to say. They exchanged their quick goodbyes before he hung up. 

As if to taunt you, the next sound into your ear was' NEW MESSAGE FROM QUINN 'Or even just for the weekend if you have other plans for your week off.' As you looked back down at the phone and saw the unset message,  'A whole week of sunset pictures? Count me in Q'; the thought of deleting it weighed heavily on you. 

The truth was you had truly missed Quinn this summer. You had moved to Vancouver for grad school in the fall, and as luck would have it, Quinn lived in the apartment next to you. In the past 10 months, you had known each other; the only time you hadn't seen each other was when he had away games. And even then, when he returned, he made it up to you by devoting time to be with you. He bought you a postcard from all the cities he played in, and you had them displayed on your fridge. He signed all of them after the few glasses of wine you shared after one of his longer roadies.

You had (in your tipsy state) jokingly told him to sign one so you could sell them if he ever decided to be a jerk to you. And as he did, you knew you could never sell them; they meant too much to you. He had made a joke about writing nonsense on them to lower the value if you tried. Over the off-season, you found yourself religiously turning them over to look at his little notes, his penmanship holding inside jokes that you held dear to your heart.

As you stood there staring at the postcards on your fridge, thinking of the brunette, you couldn't help but feel the guilt in your chest. The nagging thought that your friendship with Quinn may not be as platonic as the two of you acted.

Why were you standing there thinking of another man when you were just on the phone with your boyfriend? You hadn't and would never cheat on Andrew, but the world seemed to disappear when you were with Quinn. Time slipped by faster, and you longed to sit on a couch with him again.

And at that moment, it had become apparent that you no longer had a choice; you had to choose between the two men, Andrew or Quinn? But then again, it wasn't really a choice between the men; it was a choice between right and wrong.

'Sorry Quinn, I can't this week. Take lots of pictures for me. Can't wait to see them when you're back.' Send. It was vague, and you knew he could send them to you whenever, but you also knew that, at least for this week, he couldn't be your primary focus. You needed to focus on your partner and his accomplishments.

_________________________________

As you had sat in a surprisingly unpopulated section of the airport for a Friday night, you haphazardly skipped through Instagram stories until you were faced with Quinn's private story of him on the boat with his friends. You had no reason, or right, to be this upset, but as you looked at the sunset on the picture's horizon, you couldn't stop yourself from hitting the call button. 

The phone barely rang once before you heard his voice, and you let out a breath you didn't realize you were holding. "Hey, I was j-" His voice was laced with exhaustion as if whatever physical activity he was doing was still fresh. And you found yourself more clam than you had been in days. Oh, how you had missed his voice.

"Are you upset with me?" The words were rushed and tumbled out before you could comprehend the repercussions. You knew that now was not the time to be having this discussion. You were sitting in the corner seats at the airport, waiting for your plane to begin boarding. But it had been two days since that last message you sent, and you had heard nothing from Quinn.

You had been a little hurt when you spent all of Thursday waiting for a response from the brunette. He had never taken more than a few hours to respond to you, which is why you had given him the benefit of the doubt that Wednesday night after you sent the last message. But now that you had spent the entirety of your workday contemplating writing a new message, you were upset, and the Insta story had only added fuel to the fire.  

"No, of course not. Why?" His voice was genuine and calm, a nice contrast to the loud background on both sides of the phone. You figured he was still on the boat with his friends. "Oh, I just figured you were upset since I haven't heard from you." You felt stupid for calling and continuing to talk despite it being obvious he wasn't alone. "But I'll let you go; sorry for calling." you hit the red button before you had time to overthink. Your voice had become weak, and you hated that you were taking time away from him and the time he had to spend with his friends and family.

You had the overwhelming feeling to cry, but you didn't know if it was because of guilt for Andrew or Quinn or because any doubts you had that Quinn was mad at you had disappeared. NEW MESSAGE FROM QUINN: 'Give me 10 minutes, I'll call you back'. The message held an inevitable dominance over it; there was no question that it was a conversation that had to happen, and it had to happen now. 

_________________________________

Quinn had known about your boyfriend from the very beginning. He had seen you together, bringing boxes to the apartment beside his, and noticed you immediately. He wished he could say it had all been innocent, but the first thing he saw was how your legs looked in the tennis skirt you had been wearing. You bent down to pick up a fallen pillow as he exited his car in the parking garage. His eyes lingered on you, and he forced himself to turn away before you noticed. He swore he would offer to help you before he met eyes with Andrew as he stepped out of the parking garage elevator.

"I didn't mean to; it just happened. You were bent over, in a skirt, right outside my car; it was hard to look away when I didn't expect you to be there." Quinn had a slight pink tone to his features right now, and you were smiling, trying to suppress a laugh. You stood in the kitchen, pouring the margaritas into your cups.

"You mean the skirt I'm wearing right now? Is that why you mentioned it? Quinn, you could have kept that secret forever. I mean, you couldn't waterboard that information out of me." You were always more giggly when drinking, which was contagious to Quinn. "But since you didn't, I'm gonna use this against you for the foreseeable future."  The laugh left you when you got back to Quinn's couch. "I'll try not to make any sudden movements that may catch you off guard," you teased as you stood before him and handed him his drink.

"It's not funny; I've felt bad about this for months." he tried to be serious, but the smile never left his face. As you nodded with a smirk on your lip, you turned from him after he grabbed the glass, "Y/N, I'm serious." He wasn't; he could never stay upset with you, even in a joking manner. 

"I guess I'll just go back to my apartment then; I don't want to bring back any of your past shame." your body once again turned towards him as you leaned down over to hug him, "Bye, Hughes, I'll make sure to only wear this when you're out of town." He let out a sarcastic 'ha.' "You don't have to leave; I can control myself. I promise." he rolled his eyes and slowly got up to stop you.

"I don't know; I think the only logical answer is to wear your Drew sweats." You had pivoted and ran to his room before he could reply. You had bugged him countless times to try them on over the past months; you had just wanted to see if they were worth the hype because the black sweats had been sold out forever (and maybe, subconsciously, because of your past love for Justin Bieber). And every time he said no, you took this as your opportunity to try them and bug him simultaneously.

Being in Quinn's room was familiar to you. You had spent most days at one of the two apartments, and sometimes that meant laying in his bed watching TV after he had just returned from a string of away games or after a challenging game or practice. You had worn his clothes before, too; it was always in a platonic way, the first time you had locked yourself out after being out on a run when it started raining. You lost your key on the run, and the concierge was gone for the night. You had also spent the night; he let you sleep in his bed and took the couch. 

As you ran into the room, you closed the door behind you and walked into the closet, closing that door, too. You had found the sweats and slowly walked out of the closet. There was no sight of Quinn, and the bedroom door was still closed. You walked towards the door, sweats in your hand, as you called out to him, "Q? Are you -" But you were cut off as he tackled you onto the bed next to you.

The two of you lay on the bed laughing before turning to face each other. The laughter died down, and you were smiling and looking at each other. The two of you lay there for a while, not saying anything until you broke the silence, "Your eyes are a different color every time I see you, but today I can see every shade in them." You don't know why you needed to share your observation with him, but it felt right. "You cut your hair." He reached out to tuck a strand behind your ear and play with the end of another. His voice had been so him, soft yet dominant. It was true; you had gotten a slight trim the day before and a few longer layers at the bottom of your hair, a small and simple detail that could have been missed. In fact, he was the only person to notice; none of your classmates or even Andrew, although over Facetime, had noticed. 

The room felt heavy as you looked from his hand in your hair to his eyes again, stopping to look at his lips for a second. And when you reached his gaze, it was unreadable. "I -" A phone began to ring as Quinn was about to speak. You could see a shift in his demeanour as you continued to look at him. He got up to find the cause of the sound. "It's your phone." He walked it over to you before heading out to the living room again. The phone illuminated ANDREW CALLING.

You looked towards the empty doorway as you brought the phone up to your ear. "Hey you," your playful voice sounded forced, and the smile on your lips was even more so. "Hey, I have a surprise for you. The notification said it was in the lobby." This shocked you, not only because it was a surprise but because Andrew was never one for small gestures. It was always something big like him ordering 4 dozen roses to your desk after your fourth date. But he had never just sent you or given you something randomly.

Andrew could be a sweet guy; you worked together before he asked you to have dinner with him. You knew you were moving and had no intention of starting anything serious before moving to Vancouver, but he had been so persistent, and it felt nice to have a distraction with all the craziness of moving. But living in different provinces has brought no comfort to either of you. It felt like pen pals most of the time. You would call him a few times a week and talk for an hour before he had to go. There had been a few times where you could have sworn you heard someone else there, but the times you mentioned it, it felt like the fight had been more trouble than the issue itself.

And maybe subconsciously, you felt like a hypocrite. Your relationship with Quinn was platonic, but the number of times you were confused as a couple in public could be seen another way. In fact, you hated to admit it, but it felt like you communicated more with Quinn when he was away than with your boyfriend. 

"There's something for me in the lobby of my apartment complex? Andrew, what did you do? It's 7pm?" As you started talking, Quinn walked into view, bringing your drinks and extending to you. "It's a surprise; you should go get it now; I'm assuming it's just on the concierge desk based on the picture." You stared up at Quinn as you listened to Andrew, "Okay, I'll be down in a minute, and I'll call you back once I have it." The phone call was quickly over. 

"What did you order?" Quinn asked with a smile, used to all the packages you've received. A few that had been too heavy for you to carry on your own that Quinn had taken himself. Even when they hadn't been too heavy, he would carry them for you if he was there. "I'm not sure, Andrew sent it to me." You could have sworn there was a look on his face that was gone as quickly as it appeared. "You want me to go with you in case you need help?" there was no hesitation in your quick reply of 'yes.'

As the two of you walked down the hall, you were overly aware of the distance between you. It was no different than it had been in the past, but there was a particular charge. The words shared and unshared in the bedroom hung heavy. "So I never got to even put the sweats on," you joked while waiting in front of the elevator. "You can borrow them when we get back up if you want," his answer made your breath hitch. He had never let you try them on, much less borrow them.

He looked at you, letting you walk into the elevator first. The ride down was quick and quiet, but how you looked at each other made everything race faster. Your heartbeat quickened as you saw his slight deviation towards your lips before making their way back up. "Quinn," your voice came out as a low plea; whether it was to continue or to stop was uncertain. He stepped closer to you as the two of you stood in silence for a brief moment before the doors opened. As you stepped out, your heart felt heavy.

As you made your way towards the front desk, you saw the back of a man at the desk, but when you heard the voice,  it made you freeze. Andrew he was in your lobby waiting for you, Quinn failed to notice your pause and ran into you. However, before you could tip forward, Quinn had steadied you with a hand on your arm and waist. Andrew called out when he turned around. 

"Andrew! What are you doing here?" You didn't miss the look he gave the sight of the two of you or how his gaze only lingered on Quinn's hand on your waist as he walked closer. You unhooked yourself from Quinn to hug Andrew. The hug was stiff; he held himself higher, and his head hadn't moved from the position it had been in before. You figured he was still looking at Quinn. 

"I wanted to surprise you; we settled a case earlier than expected, so I took a few days off." You had pulled yourself to his side, a view of both him and Quinn. They kept looking towards each other, completely ignoring you. "Well, Andrew, this is my friend I always tell you about, Quinn. He introduced himself the day I moved in, remember? He lives next door to me." Andrew smiled down at you as you continued. "Quinn, you remember Andrew." Quinn looked from you to Andrew before extending his hand. "Good to see you again, man." Andrew hesitated before shaking his hand. 

There was a quick silence before Quinn grabbed his phone from his pocket and looked at the screen, excusing himself, "I have to make a phone call; I'll see you around," but before he could walk off, you gave him a side hug goodbye. You had done it a thousand times before, and feeling like you couldn't because Andrew was there didn't feel like a good sign, so you did it anyway. "I'll text you," you quietly said as you let go.

The next few days had been uneventful, showing Andrew around Vancouver. The hallway had felt unusually empty each time you passed, hoping to run into Quinn. A string of away games was starting that Monday, and when you came back from dropping off Andrew at the airport on Sunday night, you noticed the bag sitting in front of your apartment door. 

The black sweats were inside with a note, 'I'll pick them up when I'm back. Enjoy :). ~ Q" He never asked for them back

_________________________________

"Hey," his voice was clear despite the pixilated quality of his Facetime call. He was wearing a white T-shirt, his hair was wet, and he had a look on his face you had never seen. "Hey Q," your pulse felt overwhelming as if anyone who looked at you could see it throbbing against your neck. "Are you having a good time back home?" It was a buffer; you didn't know what Quinn wanted to say, and judging by the look on his face, you weren't sure you wanted to.

"Andrew called me." His voice was blunt, direct to the point, despite the few seconds he stared at you, hesitating to continue. "He asked if I was sleeping with you." His eyes held yours while the rest of his face had no expression. "What?" The nervous laughter that filled the air around you was nothing more than a way to suppress the hurt and anger of this new confession.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry Quinn. I don't know why he's been so paranoid lately. It seems like he misinterprets everything I mention to him as something else." For the last two months, you had known that Andrew suspected your friendship with Quinn was something more. He had brought it up the last time he was in Vancouver and again over the phone a few weeks ago (although it had been in retaliation to the question you had asked him about the girl with him in a video his friend had posted on their story). 

"Did he misinterpret it, or did he just see what is obvious that you and I can't admit?" The question was loaded with truths that weren't meant to come out. The look that the two of you shared through the screen had only confirmed it. In a split second, months of ignorance had led to a confession when the two of you were thousands of miles apart.

His breathing was heavy; you could hear it through the phone; he had a look on his face that closely resembled his look when his team lost in the Playoffs. It was the look you saw in the mirror this morning when you had not heard from him. It was the split-second look he had in the lobby the day Andrew surprised you.

Everything playing in your head; all the nights he would knock at your apartment after a game with a box of food, the way you would pack him an 'after-game snack' consisting of oranges, a granola bar and a fruit snack (which he teased you about until you mentioned it was like they did in little leagues), the way your breath hitches every time he gets shoved or falls. 

All the times, the two of you had gone for a drive when life felt too heavy, and you shared secrets you had never told anyone before. The way he took off your makeup when you had gone out one night or how he knows your coffee order for every cafe you go to. Quinn and you had been in the in-between since you first hung out. 

"I mean, how long are we going to pretend like nothing is happening?" His voice was calm and demanding, with a hint of subdued anger or annoyance you hadn't picked up. "Quinn, I -" You were at a loss for words; nothing could genuinely capture how Quinn had made you feel. 

You knew you were safe with Quinn around, not only in a physical sense but emotionally. The way he made you feel heard and seen. The two of you were floating in two separate worlds, but the weight that engulfed you was the same. You understood the complication of pressure and leadership; you understood needing to be the most prominent presence in the room, even if you weren't the loudest. You understood the pressure of wanting, no needing, to be the best for everyone else even if it tore you apart. 

It was all those things and more that drove you together, the ability to soothe the ache the buildup of burden had left sacred on the two of you. When you felt a crushing weight on you, the only thing that could alleviate it was being around the man who had quickly become your best friend. Immediately, he knew whether you needed to just sit and cry while he comforted you or go for a drive so you could yell out lyrics or if you needed him to just talk about mundane things.

And you do the same; you knew by the way he left the ice, by the way, he knocked on the door, by the way, he walked down the hallway toward your apartments. You knew when to go over to him so he could catch the recaps, and you knew when to invite him to yours to force him to ignore the criticism. You knew that even after a winning streak or after a goal, he needed comfort, understanding the overwhelming feeling of the slightest reprieve until the next game.

And the honest truth was that you had pushed back any romantic feelings because you knew without a doubt he was your person. You had never been one for friendship with men, and when your friends asked about what you could have in common with a professional hockey player, you never knew what to tell them. Because from every book, movie, series and scenario you knew, as cliche as it was, the only quote that could describe what the two of you shared was, 'Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.' 

"Y/N, please." His voice was barely above a whisper, a plea to say anything. "It doesn't have to change anything. I just need to know; I didn't mean to hurt you; I tried to give you space. I've tried to respect your relationship." He had been ignoring you to avoid hurting your relationship, and in the process, the two of you were the only ones who were hurt. "Quinn." There was only one way you could describe it: "You consume me." Despite the tears that fell, you stared at him through the phone, wishing he was there with you, wishing your plane was going to Michigan. 

"Now boarding flight-" The announcement couldn't have come at a worse time; there was so much to say, and an airport right before boarding was not ideal. "That's my flight." You wiped your tears as you stared at the man on the screen. "Y/N, I'm sorry for bringing this up now; it's not my best moment." he was trying to cheer you up; he wanted you to know that everything would be okay. "Quinn, I don't know what to do," your voice was a quiet plea to understand what was to come.

"Given everything that was said and that we're in two different countries right now, I think we should take some time to digest. I know you're spending time with him, and I don't want you to feel overwhelmed. I think we should take the next week or two." your heart was breaking, but your mind knew that was the best option. And for the first time since the beginning of the conversation, you thought of Andrew, and the slight tinge of annoyance arose again. 

Quinn must have noticed because he was quick to interject his following comment with the most sincere look, "But before you go, I just need you to know that you consume me too." He had his signature half smile as he continued, "You are the most amazing woman I have ever met. I think about you constantly. I think about you when I look at the sky, when I'm practicing with my brothers, when I go out with friends and when I lie in bed. I watch for you in the crowd during warm-ups. You've become one of my favourite people so quickly, and I'm so glad of all the apartments in the city, or even just in the building; you moved into the one next to mine." 

You smiled as the tears fell; if there had ever been any doubt, you now knew for sure that Quinn was your person. "I'll be forever grateful that the universe brought me to you too." And with a quick goodbye and promise to reach out in two weeks, you were in your seat on the plane. 

Your mind racing with thoughts of Quinn and the revelations that had come to light and then again to Andrew. You didn't know why, but your annoyance was morphing into slight anger, the idea that he had called Quinn and accused him of sleeping with you. What annoyed you more was that he had done that and hadn't mentioned it to you. He hadn't mentioned the idea of your friendship with Quinn being something more since that one phone call a little over a month ago. 

You sat with that feeling for the rest of the flight. 

_________________________________

"Okay, fine, you are mad at me! But name one thing that I have done to deserve it!" Andrew was standing on the opposite side of the room. His breathing was heavy as he ran a hand through his hair. "You called Quinn." your voice was laced with a hint of sadness and betrayal. The statement was simple and direct but held a meaning that both of you knew would change everything. 

The argument had started with something so small: the two of you walking on eggshells the past few days and your passive-aggressive comments when he mentioned anything related to Vancouver. Over the past few days, you had tried to get Andrew to admit to calling Quinn; he wasn't stupid; he had connected the dots and was simply choosing to ignore it (which infuriated you even more). The days dragged on; waking up and getting ready in silence, spending the day exploring, trying to avoid long conversations at all costs, getting ready for bed with few words and getting into bed facing away from each other. 

Andrew's response had taken a second longer than it should have. His hesitation made it clear that he was surprised by the direct approach, almost as if he hadn't thought you would say anything.  "You're damn right I did, I've seen the messages, the glances, the pictures. What was I supposed to do? Pretend that nothing was going on?" His voice was slightly louder as his eyes narrowed on you. 

"Nothing was going on. He never touched me." you raised your voice, but the words weakened. Your hands were flailing around, trying to emphasize your point.  The tears behind your eyes aching to be let free. It was too much, and you knew the implications of your words. This time, however, Andrew didn't hesitate to answer; his reply, even louder than before, came out the second you were done talking. "And I wasn't gonna sit around and wait until he did."  

The two of you stood there staring at each other, chests heaving, eyes full of emotion. You sat on the counter stool beside you before looking away from Andrew and placing your head in your hands, elbows propped on the counter. You heard his footsteps getting closer, and soon, Andrew was pulling out the stool next to you. 

You glanced at him from your peripheral view; he was staring at the kitchen in front of him, a look of contemplation on his face. "Do you have feelings for him, Y/N?" you diverted your eyes back to the counter. The question caught you off guard, "Hmm?" you could feel his eyes on you again, but you couldn't gain the strength to look up. "Do you have feelings for Quinn?" Each word was emphasized by the slight pause he took between them. 

Although you couldn't meet his eyes, you mustered enough courage to look up from your hands towards the kitchen. "I would never cheat on you, you know that." you shook your head as you said it, knowing it wasn't the answer he sought. "That's not what I asked." you wanted to look at him, to tell him he was all you wanted, that there was nothing between you and Quinn, but that wasn't the truth, and all you could do was continue the slight head shake you had started. 

Andrew didn't say anything for a bit, but you could hear the sound of his movement as he repositioned himself on the stool and leaned closer to you. "Did you fall for him?" His voice was softer and more quiet, slightly above a whisper. You tried to speak, but the tears beat you. As the tears left your eyes, you looked towards Andrew. His eyes were glued on the fridge, his expression hurt, and his eyes held a slight gloss. "Oh god," he was avoiding eye contact with you now. 

You stared at him a moment longer, trying to calm down, "Nothing happened." your voice was shakier than it had been all night, and the tone held no conviction. He turned his head slightly, the two of you locking eyes. "Don't tell me nothing happened. We've been fighting over this all week." He turned away before he even finished his sentence. Your tears continued, "You miss him, don't you?" The look on his face had hardened, but his voice remained the same. He knew the answer; it had been evident every time he called you, and you were alone or when he would try to call, only to be met with a text saying you were on the phone but would call him back. 

You kept your eyes on him; the guilt weighed heavy on you. The implication of every choice you had made since the first interaction with Quinn ran through your mind. You couldn't put your thoughts into words or rationalize your feelings. "I'm sorry." It wasn't even a valid answer, but it was all you could think of. Your emotions were running too high, and you needed a breather. He leaned back on the stool and let out a breath, but a few tears trickled down as he did. "Damn" His voice was barely audible; if you hadn't been looking at him or if the room hadn't been so quiet, you would have missed it. 

_________________________________

It hadn't been your intention to end things with Andrew that way. Despite all the issues the two of you shared, you didn't want to hurt him. When you talked everything through the following morning you both knew the relationship had been over longer than either of you cared to admit.  It had been as civil as a breakup could be, and the guilt that had once overwhelmed you started to blur.

As you looked out the plane window and saw Vancouver, you felt the missing pieces of you start to come together. It was strange how life finds a way to bring you exactly where you need to be. Accepting your graduate program at The University of British Columbia led you to a weekend of exploring and apartment hunting in Vancouver. You had found your apartment complex by accident; you had been lost looking for another building when your eyes landed on it. The large winders on every floor practically shoved you into the lobby, and when you applied, only one unit was available for your expected move-in date. It had been a long shot, and somehow you ended up winning. 

You could recall the sound of a car pulling into the attached parking garage as you pulled a box out of your trunk, unintentionally knocking down a pillow in all the commotion. As you bent down to pick it up, you could hear the car door open and close before hearing a few footsteps. They stopped as you located your missing pillow; as you stood back up, you turned to find the stranger but found yourself searching for Andrew after hearing his voice. As you stood there waiting for him to grab another box, you looked towards the elevator and saw the stranger standing there. You couldn't see his face; he was just a blur of brunette hair and a gray outfit as the doors closed, and although you couldn't make out all his facial features, you could have sworn you saw him give you a smile before the doors closed completely. And before you even had a chance, Quinn captured your attention. And unbeknownst to you then, you had made a lasting impression on him, too. 

As you stared at the city, music in your ears, in the back of the Uber home, you could see every moment you and Quin shared. Every mundane moment, from knocking on his door in the morning with breakfast bagels and coffee to drunk conversations in the back of a car after a night out celebrating to sitting in either of your living rooms watching a movie with your commentary. It was like watching a montage scene, and it felt freeing because, for the first time, there was the possibility for something more. The feeling of longing had been hidden underneath your guilt, coming hand in hand, and now both were gone, instead replaced with something positive. 

"Miss, you have a package." The voice of your building's concierge brings you back to reality. It was a relatively wide rectangular box; you hadn't ordered anything that would come in a box of that size, which fueled your curiosity even more. "Thank you." You smiled and offered a kind goodbye before walking to the elevator. 

Without hesitation, another image of Quinn flew into your mind as the elevator doors closed. The first time you spoke was in the elevator up to your floor. He smiled, encouraged you to enter the elevator first, and asked if you needed help with your box despite carrying his bag. However,  after declining his offer, he made no other effort to continue the conversation. The two of you casually glanced at each other as the doors closed, waiting for the movement to begin, but when it didn't, you looked over to the right side of the door and laughed slightly. "What floor do you need?" he asked with a slight chuckle. "Sixteenth, please." You returned his chuckle and smiled. You watched as he clicked the sixteenth button but no other. "Are you on the same floor?" You could hear excitement in your voice, but you pushed it down. "Yeah, guess that means we're neighbour neighbours" Once again, that damn smile felt contagious; he felt contagious. 

When you reached your floor, you found yourself walking faster than usual to reach your door. It had only been a week; somehow, everything was completely different yet utterly the same. You walked into the apartment and set the package down on the counter, needing to know what was inside. Opening the lid, you are met with the most beautiful arrangement of your favourite flowers. There were different shades of your favourite colour, layering beautifully on each other, but what caught your eyes was the distinct blue rose in the middle, an envelope sitting directly on top. 

The envelope had your name written on it with the handwriting you had come to memorize. Inside was a postcard from Michigan, "Y/N, I can't get you out of my head. Only two more weeks left before I'm back in Van, and I can't wait to see you again. I found this while I was out, and it reminded me of you.   -Q" You held the card close to you for a second; it had the faintest mix of florals and Quinn's cologne. You looked at the fridge before deciding to keep the note in your room. It felt intimate, something you wanted to keep between you. Something caught your eye when you took the flowers out of the box and into a vase. Inside the envelope was a small plastic bag; you reached for it and found a necklace. 

A delicate chain with a small pendant with a sun and a moon, and when you turned it over, your breathing hitched; there was a small 43 engraved. When you read the note, you assumed the postcard was what he had seen, but it was the necklace. He had seen a necklace encompassing the sun and moon, something you were passionate about, and he had added something personal. The engraving must have been something he did; the probability that it had been done in manufacturing was slim to none, making it all the more special. You put it on and never wanted to take it off. 

You grabbed the postcard off the counter and lifted it closer to your chest before taking a close-up picture from your lips to showcase the necklace and postcard, "I'm thinking about you too. To the longest two weeks that will ever exist. To the sun and the moon and back." And as you hit the send button, you couldn't help but think about what was yet to come.  

_________________________________

[l-starsz]

Billie convincing reader to let her eat her pussy on her period

I'm inlove with your fics, you're such a damn good writer 🫶🏽🫶🏽

a/n: this probably isn’t great because i’m SOOO tired and my head is pounding rn but i hope it’s good at least🥲 and thank you so much ml!! i’m so sorry this took ages for me to write🫶

billie and i were laying in bed together, watching a movie. her back was resting against the comfy pillows on our bed, whilst my back was resting against her front. i was sat between her legs, and her hands were lightly resting against my thighs. we were both intrigued in the movie, or so i thought. whilst i was watching, and keeping up with the storyline, billies hands began to wander. they roamed up my stomach, cupping my boobs gently, before moving down again to this time, rest against my inner thighs.

i really tried to focus on the movie, but i just couldn't with her hands all over me. i knew nothing could happen, i was on my period, which meant that i had to wait a few more days until she could touch me. i'd been so horny. i was desperate for her, but we both knew that nothing could be done about it. well, she could fix my horniness, but i felt bad for asking her to do that when i was on my period. so i waited, and somehow put up with the feeling of being unbearably horny almost all day, every day.

soon enough, i felt her pressing light kisses behind my ear, down my neck, before lightly whispering in my ear.

"can i try something, baby?"

i slightly turned in her arms so that i could see her face, before answering her in a hushed tone.

"and what would that be, hm bil?"

"please can i taste you?"

my eyebrows furrowed and i looked away as i wondered why she was even asking. she knew i was on my period. she'd practically been taking care of me for the last few days. grabbing me a hot water bottle, or holding me in her arms whenever my cramps worsened. getting me whatever food i wanted when i was craving something. making sure i was drinking plenty of water. she really was the best. i just didn't understand why she was asking this now.

"i.. baby, you know i'm still on my period."

"i know.. i just can't wait!! i want to taste you please, love. i'll do anything."

i hesitated slightly. what if i made a mess, and then she got mad? what if i didn't taste good? she must have noticed the look on my face because she began speaking again.

"if you're not comfortable with this, then we don't have to do it. but i promise you that you don't need to overthink it, there should be no what if's filling your mind. you know i love you no matter what. i think you're the most perfect girl in the world."

how did she know?

it was like she could read my mind.

"pleaseeee? pinky promise i'll take great care of you, angel. just like always. pretty please?"

if i hadn't been so horny for the last few days, i probably would've said no, but that side of my brain just took over. i needed her so so bad. i reminded myself that she would always love me. this wasn't going to change that. she wanted this just as much as i did.

"if i say yes, can you put a towel down? you know.. just in case?" i mumbled, slightly embarrassed.

"of course, angel. whatever makes you feel the most comfortable." she answered me, placing soft kisses on my forehead.

once i'd spent a short amount of time thinking about it, i looked back into her eyes and nodded.

"i need you billie."

she just smirked at my words, before sitting me up slightly so that she could move from behind me, and settle in between my legs instead.

it didn't take her long to leave the room and grab a towel, folding it slightly and placing it underneath me. she sat on her knees at first, slowly pulling my pyjamas and underwear down so that she had the perfect view of me. once our clothes had been discarded in a messy pile on the floor, she leaned down to lay on her stomach, getting even closer to my core. i let out a needy whine when all she did was lightly blow against my pussy.

she could already see how wet i was. i hadn't told her about how needy id been for the past few days, but i think that as soon as she caught a glance of how wet i was, she immediately realised. she didn't bother to waste any more time, diving straight in. her tongue ran a long stripe up my pussy, before focusing on my clit. she was trying to get me wetter, it wasn't like she needed me to be wetter, she just wanted to tease. i reached my hands down to grab her hair, pulling her impossibly closer to my core in an attempt to get her to move faster.

we both knew that i was already pretty sensitive because of how long i'd needed this, so it wouldn't take her long to get me close, which was why she was trying to drag it out as much as possible. she wanted me to last as long as i could.

her tongue flicked my clit, before licking and slurping, just doing as much as she could to bring me pleasure. after what felt like an eternity, she finally moved to push her tongue inside of me. she worked her tongue against my tight walls as they squeezed against her. my orgasm was approaching fast, and my arousal must have been dripping all over the lower half of her face. at that point, i'd completely forgot that i was on my period, and i think billie had forgotten too. we were both too focused on me finishing.

i was so close, and to add to the pleasure, she pressed her fingers on my clit, quickly rubbing circles against it, making my moans as loud as they could get. i couldn't hold it any longer. no matter how hard i tried, i was too desperate.

"billie! baby, can i cum for you? please?" i moaned out.

"that's ittt." she praised, "cum for me, my love."

as soon as i heard those words, my orgasm hit me. my moans and cries were broken whilst i let the feeling consume me. my back was arching off the bed, and my hands were still tangled in billies hair, gripping onto it tight to ground myself slightly.

as i started to come down from my high, my grip loosened on her hair, and i felt one of her hands gently rubbing my stomach to help me calm down. when i finally flopped against the bed, trying to catch my breath, billie pulled her face away from me, looking into my eyes with a proud smile. all i could see was a mixture of my arousal, and blood dripping down her chin and coating her lips.

my cheeks turned red and i covered my face, embarrassed even though i knew billie was just happy that she'd made me feel good.

i didn't even notice her come closer to my face until i felt her carefully grabbing my wrists to pry my hands away from my face, and i heard her pretty voice.

"don't be embarrassed, angel. can i go clean you up now?"

"please." i nodded and thanked her, allowing myself to be lifted up in her arms, my head resting on my shoulder out of exhaustion.

once we took a long shower, and pampered each other, it was time for us to get back in bed and watch movies for the rest of the day, enjoying each others company just like usual.

[postmoe]

I find it attractive of a beta or alpha get turned into an omega if they get fucked to much. So what about yandere alpha geshu lin x beta/alpha male reader x yandere alpha jiyan. Or yandere Mydei x beta/alpha male Reader x yandere alpha Phainon. Reader getting turned into an omega so they can keep him all to themselves and maybe baby trap him 🤭.

dude i have so many beta fantasies it's not even funny. thank you for this opportunity.

non-con, abo, male reader, beta -> omega reader,

.

It was always the three of you; Phainon, Mydei, (Y/n). You went through training together, fought the hardest battles together, everyone revered you like you were unstoppable.

Well, everyone respected you in a passive/aggressive way because you were covered in the musk of two supreme alphas. Unfortunately for you, in the womb, you never grew to the next stage from being a beta.

Betas were pretty rare now, they started off as the dominant second gender, but as time grew so did the power of evolution. Everyone starts off in the womb as a beta, then months down the line you unlock your social status. Sometimes, you just get stuck as the runt. There have been few cases of people opening their second gender later in life, though only within a very specific fate of events.

It's not all bad. Apparently, Mydei's and Phainon's scent was so extreme that a lot of people couldn't stand near them for a certain amount of time. Alpha's get antsy, compliment or aggressive. Omegas have gone into heat on the spot, rolling over motionless as their hormones take over. Now, they're pretty good at controlling their smell, or so everyone says.

It never bothered you to begin with, your nose not suited to judge others. You couldn't read emotions if it wasn't present on their face, which in this day and age is more of a talent than anything; at least, that's what Phainon says to make you feel better.

For a beta to get this far in life is pretty astonishing. You realise you had a lot of help from your two friends. They've been able to sniff you out when you're in danger, or their scent that lingers on your clothes is enough to stop any intelligent bandit or monster. However, even when you're feeling down about it, even when the world criticizes you for 'using' two alphas to your advantage, they both have been there to keep you reeled in.

"Why do you even bother trying to lie to us," Mydei huffs, crossing his arms over his puffed out chest, "You have a smell, too. It's not like we don't know what you're feeling."

"That's unfair," you sigh, shoulders slumping, "Maybe I just don't want to talk about it, ever think of that?"

Phainon nods, his arms coming to drape over your shoulders from behind, rubbing his cheek against yours, "Everyone is allowed to have their secrets."

You roll your eyes, going back to polishing your sword with the rag while he lounges against you, "It's not even a secret, just the usual shit." You go silent for a moment, feeling their eyes burn holes into for more information. It should have been common knowledge by now that you won't get out of anything from them, so you gently place your sword down groan, "Fine! I walked past one of your fan groups today. An omega was saying how I was only holding back your true potential, that with me on the battlefield then you can't go all out."

Both of them opened their mouths to speak, you held up your hand to zip them shut.

"And before you say anything; yes, I know that I'm strong too. Yes, I know I can fight. Yes, I know they're just 'jealous' that I get to hang around you." You can't make eye contact with either of them, knowing that you might just crack if you do, "... It doesn't always help. I'm okay with that, though. This is the life I chose and I can deal with all the shit thrown my way."

Phainon buried his face in your neck, sniffling into one of your more sensitive parts, the scent glands. You shivered from the contact, he didn't seem to mind as he practically cried, "You're so strong, (Y/n)! But you know, you still have to take care of your mental health, too. I think you should stay away from those people for a while."

Mydei stood from his spot on the grass and walked over, ruffling your hair with his hand before dragging it down your face and to trace your neck, "We haven't been around because of the recent attacks, so our scent is waning from you. Here, we'll ward them off."

You shook your head out of their grip and rolled to the side, away from them, "I don't need you to scare anyone away by smothering me. I think your scent only makes them more mad."

"It's natural biology for an alpha to cover what's theirs in their smell, you can't just tell us to stop," Phainon argues, shrugging like it's the most obvious thing.

With a laugh, you stand and pick up your sword, "Since when am I yours?"

They both silently looked to each other, communicating in a language you would never understand. Mydei tells you, "You've been our beta longer than you've been alone."

"Yep~" Phainon teases, "Should have thought about that before you became our friend."

Yeah, right. One day these two will find their omegas, they'll create a beautiful family and you can be the cool, beta uncle that showers the kids in annoying gifts to rile up their parents. "Sure, whatever," you dismiss, now taking on an offensive stance, "So, we sparring or what?"

...

Storm season is fast approaching in this part of the land. You three had been sent out patrol the far, outer lands on a 'boys' camping trip'. The trek made you sweaty, the days humid and the nights cold, yet you didn't stop until you reached an open cave near the top of the mountain.

Forests surround you, rushing rivers and falls heard in the distance, and the sounds of insects chirping were drowning your ears. You had abandoned your shirt long ago, rolling yourself in insect repellent that did well to make your two companions scrunch up their noses in distaste.

As you set down the heavy bags in the cave, the sun setting in the distance, you noticed some faded, rock drawings on the walls. Walking up to them, you see crude images of stick figure deaths, a chimera with little hearts around it and a spurting dick. Phainon placed his hand on your shoulder, "Mydei drew the penis."

You both look over to see him skulling his sack of water, giving you both the middle finger. You purse your lips, "Even though I've known you for so long, it's always weird to see such a childish side of you."

After setting up camp, you realise how much you may have missed when you weren't able to accompany them on missions. This place is gorgeous, and they only tell tales of greater environments, it left you feeling a sense of awe and a pang of sadness. When they laugh together, bicker, playfully shove at each other, you can see it the way everyone else sees it.

Two, great alphas Mydei and Phainon - plus you. Little, ol' beta you.

It's nothing to get worked up over. Not a big deal, not an issue at all. You notice they've stopped talking and are looking at you with concern. Fuck. Why are you having this crisis now of all times? They can definitely smell you, they know what you're feeling and they're expecting an answer.

You smile at them widely, "Sorry, I just got lost in a daydream." Can they smell when you lie, too? If so, they speak nothing of it.

...

Being able to swim in such beautiful, clean water was a luxury you didn't know you needed. The baths and streams around Okhema were amazing, there's no doubt about it. Hot springs sent from natural sources, lotions and soaps created from the best ingredients, but this... This was something altogether new.

The water was a cold that made your muscles relax, the flavour refreshing and dare you say, curative. The sound was a delightful white noise of rushing water and splashing ripples from either of you or the fish that swim by.

On the shore, Phainon was the last to disrobe, the three of you deciding to skinny dip as a fun, good morning. You greet him with a smile as he resurfaces from bombing into the water, shaking your face of stray droplets, "Are you sure it's alright for us all to be here? I really think one of us should keep watch at the cave."

He lays on his back, closing his eyes while he floats around you, "Don't stress, there are others at points around the outer city. Someone is always watching from one direction or another."

"I see... I guess I'm just wor-" your voice is cut off as your ankle is suddenly grabbed and you're yanked down under the surface. You see the blurry image of Mydei, the red tattooed lines on his skin the main stand out for the fuzzy, underwater alpha.

The two of you duke it out - poorly - until you both resurface and you're gasping for air. He huffs out a breath of his own, hiding any semblance of exhaustion, "You're going to need to fight better than that if you want to get on our level."

As if coming to your rescue, Phainon swims over to him, "Oh, please, as if it's normal for someone to be capable of fighting under water." He then winks to you before shoving the blonde's head down, effectively drowning him out.

The three of you relax around the falls, floating idly in the water side-by-side. You think you could fall asleep, except your nose twitches at an interesting smell. You've smelt it before, very faintly and only when they really push it. What can be excruciatingly stunning to others, you only get a whiff of as a beta; the smell of these alphas.

Mydei and Phainon are a rare sort, extremely strong and capable of power beyond mosts comprehension. A few people are rare like that, some omegas even being too intoxicating for the outside world. It's a pleasant smell, to you, something you not-so-secretly indulge in whenever you get the chance. It also makes you feel slightly more normal.

You wade over and gently rest your head on the upper part of Mydei's stomach, closing your eyes and sighing happily, "I don't get why people can't be around you guys if you're too strong. I like your smell."

Phainon playfully pouts at you choosing Mydei, coming over to join you and rest his head on his chest. He inhales the Kremnoan's scent, smiling serenely, "Omega's and Alpha's never really stop developing their senses until their mid 30's. The older you get, even smells like perfumes can become too much, let alone the emotions of someone with tremendous power."

"Does that mean you guys aren't holding back anymore if I can smell you?"

Mydei moves a wet hand to pet your head, "We don't need to hold back up here."

"Besides," Phainon gazes at you with a fondness in his eyes, "It's nice to share something so personal with someone close, don't you think?"

They can't just relax like this around anyone, and since you all spend most of your time in the city, you hardly get a chance to get a whiff of them. A giddy smile decorates your face, your eyes closing as you relax once more, "Yeah, I agree."

...

On the third day you notice something odd. Your friend's seem to be more agitated, little offsets leading to snarling and biting, every twig snap or rustle has them staring in that direction in case of a particular threat.

You've never seen them like this.

They must be stressed by all the work that's been unloaded onto them. An argument broke out five minutes ago about something you didn't understand, the two deciding to take a walk to cool off and collect more firewood. You decide that this is the perfect time to help them out, picking up a sword and attaching it to your waist before heading out on a patrol. When you get back, they can relax at the duties already being fulfilled.

You don't know the area very well, however, you did accompany them the past couple of nights so you have an idea of where to go. You're not too stressed about getting lost, the trail somewhat visible to someone like you, who has been taught overcome these kinds of obstacles. What you didn't expect was that it gets darker quicker under the canopy of trees.

It appeared you had an hour of daylight left, yet only fifteen minutes later and you noticed a dramatic change. The mountains are certainly an interesting place to be, you're usually stationed closer to the city and nearer the fallen towns.

With the darkness comes fauna that arouse at night, a particular croak gaining your attention. You crouch down with interest, seeing a teal coloured frog with a lighter stomach hop into a puddle. It was smaller than the palm of your hand, yet the sound it made was so loud you would never expect it to come from such a tiny creature.

Your admiration was halted as you hear heavy thumping from deeper in the brush. It's fast, leaves and sticks being moved and thrown out of the way to make room for whatever is coming at you. You quickly draw your sword and take a defensive stance, readying for whatever may be in store.

If it's a boar or something similar, you could climb one of the thicker trees and make your way around by jumping branches. If it's something more like a giant bush cat, then you would have no choice but to fight it.

Turns out, it was neither. Before you had the opportunity to lay eyes on it, there is ablur of movement and your weapon is thrusted from your hand, flying off and landing into the dark distance. You're immediately incapacitated, wrist close to snapping and arm yanked back as you're brought to your knees.

Mydei is snarling aggressively in your ear, holding you down like some convict trying to escape. He spits his words like venom, "What the fuck did you think you were doing? Are you stupid?! Leaving the nest like that wandering off on your own!"

You cry out in pain as he tightens his grip, the sound and pheromones you let off making him back off slightly but not letting go.

Before you can ask what the hell is going on, Phainon appears behind you and walks around so he can kneel at your front. He tenderly cradles your face and looks over you for any other injuries, "Don't hurt him, Mydei. He made a stupid decision but it wasn't his fault."

A breath of relief leaves you when he finally lets go. You slump and cradle your aching arm, flinching when Mydei falls to his knees behind you and resting his face in the crook of your neck. He mumbles into your flesh, "Why did you leave like that? You could have gotten hurt."

With a new found annoyance, you flick Phainon's hands away from you and shrug the other off your back, "What the fuck??? Why are you both acting like I just up and left?"

"Because you did up and leave," Mydei growls, only halting when he and Phainon meet with a hard glare. He tuts and stands, making sure you have nowhere to run if you decided to flee, "We should have just been outright with him from the beginning."

You didn't like the sound of that. Without a word, you look to Phainon for an answer, Mydei is acting too impulsive for your liking right now. Phainon stands before you, both of them now crowding any escape with how close they are, "In truth, we brought you up here because we knew our ruts were coming and we wanted you with us."

"P-Pardon?" It was so incredulous you were sure you heard wrong. But, what else could he have said? "You do know what I am, right? We've only known each other for a couple of decades so be honest if you need a reminder."

Mydei scoffs and grabs you by the back of your shirt, hefting you to your tippy toes to growl, "Our Beta's got jokes. If you can jest then you can mate."

"WHAT?!" You kick your feet comically in the air, trying to find some sort of purchase, "I can't mate - I physically cannot mate! Not with an Alpha!!"

Phainon chimes in giddily, "Two Alphas! Don't worry, we'll ensure you're thoroughly pregnant by the end of this rut."

Body limits aside, being a beta means your reproductive organs aren't open to be used. They're sitting inside you, dormant. For some reason, you don't think they see that as a drawback, instead viewing your biology as more of a challenge to be tackled.

...

Day six and you're sore. Your legs, which have been in every position possible. Your arms, which are restrained when they're doing anything that's not fucking you. Your poor, poor hole, which hasn't been dry in days. Your oversensitive cock, now you can't tell what liquid comes out, your last orgasm streaming like piss on the rock below.

Phainon drags his hot, wet tongue up your neck, moaning as he slips his erected cock into you again. Your mouth hangs open, arse clenching when he's stopped by his knot hitting your rim. He's got you in a full nelson, your thighs over his own, a sound of discomfort coming from you at the stretch of his knot trying to enter you.

He shudders, lightly humping upwards, "Do you smell that, Mydei? He's changing."

Mydei flops his own dick in your face, tracing his leaking tip along the bone of your cheek before he slips his length between your lips, "How interesting. All our darling beta needed was a little push."

Your eyes roll into the back of your head as they fuck you again, your pretty, little hole gaping ever larger to accommodate them.

...

The cold, wet soil near the falls was blissful on your overheating skin. You've never felt this hot before, you assume it's a fever coming on from being under these two for however many days now. Mydei has you on your back, tongue swirling and mouth slurping at your puckered arse.

It was nice to just relax and be tended to, as fucked up as that seems. Phainon was behind him, washing his own body and admiring the scene before him.

Mydei licks a stripe from your hole, up the length of your taint and to your flaccid cock. He coos patronisingly, kissing the sensitive tip and making you jolt, "Poor sweetheart, have we been too rough with you?"

It's too little too late to ask you that now. You stick with your mission of giving them the silent treatment unless necessary, turning your head away and closing your eyes, thinking back on the coolness of the soil.

Until, "A-Ahh! S-Stop!" You moan, hands going to his hair and yanking as hard as you can, trying to stop him from swallowing your cock and drinking it over and over again. The way his tongue and cheeks move against your flesh has you throbbing and twitching in his mouth. "I can't, I can't," you breathe, swaying your head side to side as if to deny the oncoming torture.

But you can't, even half-hard he has you spurting your cum down his throat. You hold his head down with each half-hearted thrust, only to pull again before another tingling jolt of your hips.

When you can open your eyes again, you pleadingly gaze to Phainon, who had paused his washing to stare solely at you both. His eyes dart to meet yours, mind working overtime to bring him out of his daze and pull lightly on his companion, "Hey, save some for me, okay? Let him recuperate a bit."

Mydei flies his elbow back, not getting off you. At this, Phainon clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth and locks the blonde's head with his elbow, flipping him back into the water.

You take a deep breath as they start to wrestle. Now you can rest again, you rarely get time to yourself now. When they sleep, sometimes, you're still plugged with one of them inside you, cockwarming throughout the night. Otherwise, when they go hunting, you might be tied tightly inside the cave, though there is usually at least one of them with you.

A gentle rain starts, the drops hitting your heated face. You need this, the rain a lot cooler than the falls as it collects in the sky. Lately, you've been feeling weird, unwell, hot. It's unlike anything you've ever experienced before.

Not to mention their scent. The boys' sweat, bodies, just everything about them is becoming less off putting and more desirable than ever. If you're honest, you're scared with what's happening.

...

They had both left you in the cave, the rain a perfect mask for hunting good meat right now.

"Need to keep our darling's energy up!"

You're not sure when, but some time after they left you were reeling in some sort of pain. Not like being slashed by a sword, or thrown by an enemy, but more like a strange punch to the gut. It blossomed within you and bloomed around your body, effecting your head and pelvis the most.

Breathing became difficult, your chest rising and falling quickly, you couldn't focus on how to fix it. No, not with the gnawing pain and discomfort in your gut.

You had wormed your way towards the entrance but the rope only let you go so far. They didn't give you enough leeway to get more than halfway through the cave, which meant you couldn't get any rain to cool you down.

What you did find, however, was their sashes they didn't wear today. Your nose twitched, and you reached your tied wrists over so your fingers could grab the red fabric and scrunched it to your face, moaning in absolute delight. Quickly, you secured the blue and gold one and weaved it between your legs, covering as much of your body as you could.

You're not sure when they came back, only realising they were standing ominously at the entrance of the cave when their musk started to seep heavier than the sashes you were breathing. The rain hadn't let up, both of them drenched and Mydei holding the antlers of a dead deer beside him.

Your jaw trembles, tears running down your cheeks as you whimper, "What's happening to me?"

It's only when you talk do they enter, dropping the carcass to the side before carefully kneeling down to cradle you. Your ropes are torn off and you sit between the two men, both leaning so they can run their teeth over the scent glands in your neck.

You whine as Mydei gently nibbles you, a low groan causing your cock to leak rivulets down your shaft, "Perfect for biting now."

Phainon reaches to gasp your cock, smoothly jerking up the length before circling his fingers along the glands, "I knew your unawaken second gender was this. You just had to be an omega, what with the way you were taunting us; begging to be bred."

Unawaken... Omega? No, that's-

"Hah~ Please..." You lift your hips when you feel fingers enter inside you, easily stretching you open now.

Mydei chuckles deeply, grinning at all the new possibilities going through his head, "Perfect for knotting now, too."

[the-travelling-witch]

𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐊𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐈𝐍 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀(𝐑)𝐌𝐎𝐔𝐑

summary: ever since dating sebek, it seems you have not just landed yourself a boyfriend but also a personal knight

pairings: sebek x gn! reader

warnings: just fluff

a/n: a small blurb to air my feelings for the croc while i wait for my wrists to get better, so i can tackle bigger projects; i wanted to make this a hc-style post but i think i unlearned how to do that

twisted wonderland masterlist

Sebek is your knight in shining armour and, well, he definitely gives the job his utmost dedication. In terms of priorities, you’re right up there with Malleus, Lilia and Silver. Not that he’d ever -willingly- tell you that out loud, but it’s pretty obvious to everyone with eyes.

In terms of gentlemanliness, he brings out the big guns. True to textbook and the teachings of Lilia and Baur, Sebek will carry your bag(s) or textbooks without accepting much protest. He’s a personal guard for the great Malleus-sama, a weight as little as this is trivial to him! It’s best to just accept his service with a smile and a thanks.

The same goes for him holding doors open for you or protecting your head with his hand when you bend down to pick something up. While Sebek usually takes some time to read the room or grasp the context of a conversation at hand, he is very attentive when it comes to you. Not only does he take note of your preferences, he also makes sure you don’t forget or neglect to eat and drink enough. Given his training as a knight, he’s well acquainted with a healthy diet and keeps an eye on if you meet the recommended nutrient intake too. And Seven help the person who has the gall to actually disrespect you, Sebek will raise hell, his weapon and his volume if that’s what it takes to defend you.

By spending enough time with you, he also memorises your routines, almost without actually intending to. Sebek also listens to you intently, taking some matters more seriously than you even, and checks in on you throughout the day, especially when you told him about certain appointments. When it comes to any changes in your mental health, he might not pick up on it as fast as on any physical injuries, but you bet he is just as protective about it. His attempts to cheer you up might be a little clumsy, but they’re so genuine it already makes you feel better just through his effort alone. If he could physically fight your doubts and insecurities, you can bet that he would without hesitation.

At the end of the day, Sebek would try to help you with nearly everything to the best of his abilities, even if what you’re asking of him is outside of his strengths. You want to wear your hair a certain way? He has never tried to do anyone’s hair before but he will try to recreate the tutorial you have shown him, even if his fingers shake. Sure, he has never repotted a plant or taken care of one for longer periods of time, but just tell him what to do and he will follow your instructions. With his earnestness and determination to learn and his drive to help you, his attempts turn out at least decent in the majority of cases. Just don’t tease him when he doesn’t get it quite right the first time around.

For Sebek, his behaviour goes without saying. He’s your partner, of course he wants to support you in any way he can and to consider your welfare and feelings in what he does. Anything else would be ludicrous and inexcusable for someone of his standing. If you, however, show him any kind of affection in return for his attentiveness, he becomes utterly bashful. Tell him how much you appreciate his help or give him a grateful kiss on the cheek and watch him turn beet red as he stutters through his next sentence. In the literal heat of the moment, Sebek might blurt out something nonsensical but please know that your endorsement means everything to him and warms his heart. It may also boost his ego juuuuuust a smidge~

© the-travelling-witch 2024 - do not repost, translate, copy or edit; do not feed my writing to an ai

if you like my writing, reblogs, comments and asks are always much appreciated  ♡

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twisted wonderland: @scint1llat3 @honehbee42 @savanaclaw1996

[cuteandhughesy]

auston matthews -

“you’re such a loser”.

“you’re so pretty it pains me” (said to him).

“keep still you little… troll”.

please & thank you. love your work. :)

Drunk In Love | Auston Matthews

summary: your boyfriend has to pick you up from a bar—only to find that you’re sloshed and feeling playful. prompt no. 15: “you’re so pretty it pains me” + prompt no. 28: “keep still you little…troll.”

[word count] 2.1k

warnings: drinking | drunk behaviour | suggestive dialogue

a/n: how is this my first auston work…this man was the reason I started watching hockey in 2016! i’m back to my roots with this one! also this ain’t super detailed because I don’t have the brain capacity for that 😛

🎵 drunk in love by beyoncé & jay-z

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

auston is immediately bombarded when he steps into the club. not only by the overwhelming smell of hard liquor and various sweet floral perfumes, but by jennifer—your red head bubbly best friend who's celebrating her 27th birthday.

he blinks in surprise as jennifer steps in front of him, freckles still visible even under the flashing lights. "i'm sorry," she hisses, looking over her shoulder at what auston can only presume is you, "but she's sloshed." and that confirms his suspicions.

about 20 minutes ago, he answered jennifer's call. he was expecting the worse—you've always been a naturally clumsy person when drinking, and anytime you go out partying with your friends, you're coming home with more scrapes and bruises than you can count. all jennifer really told auston was that you needed a ride home asap, being very vague about the entire situation.

auston put two and two together pretty quickly.

"it's alright," he says, eyes squinting through the dark atmosphere in search of you and the sparkly red top you left the condo in. you're easy to spot, only because you're standing on top of the bar like you're in some cheesy rom com movie, laughing loudly and dancing while everyone cheers you on.

jennifer smiles awkwardly, green eyes darting between you and your less than amused looking boyfriend. auston curses, moving through the sea of bodies until he's at the crowded bar. he gently wraps his hand around you thigh, not hard, but still firm enough to grab your attention.

you look down, and immediately you're beaming at the sight of him. "austonnnnnn," you slur his name loudly, reaching down to steady yourself on his shoulders as he helps you off the table top. as soon as your heels are back on soild ground, you're jumping into auston’s arms—not without almost missing him and falling to the floor if it wasn't for auston's reflexes.

"woah, slow down," he warns lightly, large hands a warm and steady presence on your hips as he steadies you. "hi baby." auston grins slightly, eyes barley visible under the rim of his ball cap. a hiding feature he chose on purpose—auston wasn't really in the mood to wake up tomorrow morning and read a bunch of news tabloids about him picking up his hammered girlfriend at a local toronto club.

"hi." you grin, blinking slowly. auston can feel your heat through hour top-your skin hot to the touch, the affect off one too many shots. the hair you'd previously slicked back into a pony tail is now frizzy and down—eyes glassy and not all there.

auston snickers, already moving you away from the table and back to the direction of the entrance. "are you drunk?" he teases knowingly.

"pssshhh...no!" you decline loudly, shaking your head—but the way you misstep tells a whole different story. you don't even notice that though, too busy looking at your boyfriend with an imaginary lightbulb flickering above your head, "have you come to take a shot with me?" you ask, your excitement obvious.

auston hums, "no, i'm here to bring you home."

"but im not ready to go home," you pout.

"I know, but you can come out next weekend."

his words seem to do the trick, because your face relaxes and your lips form into a lazy grin. "oh yeah," you say matter of factly like it was you who came up with the idea.

"do you have your bag?" auston asks before the both of you can step outside, "where's your phone?"

your small chain bag is slung over your shoulder—which, thank god, because auston did not want to have to search for it in the women's bathroom or under the sticky tables. "my phones under my boob," you say.

he reaches out, fingers sliding under your boob to make sure it is in fact in your top.

it makes you giggle, arching into his touch, completely oblivious. "trying to cop a feel?," you slur, way too loudly for a public space. "you freak."

auston can't help the breathy laugh that leaves him, pulling off your body once he has confirmation that your phone is sitting between your ribs and left boob. "just making sure you've got everything," he corrects your insinuation lightly, wrapping his hand back around your hips. "okay, let's go."

the cold air is a shock after spending time inside the overpacked and overheated club. you instinctively curl into his side, seeking some warmth—no matter how drunk you are, you'll always find a way to get chilled.

as soon as his car is in your line of sight, you gasp, mumbling something incoherent before attempting to run towards the vehicle. you obviously don't get far, not with auston's arm holding you upright, but that doesn't stop you from stumbling on uneven sidewalk—almost sending you to your knees.

it has you giggling but also somehow gasping dramatically all at the same time.

"careful." auston chimes firmly, digging in his back pocket for his keys to unlock the car.

"woah that was scary," you snort, looking up at him with those glassed over eyes he loves. "did you almost trip too?" you ask, dead serious.

auston opens the passenger door, "almost."

"that wouldn't of been good," you slur.

"no, it wouldn't of been." he agrees easily, guiding you into the vehicle, "okay, left foot first babe."

but you're not going that easily. you turn to your boyfriend again, face flashing in fucking betrayal like he just asked you to root for the bruins. "you haven't even kissed me yet," you whine, feet planted on the concrete while your butt connects with the car seat.

he sighs, "let's get in the car first."

"please?" you slur, leaning forward dangerously. auston grips your biceps before you can face plant to the ground, but you're completely oblivious, continuing to beg in a mixture of babbling and slurring, "you're so pretty it pains me! and I need a kiss to make me feel better."

auston takes a deep breath, staring down at you for a beat—seeing if you'll give up. but you don't, continuing to look up at him like he hung the moon and the stars, lips slightly pouted and stained as you wait rather patiently. he sighs again before leaning down and giving you a quick peck.

you beam when be pulls away, bringing your left foot into the car. "you love me," you hum dreamily.

"yeah I do," auston smiles, guiding your right leg inside the car before he leans over your body, clicking the seat belt into place.

you kiss the side of his face sloppily as he makes sure you're buckled, "I love you too."

the 15 minute drive back to your and auston's shared condo is filled with the sound of your voice, singing along to random radio songs in an impromptu karaoke session. anytime you look over at auston and see that he's not singing, you squawk loudly, poking his cheek persistently until he joins in.

thankfully you don't give him too much trouble getting back out of the car, or on the elevator ride up to your floor—the most you do is stumble and talk too loudly, but auston finds it rather funny. you resemble a baby deer, and when he tells you that, you start tearing up about how cute baby animals are.

felix, your shared dog, eyes you both grumpily from his spot on the couch as you pass, clearly upset at be woken up.

auston guides you into the bedroom, helping you kick your heels off while you continue crying, now specifically praising baby horses and their tiny little horse shoes.

he grabs your oversized pyjama shirt, which is actually one of his old men's league shirts that you'd stolen years ago when you first met. auston turns back to you, placing the shirt beside you on the bed. "okay," he starts, "arms up baby."

"why?"

"because you need to get changed," auston says.

you whine, muttering something about feeling tired. regardless you lift your arms, limbs all floppy and heavy as auston attempts taking your sparkly top off.

you wiggle and squirm, laughing as auston's calloused fingers graze against the side of your ribs. your movement makes him sigh, teetering on impatient. "stay still you little...troll."

that gets you to stop moving. "hey! that's mean." you pout incredulously.

"it's not," auston answers easily, pulling your shirt fully off. now free, your phone falls to your lap with a plop. "trolls are cute"

you arms drop to your sides quickly, "no they're not."

"shhh," he teases, pulling off your skirt and tights in one quick and efficient move. "you'll hurt their feelings."

"my boobs are out," you say after a beat.

auston snickers, pushing your head through the stretched neck hole of his old shirt. yeah, they are," he hums, moving to your arm and bending it at the elbow, “hey, put your arms through the holes."

"nooooo," you whine, falling forward to auston’s chest and wrapping your sticky arms loosely around his neck. "I wanna give you a kiss." you mumble, already in the middle of covering his scruff covered jawline in tequila scented kisses. one of your hands sneaks down his body, and before he can even blink, your grabbing his dick.

"jesus baby," his breathe hitches, pulling your hand off his length and putting it back in your lap.

you giggle, "you like that?"

auston shakes his head, putting your arms through the shirt holes before you can grab his dick again. "not tonight, you need to go to sleep."

your face falls. "you don't want me?"

"not when you're drunk."

you scoff, tears pricking your waterline as auston fully pulls the shirt down over your naked body. "you hate me." you state dramatically, arms crossing over your chest.

"not at all," he reassures you softly.

"but you don't want me."

"you're drunk." auston reiterates, which only makes you hum. he can't help the smile that pulls on his face, shaking his head in disbelief at your slurred words and usual drunk shenanigans. "okay baby, let's get you in bed."

the next two minutes are silent as your boyfriend helps you slip under the covers. you sigh happily as the cool sheets envelop around your limbs, head sinking into the fluffy pillow like you're lying on a cloud. auston leaves your lamp on, putting your phone on the beside table—making sure it's plugged in for the morning—before he turns to leave.

but just as his hand touches the door knob, you're whining. "austonnnnnn."

"yes?" he asks, brow quirked.

you make grabby hands at him like a toddler. "come lay with me."

"i'm going to," auston says, "I just gotta take felix out first."

the mention of your dog has you sitting straight up, once again wide awake. auston can't help the way he sighs, falling back against your bedroom door in what feels like defeat.

"can I come?" you ask him, voice full of hope and joy at the thought of running your hands through felix's soft and curly coat. you’ve never wanted to cuddle him more than this very moment.

auston shakes his head gently, "no."

"whyyy?" you whine, lips pouting for the hundredth time tonight. "I love him so much." you admit, voice thickening with emotion as you blink at your boyfriend through the warmly lit bedroom.

he walks back towards you, softly pushing your hair off your face. "I know you do," auston mumbles, thumb stroking your brow bone. "but you're not wearing pants and it's cold outside."

you frown deepens, a single shiny tear falling from your eye and tracing down the round of your cheek. "but," you pause, sniffling gently, "felix will think I don't love him if I don't come."

auston shakes his head, "that's not true." but you only cry more, shrinking in on yourself as sobs wrack through your body. auston coos, pressing a firm kiss to your forehead and then another to your cheek.

even drunk, you don't play about your love for felix.

"how about when I get back I bring him in here for the night?" auston proposes sweetly.

your head lifts, and the sight of your watery eyes have auston pouting. "really?"

"yeah."

and he fully intends on keeping his promise, but 30 minutes later—once the dog has done his business and trotted around the condos front grass—auston opens the bedroom door, only to find you sound asleep.

[spencessocks]

bucky AND spencer??!!! are you my brain? my brain has a tumblr? but seriously im so happy you exist.

i was originally coming to say how in ‘through the silence’ the theme and the conversation could be the same (okay maybe just similar) with post prison spencer x reader and how he is trying to get back to reality and leave prison behind

love you xx

a/n: omfg what... im literally going to eat ur face... this sort of got a little longer than i intended and it took me a while because i was busy with work so im sorry!😭😭 but thank u so much omg i was reeling from this ask, ur so sweet and ilysm!!!

what remains

summary: after spencer returns from prison, the trauma he endured drives a wedge between him and the one person who loves him most.

pairing: postprison!spencer reid x reader

wordcount: 6.8k

warnings: sad spencer, sad reader, everyones sad, reader drinks like a sip of wine

the apartment is quiet when spencer walks in. it’s late—again. you don’t know where he goes, but he never offers, and you’ve stopped asking.

he drops his keys onto the counter with a dull clink, his shoulders heavy with exhaustion, and you watch from your place on the couch, heart aching at the sight of him. he looks different now. he's been home for months, but the man who walked through your door after prison isn’t the same one who left.

“hey,” you say gently, closing your book and setting it aside.

he glances at you but doesn’t hold your gaze for long. “hey.”

you swallow down the lump in your throat. “did you eat?”

“i'm not hungry.” his answer is clipped, automatic, the same response he’s given you almost every night since he’s been back.

you knew it wouldn’t be easy. that things would be different and he wouldn’t be the same. you had told yourself that over and over in the days leading up to his return, had braced yourself for the changes.

but you'd had hope—hope that, with time, things would settle. that he would come back to you—not just physically, but in the ways that mattered. that he would find his way back to the man he used to be, the man who used to curl up beside you on the couch, rambling about his latest case or a book he was reading. the man who used to laugh, used to smile, used to pull you into his arms like you were the safest place in the world.

but you had underestimated the impression this whole ordeal would leave on him.

it wasn't just in the way he carried himself, the way exhaustion clung to his frame or how the light in his eyes had dimmed. it was deeper than that. it was in the way he recoiled from touch when he used to seek it, in the way his voice lacked the excitement and curiosity it once held. in the distance that stretched between you, widening a little more each day, despite your best efforts to close it.

prison had carved something out of him, something you weren’t sure could ever be replaced. he had been home for months, but a harsh reality was starting to settle in you—that some wounds don’t heal the way you expect them to. some stay raw, lingering beneath the surface, invisible until they make themselves known in quiet moments—in the silence at the dinner table, in the way he avoids your gaze, in the way he flinches at your touch, in the walls he keeps building no matter how hard you try to tear them down.

he didn’t talk about what happened in there, and you didn’t press—even if sometimes curiosity clawed at you. but every laconic response, every empty stare, every night he disappeared without explanation told you more than words ever could. he was still there, trapped in a place you couldn’t seem to reach, and no matter how badly you wanted to, you weren’t sure you ever would.

you exhale slowly, measuring your words before speaking. "spencer, you know what i'm going to say." your voice is soft, careful, but it still makes him flinch, just barely.

"i'm fine," he mutters, turning away from you.

you hesitate, just for a moment, before the words slip out. a quiet, almost embarrassed whisper in the stillness of the room.

"will you at least sit with me for a little while?"

you regret the question the second it leaves your mouth, second-guessing yourself as soon as the vulnerability hits you. it sounds so small, so simple—sit with me, like it’s not asking for much, but in a way, it feels like you’re begging. you feel humiliation crawl up your neck.

"we don't have to talk," you add quickly, trying to soften the weight of your words. "we can just—"

"i'm tired," he interrupts, voice hollow. he’s already moving toward the bedroom, like he can't get away fast enough.

you stare blanky at him, his back already turned to you. you don't say anything. you can't. the words get stuck somewhere in your throat, tangled up with the shock and the sting of his dismissal. you just sit there, still as stone, the weight of his words settling over you like a thick, suffocating fog.

it shouldn't surprise you—this response, this distance, the way he shuts you out without a second thought. it’s been happening for weeks now, a slow unraveling of something that once felt unbreakable. and yet, it does surprise you.

because you still hoped—that he would just sit with you. that it couldn't possibly be that bad that your own husband couldn't sit on the the same goddamn couch as you.

you don’t know if your lack of response matters. maybe it does. maybe that’s why he hesitates in the doorway, fingers gripping the frame as if he's weighing his options. for a second, you think he might turn around, might give you something—anything. but then, just as quickly, he lets go and disappears into the darkness of the bedroom.

you sit there, motionless, as the door to the bedroom clicks shut behind him. the sound feels final, sharp.

the interaction plays in your head. "i'm tired."

the look on his face—or the lack of one. there’s nothing there. no fight, no frustration, not even the faintest trace of a desire to make things right.

you blink, once, twice, trying to shake the fog from your brain, but the shock is still there, thick in your chest. it’s like a pulse, steady and unrelenting, buzzing through your veins. you don’t know what to do with it. how to process it.

at this point, you can hardly recognize yourself. the person you used to be—before all this. you would have never let spencer walk away from that. you would’ve confronted him, spoken your truth, demanded that he listen. you were an opinionated person, it wasn't like you to let someone walk over you—spencer liked that about you. you would’ve never felt embarrassed by something so simple, so vulnerable, said to the man you loved.

the anger bubbles up, creeping through the shock like a slow poison, and suddenly, your skin feels tight. it feels wrong. how dare he? how can he just walk away, leave you in this empty room, in this awful, suffocating silence, after everything you’ve been through together?

surely, you wouldn't do this to him. that thought had crossed your mind before, only to be quickly pushed away by the reminder that you couldn't possibly know what he was going through—what he felt in that place.

but now, the thought clung to you, insistent, refusing to be ignored and with it came another. maybe he didn’t know how to let go of you—maybe he was too afraid to say the words, so instead, he kept hurting you without even realizing it. maybe he thought pulling away was easier than facing the truth. if the roles were reversed, you'd seek him out, wanting his comfort, his presence. so why wasn't he doing the same for you? why was he so unwilling to lean on you—when he had done it a million times before?

the pulse in your neck quickens, blood rushing, and you grip the edge of the couch, knuckles white. you don't even realize you're standing now, the instinct to do something, anything, pushing you forward. your breath comes quick and shallow as frustration and disbelief twist inside you like a knot that you can't untangle.

what are you supposed to do with this? what are you supposed to do when your own husband looks at you like you’re nothing—like you’re some kind of inconvenience he just can’t deal with tonight?

your body moves on its own, your legs carrying you to the door as if they have a will of their own—pyjamas and slippers be damned—the front door slams shut behind you with an almost violent finality. the apartment feels suffocating now, the weight of his absence, of his rejection, too much to bear. you need to leave.

you don’t bother to grab your phone. what would be the point? there’s nothing to say to him anymore—if he would even call. not when you’re standing on the edge of something you can’t even explain to yourself, a frustration and sadness mixing into something unrecognizable.

you walk fast, too fast, the cold air biting at your skin, and it helps. the briskness of the night, the sting of it, gives you a sense of purpose, something to focus on other than the gnawing emptiness inside you. you don’t want to sit in that silence any longer, don’t want to stew in your thoughts, trapped in that apartment where the echoes of your broken attempts at connection are suffocating.

jj’s place isn’t far—just a few blocks—but it might as well be a world away. the walk feels like an eternity, but it’s the only thing you can control right now. you don't have to think about spencer. you don’t have to think about him.

you find yourself at jj’s door, your breath coming out in white clouds, and for the first time tonight, you feel a brief flicker of something approaching relief. you knock twice, hard, before pulling back and pressing your forehead against the doorframe, closing your eyes, letting the coolness of it ground you. what the hell am i doing?

when she opens the door, her eyes widen at the sight of you, but she doesn’t ask. she doesn’t need to. she just steps aside, pulling you in with a soft, understanding smile.

“you okay?” she asks gently, though you know she already knows the answer.

you nod, but only because you don't trust your voice not to break if you speak. she doesn’t push, just closes the door behind you and leads you to the couch. you sit without a word, leaning back against the cushions, closing your eyes, and for the first time in what feels like months, you let yourself breathe.

jj moves toward the kitchen without a word, and you hear the familiar sound of glasses clinking, followed by the admittedly soothing pour of wine. she returns with a glass in each hand, her expression knowing. she hands you one and sits down beside you, settling into the cushions with the kind of ease that makes you wish you could do the same.

"talk to me,” she says, her voice quiet, but firm enough to break the silence that’s settled between you. it’s not a question, really—more like a gentle command, the kind that only someone who knows you can give.

you let out a breath, leaning back into the couch, staring at the ceiling for a moment, unsure where to even begin. everything feels like a mess. but her presence, her calm, makes you feel like you might find the strength to sort it out.

“spencer—" you stop yourself, the words catching in your throat. you shake your head, a laugh escaping your lips at the disbelief of your situation. "i don’t even know what to say anymore. i don’t know how we got here. it’s like i don’t even know who he is anymore.”

jj listens, her eyes steady, her hands wrapped around her own glass, but her gaze never wavers. she’s waiting. you know she won’t interrupt.

“i thought... i thought he’d come back to me, you know?” the words slip out before you can stop them, and the sadness that follows hits you harder than anything before. “i thought, with time, things would get better. that i could get him back, the way he was. but... it’s like he’s not even here anymore. i don’t know how to reach him. and when i try, it feels like he just shuts me out more.”

you swallow hard, feeling a sharp sting behind your eyes. it feels pathetic, but you can’t stop it now. you can’t stop the flood of everything that’s been building up, everything you’ve been trying to ignore.

“he’s gone, jj. and i don’t know how to be with someone who’s... not really here,” you say, your voice breaking on the last word.

jj doesn’t say anything at first, just lets you breathe, lets you sit with it for a moment. “i know it doesn’t feel like it right now, but he’s not gone. he’s just... changed. and change is hard. for both of you.”

you scoff softly, shaking your head. “i feel like i'm going crazy."

jj watches you carefully, her gaze unwavering as she processes your words. you feel exhausted—physically, emotionally—like the weight of the past few months has finally settled on your shoulders all at once.

jj studies you for a long moment, her expression unreadable. then, she exhales, setting her wine glass down on the coffee table. “you’re not crazy,” she says simply. “you’re grieving.”

that catches you off guard. you blink at her. “grieving?”

she nods. “yeah. you’re grieving the life you had before. the spencer you had before.” she pauses. “and maybe... the version of yourself that existed before all this.”

you open your mouth, but no words come out. you want to argue, to tell her it’s not that simple, that you’re not mourning spencer like he’s some lost cause, but—god—doesn’t it feel like that sometimes? doesn’t it feel like the person you knew, the person you loved, is slipping further and further away?

jj sighs, leaning forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “i know what it’s like to watch someone you love disappear into themselves. to feel helpless while they struggle with something you can’t fix.” her voice is softer now, careful, like she’s walking a tightrope. “it’s terrifying.”

your fingers tighten around your wine glass. “so what do i do?” the question comes out more fragile than you want it to, barely above a whisper.

she’s quiet for a moment, thinking. “you—" her words are interrupted by an abrupt sound. jj’s phone is ringing, sharp and sudden in the quiet of the room. you flinch, your heart leaping into your throat before you even see the name on the screen. but you already know.

spencer.

panic grips you, fast and unrelenting, and before you can think, the words spill out. “don’t answer it.”

jj hesitates, glancing at the phone on the coffee table. the screen glows with his name, the sound vibrating between you like a living thing. “he’s your husband,” she says gently, but her fingers hover over the screen instead of answering.

“i don’t care,” you whisper, shaking your head. “please, jj. don’t.”

she studies you, eyes flicking over your face like she’s trying to gauge just how serious you are. if she picks up, you’ll have to hear him—his voice, his clipped tone, his inevitable question: where are you? and what then? you don’t have an answer.

jj sighs, silencing the call but not declining it. the ringing stops, but the silence that follows is almost worse.

“you know he’s worried,” she says carefully. “you left without your phone. you think he’s just going to let that go?”

you squeeze your eyes shut, gripping your glass like it’s the only thing tethering you to the moment. “i don’t know,” you admit. “i just—I can’t do this right now. fuck.”

jj shifts closer, her voice calm but firm. “running won’t fix this.”

you let out a short, bitter laugh. “staying hasn't."

she doesn’t have an answer for that.

jj watches you carefully, then sighs. “stay here as long as you need. but at some point, you have to decide—are you going home? or are you walking away?”

your arm is moving suddenly, the wine glass at your lips. her words settle over you like a weight. and for the first time, you realize—you don’t know.

jj's phone buzzes again, and you flinch at the sight of spencer’s name lighting up the screen. the call goes to voicemail, and for a few seconds, there’s nothing but silence.

the phone rings a second time. you can almost hear spencer’s voice in your head, the exact tone he always takes when he doesn’t know what to say.

“I’ll answer it,” jj says softly, but the words feel like a concession rather than a promise. she picks up the phone, and her thumb hovers over the screen.

you don’t stop her, but you wish you could. you wish you could shut everything down, turn it all off.

“spencer?” jj says, her voice calm, controlled.

you close your eyes, hearing his voice crackle through the speaker.

“jj... is she there?” spencer’s voice sounds worn, tight with something just beneath the surface. you can hear the familiar threads of guilt and concern tangled in his words. “i—i don’t know where she went. she just… she left without saying anything.”

jj looks at you, her expression unreadable. you can feel the heat of her stare on you.

“yeah, she's here.” jj finally responds, her words careful. “but she's not ready to talk to you right now, spencer.”

a long pause follows. you can hear spencer’s breath, shallow, like he’s holding something back.

“i just... i just need to know she's okay,” he says, the frustration and desperation clear in his voice. “please.”

you wince at the pleading in his words. it cuts through you in a way you hadn’t expected.

jj looks at you, her expression unreadable, before she glances down at the phone again. you can feel the heat of her stare on you.

“she’s fine,” jj says, with a note of finality. “but I think you need to give her some time. she’s been through a lot, spencer. you both have.”

“time?” Spencer’s voice cracks. “jj, i don’t—“

but she cuts him off. “i’m not getting in the middle of this. just... take care of yourself for now, okay? you’ll talk when she’s ready. she’ll come back when she’s ready.”

the phone goes silent for a moment, and then the faint click of the line disconnecting. jj pulls the phone away from her ear and sets it down on the coffee table with a soft sigh.

jj sits back, her gaze still trained on you, like she’s waiting for something.

the silence in the room feels heavier now. It presses against your chest, and the weight of it makes your thoughts swirl faster than they should. spencer’s voice still echoes in your mind—i just need to know she's okay. you don’t want to admit it, but the desperation in his words cuts deeper than you anticipated. you don’t want to feel guilty. but it settles over you, thick and unavoidable, as you sit on jj’s couch, the comfort of her presence fading into the background.

“he sounded worried,” you murmur, more to yourself than to jj.

she nods, watching you carefully. “of course he’s worried.”

you press your lips together, exhaling slowly. “i didn’t think he’d care that much.” the words taste bitter on your tongue, because the truth is, you had wanted him to care. you had wanted him to call, to ask where you were, to prove—at least to himself—that there was still something left between you worth saving.

and he did.

he did.

but now, sitting here, away from him, away from that apartment, the weight of your actions starts creeping in, cold and insidious.

you left.

you walked out without a word.

you knew what it was like to feel abandoned, to reach for someone and find nothing but empty space. and now you’ve done the same to him.

the realization makes your chest tighten, and suddenly, the fight, the frustration, the resentment—it all feels distant, overshadowed by something heavier. something closer to shame.

jj shifts beside you, her voice quiet but knowing. “you’re thinking about going back.”

you shake your head quickly. “i don’t know.” but it’s a lie. you do know.

you inhale sharply, pressing your palm to your forehead, trying to ground yourself. “god, what am I doing, jj?”

“you’re allowed to feel this, you know,” she says simply. “you’re allowed to be angry. to be hurt. to need space.”

you swallow hard, blinking down at your hands. they feel foreign to you, like they belong to someone else. “i just—” you hesitate, voice cracking slightly. “i just got so mad. he was so dismissive of me, and i couldn't be there anymore.”

“i know.”

you stare down at your lap, your fingers tightening around the fabric of your sweater.

you shake your head, guilt curling in your chest. “but that’s not me, jj. that’s not who I am. i don’t just… walk away. i got angry and i overreacted.”

she sighs. “one moment doesn't define you. things are different now. you've never been in a situation like this before,” she pauses. “sometimes you have to walk away, to get your thoughts in order."

"it would've been worse if you blew up at him." she added.

"i think i still might." you said with a dry laugh.

jj smiled slightly, her gaze softening as she leaned back, “you’ve always been the one to hold things together,” she said, her voice gentle but firm, as if trying to remind you that it was okay to break sometimes. “but you can’t hold it all in forever. and sometimes… sometimes you need space to breathe, to think. you don’t always have to be the strong one.”

you let out a breath, unsure of what to say next. jj was always good at cutting through the noise, but the guilt still sat heavily in your chest. you couldn’t escape the feeling that walking away—no matter how much you needed to—had been the wrong choice.

jj watches you for a moment, then leans forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “listen, i know it feels like you did something wrong by leaving, but you didn’t. you needed space. that’s not the same as giving up.”

you nod slowly, staring down at your hands, but you don’t respond.

jj sighs, then reaches over and squeezes your arm. "look, if there’s anyone who understands why you did what you did, it’s spencer. he has spent his life studying human behavior—figuring out how they think and why they do what they do. spencer knows exactly why you walked out, even if he won't admit it. he knows it was about needing space, about trying to make sense of everything that’s been building up between you.”

she pauses, giving you a reassuring look. “this isn’t the end. this is just a bump in the road—you'll go back when you're ready, and you'll start working through it all."

spencer knows why you left.

the thought lingers, easing the guilt that’s been clawing at you since you walked out. maybe that’s why he didn’t come after you. maybe, in his own way, he understood that you needed this moment to step back, to breathe, to process.

you hope—no, you need—to believe that he’s coming to his own realization. that in the quiet of your absence, in the stillness of an apartment that no longer holds your presence, he’s starting to understand. that maybe, just maybe, he’s replaying every word, every moment, and seeing where it all went wrong.

you want him to recognize that pushing you away was a mistake. that shutting you out, closing himself off instead of letting you in, only built more distance between you. and most of all, you hope he understands now—truly understands—that love isn’t about shutting doors, but about keeping them open, even when it’s hard.

the irony of the situation dawns on you. sitting here, hoping he comes to the right conclusion on his own, won’t change anything. no matter how hurt or frustrated you are, you know one thing for certain—you aren’t going to push him away the way he did to you.

you glance at jj, her eyes soft with understanding, and suddenly, you don’t feel as lost as you did before.

“i have to go back,” you murmur, the words feeling right the moment they leave your lips.

jj studies you for a moment before nodding. “yeah, i figured.” there’s no judgment in her voice, only quiet support.

you stand, but before you can say anything, jj speaks again. “i’m driving you.”

you blink at her. “jj, i can—”

"it’s late, and it’s cold,” she interrupts, crossing her arms. “and i know you. you’ll spend the entire walk overthinking, or worse, you’ll turn around and come right back here.”

you open your mouth to argue, but she raises an eyebrow, daring you to fight her on this. you sigh, giving in. “fine. i'll still overthink in the car though.”

jj smirks as she grabs her keys. "yeah, but at least this way, you’ll be overthinking with heated seats and no risk of getting hit by a rogue cyclist."

you roll your eyes, but there's a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips. "alright, alright. guess I’ll overthink in comfort then." you step outside, the weight of everything that’s about to unfold on your back.

the ride back is quiet, the streets nearly empty as jj navigates the familiar roads. you stare out the window, your finger spinning your wedding band, mind racing with all the possibilities of what comes next.

you wonder how it will be when you walk through that door. will he be surprised to see you? will he be angry? will he apologize? the questions swirl in your mind, but you push them aside—you'll find out in a few minutes either way.

jj pulls up in front of the apartment building and turns to you, her expression gentle. “you don’t have to fix everything tonight,” she reminds you. “just… put all your cards on the table. don't sugarcoat anything.”

you nod, feeling a mix of gratitude and nervous anticipation. "thank you, jj," you say softly, giving her a small smile. "i don’t know what i would’ve done without you tonight."

she smiles back, her eyes warm with understanding. "you’ll be fine. just be honest, that’s all you can do."

with a final nod, you push the door open, the cold air immediately hitting you as you step out onto the sidewalk. your heart is pounding in your chest, each step towards the apartment feeling heavier than the last.

you twist the handle, it's unlocked, but you hesitate before pushing the door open, gathering your courage in the silent hallway. when you finally step inside, the apartment is quiet—but not empty. a single lamp illuminates the living room, casting long shadows across the walls.

and there's spencer, sitting on the couch hunched over with his elbows on his knees, head in his hands.

he looks up at the sound of the door, and for a brief moment, his face is completely unguarded. relief washes over his features, followed quickly by something that looks almost like fear. he stands immediately, his movements stiff and uncertain.

"you came back," he says, his voice hoarse.

you close the door behind you, still standing near the threshold. "i started feeling guilty." you sighed, jj's voice in the back of your head—just be honest.

spencer swallows, his gaze flickering to the floor for a moment before meeting yours again. "guilty?" he repeats, his voice quieter now, almost hesitant.

spencer exhales sharply, rubbing a hand over his face. “you shouldn't feel guilty," he murmurs, then shakes his head. "i mean, it makes sense,” he says quickly, his words picking up speed.

“studies show that guilt is often a response to perceived moral transgressions rather than actual wrongdoing. it’s the brain’s way of enforcing social cohesion—an evolutionary mechanism designed to maintain interpersonal relationships by making us feel responsible for potential harm, even when no actual harm has been inflicted.”

you couldn’t help but feel a strange mix of disbelief and amusement as he rambled on. it was as if, in the middle of all this, the man you once knew had momentarily resurfaced. even if what he was saying wasn’t at all what you needed to hear right now, a part of you couldn't help but recognize the familiarity in it—the way he always got lost in his thoughts, trying to explain things when he didn’t quite know how to connect.

he shifts on his feet, his words picking up speed. “and in this case, your reaction makes perfect sense. you removed yourself from a heightened emotional situation in order to regulate your response, which, psychologically speaking, is a far healthier alternative to reactive conflict. but then, the cognitive dissonance sets in—the part where your brain tells you that leaving contradicts your usual patterns of behavior, and that discrepancy triggers guilt, even if logically—”

“spencer,” you interrupt gently.

his mouth snaps shut, and for a second, there’s just silence. a flicker of something vulnerable crosses his face, and you realize—he’s rambling because he doesn’t know what else to say. because this is easier for him than actually talking about what matters.

you step forward, closing a bit of the distance between you. “i don’t need an analysis,” you tell him gently. "i just want you to tell me what's going on."

spencer’s gaze flickers for a moment, like he’s trying to find the words, trying to make sense of the situation. "i never wanted you to feel like you needed to leave," he says, his voice quieter now, more vulnerable. “but i didn’t exactly make it easy for you to stay.”

you lean against the doorframe, arms crossed, the weight of everything you haven’t said pressing heavily on your chest. "no, you didn’t," you admit, your voice just above a whisper.

his expression tightens, a flash of something—guilt, maybe—crossing his face before he looks away.

"i've been trying," he says quietly. "i have."

"have you?" the question comes out sharper than you intended, but you don't soften it. "because from where i'm standing, it feels like you've been doing everything possible to push me away."

spencer's gaze snaps back to you, a hint of defensiveness in his eyes. "that's not fair."

"isn't it?" you take another step forward, emboldened by the surge of emotions you've held back for too long. "you won't talk to me. you won't look at me. you won't even sit next to me on the couch. what am i supposed to think, spencer?"

he runs a hand through his hair, frustration evident in every movement. "it's not that simple," he says, his voice strained. "i want to be the person you remember, but i don't know if i can be that man anymore."

the admission hits you like a physical blow. "i'm not asking you to be exactly who you were before," you say softly. "i know that's not possible. i just... i need you to be present. to talk to me. to not shut me out completely."

spencer is quiet for a long moment, his gaze fixed on some point beyond you. when he finally speaks, his voice is barely audible. "i don't know how to explain what it was like in there."

your breath catches. this is the closest he's come to talking about prison since he's been home. you don't know if you should say something. you hold your breath, afraid that if you move or speak, he'll retreat again.

his eyes are distant, far away, and for a moment, you wonder if he’s even aware of how much you’re hanging on his every word. finally, he exhales slowly, his gaze dropping to the floor as if the weight of it all is too much to bear.

“being in there… it broke something inside of me,” he says, voice low and strained. “i kept thinking about what it would be like to come back, to be here, with you. and then i just—" he paused for a moment. "i had to do something really bad. i had to do things in there that… things i never thought i would do."

"i hate myself for it. every second of it." his voice breaks on the last word, he shakes his head, hands shaking slightly as he runs them through his hair, frustration and guilt radiating from him.

"i wasn't just a victim in there—i became someone i don't even recognize anymore. i did things that went against everything i ever believed in, everything i told myself i would never do."

he looks at you now, and you can see the turmoil in his eyes—the deep-rooted shame and the self-loathing that’s consumed him. "and now i’m back here, with you, and i don’t even know who i am anymore. i’ve become this person who did unforgivable things. you don't deserve someone like me, someone who’s capable of—of that." he gestures vaguely, as if trying to encompass everything that’s happened to him.

"is that why you've been pushing me away?" you ask softly. "because you think i won't love who you are now?"

he doesn't answer, but the way he avoids your gaze tells you everything.

"baby," you whisper, shifting closer to him. "nothing could change how I see you."

you take a slow, unsteady breath, searching for the right words—any words—but everything feels inadequate. how do you explain something that goes beyond language?

"god, spencer," you exhale, shaking your head. "i wish i was better at this. i wish i had the right words, i wish i was some kind of poet, and that i could say the right things to make you understand, but i'm not."

you finally close the gap between you two and take his hands, gripping them tightly, pressing them against your chest as if somehow, if he just feels the way your heart beats for him, he’ll finally understand.

"it’s frustrating," you continue, voice thick with emotion. "because what i feel for you—it’s bigger than me. it’s bigger than words. i can’t explain it, and i hate that, because i need you to know. i need you to understand that this isn’t something breakable, something you can ruin, something you can chase away just because you think you should."

he swallows hard, his fingers curling around yours, but he doesn’t speak. maybe he can’t.

"i swear, spencer, if there was a way to pull this feeling out of me and give it to you, i would. if i could make you see yourself the way i see you, make you understand that what you did—what you had to do—doesn’t make you unworthy of love, i would do it in a heartbeat." your voice breaks slightly, tears now lining your eyes. "because i don’t just love you. it’s not that simple. it’s not just some feeling, some thing i could ever put into words. it’s more. it doesn’t begin or end with what you’ve done, or what’s happened to you, or who you think you’ve become. it just is."

he lets out a shaky breath, his eye are now wet, shining under the dim apartment light, his lips parted slightly like he wants to argue but can’t find the strength to. because maybe, just maybe, for the first time—he’s starting to believe you.

"i just wish—i wish you could feel it," you murmur, voice breaking. "i wish you could step into my skin, into my heart, and know how much i love you."

you don’t realize you’re crying until he reaches up, hesitantly, brushing his fingers against your cheek like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he touches you. his hand is shaking, but he doesn’t pull away.

spencer’s expression falters, something breaking inside of him, and when he finally—finally—pulls you into his arms, it’s not desperate or frantic. his arms wrap around you slowly, almost reverently, as though he's trying to let the feeling of your love wash over him, to understand it the way you do.

at first, it’s just the slightest tremble in his shoulders, so faint you almost miss it. but then you feel it—the shaky exhale against your neck, the way his fingers clutch at the fabric of your shirt like he’s afraid to let go. and then, slowly, silently, he starts to break.

his breath hitches, and before he can stop it, a quiet sob escapes him, muffled against your shoulder. his body shakes, all the pain and guilt unraveling all at once, and all you can do is hold him through it. his hands grasp at you like you’re the only thing tethering him to the present, like if he lets go, he’ll disappear into everything he’s been trying so hard to contain.

you don’t say anything. you don’t tell him it’s okay, because you know he wouldn’t believe it. or maybe because it isn't. but it will be. you'll make sure of that.

your fingers thread through his hair, your lips press against his temple, and you whisper the same words over and over, a promise and a lifeline: "i love you. i love you. i love you."

you stay like that for a while, wrapped in each other, the weight of everything that’s happened still lingering in the air between you. but it’s different now. lighter, somehow. not because everything is fixed—there are still conversations to have, wounds to tend to, pieces of him he hasn’t shown you yet.

but for the first time in a long while, you feel like you’re on the same side again. you’re not standing in separate corners, silently blaming each other for things you can’t control.

the weight in your chest, the anxiety that has gnawed at you since that day you got the call about him being detained, begins to fade. you don’t need to fix everything tonight. you don’t need to have all the answers.

his breathing begins to steady, the tears slowing, but he doesn’t pull away. instead, he rests his forehead against yours, his voice a raw whisper as he says the only thing he can in this moment. “i’m sorry.”

you close your eyes for a moment, exhaling softly. “i know,” you whisper.

there's a beat of silence. "i've been having nightmares," he says, his voice so low you have to strain to hear him. "almost every night. that's where i go sometimes—i walk before going to bed. i walk so that i'm exhausted enough that my mind shuts down."

the sudden admission breaks your heart—but there's also a part of you that feels relief. relief that he wasn't turning to something worse or someone else to numb the pain.

"spencer, you could have told me." you said, fingers rubbings patterns into his back.

"i didn't want to burden you more than i already have," he says, shaking his head. "you've already been through so much because of me."

"that's not how this works," you say, squeezing his hand. "just forget all of that, okay? things will be different now. you not talking to me hurts more than that ever could."

he leans into you, his eyes closing for a brief moment. "i'm sorry," he whispers. "for pushing you away. for making you feel like you weren't enough. you've always been enough."

you lift a hand to his face, your thumb brushing against his cheek as you take in the exhaustion lining his features—the weight he’s been carrying alone for too long. slowly, carefully, you lean in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to his lips. just a warm, quiet reassurance that you’re here, that you’re staying.

when you finally pull away, his forehead rests against yours, and he lets out a quiet sigh, his breath warm against your skin. he looks at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of hope and uncertainty. "do you want to go to bed?" he asks, voice low.

you pause for a moment, you hadn’t realized just how exhausted you were until his mention of sleep. your shoulders feel heavy, and your body aches from the emotional toll it’s taken.

a deep, almost instinctual sigh escapes your lips, and you nod softly, “yeah."

spencer squeezes your hand gently and leads you toward the bedroom. the moment the covers are pulled back, you slip under the soft sheets, the cool fabric against your skin offering the smallest comfort after everything you've been through. spencer follows you in, his body warm and reassuring as he settles beside you.

he moves closer, carefully wrapping his arms around you, pulling you into him with a tenderness that makes your chest tighten. you rest your head on his chest, the steady beat of his heart grounding you. his presence, steady and constant, washes over you like a balm, soothing the frantic, scattered thoughts in your mind.

his hand moves slowly up and down your back, the rhythm soothing, and you realize just how much you've missed this—missed him.

you close your eyes, letting the weight of everything melt away as you drift closer to sleep. spencer’s voice is soft, a comforting murmur as he presses a kiss to the top of your head.

"i love you."

[rhyrhy]

Venom in the veins 🕸️

Spider!Ellie x Fem Villain reader

✦ Synopsis: When trust is broken, and alliances shift. Your local friendly neighborhood spiderwoman! is forced to choose between her love and loyalty!

✦ Warnings: enemies to lovers to enemies..? Angst, violence, death/grief , language, romantic tension, familial issues. 5k words.

A/n: thank you to @s0phi3w4lt3n , because their lovely brain is helping make this possible. This is chapters 1-2. (3-7 will be separate posts!) + Ellie’s suit desc is based off this beautiful art!

October 5th

I guess I finally understand what it means to wear the weight of something bigger than yourself.

Nobody tells you how lonely this gets. They say it’s a responsibility. A privilege. But nobody warns you about the nights when your body’s so sore you can’t move, or when you have to smile at people who would hate you if they knew the whole truth.

And the worst part? I should’ve seen it coming.

I should’ve known the second I woke up with a spider bite the size of a penny and a bad feeling in my gut.

But I was just a dumb kid clinging to Joel’s leg in the ER, sure I was about to drop dead…

Being a hero wasn’t as simple as they made it look in the comics she read. It wasn’t just about the mask—it was about juggling the power, the responsibility, and the weight of knowing that, at any moment, everything could come crashing down.

And in the end? It was always a game of masks. Who’s hiding behind them, and who’s fooling who?

Ellie wasn’t the best at keeping secrets.

Especially not when she had a spider bite the , wrapped in white gauze and held together with SpongeBob bandages that did little to ease her nerves. Her pain tolerance wasn’t exactly low, but weren’t black widows deadly? She could still feel the long-gone venom burning in her bloodstream—or maybe she just thought she did.

“Joel, I’m too young to die!” A younger Ellie whined, tears streaming down her cheeks as she clung to his leg.

“You aren’t dying. They said you’ll be sore at most.” He sighed, patting her head.

“Dramatic” wasn’t the word he’d use to describe the distraught figure clinging to him like she truly believed her life depended on it. Eleanor “Ellie” Anna Williams, at the ripe age of twelve, gave her adoptive father more wrinkles than he could count.

This time, it wasn’t a scraped knee from wobbly attempts at skateboarding, or a burn on her forearm from trying to make him breakfast. It was a spider bite. She didn’t get a good look when she flung her head after the sting set in, but she was almost certain what that eight-legged creature was that had crept onto her hand while she doodled on her notebook in science class.

She rambled about it the whole way from the school’s nursing office to the emergency room. Not even the radio could drown out the frantic girl, who loved all things nature—as long as it wasn’t trying to kill her. She’d just learned to use a training bra. She couldn’t die now.

“I’m not?” she said, her green watery eyes looking up at him.

“No. Weren’t you listening to what the nice lady said? The one in blue scrubs?”

To be honest, she wasn’t. However, she did remember the woman he was referring to—and the way she made her heart race. Even now, as a young adult, Ellie would bring her up when questioned about her gay awakening.

“You’re goin’ to be fine kiddo” He bent down to her level, his Texan accent dragging out his “n”s.

Comforting her had become something Joel mastered over the years. Trying to navigate Ellie’s spectrum between smart mouth and nervous breakdowns wasn’t easy for a man in his early thirties. But he’d found a way to wedge himself somewhere right in the middle—right where she needed him.

If there was one thing Ellie learned quickly, it was that Joel knew best. With legs full of scars and scrapes and a pair of worn-out Converse that Joel begged her to throw away, Eleanor—who preferred just ‘Ellie’—skated into her high school years.

Going from Little Orphan Annie, which she hated when assholes at school called her that, to your average teenager in the big city of Seattle, everything was completely normal.

Except it wasn’t. At all.

In fact, nothing about Ellie was normal. But the unusual started small—extremely small—and Ellie didn’t know any better. At first, she thought it was just the weed she smoked with Jesse still messing with her system.

Because ever since that fateful day in seventh grade, weird, borderline supernatural things had started happening.

She couldn’t tell you exactly how it all started—at least, not without cringing through the many, many journals she kept as a teenager—but somewhere in the mess of scribbled notes and half-finished sketches, there was an entry about a joke gone wrong.

One night, on a dare to see how long she could hold a handstand, Ellie found herself upside down—only she wasn’t just balancing. She was walking. On her ceiling.

The next morning, she convinced herself it was just some weird, half-awake dream. But when she tried it again—yeah, no. She wasn’t dreaming.

“Holy shit!” she blurted out, stumbling back to the ground.

“Language!” Joel’s voice rang out from the living room, blissfully unaware of the very sticky situation unfolding just a few feet away.

Ellie swallowed, staring at her feet. “Holy shit…” she whispered again, this time to herself.

For a while, she tried to ignore it. Between figuring out her sexuality and preparing for an upcoming science fair, she had enough on her plate. So when weird things happened—like catching something mid-fall way too fast or feeling vibrations through the walls—she brushed it off.

But the signs were getting harder to ignore. Especially when she asked Riley if she could hear that sound—

—and Riley just stared at her.

“Hear what?” Riley asked, setting up their volcano project.

“That—” Ellie waved her hand vaguely. “You seriously don’t hear it?”

Riley squinted. “Williams, I love you, but you have absolutely lost it.”

Ellie would’ve argued back, but the sound was coming from three tables down.

“Booger-eater James?” Riley snorted, nodding toward the kid hunched over a glass box of spiders. Not sure how that was science experiment. “He’s just standing there. With his creepy crawlers. I pray for him once we hit eleventh grade—he’s never getting a girlfriend.”

Panic set in—sudden and overwhelming—as her mind spiraled. Was this some weird side effect of the bite? Or was it something worse? She thought about her biological family, about the things she didn’t know, about the one thing she did worry about when it came to her health.

These were crazy person signs, right? Or worse—crazy person genes running through her blood. Torn between telling a school counselor or just locking herself in the bathroom to cry, Ellie excused herself from Riley and approached the table. But the closer she got, the louder the sound became. A crawling, chittering hum that made her stomach flip.

There was no way she was communicating with something that had more than two eyes and eight legs. An arachnid, for crying out loud.

Don’t get her wrong, Ellie loved science. But people who claimed this kind of stuff? They got laughed out of programs. Stripped of titles, accreditations. Blacklisted. Snow White talking to animals was one thing. A teenage girl talking to spiders? That was an entirely different planet.

But the more she thought about it… the more it made sense.

The heightened senses. The weird reflexes. And that bite mark—the one she was so sure would scar? It was completely gone the next morning when her bandage fell off in the shower.

What started as a sneaking suspicion was quickly turning into a daunting realization.

Ellie tried to ignore it. She really, really did.

For the next few weeks, she chalked it up to stress, exhaustion, anything that made more sense than the alternative. But the signs weren’t stopping. If anything, they were getting worse.

The way her body moved before she even had time to think. The way she could feel things that weren’t there—like the vibrations of footsteps before someone entered a room. The way her grip had changed—how she accidentally shattered a glass one night at dinner, how the basketball stuck to her hand a second too long in gym class.

She stopped journaling about it. She stopped mentioning it to Riley. But she couldn’t stop thinking about it. this was so , so much worse than the time she wasn’t allowed to leave the dinner table until she finished her brussels sprouts.

And that was how she found herself standing in front of her bedroom window one night, hoodie zipped up, black Converse laced tight.

Sneaking out wasn’t new to her. She’d done it before. Skating out to meet Jesse, tagging walls in alleyways. But this?

This wasn’t just sneaking out.

That night, she got her first real taste of herself without the skintight suit she now wears like a badge.

Little did she know at the time, how important that near miss would be.

“Glad nobody saw that.” An embarrassed Ellie giggled to herself, standing to her feet after stumbling for the hundredth time.

Parkour always seemed a little odd to her—she preferred her guitar or a late-night reading session, but those seemed to lay still on her bookshelf nowadays. I mean, who wanted to potentially hurt themselves running along buildings, jumping from concrete to concrete, brick to brick? Short answer: she did.

Long answer: the stairwell right behind her apartment building, leading to the city’s rooftops. Mariano’s, her favorite pizza joint that always closed way too early in her opinion, the old library that closed down only to be replaced a few doors down, and the laundromat. Dusting off her jeans, she’d do this for what felt like hours.

The back and forth would make normal civilians sick—feet swollen to hell. But for Ellie, after a fight with Joel about curfew or an unnecessarily long school day, as soon as the sun set, this was her heaven.

She wasn’t normal. She’d established that a long time ago. But it’s not like she could exactly tell people she could do these kinds of things. They’d look at her the way Riley did. A FYI, she was so right about James—after graduation, he still never got a girlfriend.

Ellie, on the other hand, had quite a few up until graduation.

A shared kiss with Riley, a faded stick-and-poke cat the girl in her art class gave her, and her unforgettable first time with the first girl she could truly say she loved: Dina.

To say “fair share” was a bit of an understatement. It was more about quality than quantity. Her building real connections, some still lingering around. Some took the high road, choosing to stay the bitter ex. But Ellie didn’t see it like that. She appreciated the good and the bad, even if she did have to get a real tattoo over that stick-and-poke cat.

But times like these, where she let her feet carry her across the city, were when she was allowed to forget about all that, leave it in the past where it belonged, and focus on the future. But even with her tassel turned, she always found herself in that alleyway, climbing up that same fire escape to get to the roof.

The city lights below flickered like distant stars. So many people, but none of them knew her name. Maybe that was for the best. In this city, the only person Ellie needed to be was herself.

The wind against her skin felt sharper tonight, like she could almost taste the city’s pulse. A distant car honked, but she didn’t hear it the same way anymore. It was all part of the rhythm, the energy that seemed to flow through her, the way the rooftops called her to them.

For now, the rooftops were hers. But she knew, deep down, that wouldn’t last forever. Heroes, villains—one day, someone would come looking for her. And maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing. Maybe.

Freshly graduated, Ellie was hanging out with friends at her favorite pizza joint, the smell of pepperoni filling the air, and the sound of laughter ringing in her ears. It was one of those normal, relaxed nights. nothing out of the ordinary. Or at least, it didn’t seem that way at first.

But when a hooded figure paced back and forth in front of their table for the fourth time, Ellie couldn’t help but feel a cold chill run down her spine. Her green eyes snapped to the sound, hands slowly lowering the slice of pizza she’d been about to take a bite of.

“That young man stole my purse!” A woman’s voice broke through the hum of the restaurant, her trembling hands pointing toward the culprit.

Ellie’s green gaze snapped to the man now hurrying down the sidewalk, his steps quick, his movements too frantic. The adrenaline surged through her as she pushed her chair back and stood, catching a glimpse of her reflection in the glass door. She didn’t wear her mask yet, but the sensation of needing to act was unmistakable.

She couldn’t just let it go.

The man was fast, but he wasn’t fast enough. Ellie darted into the street, weaving between pedestrians like a blur, the sound of her footsteps muffled by the city’s noise. When she reached him, she tackled him with everything she had, the force knocking the purse out of his hand and sending him stumbling backward.

He didn’t stick around to fight back. In a flash, he bolted, disappearing into the shadows before Ellie could react.

She stood there, chest heaving as she clutched the purse in her hands. The woman, now catching up to her, approached with wide eyes.

“You got it back!” The woman gasped, her voice thick with relief.

Ellie smiled awkwardly, handing the purse back to her. “I… I guess I did.” Heart still racing.

Before she could say more, the woman pulled her into a tight hug. Ellie froze, not knowing what to do. She had no idea this small act of kindness would cause a strange warmth to spread through her chest.

“Thank you,” the woman whispered. “I don’t know what I would’ve done…”

Ellie gently pulled back, her heart still racing. She was pretty sure she was just a regular girl, with no superpowers or any big secret to her name. But in that moment, the feeling of doing the right thing—of helping someone in need—felt bigger than anything she’d ever experienced. Maybe she was crazy. But a little bit of crazy could do good.

And Ellie? She loved justice.

“Bullshit. No way you tackled him like that.” Abby’s voice rang out, interrupting Ellie’s storytelling.

“Alright, maybe I exaggerated a little bit, but I’m telling you, I kicked ass.” Ellie laughed, holding the door open for the tall blonde.

“Uh huh. Sure, Williams.” Abby huffed, walking past her into the bookstore. The familiar chime of the doorbell rang out above them, a small sound that felt like a second home.

Ellie inhaled deeply, taking in the comforting smell of ink and crisp pages being turned. She loved it here, more than the silly pictures of cats online, which, in the Williams world, meant a lot.

Abby, tall and always a step ahead in the teasing department, fell into step beside her. One of the few friends Ellie could confide in. Even if that came with endless ribbing. Ellie could admit that she’d told the “first save” story a million times, but it was one of the few she could tell without giving herself away—without breaking her promise. The promise she made to herself when she officially earned her title as ‘hero.’

But here, in the bookstore, she could nerd out all she wanted. No secrets to hide, no need to pretend. She could throw in the subtle bragging without fear of it getting back to the wrong people.

Ellie wasn’t a huge talker. She preferred humming to herself or getting lost in her own thoughts. As she scrolled past the comic book section, her fingers brushing against the glossy covers of vibrant colors and bubble letters, she was suddenly back in time. A place of nostalgia. Staying up way past her bedtime, reading comics under the covers with a trusty red flashlight.

When the small tv in the corner of the store caught her attention. A new report, crime in the city’s streets. detailing the latest wave of crime sweeping through the city. From petty purse snatching to stolen identities—and sometimes, even lives. It was all too familiar.

“This just in: Another robbery in the city’s streets. Police are still on the lookout for the suspect,” the newscaster announced.

She hated it, the fear in people’s eyes. The feeling of a warm blanket being ripped off all because a few people probably weren’t hugged enough as kids. If anybody knew a rough childhood, it was Ellie, and what she didn’t do was use that and take it out on the world. The last thing she expected years from this moment is trying to be understanding with the one who did.

If anyone knew a rough childhood, it was Ellie. But she didn’t use that as an excuse to lash out at the world.

In fact, the last thing she ever expected, years from this moment, was to try and understand the person behind the violence.

“Jesus, this city’s falling apart,” Abby muttered, her eyes still glued to the screen. “Where are the cops when you need them?”

It made her sick. The injustice. The feeling of helplessness.

“Sometimes, people just need to learn the world doesn’t owe them anything,”

Abby looked over at her, but Ellie kept her eyes on the chaos. The sirens were already wailing in the distance, but they’d never get there in time—not when the damage had already been done. And when the cops finally showed up. Just yellow police, tape and tears.

“Scary, huh?” Abby said, standing beside her, arms crossed. She shot a glance at the scene before turning back to Ellie. “Where are the cops when you need them?”

Ellie scoffed, rolling her eyes. “Yeah, they always show up too late. After the damage’s already done. It’s like they just don’t care enough to stop it before it gets out of hand. Makes you wonder if anyone’s actually doing anything about it.”

Abby sighed in agreement. “Someone should.”

Ellie’s mind wandered then, as it often did in moments like this. She’d seen it all too many times—the heroes who talked big but never seemed to get things done. But the ones who really caught her attention were the ones who operated in the shadows. The ones who didn’t care about fame or recognition.

Her thoughts drifted to The Phantom—a mysterious figure who’d been cleaning up the streets for years. Nobody knew their true identity, and that was the way they liked it. No flashy costumes, no headlines, just quiet, effective justice. They worked in the shadows, out of sight, but the results spoke for themselves.

“Maybe someone like that could show up,” Ellie murmured. “Someone who teaches people the lesson that their actions have consequences. Not just words, but real, lasting consequences.”

Abby raised an eyebrow, casting her a sideways glance. “Wait, are you seriously saying you’d want to be like them? A shadowy figure, handing out justice however you see fit?”

“Maybe. I mean, someone has to.”

And someone did. She did, she had to. things quickly escalated from saving purses to kittens out of trees you name it Ellie was there.

So what about the fabric hung deep in her closet. The one she mentions hundreds of times in her journals throughout the years.

Well, It wasn’t like she had a fancy suit. No, Ellie had to make do. Her costume came from a combination of chance and necessity. Absolutely one of those “it just happened” moments that ended up being so much more.

It started with a hand-me-down.

After one night where she barely managed to escape with a bruised arm and a scraped knee, Ellie found herself on the edge of the city. In a forgotten corner of a local alley, tucked behind an old, unused storage unit, Ellie found a discarded suit. It was a mix of gray, black, and green fabric—more rugged than sleek, a little worn out, but something about it screamed potential. Her hand reached out for it, like she could feel the joy she’d bring with it on her skin.

fit like a second skin. It didn’t stand out too much, which was good; Ellie didn’t want to draw attention, not yet. The colors worked too—gray for blending in, black for stealth, and green because… well, why not? It matched her eyes.

One afternoon, Ellie had found herself standing outside a local store, looking out over the city, when a voice caught her attention. It was a soft voice, one that belonged to a little girl.

“How’d you get up there? You move like a spider.”

Ellie smiled beneath her mask, thinking about the first time she made the jump to scale a building. She was very clumsy, but she’d learned quickly. It was funny, she hadn’t really thought much about it until now. A spider… That’s what had started this whole thing.

The bite she thought would kill her.

“What’s your name, hero?” the little girl asked, her wide eyes.

Ellie hesitated. A name?… A spider? This was a loaded question. But That’s what they called her, wasn’t it? She was just some kid trying to do right by the world.

“Spider… uh… girl… woman!” She blurted out, almost embarrassed. Hoping it sounded cool, so in the moment, she went with it.

“Spider Woman. Yeah, that’s it.”

She didn’t mind the title. It was fitting, simple.

Spider-woman. Silly, right? It sounded like something out of the DC Comics stacked in her room. And she loved it.

The name was sung like gospel on the news, printed in bold ink for those who still bothered with newspapers.

On one channel, a reporter stood in front of a cityscape, microphone in hand.

“The masked vigilante, called ‘Spider-Woman’ by the public, continues to stir-up debate. Some call her a hero, while others question if she’s just another masked threat. We hit the streets of Seattle to hear what the people really have to say.”

Cop, off duty: “Look, I don’t make the rules, but I do enforce them. Vigilante or not, she’s got a record, and that means trouble.”

Masked kid in a homemade costume: “She’s like, a ninja or something! I think she’s cool!”

Teen girl with dyed hair: “She’s kind of badass, not gonna lie.” She shrugged.

younger woman with a toddler: “Are you kidding? She’s the only one out here actually doing something! You ever had a gun in your face? ‘Cause I have. If she’s around, I know I’m making it home.”

The tv Cuts back to the news anchor at the desk, straightening their papers.

“You heard it here folks! Love her or hate her, one thing’s for sure. she’s out there. And she’s just getting started.” The news reporter finished.

But every hero had their villain.

And Ellie? She was crushing on hers.

With Brown hair tied back, wheels skimming smoothly across the pavement. No suit today, just a hoodie and jeans, her usual off-duty attire. As a creature of habit, she skated her way to the bookstore like clockwork, the same route.

Had she finished the last two comics she bought? Absolutely. A little faster than intended. But a five-minute ride was nothing for a girl who spent most of her nights swinging across the city, trying to do right by the world. In her own way.

The streets of downtown Seattle buzzed with life, familiar shop signs blurring past her periphery—the record store with the neon “Vinyl Lives” sign, the café that always smelled like burnt coffee, and the corner thrift shop with racks of clothes spilling onto the sidewalk.

Then—“Shit—!”

Ellie barely had time to swerve, nearly colliding with someone standing dead center in her path.

“Sorry!” she called over her shoulder, skidding to a halt a few feet away.

The person barely reacted. Headphones on, phone in hand, just a slight jerk of the shoulder to let her pass. like they’d done it a thousand times.

Ellie shot them one last glance, catching just a flicker of their face. The shape of their eyes, the calm in their posture despite the near collision. No sense of surprise, Weird. Most people flinched.

Shaking it off, she kicked forward again, hitting the sidewalk with a small exhale. Board tucked under her arm, she pulled open the door to the bookstore, the familiar jingle of the bell bringing an easy grin to her face.

“Like clockwork. You are so predictable, Williams,” Josh, the store clerk, greeted from behind the counter.

“What can I say?” Ellie shrugged, stepping inside. “When you’re a comic book connoisseur—”

“—It becomes a lifestyle,” Josh finished, smirking. “Indeed you are.”

Ellie chuckled, already making her way toward the shelves, completely unaware that the person she nearly crashed into was about to become a permanent part of her life.

She just didn’t know it yet. And neither did you.

Just few moments before …

“What an idiot,” a deep voice muttered, entering the back alley. Away from prying eyes.

You rolled your eyes, arms crossed as you leaned against the brick wall beside him. “She was skating. God, do you ever lighten—”

His hand landed on your shoulder, fingers pressing just enough to remind you. Not a threat. Not yet.

Your mouth shut. Swallowing your retort.

He exhaled through his nose, slow and measured. Thinking. Shit. Your gut told you to argue, to roll your shoulders back and step away. But you didn’t.

She wasn’t. You knew that. But your world didn’t allow second guesses.

Unlike Ellie, there were no scraped knees followed by fatherly reassurances. No kissing boo-boos, no gentle words. Hell, in your world, mistakes didn’t just hurt. They burned.

And the man towering over you now, eyes sharp as a blade’s, wasn’t the type to let things slide. The city dubbed him Red Hand, a name spoken in hushed whispers.

But you just settled for—

“Will you relax, old man? I get it.” You scoffed, swatting his hand away.

Old man. Boss. Everything but Dad. He didn’t deserve that title. Maybe once, when you were too young to know better. But now? Now, you couldn’t remember the last time you saw anything close to affection in his eyes. Sure, you’d hear a gruff, “You did good, kid,” now and then—but only after running his errands. Only when you were useful.

That’s how this started. You don’t grow a hatred for the world overnight. It’s molded into you when you’re most likely to sponge it all up. Seeing people for what they really are, learning early that it’s survival, not love.

Your real parents? Nothing but a shadow of the past. A blanket. A half-hearted note. A promise that you’d be “taken care of.” Not loved. Not held. Just… handled.

And he did. In his way. He didn’t mark your growth on a doorframe. He didn’t pack lunches with little notes that said, “Have a great day, love you.”

No, that was too soft. The Red Hand was feared. With just a snap of his fingers, his problems were taken care of—no questions asked.

At first, you weren’t sure who they were—the ones who carried out his orders, the ones who came and went like shadows. Or why he always denied your late-night tea parties with Mr. Bear.

One eye missing. Fur worn and faded from too many hugs. The first toy he’d ever bought you. Well, stolen. But it was a gift nonetheless.

You used to crack your bedroom door open at night, small fingers barely making a sound as you peeked through the gap. Trying to make out the hushed conversations happening just a few feet away.

Never catching much. But it was whispered for a reason. And even as a kid, you knew better than to ask.

Then came second grade. You walked through the door with puffy eyes and a fresh bruise on your cheek. He barely looked up from his paper as he slid an ice pack across the table.

“And did you hit them back?”

Your small legs dangled off the couch as you shook your head. “No…”

The paper rustled as he set it down, finally looking at you. “C’mere, kid. Let me show you something.”

And he did. With careful, practiced movements, he taught you where to aim. How to make it count. Jabs, punches.

“Those little shits won’t bug you too much after this.”

You learned quickly. Not just how to hit, but when. Where. How to read a room. How to never show weakness.

Because in his world? Weakness was a death sentence.

So no, there were no bedtime stories. No reassurances whispered into your hair. Just lessons. And you learned them all. After all, it paid to be useful. Even if that meant the occasional run to the principal’s office

The city doesn’t care. People don’t care. They’re too busy fighting to stay on top. So why bother trying to be something else? Why bother saving anyone when they’ll just let you down? He’d shown you what the world truly was. A place where you had to take what you wanted.

A place where you had to survive, no matter the cost.

You’d stopped asking questions a long time ago. Why did they leave? Why did he allow you to stay? What was that gnawing feeling deep in your gut? You’d stopped wondering about what could be, what should be. This was it. This was all there was.

And as Ellie’s world spun with hope, with the promise of doing right, yours had long since given up. Because in your world, saving lives wasn’t enough. The world didn’t reward you for being a hero. No. It rewarded you for knowing when to stop asking, when to take what you were given.

Dressed in black, learning what was most important: to keep moving.

To be continued …..

Line dividers | 2 | 3

Ellie m.list

Taglist @0h-basic

[htaesan]

　ᅠ 📩　ᅠ EMAILS BETTER LEFT UNSENT part 2　　────　ᅠ ( park sunghoon )

𝓹recis ⠀ : ⠀your crush on your best friend of almost ten years is getting out of hand, and you feel like it’s time to give up𑁋especially after seeing how well your desk mate treats you.

　　　ᅠ 박성훈 & 심재윤 ⠀⠀◜◡◝ ⠀⠀𝒇 reader ⠀wc 32k ⠀ genre fluff a bit of angst childhood best friends to lovers non idol au high school au ⠀ contains mentions of food sickness crying skinship pet names ocs and random characters ⠀ tagging @a-dream-bookmark ,@/k-labels , @k-nets , @k-films , @sgz-net

　　　ᅠ note ᅠ from ᅠ 𝐋𝐈𝐋𝐈 ! ᅠ HELLO your fav fic is back and better!!! (i hope.) saurrrrr i know the word count is crazy and tumblr does not let me put that much words in one post.. so this is the second part ! >< (i am so sorry) enjoy reading my debut enhypen fic on my new blog ^_^

　　　ᅠ ＞︿ 　　please leave feedbacks 　　& 　　reblog

To: parksung.h0on812@gmail.com From: sincerely/n@gmail.com Park Sunghoon, Thank you for taking care of me at the hospital. Part of me was weirded out as to why you’re so adamant in making sure you were there to witness me eat all my meals until I was discharged. Even Heeseung oppa was weirded out. He asked me if you had… feelings for me.  I said no. I strongly believe in it, that you harbour no such feelings towards me.  A very small part of me thinks you like me—exactly like the way I like you. That very tiny part of me is giving me hope that feels illegal to have… hope that maybe I’ll be able to call you mine, and that I’ll be able to spend the rest of my life loving you loudly.  Though, I’ll use my rational mind here. There’s no way you like me the way I like you.  It’s impossible.  It’s impossible.  Maybe it’s not, but… It’s impossible.  Sent 23:45 PM, 11th November.

To: parksung.h0812@gmail.com From: sincerely/n@gmail.com Dear Sunghoon,  Thank you for always sending me plenty of food every day, at each meal time. You’re very clever, aren’t you? You’re making me feel bad if I don’t eat the food, so that way I’ll finish everything.  You know me best, Sunghoon, and I sometimes hate you for that. Do you know how dangerous this fact is for my heart? She keeps on falling for you. Again, again, and again.  I’ll come over to your house after I finish this practice exam paper. Wait for me :)  Sent 9:08 AM, 12th November. 

You’re standing in front of the hotteok booth, bundled up in a warm puffer jacket. You had decided to buy some warm street food before going to Sunghoon’s house.

You shove your hands into your pockets, trying to keep warm. You impatiently tap your feet against the concrete floor, wishing that the old lady at the stall is cooking your hotteok a little faster.  

“Aunty, I’ll pay for her hotteok,” you hear a familiar voice say.

“Jake?” you say upon seeing him beside you. He gives you a toothy smile. 

“Hi, good morning.” 

“Good morning,” you reply grumpily, “are you the richest person in the world, or what? You don’t need to pay for my food every single time you see me.”

Jake laughs, and you see wisps of his breath vaporising from his lips. “I’ve never seen someone get mad at me for paying for their food.”

“Have you done this kind of treatment to anyone else?” you ask sharply.

Though, your tone does not intimidate Jake at all. He simply chuckles, and raises an eyebrow in amusement. “Why? Are you jealous?”

“No,” you snort, elbowing him. “Why would I be?”

“Here you go,” the hotteok lady says, handing you a paper bag filled with the goodies you asked her for. The scent attacks your nose, and you smile happily at the thought of devouring them as soon as possible. 

“It’s KRW 4500,” the lady reminds, and as swift as the autumn wind, Jake hands her the money. “Thank you,” she says. 

“Aish, seriously,” you grumble. “I can pay for myself, you know.”

Before Jake could say anything in reply, the hotteok lady interrupts with a cheeky smile. “Jaeyun-ah, is she your girlfriend? She’s so pretty.”

Your jaw falls open as your eyes dart rapidly between Jake and the lady. “N-no, I’m not–”

Jake grabs your hand and gives the lady a very generous smile. “Thank you, aunty, I do think she’s very beautiful too.”

You feel heat smothering the entirety of your face and you give the lady a sheepish laugh. Jake then bids farewell to the lady and leads you towards the bus station. 

“You’re crazy, aren’t you?” you hiss, pulling your hand away from his grip. “I’m not your girlfriend.”

Jake raises an amused eyebrow. “Oh? I thought you said yes the other day.”

“To what?”

“You agreed to dating me for a month, as a preview?”

“When…” you take a deep breath, containing your rage. Even though Jake was a very nice and polite person that you enjoy being around a lot, there’s this cocky side of him that often gets on your nerves. “...when did I agree to that?”

Jake looks confused—causing him to break out of his arrogant and confident manner, and it took him a minute to answer. “Oh. I-I took your silence as a yes.”

You laugh defeatedly. “Jake, I don’t think that’s how it works with me.”

Jake nods slowly, removing his gaze from you. While he’s recollecting his thoughts, and possibly coming up with a new tactic to convince you to date him; you’re thinking about it yourself, too. 

Jake’s nice—he’s good looking, athletic, and he’s smart too. From the beginning of your friendship with him in sophomore year, Jake has never been anything but kind and caring to you. You lost count the amount of times he’s bought you food and drinks, helped you in subjects you particularly aren’t too good in—and he doesn’t make you feel less smart at all. 

Honestly, you would classify Jake as one of the guys that girls are dying to get together with. He’s fun to be around—even if he can be overwhelming sometimes—he’s outgoing and adaptable, and he loves hard. 

You’ve seen the loving side of him, exposed to you for almost the entirety of your high school years. It’s just that you chose to ignore it, unable to see Jake as something more than a good friend of yours. 

You lay eyes on him, feeling bad—Jake deserves someone who reciprocates the immense amount of love he gives, not someone who purposefully chooses to friendzone him every single time, even though there’s absolutely nothing wrong with him. 

A voice inside your head tells you to try. That voice tells you to choose yourself, instead of pining after Sunghoon who most likely isn’t going to love you the same way you love him. It tells you that, perhaps, by giving Jake a chance, you’d give yourself one too. A chance to finally love and prioritise yourself.

“Fine,” you say, your voice shaky at first. “Let’s do it.”

YOU’RE riding the bus with Jake sitting by your side—and from the corner of your eyes, you can see how greatly his mood improved. He’s swinging his head slightly at the hum of a song he’s murmuring. 

“I’ll see you later,” Jake says when the bus approaches your stop. He gives you the brightest smile you’ve seen on him yet. “Take care, text me when you get there.”

You chortle, “relax, I’m only going to Sunghoon’s house. Nothing’s going to happen.”

“Sunghoon?” Jake’s smile slips, and for a split second, you almost catch his eyes darken.

You nod cautiously. “Yeah, I’m going to study there,” you say, adjusting the tote bag on your shoulder. “Most likely I’m just going there to hangout, probably.”

“Why don’t you hang out at my place?” Jake suggests.

You grin. “You’re too clingy for someone who isn’t my boyfriend yet.”

“But–” 

“Shh,” you place a finger on Jake’s lips, sending tingles through. “See you later.”

Jake watches with round eyes as you hop off the bus, waving cheerfully at him. It takes him a minute to process what happened, and it had been a little too late for him to wave back at you. 

To: parksung.h0on812@gmail.com From: sincerely/n@gmail.com Dear Sunghoon,   Thanks for letting me hang out at your house today. It’s been a while since I’ve eaten your mom’s cooking, I miss it.  Hoon, I hope you’ve been doing well. I hope you’ve been eating well, not missing your meals like I do, and that you’re always taking good care of yourself like how you’ve been taking care of me.  Honestly, I envy you.  How do you not develop feelings for someone who you’ve spent years with—who you’ve shared a bed and a blanket with multiple times, who you’ve eaten from the same utensils together a lot of times, whom you have hugged and cried with countless times. How do you not love someone, more than the boundaries of a mere friendship, who’s been there for you through ups and downs; who’s seen you at your best and your worst; who’s always making sure you’re taking care of yourself? How do you not fall in love with someone as kind as you? Sent 23:10 PM, 12th November. 

To: parksung.h0on812@gmail.com From: sincerely/n@gmail.com Sunghoon! We did it! National entrance exams are finally over! I can finally sleep in for a whole day…  I’m so proud of you. I’m so proud of us. We’ve been through so many things together, now—kindergarten, elementary, middle school and now we’re more than halfway through high school!  I can’t believe I’ve gone through so much with you by my side. I still remember you cheering me through my first violin recital back in second grade; and since then, you’ve never really missed any of my recitals. I still remember you teaching me how to skate, back in fourth grade, holding my hand tightly through every glide I took. I still remember you pulling me into one of the tightest hugs I’ve ever received from you, back in sixth grade, when you won the gold medal for the figure skating competition—I had never felt so joyful for someone other than you.  I hope with the last bit of the school year left for us to spend together, we’ll make a lot of memories.  Sent 23:46 PM, 14th November.  

Knock knock. Knock knock. Knock knock. 

Your eyes immediately flutter open, alarmed by the noise at your window. Groggily, you force yourself to stand up and rush to the source of the sound—your blurry vision barely making up the figure of Sunghoon outside. 

“Let me in,” he says, voice muffled. “It’s cold.”

“No,” you mumble sleepily. “Who are you…?”

“Princess, it’s me,” he exclaims a little bit louder so you can hear him properly. Nodding idly, you obey and open the window for him to jump in. Sunghoon, noticing your extremely sleepy condition, wraps an arm around your shoulder. He closes the window securely with his free hand before guiding you to your bed. 

“Are you that sleepy?” he asks you as he guides you to sit down in front of him. “It’s only 2 AM.”

“Mhm,” you nod, “I’m so sleepy…” 

Sunghoon softly pushes away a strand of hair from your face, tucking it gently behind your ear. You’re not meeting his gaze, your eyes droopy as they fight for their life to stay open. “Do you want to sleep right now?”

You nod, and Sunghoon can’t help but chuckle—you look so unbearably cute. Then, after a minute of debating whether he should leave to let you sleep or not, Sunghoon decides to do something he’s been doing ever since the two of you were nine years old. 

Sunghoon pats his thigh, signalling for you to land your head on it. Sleepy and unaware of your surroundings, you obey and lay on his lap, shifting to make yourself comfortable. Within seconds, you’re already sailing back to dreamland. 

Actually, Sunghoon came to talk about his problems to you. It’s always been like that—you are each other’s safe place. He could tell you about anything and you’d listen, so intently that the problem is already instantly solved. 

In the dead of the night, Sunghoon smiles to himself as he admires a sleeping you. You look so comfortable, at home, in his presence. You look so ethereal, and the moon seems to agree. Its dainty glow highlights the best of your features, glistening upon contact with your beauty. You’re sleeping, breathing gently and possibly dreaming about food and fun memories—but Sunghoon’s cheeks are reddening. His breaths are shaky, and with each exhale, he’s admitting something that he’s been denying for almost a decade. 

Sunghoon likes you. 

More than what friends should. 

Sunghoon loves you—more than what he’d like to admit; more than what childhood friends of almost 10 years are supposed to. 

“I like you, Y/N,” he whispers, and with each word that escapes from his lips, his shoulders release its tension. “I’ve liked you for a long time now. I-I don’t know what’s wrong with me, but I like you.”

Sunghoons laughs, shaking his head. “Maybe I’m insane. Maybe I am, ‘cause the way my heart beats for you doesn’t suit what we are. The way I pretend that we’re just friends when every single night, I’ll dream about you–” he bit his lip, in hopes to control his feelings from overflowing, “–that is insane.”

“I didn’t want to fall in love,” Sunghoon whispers, slowly lifting his hand. He begins to trace your facial features, so gentle like he’s going to shatter you into pieces if he’s too harsh. “But you—how can someone look at you and not fall in love, Y/N?”

His finger comes into a halt at your lips. Sunghoon stares intently, his heart urging him painfully to just kiss you. He leans and kisses your nose instead, so tenderly it seemed like barely a touch. 

Sunghoon smiles to himself, content. “One day, I’ll find the courage to tell you everything. I’ll tell you myself, how much I love you, how much I want you to be by my side for the rest of my life.”

THE next morning, you can’t help but laugh at the way Sunghoon’s gawking at you as you rush here and there to get ready. At first, you found it a bit weird how he slept on your floor the entire night, but given that he has been doing that for the past few years, you don’t really mind.

“What?” 

“What do you mean what?” Sunghoon grumbles. “Where are you going?”

You scrunch your nose, giggling. “Guess!” you exclaim, turning away to finish doing your hair. 

Sunghoon rolls his eyes. “How would I know? I mean, we are not going anywhere, so why are you dolling up?”

“Well,” you chuckle, “I’m going to the aquarium with Jaeyun. he asked—”

“JAKE?” Sunghoon yelps, almost falling off the edge of your bed. 

You pause at the sudden reaction, one that you did not expect from Sunghoon. “What? We’re just friends.”

“Yet it’s a date,” Sunghoon flatly addresses. 

“No it’s not!” you shriek, despite the fact that Sunghoon was in fact, correct. “I mean, yes, it is,” you roll your eyes at Sunghoon’s ‘I knew it’ expression. “But I haven’t said anything to him. Like, we’re not in a relationship or anything.”

You show Sunghoon your messages with Jake, hoping to ease the frown on his face. 

hi y/n

if you’re free today

let’s go to the aquarium? let’s go by train

“See?” you say, “it’s nothing.”

Sunghoon turns off your smartphone, placing it to the side. His eyes pierce straight through you. “You look ugly.”

You gasp, your eyes widening as your smile drops drastically. What could hurt more—getting told by your crush that you look ugly, or being rejected by him? 

“Okay, well, I take it back,” Sunghoon hesitates, “you l-look pretty. But, what I’m tryna say is that you don’t have to put on so much makeup.”

You stare at him, heart pounding so loudly as you await his next words. 

Sunghoon continues, eyes looking away from you, “you don’t have to doll up. He’ll like you just the way you are.”

He gives you an awkward smile—leaning forward to pat your head. “I’ll wait outside. I wanna greet Mrs. Lee and say thanks for letting me sleep here.”

You watch as Sunghoon hops off your bed and walks out of the room, closing the door gently behind him. Your eyes linger around at the door, as if you’re waiting for him to come back in and watch you get ready. You sigh, turn back to the mirror, and continue finishing your makeup—doubting if you really are overdoing things with every stroke of the makeup brush. 

MOMENTS later, you’re sitting in the taxi next to Sunghoon, who insisted so much that he accompanied you to the train station to meet Jake. His excuse? It’s so that you won’t get lost due to the heavy crowd at the station, and so that you won’t be too nervous to go on your first date with Jake. Sunghoon even went as far as to call your brother about it—and Heeseung agrees, so you have no choice but to obey.

“Do you like Jake?” Sunghoon asks, five minutes into the ride. 

His question is direct and forward, and it feels like a bomb dropped straight to your face. It challenges you to truly label your feelings, distinguishing it clearly. 

You return his gaze, biting your lower lip as you think of an answer. The answer is blurry between the lines of yes and no. “No? I mean, he’s a nice person.”

“So you like… like him?”

You aggressively shake your head. “No! I like him as a friend.”

“Then, you’re going on dates with him?” Sunghoon questions. 

Your mouth sets on a hard line. “Okay, listen. Jake likes me—not the other way around—and he offered to date me for one month.”

“And you agreed?” Sunghoon jabs, his arms crossing across his chest. 

Your gaze sharpens. “Gosh, Hoon, stop being so difficult! As I said, Jake’s just a friend. You don’t have to worry about anything. I agreed to dating him for a month as a ‘preview’ because he’s nice, and he likes me. Plus, it doesn’t hurt to try, does it?”

Sunghoon sighs, his jaw clenching. “You think love is a joke?”

Your mouth falls open, and for a few seconds, you struggle to form words. “N-no, I don’t. Love… it’s something serious to me, Hoon, and I know you know that. I’m just giving Jake a chance to prove himself to me.”

“Then if you don’t like him, you’ll reject him?” Sunghoon asks sharply, an eyebrow perched upwards in mockery. 

“Well… yeah,” you admit silently. 

You don’t know what you expect as Sunghoon’s next response, but you’re surprised to find simply nodding and turning away, scrolling through social media on his smartphone. The rest of the taxi ride remains silent, and Sunghoon only opens his mouth when you’ve arrived at the train station. 

“Go on, have fun,” Sunghoon says, urging you to go out before you can offer to pay the fare. “I’ll pay—plus, I have somewhere I need to go to.”

“Are you sure?” you ask as you step out of the vehicle. Sunghoon gives you a strained smile before nodding reassuringly.  

“Yes,” he replies. “Go on, princess, have fun at the aquarium. Don’t annoy Jake too much.”

“Okay,” you say, and you stand there, frozen as you watch the cab drive away. It’s painful, for some reason, to watch him let you go and do nothing about it. 

Though, the universe doesn’t seem to let you dwell onto that guilt for too long. The taxi Sunghoon is in barely goes out of your sight before someone taps your shoulder. You turn around and see Jake—he’s dressed casually in a white tee, a navy blue plaid shirt as a cardigan, and brown jeans. His hair is combed nicely, in a way that some of it falls perfectly on his forehead. 

“Hi,” you say, “you look nice.”

Jake smiles shyly, coughing it away. “Yeah. I-I mean, thanks. You look beautiful.”

You snort, scanning your own outfit—a white babydoll top with plain blue jeans. “Beautiful? I wouldn’t say that.”

Jake pouts. “You give yourself too little credit.”

“Whatever,” you shake your head. 

“So, um, let’s go?” Jake offers you his arm. “I know you might not want to… hold my hand, but if you hold my arm, you won’t get lost in the crowd.”

You give him a slight smile, accepting his offer by grabbing his arm. “Alright, let’s go.”

For the entire train ride to the aquarium, which took about 20 minutes, Jake had been nothing but kind and caring towards you, just how you expected him to be. He made sure to find a seat that was comfortable for you—he even offered his seat to an old lady. Though, he made sure to stand directly in front of you, acting as a shield or a protector. Jake kept a respectful distance from you, but at the same time, he made sure that no creeps or anything of that sort could make you uncomfortable. Of course, you got some comments from people around you that Jake is extremely lucky to have a girlfriend as pretty as you, and vice versa. You tried to deny them at first, clarifying that you and Jake are just friends, but you gave up halfway due to Jake’s speed—you wonder how he managed to reply to them faster than you do. 

When the train arrives at your designated stop, Jake offers you a hand—and you take it, letting him guide you through the ocean of people. At the ticket counter, you didn’t even have a chance to offer to pay—Jake did it all. 

It’s really awkward at first, having everyone look at you with heart eyes, whispering “aww, they’re so cute”, “oh my, they look so good together”, “look at him, so sweet, paying for his girlfriend” as you and Jake pass by. Though, all the awkwardness quickly dissolves away as soon as you set eyes on the aquariums on display. 

The first display hall of the aquarium is decorated with colourful and mystical lights, making the aquatic creatures living inside so much prettier. You pull out your smartphone and take numerous pictures; Jake walking close behind you, observing you intently. He smiles gently as he watches you in awe of the corals and jellyfish, sneaking a few pictures of you. 

Once the two of you reach the highlight of the aquarium, which is the aquarium tunnel, you can’t help but gasp in complete astonishment. Jake watches with amusement, laughing along with you as you spin around, taking in the view around you.

“Jaeyun!” you squeal, the edges of your eyes crinkling as you smile widely. “Look! It’s so pretty!”

To you, the view around you is breathtaking—with every turn, you see sharks swimming around, followed by unknown schools of fishes and aquatic life. But, to Jake, the breathtaking view is you. Features illuminated by hues of blue and purple light, Jake can’t help but smile merrily at the sight of you, happily admiring the scenery in the aquarium. 

“Yeah,” Jake replies, breathless. “It’s pretty,” he says, but he’s looking at you. 

To: parksung.h0on812@gmail.com From: sincerely/n@gmail.com Hi Sunghoon, Today’s date with Jaeyun was really fun! I haven’t been to the aquarium in Busan for quite some time, so it’s nice to be there! He paid for everything, of course, so I had to enjoy it ten times more! Hehe. He also paid for lunch… I kinda feel bad. I tried to refuse and pay for myself, but Jaeyun wouldn’t let me. :(  Hmm. I hope you aren’t upset with me spending time with Jaeyun. Okay, honestly, I don’t know why I’m saying this in the first place, but… I don’t know if I should continue loving you. Sure, I still do love you, but maybe, for the sake of my heart, I’ll keep my love strictly within the limits of friendship.  I don’t know. I still like you. I want to be with you, grow old and create countless memories with you. But I have to take care of my heart, too, don’t I?  It’s been five years, Sunghoon, and I don’t know if my love will ever be reciprocated. I don’t know if you’ll ever love me back the same way. Besides, with school ending in five months, it’s certain that we’ll diverge in our paths—not meeting each other again for years to come. I don’t want to be in pain, Sunghoon, but at the same time, I’m willing to go through even the harshest storms and pits of hell for you.  Sent 19:15 PM, 15th November.

Closing your laptop shut, you hit yoursel lightly. How could you forget? It’s Jake’s birthday! You only realised after seeing Naeun’s text, reminding you if you’d come over to her house to help Fdaniset up for Jennie and Jake’s surprise birthday party . The two of you had gone out together for the day, and you didn’t even wish him a happy birthday. Trying not to trip, you grab your purse, smartphone and a puffer coat, and run out of the house. You rush to a nearby cafe—thankfully there has been a bakery in your neighbourhood—to buy two small lunch box cakes. You whip out your smartphone, dialling Jake’s number. The sun is setting, and you desperately hope he answers, despite only parting ways with you less than 30 minutes ago. 

“Y/N?” his voice came through.

You let out a shaky laugh of relief. “Oh, thank you for answering the phone. Are you free?”

“Are you okay?” he asks. “I-I mean, I’m free. Just chilling at home right now. Why?”

“I… want to drop something off,” you say, carefully choosing your words. You certainly don’t want the cake in your hands to not be a surprise. “I-I mean! I want to give you… something.”

You hear Jake chuckle. “Okay, I’ll meet you—send me your location?”

“Can we just meet at your house?” you inquire, not wanting to give Jake an inconvenience. 

“I don’t prefer having the lady go out of her way to meet me,” Jake replies after some silence, “I prefer going out of my way to meet her.”

Your nose crinkles as you try to hold in your shyness. “O-oh, okay… I’ll send you my location.”

You quickly end the call, and send him the location of the cafe you’re standing in front of. A few minutes later, you see Jake running up to you—his hair messily tousled by the wind, his chest heaving up and down drastically. 

“Did you run here?” you ask.

Jake nods. “Yeah. I wanted to meet you.”

You laugh, soft like the wind. “We literally just met this afternoon, Jaeyun.”

“Anyway,” you say, stretching out your arms to show the lunchbox cake, the one that you had asked the shop employee to say ‘Happy Birthday, Jaeyun!’ on it, to Jake. “Happy birthday. I’m sorry I didn’t say it earlier today, I didn’t realise it was your birthday too�� I mean, you acted like it was a normal day!”

“My birthday too?” Jake asks, amusement glinting in his eyes. “Did you forget that Jennie’s my twin sister?”

You pout, not knowing what to say. “I’m sorry…”

After grabbing the cake from your hands, Jake leans forward and pats your head. “Thank you, Y/N. Means a lot.” 

Then, feeling the buzz of your smartphone in your pocket, you’re reminded of the birthday surprise you need to help Naeun with. You quickly say goodbye, and wish Jake a happy birthday again before running off to catch a taxi. 

Jake watches you go, his eyes lingering a second longer, even after the taxi you’re in leaves his line of sight. He turns his attention to the lunchbox cake in his hands, a smile curving up his lips as he examines its design—a cute puppy, on a plain white cake, saying ‘Happy Birthday, Jaeyun!’. 

Jake turns on his heel and merrily walks home. Deep in his heart, he knows that the girl he likes has her heart set on someone else, yet this little gesture feels like he’s won her over. It’s short and doesn’t last as long as he’d like it to be, but the butterflies it gives him is enough to last him awhile. 

AS you’re desperately wishing for the traffic to die down quickly, due to you needing to be at Naeun’s house as quickly as possible, your thoughts lead your mind elsewhere. You’re back to thinking about your interaction with Jake—how his surprised yet grateful smile seemed to hide a thousand more emotions behind its perfection… it lingers in your mind. His gestures are sweet and really, really thoughtful—he’s willing to go out of his way for you, always managing to crack a smile from you. 

Deep down, you know Jake cares about you. He’s everything you had looked for in a partner—he’s willing to learn more about you, he’s patient and kind, he’s good looking and he’s smart—if only your heart wasn’t tightly bound to someone else. 

Halfway to Naeun’s place, your smartphone buzzes with a text message. This time, it’s from Naeun. You quickly open it, expecting a “hurry up, Y/N!” or some kind of instruction for the surprise—instead, you find a picture of Jake with the lunchbox cake you gave him. He’s smiling, posing in front of his house, holding it up to the camera with that goofy, happy grin that makes your heart do a little flip. 

y/n, did you give this cake to him? 

it’s on his instagram story

You reply, 

yes. but it’s not the one we’re surprising them with

it’s with me rn

You watch Naeun’s reply pop out on the screen. 

oh good

scared me

also, what’s up with the caption? 

“I think I’m in love with her, Y/N. This cake... it’s everything to me. She’s everything.” 

The message halts you in motion. Your fingers hover over the screen, unsure of what to reply. For a moment, you’re sitting there, staring at the screen while the traffic buzzes around the taxi you’re in. 

The message is like a hard slap to the face, but instead of making you cry, it makes you second guess everything.

Is Jake really falling for you? Are his actions purely out of love, and not just some casual ‘I like you’ kind of thing? Is he really waiting for something, some kind of answer, from you? 

You press your lips into a thin line, thinking hard. 

Jake has been nothing but patient, kind and loving towards you. He’s everything that every girl, including you, would ask for. Though, that fact comes with a feeling that you can’t shake off—every time you think of Jake’s smile, his kindness and his warmth; it all drifts back to Sunghoon. How the world seems to revolve around him, his smile that makes you think of bread whenever you see it, the warmth of his hugs, and the comfort of his presence. 

Your heart always seems to find its way back to Sunghoon. 

You swallow thickly, trying to push the guilt down. It’s not fair to Jake. It’s not fair to anyone, especially you, because you’re the one stuck in the middle of two worlds.

Do you pick Jake, or do you stay with Sunghoon?

THE surprise birthday party is a blur. Everyone’s laughing, chatting, eating their hearts away, and there’s a sense of celebration in the air—but you can’t quite ignore the clenching feeling in your stomach. You’ve got two different people to think about now, and you don’t know how to navigate the space between them.

And all the while, Jake’s smile from earlier keeps dancing in your mind. The way he’d looked at you as you handed him the cake, the way he’d thanked you so earnestly. Why did a small, lunch box cake seem to mean so much to him? How do you even respond to that? How do you face him, knowing he’s waiting for something that you might not be able to give?

You glance across the room, catching Jake’s eye as he talks with Jennie. You quickly look away, feeling a small, warm burn in your cheeks. You can’t help but wonder what he’s thinking, and more importantly, if he knows that your heart is, somehow, still tethered to someone else.

You pull your eyes away, unaware that Jake had quickly excused himself to approach you.

You sit in silence at the dining table, the birthday party bustling around you. It’s a small party, yet you can feel the high excitement and energy in the atmosphere. You sit alone at your seat, sipping on your drink. Sunghoon had left for a while to get some refreshments for everyone, so you’re left sitting by yourself. 

“Y/N,” Jake says, pulling you out of your haze. “May I sit?”

You give him a quick smile as you nod. “Of course.”

“Are you not enjoying yourself?” Jake asks, grabbing a slice of pizza. “You’re quiet.”

You glance at the ceiling, feeling awkward as you don’t know what to say. You laugh sheepishly. “No, of course not! I am enjoying myself! Just… you know… soaking in everything.”

Jake laughs, throwing his head back. “I can tell with one eye closed that you want to go home right now.”

“Yeah, I should probably study,” you reply with a laugh. 

Your conversation with Jake dims down, and the ambiance of the party resurfaces. You’re sitting in front of Jake, stiffly avoiding his gaze as he’s observing you. It’s like he has a million things to say, but can’t seem to find the right words. 

“Y/N,” Jake suddenly says, his voice unsteady. “Thanks for making this surprise party for me and Jennie.”

You smile at him, breaking eye contact as soon as he finishes speaking. Suddenly, Layla chasing around her tail in the corner becomes such an interesting thing to watch. 

“Of course.”

You connect your gaze with Jake, and you instantly are reminded of the conversation you had earlier at the aquarium. 

THE tension between you and Jake is physical as you take in the beauty of the aquarium, elatedly ignorant of Jake’s silent adoration of you. Sure, the aquarium is beautiful—the lights dancing off the walls of the tunnel, creating wavy shadows of mesmerising colours, illuminating the ocean creatures in a magical way—but, for Jake, you are the most captivating sight. 

Jake watches you, his focus unwavering from you, with pure content as you spin with excitement, pointing out every creature you lay your eyes upon. There’s an assured warmth in his eyes, the way he lays his eyes on you with a quiet affection that’s very much impossible to ignore; and for a moment, you wonder if maybe you’ve misjudged his feelings. Maybe there’s something deeper there that you haven’t fully acknowledged yet. Maybe he does really really like you—not the casual high school fling you thought he felt. 

“Y/N,” you turn around and your pupils immediately dilate at the sight of Jake, who’s taking a step closer to you. 

Jake gives you a genuine smile. One that made you see that, indeed, there are raw and vulnerable emotions behind Decelis Academy’s basketball ace’s handsome face. His voice is wobbly. “Thank you, really, for doing this with me. I’m really glad because I’m… I’m having a lot of fun, actually. More than I thought I would.”

You glance at him as you stiffly nod, your lips forming a half-smile. 

“Of course,” you reply, feeling a pang in your chest as you remember Sunghoon’s words earlier in the taxi. Was he right? Could it be that Jake is looking for something more from you, and you’re just breaking his heart by doing this—the one-month dating agreement, where you yourself are uncertain if you’d reciprocate his feelings? “Me too—it’s been nice.”

Jake takes a deep breath, and as he continues, you begin to wonder if he read your mind. “I know you don’t think that this isn’t a real ‘date’ or anything… but I’d like to think of it as a real one—more than just hanging out, more than just a preview.”

You don’t dare meet his eyes. Instead, you direct your focus to the tight schools of fish swimming gracefully in the water, scales shimmering as they catch light.

“Y/N…”

You look directly into his dark brown eyes, the raw emotions swirling dangerously inside. 

“I think you’re really special, Y/N. I-I just wanted to let you know that.”

Your steps come to a halt, and Jake almost bumps into you. You turn completely to face Jake, immediately overwhelmed by how heavy the situation feels. You can feel Jake’s palpable sincerity, and as you try to process his words, the rest of the aquarium fades into the background. The tunnel seems to shrink, your surroundings blurring slightly as your focus zeroes in on Jake’s face—his solemn expression, his vulnerability out in the open for you to see.

“You’re a good person, Jaeyun, you really are,” you start, your throat shaking as you struggle to keep your voice steady. Each word feels heavy for your tongue to pronounce—Jake’s gaze is heavy on you, and a small part of you wants to be brutally honest with him, to say the truth that’s been swimming in your chest all day.

“I’m really grateful to have you as a friend, as a tablemate,” you continue, desperately hoping your emphasis on the word friend delivered the message to Jake. You give him a small, almost apologetic smile.

“But, you know…” you say, your fingers fidgeting with the edges of your top. You take a deep breath before finishing your sentence. 

“Right now, I’m… not sure if I can give you what you’re looking for,” you say, and with each letter you utter, the tension from your shoulders releases one by one. “I thought about it, Jaeyun, I really did. But I cherish you—as a friend—so much that I don’t have the heart to make you go through something one sided.”

Jake slowly nods, and you could almost hear your heart splitting as his face softens—you swear you saw a flicker of disappointment in his eyes. 

“O-of course, I figured,” he says, the crack in his voice evident. He sighs shakily, and for a second, he looks at his shoes to collect his thoughts. He looks back at you, his eyes sparkling with tears that are threatening to fall. “It’s foolish of me to expect anything from someone who’s heart belongs to another, b-but, I just wanted to… put it out there, you know?”

“I like you, Y/N,” Jake confesses, his hand placed above his heart as if he’s trying to stop it from jumping out of his chest. “I really do. I know I have no chance at all, but there’s no harm in trying, right? I just… hope that you might feel the same.”

Your heart skips a beat, and a wave of guilt washes over you. “Jaeyun… I’m sorry, I really am–”

Jake smiles, though it’s not a full smile. “It’s okay. I get it. It’s just… I don’t know. I guess I wanted to know what it would feel like to be with you like that. I thought maybe if we tried, you’d feel what I feel. But… I respect your feelings, Y/N. You don’t have to feel the same way.”

Silence falls between the two of you, and for a moment, neither of you says anything. You stand in your place, watching Jake wipe a hidden tear away from his cheek, taking a deep breath to compose himself. You feel a want to comfort him, to tell him that you’re very grateful to have him as a friend, to tell him that you’re not rejecting him as a person—it’s just that you aren’t ready to give him what he’s looking for in you. 

Though, you stay silent—the moment is too raw, too delicate for you to say anything and ruin it. 

So, instead of talking about it, you grab Jake’s arm, turning your focus back to the aquarium. “Should we go see the penguins next? They must look so cute.”

Jake lets out a heavy breath, and for a second, you think he’s going to pull away or make things awkward between you. But instead, he nods, and his smile returns, albeit a little smaller. “Yeah, that sounds great. Let’s go.”

The rest of your aquarium date goes smoothly without any hiccups, though it flows with a quiet and unspoken understanding. Jake’s demeanour is unchanged—he takes good pictures of you, he smiles and he laughs, though you could feel that his gaze is heavier with a touch of disappointment. You two enjoy the aquarium together, and even though things feel a little unsettled between you and Jake, there’s a comforting familiarity in the way you share small moments of laughter and quiet companionship. 

By the time the sun begins to set, you and Jake are both sitting on a bench outside the aquarium, munching on churros, watching the last few visitors leave. 

Jake turns to you again, his features soft and delicate. “Thanks… thanks for coming, Y/N. I’m glad you agreed to this, I’m glad you came. Even if it’s just as friends.”

You nod, suddenly conscious of the number of chews you made before swallowing a bite of churros. “Me too,” you quietly reply, turning away to look at the soft evening glow of the sky. “Thanks, Jaeyun, for being patient with me—for being my friend, for everything. I know it hasn’t been… easy.”

“Yeah, of course. I mean, it isn’t easy, but it’s worth it,” Jake shrugs, looking way too relaxed despite the tension he faced earlier. “Definitely. You are worth it, Y/N.”

The two of you exchange smiles, briefly, as you quickly turn your head away, feeling a little too shy and awkward to look Jake directly in the eye. 

“I just want you to be happy, Y/N,” Jake continues, his voice silent as if he’s talking to himself, yet he wants his words to be heard by you. “Whether that’s with me, or… not with me. I’m okay either way. My happiness is yours.”

You finally turn to Jake, staring deep into his glistening brown eyes. His words are sincere, and in your heart, you feel a swell of gratitude for his maturity. You know that Jake is someone who will always care for you, no matter what the two of you are, no matter where your relationship goes. And as you sit there in comfortable silence, the only thing that’s certain is that, for now, being friends with Jake is the best you can offer him.

To: parksung.h0812@gmail.com From: sincerely/n@gmail.com Sunghoon, You know, I’ve been thinking about us. I mean, me—how did I even fall in love with my own best friend in the first place. After a few moments of thinking, I believe I finally got it.  It was back in second grade. I remember our homeroom teacher asking us to draw a picture of us with our best friend as part of the art class—I remember drawing you and I. we had only just got to know each other for a few months, and I wasn’t even sure if you saw me as a friend too.  I was nervous to present my piece to the class, afraid that my friendship was one-sided.  The shock mixed with happiness that hit me when Naeun had shouted to the whole class, pointing to your piece, saying “teacher, look! He also drew Y/N!” I had never felt so belonged before.  Though, I don’t know if I should continue loving you. I’ve always loved you, but I don’t think I can bear it any longer, waiting for something that’s never going to happen. Thank you, Sunghoon, for being my friend all this time. I owe you my life, and I’d do anything for you. I hope you know that.  And even though I do resent you, just a little bit, for not reciprocating my love—I’ll always cherish you. If not as a lover, if not as someone who’ll stay with me till the end of time… as a friend.  Sunghoon, I’m giving up on you now. I love you, but I can’t wait forever. Sent 23:32 PM, 22nd November. 

JAKE is sitting in his room, completing homework as usual. However, nothing is going right—he’s suddenly getting all of the questions he usually gets right wrong. He pushes himself off of his chair, laying down flat on the heated floor.

Jake sighs. 

His mind is swirling with many things—you. He vividly remembers the way you offer him a guilty smile, endlessly apologising as you friendzoned him. He’s not mad about it, he’s just sad that he can’t get a chance at loving the girl he likes just because she’s stuck up on a guy, for five years, who clearly wants nothing but to be just friends with her.  

You had just left his house, 30 minutes ago, after completing a biology research paper together. You had been assigned as partners with him, and the two of you did your job well. It’s difficult to shrug off the evident awkwardness between you and Jake, but you admit that Jake’s really good at continuing off your friendship from where you left off. 

“Jaeyun,” he remembers you beaming, as he walks you to the door. 

“Yeah?” he breathed, still mesmerised by your smile. 

“Thank you,” you said with a smile, sincere and heartwarming. “Thank you for still being my friend, and thank you for always treating me well, despite the heartbreak I may have caused you.”

Jake remembers grinning, patting your head as a way of saying that it’s all in the past, and he’s okay with it now. “It’s alright, Y/N, I’m thankful that I still get to be around you.”

You nodded, turning on your heel to begin walking home. However, before you could even step out of his driveway, Jake stopped you. 

“Y/N,” he said, “I-I just wanted to say that if you ever decide that you’re… ready to give me what I’m hoping for, know that I’ll be here waiting.”

“Jaeyun… you might wait for quite some time,” you sighed. 

Jake smiled—it doesn’t quite reach his eyes, yet you can see the hope seeping through. “It’s okay. If you can wait for Sunghoon for five years, I can wait for you for more.”

You chuckled, smiling widely at Jake. “Thank you, Jae.”

Jake pressed a swift kiss to your forehead, and you froze—unusually not flinching or retracting at it. He smiled, mirroring your sincerity. “Of course—and if Sunghoon ever decides to break your heart, tell me. I’ll fight him for you.”

You laughed heartily, your heart swelling with joy at the fact that someone is here for you despite the longing and the pain you’re going through. 

Jake takes a deep breath, smiling as he recalls the moment. It hurts, that’s true, yet he’s determined to give you all that he has—one moment Sunghoon is caught slacking, he’ll be there for you, always.

“YO, Sunghoon,” Kangmin says, breaking the silence in the room. The two of them had been working on the biology group assignment together for the past few hours in Sunghoon’s room. Sunghoon turns towards his friend. 

“What?”

Kangmin, who had been sprawled all over the bedroom floor, gets up and sits up straight. He ruffles his hair before saying, “do you have a spare email? Like, one that you don’t use anymore.”

Sunghoon pauses to think. “Yeah, I do. Why?” 

Kangmin smiles sheepishly, scooting closer to Sunghoon, who’s sitting cross-legged on the floor, papers and books spread out around him. 

“Hey,” he says, mustering up an innocent smile—which is met by a vicious side eye from Sunghoon. “Can I use it?”

“For what?”

“I think my girlfriend isn’t interested in me anymore,” Kangmin replies, pouting. “I’m not entirely sure yet, so I’m going to make a fake instagram profile, using your unused email address, to test my theory out.”

Sunghoon goes poker-faced, obviously unimpressed. “Are you crazy?”

Kangmin insists. “Aww, please, Sunghoon? I really need it.”

“Fine,” Sunghoon grumbles. He opens a new window on his computer to log into an old email account, parksung.h0on812@gmail.com, the one that he hasn’t used ever since middle school ended. He’s surprised to still have the password to it saved on his Google Chrome—and easily logs in. 

Sunghoon’s eyebrows perk up in confusion at the red dot near the inbox icon, the numbers significantly high for an unused email address. 

“I’m sure I didn’t subscribe to any newsletter or anything on here,” he mutters to himself. 

Sunghoon clicks on the inbox tab, eyes widening upon what he’s seeing.

Countless emails, sent from an email address he’s all too familiar with. 

Yours. 

Sunghoon’s eyes scans the inbox, his disbelief growing with every second that passes by. His heart is racing, pumping so harshly he’s afraid it’d pop out of his chest. 

He’s familiar with the name of the sender—Y/N—his best friend, his rock, the person he’s liked for so long. 

There are so many emails—too many to ignore. The subject lines are all over the place: “What’s going on with my heart?”, “Thanks for letting me hang out at your house today…”, “I think I just fell in love with you again.”

Sunghoon’s heart pulses even faster, but he can’t seem to stop himself. He clicks on the most recent one, his heart pounding in his ears as the screen fills with words.

His heart stops for a split moment as he reads: “I’m giving up on you now. I love you, but I can’t wait forever.”

What did you mean by that?

Sunghoon stammers, not knowing how to react. His hand hovers above the mouse, hesitating to click anything. A lump forms in his throat, and tears threaten to form at the corner of his eyes. His thoughts start crashing down, and before he can even stop himself, he’s opening another email. And then another. And another. 

Each one hits him with a sensation more painful than a ton of bricks hitting from above. The emails all have one thing in common: you have been writing to him for months. Writing to him, pouring out your heart, confessing feelings that you pictured as something obvious yet he never knew about, and… he hadn’t noticed. All the smiles, the eye contacts that lasted a second too long, the hugs that made each of you feel like you’re made for one another… he realises that it meant something to you too. 

“I’ve always loved you..” 

“But I don’t think I can bear it any longer, waiting for something that’s never going to happen.”

Sunghoon’s chest tightens. His eyes flickers over the sentence again and again, each word displayed hitting him hard. His fingers freeze, unsure if he should keep scrolling or not. It feels like he’s been hit by a storm of emotions that he isn’t sure how to process.

“Sunghoon?” Kangmin’s voice pulls him out of his haze. 

Sunghoon looks up, startled, but then glances back at the screen, trying to collect his thoughts.

“What the hell?” Kangmin continues. “Park Sunghoon? Are you listening to me?”

Kangmin, who’s been watching Sunghoon for a while, curiously taps his shoulder. “Bro, you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Y/N…” Sunghoon mutters, his voice barely audible. He’s still staring at the screen, mind dizzy. “She… she’s been writing to me.”

Kangmin raises an eyebrow, clearly confused. He breathily asks, “what do you mean? Like, she sends you emails?”

Sunghoon swallows hard, clicking on another email. This one was from a few months ago.

“I wish I was better. I don’t know if I’m good enough for you, but if you ever need a girlfriend, or a wife one day… I’m here. Always.”

The weight of the words crushes him.

Kangmin’s teasing grin fades as he notices Sunghoon’s expression shift from confusion to something more profound. “W-wait. What? Are these... from Y/N? Are you telling me she’s been in love with you? For real?”

Sunghoon nods slowly, still unable to look away from the screen. “I… I never knew.”

Kangmin blinks, looking between Sunghoon and the open inbox. “Dude, I thought you two were just friends.”

“We are. Definitely. We are,” Sunghoon’s voice is hoarse, like he’s trying to convince himself. “But these... These are real. She’s been telling me everything, and I—”

Sunghoon inhales sharply, stopping himself from continuing. His mind is flooded with thoughts—how could he have missed the signs? How could he not notice how you felt?

“What are you going to do now?” Kangmin asks after a moment. “Are you going to talk to her about it?”

Sunghoon doesn’t answer immediately. He meets Kangmin’s eyes, like he’s trying to find solutions. His thoughts are still sprawling, and one question lingers around the longest—is he losing you? Have you truly given up on him?

“I’ll talk to her—no, I need to talk to her,” Sunghoon finally says, each word slipping off his tongue quieter than the other. “I have to make things straight—I can’t lose her. I-I… She deserves the truth more than anything.”

Kangmin grows a tiny smug smirk. “The truth? Well, man, don’t leave me hanging like you did with Y/N—what’s the truth?”

Sunghoon stands up, determination filling his veins like never before. “I like her—I’ve liked her for a very long time. I’ve been such a coward all this time. An idiot, all this while.”

Kangmin grins, leaning back on the floor. He sighs with content. “Now that’s what I’m talking about.”

Sunghoon turns to him with a furrowed brow. “Hey, I’m serious, Kangmin. I don’t know if I have a chance to fix this. But I’m going to try. I can’t just—I can’t just…let her go.”

The thought of losing you completely—of never getting the chance to be honest about his feelings, to be honest and open to you about what he’s been hiding in his heart—hits him harder than anything else. He grabs his smartphone, fingers already dialling your number before he even realises it. 

SUNGHOON stands on top of the hill, surrounded by yellow crimson trees and chilly air. He’s bundled up in a long trench coat, and the autumn wind is blowing through his hair. He called you to meet him here, telling you that he’s got something to discuss with you.

It hasn’t even been five minutes since he’s arrived, and he already sees you getting off the bus, running towards him. You reach him, crouching as you pant heavily to catch your breath. 

“What the hell, Hoon,” you say between heaves of breaths. “Also, are you okay? You’ve been a little off lately, is it hockey practice?”

Sunghoon shrugs. “Yeah. I-I’ve been quite tired with school and practice.”

“Okay… so, what’s up? You said you wanted to tell me something,” you ask Sunghoon. 

You look up to Sunghoon, realising how tall he is—you shake your head, wanting to stay resolute on the decision you made to move on. Waiting for Sunghoon to reply, you recall the email you sent him yesterday. It’s hard, and you know that—your heart still skips a beat whenever you see him smile, and your cheeks still turn pink whenever he calls you ‘princess’. 

Though, it’s been five years.

You’ve thought of it long and hard, and ultimately, you decide to slowly let your feelings go. You know that accepting that Sunghoon is never going to reciprocate the love you bear for him will make you feel lighter, little by little, and it will help calm your nerves from all the swirling thoughts of him, Jake, and everything else going on. However, you also know that it’s a challenging process that will take a long time to go through.

“It took me ten years to find the right words to say this,” Sunghoon begins, out of the blue, startling you. 

He pauses, his mouth slightly open, as if he’s hesitating to continue. As if he’s unsure of what to say first. 

“What?” you breathe, uncertain if you should be relieved or scared.

Sunghoon looks at you for a moment, and then his gaze softens. You’ve never seen him look so… vulnerable. There’s something different in the way he’s standing there, next to you against the cold autumn winds, like he's on the edge of a cliff. He closes his mouth, and opens it again, but nothing comes out.

A minute passes in silence, heavy and full of unspoken things. Finally, Sunghoon exhales shakily, his shoulders relaxing just a little as he begins to speak again.

“I read the emails.” 

His voice is barely above a whisper, but the words still land like a punch to the gut, its impact so big it knocks the breath out of you. “I had no idea. You’ve been... carrying this all alone, haven’t you?”

You’re caught off guard. You can’t look at him directly, your eyes flicker here and there, panic filling your nerves. The words tumble out before you can stop them. “Sunghoon, I—”

“No,” he interrupts, his voice gentle and his gaze is locked on yours, honest and raw. “I should’ve known. I should’ve seen it. I never noticed how much you’ve been giving. How much you’ve been waiting for me.”

You feel the tension tighten between you both, and something vulnerable stirs in your chest.

He saw the emails? 

Your heart begins to race. For a second, your mind is overwhelmed, but the sincerity in his eyes keeps you in place.

“I didn’t want to burden you with this, Hoon,” you finally manage to say, your voice shaky. “I thought it was better if I just… kept it inside. I thought we’re better off as friends. I didn't want to mess up what we had. I didn’t want to ruin our friendship. But… I can't help how I feel.”

Sunghoon’s gaze softens, his voice slow but determined. “Y/N, I should’ve told you a long time ago. I’ve been so stupid. I was afraid it’d ruin everything. I–oh my gosh,” he ruffles his hair aggressively, pacing here and there before finally stopping in front of you, his stance determined.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he demands, his voice cracking.

A warm tear falls down your cheeks, sending goosebumps throughout your body. You didn’t even realise you had been crying. “Because I was scared,” you quietly answered, your voice hoarse. 

Silence. 

The wind flutters between the two of you, stinging against your skin. 

“I… I feel the same way.” 

His words are almost fragile, like he's unsure whether to say them or not. “I’ve always felt the same. I just… never brought it up… until now. But I’m here now. And I’m finally being honest with you. I’m not going anywhere.”

Your tongue goes numb. Everything’s hitting you at the same time, crushing you under its pressure. 

Sunghoon watches you intently, waiting for a response. Getting no answer from you, he takes a step forward. 

“Y/N,” he calls softly. “Princess, answer me.”

Tears begin to rapidly fall down your cheeks, your vision blurring, a response to the culmination of years of suppressed emotions. Your shoulders begin to heave up and down as you sob silently. Sunghoon’s frown falters, and he pulls you into a hug. It’s comforting, warm, and feels like home—perfectly where you always wanted to be. 

“I’m sorry, princess, it took me so long to realise,” he mutters, placing his chin on top of your head. 

“I’ve waited for five years, Hoon,” you sob against his chest. Sunghoon smiles softly, rubbing soothing circles on your back. 

“It’s okay, it’s okay, I’m here now,” he replies, “I’ll be here for you till the end of time.”

“I’ve always wanted to be the one for you, Y/N,” Sunghoon says, and your heart begins to race in disbelief.

“N-no,” you reply with a suppressed laugh, “I thought I was alone in this.”

“No,” Sunghoon shakes his head, “no, Y/N, you were never alone in this.”

“We don’t have to figure everything out right now.” Sunghoon says quietly, “I just want you to know I’m here. We’ll take it slow, okay?” 

You nod, still in his embrace. 

Like autumn, the wind rustling through the trees and golden leaves falling around them—the atmosphere around you and Sunghoon is changing. The world is moving on, yet the moment is special, as if it’s frozen in time. 

THE scent of roasted chestnuts and warm bungeo-ppang fills the crisp winter air. Around you, the night market is bustling, filled with clouds of steamy breaths and people bundled under thick coats and scarves, lined up just to buy their favourite winter treats. 

You stare at the bungeo-ppang in your hands, then at Sunghoon, who’s standing in front of you. 

“You brought me here, away from the comfort of my warm blanket, just to buy me this?” 

Sunghoon shrugs, biting into his own fish-shaped pastry. “You always wanted the most fresh, warm, and crispiest one, so I made sure to get the best for you.”

You narrow your eyes. “You’re bribing me to like you back, aren’t you?”

He smirks. “Maybe. Is it working?”

You roll your eyes, scoffing. You bite a piece out of your bungeo-ppang, looking up at Sunghoon. Your heart stutters, catching the way Sunghoon is looking at you—soft, patient, like you’re someone worth waiting even a thousand years for. 

You slowly chew the contents of your mouth, cheeks warm, but you still keep your eye contact. 

Then, almost too casually, Sunghoon says, “I want to be your first and last love.”

Your eyes bulge, and you cough as you try not to choke. Your breath catches in your throat, your fingers freezing mid-motion. The words, sudden yet sincere, hang around you and Sunghoon, light but unbelievably heavy. 

You begin to smile. You stuff a piece of bungeo-ppang into Sunghoon’s mouth. “That was so cheesy.”

Sunghoon laughs, his eyes crinkling into crescent moons. He barely manages to chew before he replies, “but you liked it.”

You don’t answer. 

Instead, you tug him down by his scarf and kiss him. 

The bungeo-ppang in your hand, your favourite winter snack, is forgotten the moment the distance between you and Sunghoon, your favourite person, closes, and his warmth melts into your own.

― © htaesan, 2025.

⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ check out PART ONE

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀want more like this? check out the 𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄

[sonicssweetheart]

do u do x reader fics / reqs ?

if so,,,, can u do prime characters x reader headcanons (none in specific js curious on your ideas!!)

sonic prime characters x gn!reader || platonic / romantic headcanons

ᝰ.ᐟ disclaimer: i’m simply sticking to the new yoke city + green hill universes since that would take a lot of time to write!

⊱ ─── [ 💌 ] ─── ⊰

— sonic ;

there’s no doubt that sonic needs you around at all times throughout the plot. any universe he goes, he wants you to go with, no excuses. however, this backfires because he never stops to think how something may be affecting you negatively and only thinks the opposite.

“i..i assumed you would want this too after seeing things the way i do.” (ref to THAT scene…)

that being said, sonic can be selfish at times, but of course he always has the best interest at heart. he simply needs to learn how to think before he acts.

he’s very playful and finds it hard to be serious when you need him to be so the most, all because he’s afraid of confrontation and constructive criticism. he can be a little stubborn when it comes to you trying to ease him out of denial, but when he finally lets go, you can tell how anxious he is.

is always reminding you how much you mean to him at random moments. it could be completely out of the blue, when you’re reading a book or doing laundry, he doesn’t see a restriction to remind you of your worth. you will never have to worry about not being enough for him.

— shadow ;

it takes ALOT for shadow to be direct about how he feels about you; it’s all about subtle things for him.

he will show up to your door with a gift and brush it off like it’s a daily thing and has no impact on your relationship, or completes a task for you that he deems as “not worthy enough for you to stress about.”

his compliments come off more as rude rather than genuine and polite. again, he can’t be too direct out of fear of embarrassment — so sugarcoating it with annoyance works for him.

“don’t wear that, what are you, ancient? that piece doesn’t give you any credit.”

“you’re undeniably fatuous. however, you’re not dull, i guess i’ll give you that.

secretly protective as well. he will sneakily follow you around or just keep an eye on you by a nearby tree whenever he has an instinct that something may go wrong. he unquestionably abuses the chaos emerald to get to wherever you are as fast as possible. if he were ever caught, a scoff and a “i’m ensuring you will not cause havoc by acting foolish.” is the most of an explanation you will get.

if you’re travelling the shatterverse, he is very precise in the rules you follow so you don’t get hurt or lost. he would blame it all on himself if that were the case.

— amy ;

in the green hill universe, she adores you like a bee loves a flower. she takes pride in being close with you, and i like to think she always her arm linked with yours. she’s comfortable enough to talk to animals around you, as it comforts her immensely. she loves when you do little things for her like tending to gardens around the terrain, making her little crafts and standing up for her over little disputes between her and whoever.

“you do so much for me, y/n, you are so… ugh, i don’t know! thank you, for everything.”

in the new yolk universe, rusty rose is indifferent about you depending on how you treat her. if you act as if you’re sorry for her and see her mechanical front as a disability, she will refrain from speaking to you. your best bet is to treat her as you would anyone else but still admire the small things about her that makes her her. she doesn’t want anything huge, like big favours or even small things that don’t matter to her, however she LOVES flowers, just like canon verse amy. when you finally confess how you feel about her and offer a rose, the poor girl is so confused, yet secretly beaming inside.

“…i do not comprehend what you are telling me. you… really? i do not believe i was programmed to reciprocate, but… i feel warmth. is that good?”

— rouge ;

in the green hill universe, she is infatuated by you, however she still makes you work for her friendship/love. she likes the reassurance that someone will fight for her, as for i believe she was wronged in her past. help her fight in battle, participate in her favourite activities, compliment her style; you will gain her trust and devotion quickly. rouge likes to tease, knowing that you feel something for her, whether it be just wanting her friendship or more.

“dear, you know if you want something, you can come get it, right? it’s upsetting seeing you so defeated. oh, what’s wrong? did i touch a nerve?~”

in the new yoke universe, she rests similar, however she is very devoted to the friends and acquaintances she already has. she isn’t looking to complicate her life anymore, and would rather look ahead then stay in place and relish in the moment. but, you can twist that fact by helping her out without getting in her way. she will begin to see your respect and appreciation, and might even reward it with a token of gratitude.

“i saw what you did back there. i gotta say, you’re.. something else. don’t, uh, be a stranger.”

— knuckles ; (new yoke —> no place. dread knuckles>>)

in the green hill universe, he’s pretty stern towards you at first, but grows protective fast. as much as he wouldn’t admit it, he shows off in front of you in hopes that you’re impressed by his manly attitude and confident demeanour, and holds pride for weeks on end when you acknowledge it. he’s the type to challenge you to different activities that test strength and skill, and whether you’re successful or not, all he admires is your willingness to try. he loves those who don’t care if they’re good or bad at something and does it anyway because they want to, not because they have to, which sort of makes him think of his younger self and soothes his self destructive behaviour over it.

“not bad, little one. best of five next time? …you’re tired? oh, don’t be indolent. we’re almost done.” (he wants to see you thrive sooo bad)

in the no place universe, he is very upfront. if he wants to hang around you, take you on a date, have a deep talk, or anything along those lines — he’ll let you know. this man knows he’s everyone’s dream to befriend and follow like a God, and he takes pride in that. he’s also very persuasive by convincing you to do things you would never do, whether it be something as simple as trying a new food or swan diving off of mount everest. you give him that rush he craves in life, especially since life can be plain out on the water, but you give him that spark whenever you comply to his challenges. sometimes late at night while you’re both coaxed in the mood on the dock, he’s sloshing whiskey in his tainted cup and muttering to himself you.

“err… without you, this ship’d be soulless for sure. ya’ bring a fire, a flame to this old lassie, and i’d be sure not even hell could melt the ice frozen upon its ol’ heart.

— tails ; [FAMILIAL/PLATONIC ONLY]

in the green hill universe, tails admires you. he looks up to you as his mentor similar to sonic and is always happy to help when you’re in need. since tails didn’t grow up with a parental figure, sometimes he catches himself imagining such with you, and he feels embarrassed. he isn’t used to relying on someone else to fix his problems, and usually he just plain doesn’t like it. but with you — you follow his boundaries perfectly which makes him feel immensely appreciated and seen, something he looks for in a friend. he’ll let you know once in awhile how he appreciates your kindness, but his insecurities slip through every time.

“you know you don’t have to do this, right? i know im a kid, but you don’t have to take care of me… you want to?” (he looks down at whatever he’s doing, where you can see the small smile creep on the corner of his mouth)

in the new yoke universe, he is very apathetic towards you at first. he sees you just as another sonic, trying to change him to be his opposite reality self, but when he’s met with acceptance and loyalty — he begins to change his mind. he would never say it out loud, but he has a small spark of hope that you could be a forever companion he wouldn’t have to worry about betraying it. his ways of showing how he cares differs from letting you watch/help him work, crafting you things you mentioned you needed, letting you ask questions about his past (which takes some time). however, the smallest inconvenience relating to your friendship towards him can trigger him such as mentioning going somewhere without him, wanting to hang out with someone else, or just seeming off throughout the day.

“did you just lie the whole time? is that was this is? a game? original, y/n. i can’t even look at you right now.”

but, of course, when the reassurance and gentle conversation follows quickly afterwards, he reverts to an embarrassed but now angry at himself front.

“… okay. just… you would tell me if you were a traitor, right? sometimes i’m stupid and can’t tell. sorry.”

[belit0]

omg I loveee you dear author!! The details that you give to every Uchiha are so in character!!

Can I ask for Uchiha × Reader about them going to bed? will they cuddle immediately? or going to read bedtime stories? I am curious!!>w<

Thank you very much, what a beautiful compliment! So many years of writing them pay off!❤️‍🩹

Now... Even the most hardened Uchiha has a routine before rest. Some by necessity, some by habit, and some simply because (Y/N) has worn them down over time. Each night unfolds differently, yet beneath their individual quirks, a thread of tenderness lingers (whether they acknowledge it or not).

Indra

Indra is not a man of indulgence. Sleep is not a comfort, it is a necessity at best, a weakness at worst.

(Y/N) learns early that he does not simply lay beside her. He keeps watch. Even in his stillness, his presence is unyielding, like the mountain upon which his clan rests.

Most nights, she falls asleep before he does, his warmth a silent fortress at her back. Sometimes, he remains seated, eyes unreadable in the dark, fingers idly tracing ancient scrolls even as she drifts off.

On rare occasions, though, his hand finds her wrist.

Not possessively. Not out of need.

Just a reminder that she is still here.

That she is his.

(Y/N) never asks him to hold her. She does not need to.

Because when the weight of the world finally settles upon his shoulders, when the silence becomes unbearable even for him—Indra does not resist the pull of warmth beside him.

He will not turn to face her. He will not speak of it.

But in the depths of the night, his palm rests heavy against the small of her back. And if she shifts closer, pressing against him without a word, he does not push her away.

It is not an embrace. Not quite.

But it is enough.

Madara

Madara does not "cuddle." Madara positions.

Every night, there is a process. A sequence. He plans his rest as he plans a battle.

(Y/N) must be here, within reach but not smothering. The blanket must be precisely adjusted; not too warm, not too cold. His arm placement is calculated; wrapped around her waist just enough to feel her, but not enough to be considered "needy."

It is flawless. Until she moves.

(Y/N) shifts in her sleep, unknowingly unraveling his strategy. She burrows against him, tangles their legs, steals half the blanket, and suddenly, his entire system collapses.

He wakes up scowling, begrudgingly rearranging their limbs, only for her to roll over again.

By the time morning comes, Madara has accepted defeat.

He still refuses to admit to cuddling. But (Y/N) wakes up firmly locked in his arms, his grip ironclad around her waist.

She does not argue. She simply smirks, stretching against him with deliberate slowness.

His hold tightens.

And with a resigned huff, he buries his face into her hair.

Madara does not lose battles.

Except, perhaps, this one.

Izuna

Izuna acts like he’s doing (Y/N) a favor.

-You're lucky,- he murmurs, already pulling her against him as they settle into bed. -Not just anyone gets to sleep beside me.-

(Y/N) hums, unimpressed. -Mm. What an honor.-

He grins, chin resting on top of her head, arms wrapped securely around her. He’s all heat, all confidence... Until he actually starts to fall asleep.

Then, the truth comes out.

The teasing stops. The bravado fades.

And suddenly-

Izuna is clinging.

It’s subtle at first. A hand at her waist, a leg draped over hers. But by the time the night settles in, he is completely wrapped around her, a human furnace, entirely at her mercy.

(Y/N) shifts slightly. He whines.

She gasps.

Izuna Uchiha just whined.

-You're awake?- she whispers, turning in his arms.

He does not answer. Instead, he pulls her tighter, face buried against her skin.

She smirks in the dark. -Izuna?

-Mm.

He’s already half-asleep.

(Y/N) lets him be. She closes her eyes, smiling to herself. Tomorrow, she’ll tease him mercilessly.

Tonight—she simply lets him hold her.

Obito

(Y/N) is cold.

And it’s entirely Obito’s fault.

She glares at him through the dim light, blanket firmly wrapped around his entire body like a cocoon.

-Obito.

No response.

She nudges him.

Still nothing.

Fine.

(Y/N) tugs, hard. The blanket jerks, and Obito immediately wakes up with a yelp.

"Wha—?" He clutches the fabric like it’s his last lifeline.

(Y/N) scowls. -You stole the blanket.-

-You weren’t using... it....

-I WAS ASLEEP.-

They stare each other down. A silent war in the darkness.

Then—

Obito moves.

Not to return the blanket. No.

To throw himself onto her, smothering them both under the stolen warmth, wrapping her up in his arms like a human-sized burrito.

-There,- he grumbles, burying his face against her shoulder. -Happy now?-

(Y/N) sighs, resigned.

-...You’re lucky I love you.-

His hold tightens.

-Yeah,- he murmurs, finally sleepy again. -I know.-

And just like that, he’s out.

(Y/N) rolls her eyes. She’ll never get that blanket back.

But at least she’s warm.

Shisui

Shisui is impossible.

Every night, without fail, he flirts.

-You know,- he murmurs against her skin, -we could just… skip sleeping altogether.-

(Y/N) snorts. -You’d fall asleep in ten minutes.-

-Would not.

-Shisui.

-…Okay, maybe.-

He grins, pulling her closer, tangling their limbs effortlessly.

(Y/N) should be used to it by now; the way he melts against her like he was always meant to be there. The way he tucks his face against her neck, breath warm and steady.

-You’re too comfortable,- he mumbles, already half-asleep.

(Y/N) smirks.

-You’re too easy.-

A chuckle. A hum.

And then... Soft snoring.

She sighs. -Ridiculous man.-

But still—she holds him just as tightly.

Itachi

Itachi does not fall asleep immediately.

(Y/N) knows the routine well.

He reads.

Every night, without fail.

The soft rustling of pages is as much a part of their bedtime as breathing.

Sometimes, she listens, letting his voice guide her into slumber. Sometimes, she teases him, poking at his concentration until he sighs and tucks the book away, finally giving in to rest.

And sometimes, he reads to her.

It starts as a joke. A ridiculous notion that (Y/N) suggests one evening after watching him drown in yet another tome. -If you're going to ignore me for a book, at least make yourself useful and read it out loud.-

He arches a brow.

But then, he does.

His voice is low, steady, unraveling tales of history, poetry, strategy. (Y/N) listens with a small smile, lulled by the cadence of his words.

By the time she drifts off, his arm is already resting over her waist.

And as the book falls shut, he presses the lightest kiss to the crown of her head.

A habit he will never acknowledge in daylight.

But one she secretly waits for, night after night.

[car-o-line]

I absolutely love your work!! Keep it up!! :D

May I request Doey(trios!!) with a reader that’s seriously injured and is a teenager doing Poppy’s work?

Have a nice day/afternoon/night!! <33

Sincerely, a person named Aiden!

AAHH IM ADDING THAT PICTURE TO MY CAMARA ROLL HE’S A CUTIE!!! everyone say thank you to Aiden for gracing us with this request and if you don’t Kevin WILL come for you(NOT CLICKBAIT 3:00AM CHALLENGE)

Doey’s spirits dealing with a teenager that’s injured(as player)

Warning: Blood, injury😱😱😱

editing me anyway poppy and Kev are the same color but I’m pretty sure you can tell who��s who

Matthew Hallard:

Okay so first of all-

He was reluctant to let you continue doing tasks for Poppy because you’re still erm A TEEN. And the last thing he wants is another child being brought up into this mess, especially when you’re probably so tired and worn out.

But with some whining to him on your end and Poppy’s nagging he finally gave in. He did say that if you couldn’t come back that this was Poppy’s fault(you can do no wrong in his eyes <3)

Before you left Safe Haven, Matthew had to push Jack or Kevin out of Doeys control just so he could make sure you have everything you need.

“Do you have a snack?”

“Mhm..”

“Water for the snack?”

“Yea.”

“Bandages in case you get hurts? A plushy so you won’t be alone?”

“I’m not five Doey-”

Not even 10 minutes later after you left Safe Haven, Kissy swore to everything pink she heard a scream, that sounded just like you. She didn’t say it verbally but Poppy understood what she meant and quickly told Doey to go find you.

Long story short, it was Yarnaby. You were trying to collect the Omi-hand and you ran into the fuzzy lion.

The creature tried to bite your arm off but thankfully your Grab-pack pulled you up towards a vent. Sadly, he did manage to bite your arm, just not completely off.

Matthew immediately panicked and went searching for you right away, he was upset at Poppy for letting you go but he could speak with her another time, right now his focus was on you not dying.

Once he got to you, your whole arm was covered blood. He was even more panicked at the sight and quickly picked you up with his gentle arms and hurriedly brought you back to Safe Haven.

On the way back if your arm like uhm, wasn’t bleeding everywhere you would’ve hear him mumbling, “Back to Safe Haven, back to Safe Haven.”

Once you both were back he didn’t waste any time getting you to and bed and calling the medic, all the other toys were horrified. The blood from your arm splashing onto the ground from how quickly Doey was going.

When you started crying from the pain he tried his best to relax himself so he can relax you. Like distracting you from the Medic who was putting pressure on your wound, maybe reading a book to you or speaking about the random thoughts he has.

After you recovered he knows one thing for sure, you are not to leave Safe Haven for a while until your arm has fully healed and even then when you do leave he or Kissy Missy will accompany you during that time.

Kevin Barnes:

Okay so he actually didn’t care that much when he found out “Poppy’s Angel” was just a young teen. He believed that you were just another troubled kid like the rest of them except you just weren’t an experiment.

But he did slightly care, you’re still a kid at the end of the day. Not a toy, experiment, just a human.

Anyway, Poppy told you to collect food for yourself and the other toys, unlike Matt, Kevin actually encouraged it as well. Everyone was starving and who could be the best candidate for collecting food other than someone who killed Mommy Longlegs and Catnap?

Poppy wished you well as you left Safe Haven.

“Hey Kev..”

“What?”

“Don’t you think it’s worrying Y/n isn’t back yet, it’s been a long time.”

“Hm..Jacks right, we should go check on them.”

And so that’s what Kevin did, he didn’t tell anyone, just leaving(Much to Matthew’s dismay)

When he was going around the outsides of Safe Haven he spotted a figure in the distance, crawling on the ground from what he could tell. He thought it was a humanoid toy until he heard your voice, calling his name.

That’s when Kevin started to act and ran towards you, stopping near you and staring at you bloodied body.

What happened was, the doctor kinda cooked ur ass up<3

You were going to get food but the mf had like a villain entrance and went after you. You were so close to killing him, but you got distracted by a smiling critter and didn’t see one of the doctor’s clones after you. It was then too late when the doctor stabbed your leg with his sharp fingers. Running off by adrenaline you ran as fast as you could but eventually passed out and when you woke up, no one was there to help you causing you to crawl your way back to Safe Haven.

Kevin was embarrassingly(in his words) freaking out and surprised by how you lasted this long.

“HOW DID Y/N NOT EVEN DIE”

“THAT DOESN’T MATTER RIGHT NOW, THE FACT WAS THAT YOU WANTED TO BE IN CHARGE SO BRING THEM TO SAFE HAVEN KEVIN”

So he did, but unlike Matt(I’m so tired of saying Matthew istg), he was a bittttttt rough. So Matt had to yell at him to be more gentle.

Once he got back he dropped you off on a bed and started yelling at the Medic to do their job.

Once both you and him calmed down he told you that you’re never leaving Safe Haven ever again.

He also told you that you had to publicly apologize to all the other toys for worrying them so much(you didn’t because Jack told him to stop yelling at you and then he forgot about it)

After that he’d be a little nicer, he knows what you went was painful physically and emotionally so there’s no real reason to be that mad at you for messing it up.

“I told you not to go.”

“You encouraged me actually!”

“You encouraged me actually🤓☝️”

Jack Ayers:

Him being the stupid little ############# that he is he was actually happy that you were young!

In his mind that meant you would play with him and the other toys more than if you were an adult.

But when Matt told him everything you’ve been through he felt sad, buttttttttt he felt happy again when he realized that you’re in Safe Haven now and nothing could hurt you anymore.

But then,

“Hey Y/n..”

“Poppy go away I’m making something.”

“You know this is serious right?”

“…”

“…What are you making?”

“Hopscotch mat!”

“Oh! That should be fun..hm. Anyway, like I was about to say you need to get use some extra batteries.”

That made you frown instantly, but! Since you’re such a good person you went anyway.

Jack, who was in charge at the time, asked you where you were going when you were just about to leave. You told him the truth and he wished you luck.

It had been about 7 hours since you’ve left and Jack was worried sick, he kept insisting that he should go look for you but Poppy said that you were probably just taking your time.

That was until a loud crash was heard outside of Safe Haven, a loud, loud, one.

Jack didn’t even wait a second before making Doey sprint out that door, even if Kevin was yelling and him not to.

Finally after about 25 minutes he found your body next to a battery, unconscious and under a large machine, what happened was that when you used your grab pack to collect the battery from the machine. You pulled too hard and the whole machine collapsed onto you.

Jack was rightly horrified and started sobbing on the spot, so much that Matthew had to take over and lifted the heavy machinery off you just to pick up your body.

Running as quickly as he could he finally made it to Safe Haven and called the Medic over frantically.

Jack soon convinced Matthew to let him in charge so he could watch over you, he didn’t sleep at all that night, just making sure he was awake so you wouldn’t be alone in the tent when you woke up.

When you did wake up Jack was thrilled and almost started crying again, he gently held your hand in his and promised you that he wouldn’t let you get hurt anymore.

Not after that.

Idk why this took me so long, it was really fun to do this tho!🤪

[anika-ann]

🧚🏻‍♀️✨Bippity boppity bow chicka wow oww! You’ve been visited by the Shameless Hoe Fairy, and now you must share a hoe thot about: CE!babe + forehead kiss ☺️

GASP!!! I was blessed by the visit of the hoe fairy herself 😍😍 Thank you 😭 As I can see, the Shameless One knows me well 🤭

Apparently, I am a hoe for fluff. Who knew? 🤭Everyone who knows me

The Constellation of You and I

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader Word count: 1,7k Warnings: soft NSFW, 18+, smut-adjacent really, FLUFF, brief mention of Steve's job as Cap... and barely proof-read but with stars metaphors to make up for it A/N: Divider by @firefly-graphics

You could feel it surging though your nerves; light echoes of tingles of bliss still humming within, with every frantic beat of your heart, from your midriff to your fingertips, your hands feeling too warm as they remained laid over the bulge of Steve’s shoulder, over the slight curve of his lower back.

For every breath of his you gave two of yours, the bundle of your bodies, rising and falling slightly as your ribcage expanded against his hot skin, the firmness of his body and the welcoming softness of his touch like a touch of heaven itself.

He held you close as you sat in his lap, gently; arm wrapped around you to keep you flush against him as you still remained one, his other hand tenderly tangled in your damp hair as you rested your cheek against his shoulder, your quick breaths fanning his throat; his cheek in turn rested carefully on top of your head, occasionally shifting so he could press his lips to the crown of your head.

The afterglow was almost as blissful as reaching your peak had been.

However, the afterglow was slowly fading as reality and embarrassment was setting in, your face burning not only from the cardio you had engaged in, but because of the pouncing you had done not two seconds after Steve had walked through the door, fresh out of a mission.

Fresh out of two week apart for the first time you had started dating over three months ago.

That was what young love did, you supposed; it blinded rational thought and erased all plans for the meal you had prepared and the blankets on the couch you had set there so you could ease Steve back into the reality of a simple life rather than a damn near battlefield where any moment of distraction could mean catching a bullet or worse.

You had missed him like crazy – of course you had. He had texted you whenever he could, a short message at least to let you know he was well and wishing you to be well also, occasionally telling you he missed you. With his mind laser-focused on his mission and the team he felt responsible for, understandably so, you expected nothing more, grateful for the scraps, even as written in half-hearted hurry.

Then, he had let you know he was coming home, with everyone safe and sound, tired but nearly unscathed, himself having but bruises already halfway healed. You had planned a quiet evening to reconnect with him, ecstatic at the premise alone of seeing him, trying to tame your less-than-decent needs with the sensation of genuine relief at him being alright and coming home, claiming to be happy to spend an evening with you if you’d like. A nice, grounding evening full of comfort.

And then this goddamn man appeared at your doorstep with a sheepish smile and a spark in his eye upon seeing you, a bouquet of pink roses and you had to physically hold back for long enough to put the gorgeous gift of his into water at least. And as soon as you managed that, your lady brain cut in and took full control, practically assaulting him and the lovely blue shirt he was wearing.

Steve certainly didn’t protest and participated rather enthusiastically as you kissed him breathless and walked him – pushed him almost – to your bedroom, discarding his and your clothes, hands wandering, gentle and needy and wicked, his red red red kiss-swollen lips parted so beautifully as you bounced on top of him until you both saw stars behind closed eyelids and reached for them eagerly with your fingertips, the sweet taste of stardust exploding on your tongue and consuming you with its light; but now, as the afterglow flickered away, bitter shame and sour vulnerability creeped in and began to swallow you into a black hole instead.

Yes, Steve was alright.

Yes, he was happy to see you.

Yes, he was all in, praise falling from his lips, whispers of how he had missed you too, how he needed you.

But dammit. You felt like the most socially inept and least empathetic person in the world, awkward in her impromptu display of desire.

And Steve, brilliant, beautiful Steve, must have caught on by now, because one of his warm palms sprawled on your cheek, tenderly leading you to lift your head and meet his gaze. And for all your messy feelings, you could not resist but do so.

You could never resist. Not to Steve.

“Where’s that beautiful mind of yours, sweetheart? Are you alright?” he whispered, eyes roaming your face, the spark, that damn spark that could set the world ablaze and heal it all at once, being a sweet tell of his. A tell of how he was happy to have you in his arms, all around him, despite your… enjoyable shortcomings.

“Why, right here with you.”

You awkwardly tried to mirror his smile even as your face still burned, succeeding somewhat – you must have. Because Steve’s lips curled up further, fingertips caressing your brow, following the line of your cheekbone, your jaw.

You melted against his body despite yourself, warmth humming in your veins as his gaze followed his touch, as if he was committing your features to memory.

“Good,” he said, leaning to kiss your forehead. “I missed you being with me. So close, in my arms. So sweet and w-“

“I’m sorry I pounced at you like that!“ you blurted out, cursing your tongue which always seemed so loose around him as soon as the words were out.

Steve’s fingers froze in their tender exploration, his lips remaining not further than an inch from your hairline, his body turning rigid and you could smack yourself.

“I mean… I just—I made calmer plans and I know it must have been hard out there and I… I didn’t want you to feel like--- I missed all of you, you know? I didn’t want to make you feel like… I don’t know, I’m rambling, I’m sorry.”

Steve was yet to move, even his ribcage still, not even drawing in a breath. Your heart thundered against your sternum, in your temples, all over you, consuming you with the heat of embarrassment, a whimper-like plea for the ground to swallow you forming in your throat. You did not dare to move either, your hands having curled into fists against his shoulder and back.

And then he chuckled.

Steven Grant Rogers, the loveable jerk, chuckled and kissed your hairline again, making you actually whine.

“Nooooo-“

“Sweetheart, are you embarrassed for wanting me?”

Your denial of the statement – a blatant lie, but not really – died on your tongue as he moved to cradle your cheek again, meeting your gaze, the previous spark lit aflame with new life as he observed you with a smile that made you squirm on his lap and lit your face hotter than a supernova.

“I-“

“I’m not. And I want you, always. You drive me crazy in the most wonderful ways,” he said, his smile only widening as you lowered you gaze and worried your teeth over your lower lip, the soft admission brining a smidge of relief and confidence.

“I mean… I’m not ashamed. Not of that...” you whispered, taking a deep breath and gathering courage to look him in the eye again, met with a gaze so tenderly inquiring you felt yourself relax just a bit, trying to scramble for coherent thought. “I just feel like just because I missed you it doesn’t give me the right to jump you without a chance to… to allow you to return to the right headspace for something like that. I was here. Safe, in my little apartment and life I built, meeting friends and colleagues and… simply being. You, on the other hand…”

You trailed off, your voice catching in your throat as you caught into the emotion written all over Steve’s face.

The sheer wonder – and dare to say love – shining in his irises almost chased tears into your eyes; stealing air from your chest and replacing it with glowing warmth of the Milky Way on the clear skies in the countryside upstate.

You were still but the air shifted; neither of you moved but the whole planetary system seemed to tilt off its axis, a new star born to became the centre of the universe right between you, in Steve’s featherlight touch and the hoarseness of his voice.

“That’s—I’m not--- You’re incredible. I… really appreciate the thought,” he whispered, the soft edge of his smile like a caress to your soul. “But despite everything, I need you to know I meant what I wrote. I thought of you and missed you, every day-“

“Steve, you don’t have to--- I know that when you are on a mission it’s hundred percent and you have a huge responsibility and there’s no space for-“

Two fingers slid under your chin, carefully but effectively stopping your slightly self-deprecating but entirely true words from flowing; Steve’s eyes, suddenly incredibly serious, bore into yours.

“Every. Day. Do you believe me, love?”

A shudder rushed through your body, a shaky inhale expanding like a nebula inside your lungs, the single word, endearment and declaration in one, causing your heart to tremble with affection. You read no doubt but a speckle of distress in Steve’s widened pupils, making it seem as if he had left slipped something he might be sure of, but did not mean to reveal; and it made your own love for him grow tenfold, your eyes turning a little glassy.

You willed your lips to curl up in a smile, hands coming up to cradle his face, erasing the slightest flicker of panic in his features.

You kissed him on the lips, lightly, but with taste of a new emotion born out of his confession; a confession on your own.

“I do, love. I do.”

He kissed you back with a tender grin and this time, when hands began to roam and he laid you on the bed, they roamed in sync; they explored the galaxies and eternity written on your skin and his, your lips rewriting the stars so they would align to pave the journey you’d set on together.

You kissed him without shame and he reciprocated, every touch and every gaze a promise:

I’ll miss you, whenever I’ll go.

I’ll think of you, wherever I’ll be.

I’ll love you, whatever you and I are meant to be.

My Steve fics // All my fics

Thank you so much, Siri, for blessing me 🥺

No, I don't exist on sharing only thots when sent an ask, I WRITE 😂

Thank you, lovlies, for reading and potential feedback/reblogs and such 💕

Have yourself a lovely day/night ✨

[daredevils-toe]

Almost, Maybe [Part 2]

1,759 words Summary: Fem!reader x teen!Schlatt. You’ve had a crush on Jay since you were twelve, unsure if he feels the same. Inspired by The Summer I Turned Pretty.  This part isn't necessarily NSFW but contains some dirty thoughts. Read at your own discretion.  A/N: I love this series so much so far. Thank you all for your support! Part 1

The sun is out and high in the sky, its heat pouring down on you. Gabe drives the speedboat fast enough that little droplets are coming off the sides and hitting your skin, but it's not enough to cool you down. 

Gabe slows down the boat and comes to a stop at a bay at the edge of the lake. “Alright, everyone get in the water willingly or I'm pushing you in,” he says. 

You look over at Robin. “Wanna jump in with me?” you ask. 

She nods. “Of course.”

The two of you make your way to the end of the boat and jump in the water. 

The water is cold, but refreshing. You swim away from the boat a bit. Robin follows you. 

You float of your back, letting the water cradle you as the sun beams down on you.

Robin splashes water in your direction, you sputter, laughing as you retaliate. 

You hear Maggie yelp, looking over to see Gabe has pushed her into the lake, jumping in himself. 

“You’re an ass!” Maggie shouts as she surfaces. 

“Jay, you better get in too or you’ll end up like Maggie here,” Gabe says.

Jay stands at the end of the boat, hesitating. 

“Come on, Jay!” Robin says. “Don’t be a wimp.”

He grins. “I’m just thinking about my approach.”

Jay backs up to get a running start and cannonballs right beside you. The impact sends a huge wave of water over you, momentarily submerging you. 

When you resurface, he's already laughing. “Worth it.”

“You suck,” you say, chuckling a bit as you splash him in the face. 

He coughs, sputters, and splashes you back. The two of you dissolve into laughter, water flying everywhere. 

Suddenly, he grabs your wrist. His touch sends shockwaves through your body. “Truce?” he asks, dropping your wrist just as fast as he grabbed it. 

You smile. “Truce.”

Gabe climbs back into the boat and claps his hands together. “Alright,” he says. “Who's up for a game of chicken?”

Robin whoops. “Let's do it!”

“Okay, teams of two,” Gabe says. “Robin, why don't you go with Maggie. Then, Jay and Y/N can be partners. I'll be the ref.”

You look over at Jay. “Guess I'm stuck with you, huh?” he says. 

Your cheeks burn as you swim toward him, hoping he doesn't notice. “Guess so.”

Jay kneels down slightly and gestures for you to climb onto his shoulders. You hesitate for a second before placing your hands on his wet skin and hoisting yourself up onto his shoulders. 

His hands grip your thighs to steady you and your entire body goes rigid. This was a bad idea. 

Robin and Maggie prepare for battle while you try not to think about how close Jay’s hands are. How natural it feels. How you wish they were exploring your entire body, not just your thighs. 

“Alright,” Gabe shouts. “Ready, set - go!”

Robin lunges toward you, trying to push you off Jay’s shoulders. You try to fight back, gripping onto Robin’s arms. 

Jay’s grip tightens around your legs, keeping you steady. He’s stronger than you expected. 

At some point, you almost fall, but he adjusts quickly, holding you tighter. 

“Hold on to me,” he murmurs. 

Your breath catches, but you do as he says, your hands tangling in his hair for balance. 

After a few minutes of back and forth, Robin wins the round and sends you toppling backward into the water with a laugh. You break the surface, gasping for air.

“I think you let her win,” Jay teases, running a hand through his wet hair. 

You roll your eyes. “Excuse me, I fought for my life.”

He laughs, but his eyes linger on you for just a second too long. 

“We should probably head back to the house,” Gabe says. 

You and the others scramble back onto the boat. You grab a towel and dry off before sitting down. Jay does the same and sits down next to you, his thigh gently brushing yours. 

Gabe starts the boat and speeds away from the bay. 

Later that night, Drew finally arrives, pulling up in his car just before dinner. He doesn’t look like he wants to be here, but your mother, Susan, and Julie run out to greet and hug him anyway. 

“Drew!” Maggie says excitedly, running up to hug him, while you approach more cautiously.

“You actually showed up,” you say, crossing your arms.

He smirks. “Don’t sound too surprised. Mom guilt-tripped me into it.”

You roll your eyes, but you’re glad he’s here. 

After dinner, the parents decide to go to a bar and you and the other kids start a bonfire. You grab blankets and marshmallows, settling into a circle around the crackling fire. The night air is cool, but the flames keep you warm.

Gabe stokes the fire, sending sparks up into the night sky. “Anyone want to play truth or dare?” he asks.

“Hell yes!” Robin says. 

“Alright, I’ll start. Robin - truth or dare?” Gabe asks.

“Dare.”

“I dare you to shotgun this beer,” Gabe says, tossing Robin a beer from the cooler. 

Robin catches it and pulls out a pocket knife. “Challenge accepted,” she says as she cuts a hole in the side of the can and puts it to her mouth. You and the others cheer her on as she chugs the beer. 

When she finishes, she does a small bow and throws the can into the trash before sitting down. 

“Alright,” Robin starts. “Maggie. Truth or dare?”

“Dare,” Maggie says. 

“I dare you to… run across the dock barefoot.”

Maggie takes off her shoes and socks. “That’s easy,” she says as she runs toward the dock. 

The game moves on, each person getting their turn. Drew is dared to jump in the lake fully clothed, Jay has to tell an embarrassing childhood story, and Gabe is dared to prank call his ex-girlfriend. 

Finally, it lands on you. 

“Y/N, truth or dare?” Gabe asks. 

“Truth,” you say. You don’t want to do some crazy shit and potentially get hurt. Telling an embarrassing story is better in your opinion. 

Robin whispers something in Gabe’s ear and smirks. Gabe gives her a confused look. “Okay, who was your first crush?”

Your stomach drops.

You glance at Jay instinctively while Robin watches you like a hawk. Your heart pounds. Do you lie? Do you brush it off?

Before you can answer, Drew speaks up. “Oh, that’s easy,” he says. “It was Jay.”

The entire group falls silent. 

All eyes turn to you. Your face burns. Jay looks stunned, his mouth falls open as if he’s about to say something but stops himself. 

“Drew, shut up,” you say through gritted teeth. 

“What?” he says. “It’s true. You used to follow him around like a lost puppy when we were kids.”

Maggie chokes on her drink and Robin looks like she’s going to explode from excitement. 

Jay clears his throat. “I - uh - I didn’t know that.”

You want to crawl into the ground and disappear. Or, better yet, throw yourself into the fire. Anything to get out of this awkward situation. 

Robin leans forward. “But what about now?” she asks. “Still got a thing for him?”

“Okay!” You stand up abruptly. “I think I’m done with this game.”

Robin is dying of laughter, and even Maggie looks amused. Drew looks pleased with himself, while Jay is unreadable. 

You turn on your heel and start walking back toward the house.

As the night goes on, the others slowly trickle back into the house. A storm quickly rolls in, causing the last few to come running back.

You spend most of the night playing board games and watching movies, but you can’t shake the awkwardness with Jay.

You go out to the back porch, wanting to get some fresh air. You hear the door slide open behind you. You turn your head to see Jay. 

“Hey,” he says, leaning on the railing beside you.

“Hey,” you mumble, avoiding his gaze.

You fall silent, the only sounds coming from the rain falling on the ground. Jay sighs, rubbing the back of his neck like he does when he’s nervous.

“I - uh… didn’t mean to act weird earlier,” he says. “Drew caught me off guard.”

You scoff. “Yeah, he seems to have a talent for that.”

Jay exhales. “I just didn’t know that you felt that way.”

You tighten your grip on the railing. “Yeah well,” you say. “It was a long time ago.”

Jay doesn’t he respond right away. Instead, he turns to look at you. You can feel his gaze on you, watching, waiting.

“But what about now?” he asks.

Your breath catches. 

You knew this conversation was coming. From the moment Drew revealed your crush, it was inevitable. But now that you're standing here, with Jay looking at you like he actually wants an answer, like maybe he’s been thinking about this too, you don’t know what to say.

“I don’t know,” you mumble, though it’s a blatent lie.

Jay exhales, rubbing the back of his neck. “Look… I get it. This is weird now. But I just - I need to know if you still feel that way.”

Everything inside you goes still.

The air shifts between you, heavy with something unspoken. The only sound is the rain, steady against the roof, against the wooden deck.

You could lie. You could brush it off, laugh, make a joke.

Or you could be honest.

Your throat feels dry, but somehow, you find your voice. “Yeah,” you admit, barely above a whisper. “I do.”

Jay doesn’t react at first. He just stands there, watching you, as if processing what you just said.

Then, he steps closer.

“Okay,” he says, exhaling as if he’s been waiting for you to say that. “I think I feel the same way.”

Your stomach flips.

He lets out a nervous laugh. “Actually, no. That’s a lie. I do feel the same way.”

The world narrows to just him. Just this. 

“Jay,” you whisper. Your heart beats faster as you stare at him. 

He takes another step forward, but before either of you can say or do anything, the door slides open. Drew steps out, startling you and causing you to step away from Jay.

“Oh, shoot,” Drew says with a slight smirk. “Am I interrupting something?”

“No,” you say before moving past him and into the house, making your way to your room. You reach your room and shut the door behind you, staring into a nearby mirror. 

What the hell just happened?

Previous Part

[hellvst]

OFFSEASON – quinn hughes

featuring ; quinn hughes x fmc (sydney gray)

✮⋆˙ warning & content ; swearing

✮⋆˙ word count ; 3.5k

✮⋆˙ previous chapter – series masterlist – next chapter

a/n ; woohoo chapter three is here! also what's up with the hughes brothers getting hurt within the last 48 hours...hope they're ok :c also thank you all for the recent support, means a lot! uh this isn't proof read, but happy reading <3

CHAPTER THREE

QUINN

The bell above the café door chimed as I stepped inside, the scent of freshly brewed coffee and warm pastries hitting me almost instantly. I wasn’t much of a coffee guy, but I definitely needed it today.

The place was an average size for a café, cozy, slightly packed with students hunched over laptops and the occasional older couples chatting over mugs of tea.

Conor, who trailed behind me with Brock next to him, actually suggested this spot, claiming it to be one of the best coffee in this side of Vancouver. It wasn’t my go-to energizer. Still, after the morning skate we had, I could use something to wake me up.

After coming off a big-time loss, post-practice was always tougher.

If people thought we’d been left off the hook to start the off-season early the following day. They have never been more wrong. So fucking wrong. Just because we were out of the game, did not mean that it was over.

Everyone on the team had been anticipating that text from our coach and told us to “Get your asses in the rink. Now.” Knowing Tocchet, he was ready to give us hell–more specifically Simon and I. And we got it.

The skating and puck handling drills were relentless. I don’t think we’d ever been pushed like that before. They were much more intensive, fast-paced, more difficult targets to hit in the goal post. I tried my best to keep up, which I did, but I would be lying if I had said it didn’t wear me down to the max. My body absolutely felt like I was checked over and over again.

Not the best feeling in the world. Trust me, I would know.

Conor and Brock stood behind me, still joking about the brutal morning skate we had to endure. “Man–I need something strong.” Brock said while his eyes wandered the menu. “I swear, if we have another skate like that, I’m gonna need a new set of legs.”

Conor huffed a laugh. “Better legs wouldn’t make a difference for you, buddy.” 

I smiled while Brock gave him a look, “Whatever–” he waved his hand before looking at the menu again. “So, what do you usually get here Gar?”

“Yeah, Garland. You’re the one who said this place was good.” I muttered.

“Because it is. And you need some caffeine in you, Huggy.” Conor shot back, nudging towards the counter. “Maybe then you’ll stop looking like you wanna skate into oncoming traffic.” 

I ignored him since it was probably true, and not a terrible idea considering what I had to deal with in a week or so.

My mind was stuck on last night’s game and the conversation with Tocchet. I couldn’t get it out of my head. The rest of the team didn’t hound me after figuring out what transpired in the coach’s office between me and Simon. They knew not to press me on it–I was glad that they did as I was already in a bad mood. I doubt that Simon kept his mouth shut about it to some of the guys, ranting to them per usual. 

Conor and Brock continued on with their banter. I was only half-listening as I stared at the menu, pretending I knew what any of the drinks meant or how–

I blinked and before I could react, as soon as I took a step forward, the person in front of me turned around–colliding straight into me. I watched as the girl’s cup tipped forward, brown coffee spilling all over her grey hoodie.

“Fuck!” She let out a sharp and frustrated voice under her breath.

My stomach dropped. This wasn’t good.

I staggered back, looking at her. The girl in front of me–who I had just completely steamrolled–stood frozen and appalled, coffee staining the front of her hoodie. The brown liquid spreads rapidly across the cotton like wildfire. 

Her jaw clenched, a mix of annoyance and disbelief flashing across her face.

“Shit, I–” I started, but the words barely left my mouth before she snapped her gaze at me, clearly about to let me have it–then she froze.

I watched her expression shift, something unreadable flickering her chestnut-colored eyes. Her pupils softened, but still held that glare. Her gaze swept over me in a quick assessment. I could almost see the wheels turning in her head.

Oh, she was pissed.

Looking at her, she was strikingly beautiful. Dark brown hair tied in a ponytail, long eyelashes, very light freckles dotting her nose across her tan skin, the kind of natural beauty that didn’t need any effort. But it was the look in her eyes that got me–like she had already sized me up and made her judgement. 

And from the way her mouth pressed into a tight line, it wasn’t in my favour at all.

“I, uh–” I looked at the sight in front of me, wincing at the view. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to. I wasn’t paying attention.”

“Yeah, no kidding.”

Shit. Not the best first impression.

I grabbed napkins from the counter and held them out to her. She took them but didn’t seem all that convinced they would be much help. I watched as she tried to dab at the stain, her expression growing more annoyed by the second. Yeah, the napkins weren’t much help.

It was only right that I offered to buy her another coffee–although, I figured it would make matters worse–so I opted to at least buy her a new hoodie. 

She shook her head to refuse, still working with the napkins. What she said next had caught me completely off guard. “I don’t need anything from an NHL player, alright–”

Then she stopped, her own words registering, her eyes widened slightly.

My brows furrowed. “So, you know who I am?”

Maybe she was a Canucks fan.

She met my gaze again, unimpressed. “Yes, I do.” The tone in her voice made it clear that wasn’t exactly a compliment. 

Alright, maybe she wasn’t a fan.

That surprised me. Most of the time, when someone recognized me, there was some level of excitement. But her? She didn’t seem impressed in the slightest. If anything, she looked more annoyed and pissed than before.

A strange mix of amusement and curiosity flickered in my chest. What the hell, that was new.

“Can I at least get your name or number?” I asked, then immediately realized how that sounded. “To replace your hoodie or pay for dry cleaning, anything to fix what I caused.” 

I had no other intentions behind that statement. For all I cared, I just wanted to make a things right. Not just because there were now a couple of eyes watching us, but it wouldn’t be fair for her to leave this place without anything in return to help her. Then I’d feel like a complete asshole. 

Sure. She was pretty. Beyond her looks–and her built up frustration–she carried herself with grace and poise. Even in a stained-hoodie, black leggings, and white sneakers, there was still that elegance to her like no one else had–you just had to be born with it.

Wait. I couldn’t be like this.

“I’m not making you buy me a hoodie. I can take care of this–” she gestured down. “–myself. So, I think I’ll respectfully pass up on that offer of yours, but thank you though.”

Before I could say anything else, she turned away.

Don’t look like an asshole. Don’t look like an asshole.

On instinct, I reached out, lightly catching the material of her sleeve. “Hey look, I’d feel really bad if I left here without making it up to you.”

“Oh, really?” She paused, raising a brow at me.

Of course I’d feel terrible. She could have gone off on me in front of the entire shop, but she hadn’t. And now I was weirdly determined to fix it.

But she smirked slightly. “I think I’ll survive without your help, but thanks.”

I stared, absolutely stunned, but a tinge in my lips dared to curve. And just like that, she walked off, returning to her table with another woman–most likely her friend–before I could even respond.

Well that caught me off guard. I don’t think I’ve ever been let down like that. Strangely enough, I was not bothered by it, but just fascinated. It’s not everyday I get these kinds of interactions.

The sound of laughter brought me back, and I turned to see Brock and Conor watching the whole thing unfold with shit-eating grins plastered on their faces. I forgot they were here for a moment.

“Dude,” Brock said, he shook his head in disbelief. “Did we just witness the Quinn Hughes talk to a girl?”

Conor was quick to add, whistled lowly. “Not just talk. Get rejected.”

I rolled my eyes. It wasn’t a complete rejection, noting she ‘respectfully’ declined.

“She didn’t reject me.”

“She literally just rejected you,” Brock deadpanned.

“She didn’t even let you buy her a new hoodie,” Conor mentioned the obvious, also shaking his head in mock sympathy. “That’s tough, Huggy.”

“Maybe she saw last night’s game and watched us play like shit and–”

“Shut up.” I said under my breath. 

Given she knew I was an NHL player, there was no doubt that she knew about last night’s game. I wondered if she had even watched it at all. Better if she hadn’t, the sight of us losing on our home turf was not only embarrassing but rather disappointing.

If I were a fan, I would be feeling anything but happy. That realization crashed down on me a lot more than I thought it would.

Brock’s laugh brought me out of my short trance. “No, no, this is big,” he said, grinning like an idiot. “Quinn, do we need to have the talk? You know, the one where we tell you how to approach women like a normal person?”

“You two are the worst.” I wasn’t completely paying attention to them. 

My gaze drifted towards the exit, just in time to watch the same coffee-stained hoodie girl leave the cafe alongside her friend. 

I didn’t know who she was. I didn’t even get her name. But, there was that feeling down my gut that told me this wouldn’t be the last time I was going to see her. 

And usually, my gut-feeling has always been right.

I had two weeks of freedom. A glorious, responsibility-free stretch of time before I had to start this personal hell.

And I spent it the only way I knew how: watching hockey, reading new books that I got a few weeks ago, hanging out with some of the guys, and watching more hockey. 

It was the perfect balance of nothing and everything. Until now. Until this.

I pulled into the Lumé Wellness parking lot, stared at the building through my windshield like it was about to swallow me whole. The building itself was tucked in the center of downtown Vancouver, which was near the Rogers Arena. The area around the studio wasn’t too busy or lively, I didn’t have to worry about the media at this time.

If I could put this mandatory cross-training off another week, I would have in a heartbeat just to prepare myself for this moment. Hell, I would have put it off forever if it meant I wouldn’t have to do this with Simon.

But no, that wasn’t an option, not if I wanted to come back at my best instead of my ass being glued to the bench next season.

My fingers drummed against the steering wheel. I was about to hop out when I glanced around the lot and realized that Simon’s car wasn’t here yet. I took the liberty of keeping track of his cars whenever I could, just to avoid bumping into that prick at random places. 

I was expecting him to be here, especially considering his whole ‘I’m better than you, I know everything, and I make the shots you would have   missed’ complex. But, who was I kidding? Simon didn’t want to be here, and so had I. If he didn’t show, then I wouldn’t blame him. Since he wasn’t here yet, that either meant he was running late on purpose or–worse–he was about to show up here with his sister.

The hoodie girl at the café popped into my head before I could dread what was about to come. 

The thoughts of our interaction weeks ago lingered in my head, which was strange, because usually I didn’t dwell on these things. But the reminiscence of spilling coffee all over her and interacting with her, it had been itching at my brain ever since.

She looked so annoyed, so unimpressed. 

It also didn’t help the fact she knew exactly who I was. I had no idea if she hated me or not, but she probably did now. Not that I cared what people thought of me on or off the ice–except, for some reason, with her, I kind of did.

I shook the thoughts out of my head, got out of my car and walked towards the entrance of the studio, pushing open the glass door. 

The foyer was empty, which was unexpected. I came prepared to see a lot of people here, but it was quiet–too quiet. The scent of essential oils idled in the air, a mix of eucalyptus and lavender, almost enough to make me forget how much I didn’t want to be here. 

I made my way past the front desk, my gaze roaming over the sleek, modern with contemporary wooden interior. Soft lighting, smooth hardwood floor, and floor-to-ceiling arched mirrors in every studio room.

Great. That meant I’d have to watch myself struggle through whatever the hell was about to happen here.

As I wandered further into the hallway, I passed more studio rooms, each one either empty or locked. Then, as I turned the corner, I caught the faint sound of music–Michael Jackson.

I slowed my steps, glancing toward the slightly opened door at the end of the hall. Inside, a single figure was stretching in front of the mirrors.

My feet stopped moving. It took me half a second to realize why.

No. There’s no way.

The café girl. 

She looked the same as the last I saw her. Brown chestnut eyes, her hair in a braid instead of a loose ponytail. Rather than a stained grey hoodie, she wore black yoga pants and a matching fitted jacket. 

I traced her face through the reflection of the mirrors, watched as she moved fluidly, adjusting her position with practiced ease. She was focused, lost in whatever she was doing–until she wasn’t. 

I hadn’t realized how long I was like this for. She must have sensed me, because she suddenly straightened up, her eyes snapping to mine through the mirror. 

“What are you doing here?” She turned to face me, looking just as surprised.

I blinked, clearing my throat. “I could ask you the same thing.”

Her lips quirked, but it wasn’t a smile. “I asked first.”

Okay. Fair enough.

“I, uh–” I scratched the back of my nape. “I have a session today.”

She tilted her head in amusement, probably found it hard to believe that me, Quinn Hughes, would be at a Pilates studio. I also found that reality hard to grasp around my head. “I’m sure you don’t see a lot of guys here, right?” 

“Well, believe it or not Hughes, I see a few male athletes here and there for Pilates. So, don't go around thinking you’re all that special now.”

Great, it looks like she hadn’t forgotten me after all. I couldn’t tell if I should be happy or worried about that. “So, you remembered me.”

She only nodded, but not in a way that meant it was a good thing. “Well, duh. You’re the reason I had to throw my favourite hoodie in the bin.”

I saw that coming, there was no way she would look at me any other way than this. I wasn’t just an ‘NHL hockey player’ in her eyes, instead I was now dubbed ‘the guy who ruined her clothes’.

“I offered to buy you another one or pay to get it cleaned–”

“I’m just kidding,” she chuckled, ever so lightly, waving her hand. “It’s a good thing washing machines and laundry detergent exist. It took a few cycles and extra scrubbing to get it out, but it’s all gone–good as new.”

That weight I have been carrying on my shoulders for the past two weeks, instantly lifted after hearing that. So, she didn’t hate me in the end. I dodged a bullet there.

“Oh, good–” I huffed out in relief. “I am sorry about that, again.”

All she did was smile. Who knew that a single smile would ignite something beneath my chest. There was that feeling from the cafe again. And I wasn’t sure why it only kept happening around her.

Taking that she hasn’t kicked me out yet, I took a few strides into the room, inviting myself in. I have never been to any Pilates studios, so I have never seen what was inside one–although, I had a good idea of it. 

One side of the walls were large arched floor to ceiling mirrors, the opposite side were windows that overlooked outside, multiple pilates reformers in one neat row, and the other end were laid out yoga mats and more equipment.

“Do you come here often?” I asked.

I figured she was in her twenties, but I could be wrong. I guessed since most Pilates’ clients were either young adults or middle-aged. I did some research prior to coming, and I would know a bit about it since my mom picked it up a couple years ago.

She gave me a vague shrug, “Something like that.”

I exhaled, shifting my weight as I walked around the reformers, taking in my surroundings, still keeping my distance from her. “I should’ve known you did Pilates.”

I recalled from the café; she stood so close that I noticed the small flecks of sweat glisten against her skin. She most likely earned them after being here.

Her brows lifted, “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“I don’t know, you seem like you’d be good at it.”

Now that I realized it, I sounded awkward just then. I mentally face-palmed myself for my ‘game’–more like lack thereof. Maybe that talk Brock and Garly were referring to on that day might have come in handy for times like these. I sound like a fucking idiot in front of her.

But, I wasn’t trying to flirt with her. This was simply to make conversation. That’s all.

She stared at me for a moment before she shook her head with a laugh–like she wasn’t sure if I was complimenting her or just making shit up.

I was about to say something else, anything to save me from my impending doom, when Michael Jackson’s voice blasted through the speakers again. I recognized the song immediately.

“Beat It?” I said, more to myself than anything. “Solid choice.”

She turned her back to her bag on the floor, kneeling to grab her water bottle. She glanced at me, amused. “Yeah, you a fan?”

“I know good music when I hear it.”

That earned me a small smirk on her pink tinted lips. 

I didn’t know why, but I felt the need to keep talking to her. I wasn’t usually like this–I didn’t go out of my way to make conversation, unless I had to–but, especially not with strangers. But, my mouth was already moving before I could think about stopping.

“What's your name? You know, since it's only fair because you know mine.” I asked, looking at all the equipment surrounding us.

She exhaled a short scoff, “You ask a lot of questions.”

“You’re not answering them.” 

She twisted the cap off her bottle and took a sip, like she was debating on whether or not she wanted to humor me. Before she said anything, though, another voice cut through the air.

“Let’s not waste time and get on with it.”

I knew that voice all too well. Fuck.

I turned my head just as Simon strolled into the room like he owned the place, then tossed his bag to the side by the wall.

The café girl–her entire posture shifted. She walked over to the speaker where the music came from and turned down the volume. Her head snapped toward him, her expression tight. “Took you long enough. Didn’t I tell you to get here earlier because of traffic in the area?”

Simon barely looked fazed. “Turns out you were right after all. There was traffic. Duly noted for next time.”

My stomach twisted, and I wasn’t sure why. Simon has a wife, I knew that, but it did put me on edge to see her and Simon talk to one another. They spoke casually, so effortlessly, like they had known each other forever. Not that I was jealous or anything.

It seemed like I was invisible and there was a wall between myself and the two of them. 

I cleared my throat and interrupted their conversation. “Do you guys know each other?”

Simon shot me a look, one of those ‘are you the dumbest person on earth?’ expressions he was always good at–towards me specifically.

“No shit, Hughes,” he deadpanned. Then he jerked his chin toward her. “She’s my sister.”

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