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triptanite · 1 month ago

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Headcanons: night routines, cuddles, and sleeping positions with the companions

it's done! we did it! enjoy :3

Pairings: Reader X (Alphabetical) (Astarion - Gale - Halsin - Karlach - Laezel - Minthara - Shadowheart - Wyll) (Gortash - Raphael - Rolan)

Content warning/s: none

MASTERLIST

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Headcanons below

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The Companions (Alphabetical)

ASTARION

Something that may surprise you is Astarion's preference for personal space when he sleeps. Given how enthusiastically he pursues you early on (and his reasons for doing so), you thought that he would be clinging to your side as soon as your tent flap closed.

Instead however, you find that Astarion appreciates a very active goodnight cuddle before separating to sleep. You're both lying down on your sides, facing each other. Your bodies curl into one another, legs overlapping. Astarion traces over the silhouette of your body as you talk about your day, the softest touch of his fingertips bringing goosebumps to your skin. He hovers over the area where neck meets shoulder, lightly scarred from his previous feedings.

You rest your hand comfortably at his side, taking advantage of his stillness to really study his features. The smile lines in his pale skin, the length of his pointed ears, the sliver of collarbone under his shirt. He's constantly on the move during the day, so you drink in the details while you can. He debriefs to you as well, moving his hand to interlace his fingers with yours. His body is cool, and you notice his tendency to press up closer to you on to sap your body heat.

Once it's time for sleep, you untangle from each other and sleep pretty normally. He's not much of a sleep-snuggler. Though, with your nightly conversations you're not left necessarily wanting for more (not that you mind either way). You sleep in your regular position, and he on his back in the typical elven meditative pose. It's comfortable, safe, familiar.

GALE

Your nightly routine with Gale revolves around a lot of tending to the day's wounds and mishaps, paired with a constant flurry of comfortable conversation. A tear in your trousers gets patched up while staffs are cleaned and reinforced. Adjustments for tomorrow's spells are made, trails are planned. Gale sifts through your alchemy pouches, answering your questions about herb origins with gusto. You move as a unit, like two gears in the same machine. As you move about, there are other conversations occuring, subtle ones, silent ones. Gale presses his forehead to yours to stop you from scowling as you mend; you hand him bits of twine and leather as he passes by, knowing that he's looking for them.

Even as you lie together, there is movement. You're tucked under Gale's chin as he lays on his back. If you're quite still, you can feel his pulse in his neck. Gale busies his ever-moving hands by drawing on your back. Alchameic symbols, runes he's seen, trails you've walked. He illustrates his thoughts and your adventures, your body his canvas.

When you start to fall asleep, you'll wriggle your body down so that your temple rests atop his chest. He traces the curve of your neck to your shoulder. Gale switches to words, messily writing incantations over your skin like a tattoo. If you pay attention, you catch him writing 'I love you' over and over, but you elect not to say anything as he does. Before you tuck your arm around his side, you trace love hearts over his stomach. Your head over his heart, you feel it beat a little faster, then slow as you both fall asleep.

HALSIN

Halsin enjoys being present. He drinks in the sight of you slowly, revels in the ability to simply take his time. After living such a long life lived already and the turmoil of the Shadow-Cursed Lands, he has an even greater appreciation for the smaller things in life. You've not lived quite as long as he, but you've already seen and done more than seemingly entire villages of people. Time and circumstance has worn you both down to a point. Resilience bounces you back, but a healthy regular dose of affection helps too.

At night, you both sit close to the fire. Halsin whittles, chipping away slivers of wood to carve out tiny pieces of art. He looks up, stretching his neck, and watches you as you map the stars above. You scrawl over maps and spare parchment, trying to write and doodle down your memories lest you forget them. When you look over to Halsin, your eyes meet, and you chuckle a little being caught off guard.

Taking you by the hand, Halsin leads you to your shared tent. You undress him, taking your time to smooth his hair back, to run your nails over his biceps. He returns the favour, cupping your curves with his large palms, spreading warmth all throughout your body. He lays on his side in the bedroll, one arm bent and tucked under his head. You use this as a pillow, enjoying his scent so close; wood and musk. Halsins free arm drapes over your midsection to pull you in closer. You push your knee through his legs and you slot together like puzzle pieces. You begin to talk about your latest mapping, your need for more parchment, and plans for tomorrow. Halsin kisses you on the forehead, entire being relaxed. You'll sleep squished together like this, encompassed by heat and comfort.

KARLACH

Cuddle supreme. You bet that once that engine is pacified enough to touch that Mama K is all over you like green on grass.

Prior to this, Karlach was sure (if not overly cautious) about maintaining a healthy distance between you. She was excessively worried about setting you ablaze during the night, and often opted to sleep just outside of her tent while you claimed her bedroll inside. Her claims of worry were partially genuine, but she also enjoyed how you left her tent. The smell you lingered on her sheets, and you often left little things behind like a water canteen or a book you'd been reading.

Once her engine was quelled though, the things she imagined could finally come to fruition. You often cuddle facing each other, changing positions like the moon over the sky. Most comfortably, Karlach settles her head under your chin, face pressed up against your neck and chest. Her arms wrap all the way around your middle, her legs crossing over yours. You curl both arms around her head, trying to leave enough room for her to breathe, and use your free hand to run through her hair. When you start gently scratching over her scalp, you get a snoring Karlach in an instant.

You find that you need to leave the tent flap partially open to vent out some of the warmth; even the most frigid nights are no match for Karlach's body heat. With how impossibly close you're smooshed together, there's little room for the cold to find you anyway.

LAEZEL

Given her dedication towards training and being the youngest in the group, it shouldn't be a surprise that Laezel is quite inexperienced when it comes to affection. Before she met you, and even during, quiet intimacy is somewhat foreign. When you first explained what cuddling was, Laezel thought it was some kind of defensive grapple.

When you both settle for the evening, you find yourselves prepping in comfortable silence for the days ahead. Laezel counts rations and sharpens blades. You condition leather and secure packs. Sometimes, she admires you silently as you focus on your tasks. She smiles to herself at your willingness to help, your competence, she feels security in your choosing her as a partner. Once it's time to settle into your bedrolls, you spend a few precious moments facing each other. She grips your hands in hers and studies your face. She stares with such intensity that it's like she's trying to commit every freckle and line to memory forever. There is some truth to this. When she closes her eyes in peaceful moments, she meditates on the things in her life that bring her joy; her accomplishments, her goals, and you, her partner.

Laezel most often sleeps on her back, leaving her more ready to react to ambushes in the night. She refuses to let go of one of your hands though, with you acting as a kind of anchor for her. Laezel's mind is constantly buzzing with what's to come next, reflecting on what's already happened. It's rare, and precious to her, to indulge in quiet moments of care.

MINTHARA

For practical reasons, Minthana rarely falls asleep with her limbs restricted - it's much harder to stab an intruder if one of your arms is cuddled under your lover. A light sleeper, Minthana doesn't mind sleeping on her side with you. She enjoys being the big spoon, and is certain to let you know that it's not solely because of the protective factor as she deems you just as capable as she (though internally, there's certainly a reflexive protective factor at play here).

Before you sleep, Minthana will curl around you, pressing the entire front of her body to your back. She commits your scent to memory, and recalls the days events aloud. You hold one of her hands in both of yours, mostly paying attention. She enjoys the way you massage her hands, rubbing your thumbs against her wrist, testing the sharpness of her nails against your skin.

When it's time to sleep, Minthana untangles from you, laying on her back or side. She likes to know that you're there though, so she crosses one of her legs over yours in some way. Her ankle rests over yours, or your thigh against her hip, or even just your heels touching each other. Enough closeness to feel your presence, enough space to breathe freely.

SHADOWHEART

You and Shadowheart vary your nighttime routines. Most times, you'll be engaging in mutual and self care, reflecting on the day, prayer, and washing. You offer to brush through Shadowheart's hair, carefully working through knots and bumps and smoothing it into something comfortable to sleep in. The feeling sends tingles down her spine, and she shivers like a cat purring, feeling sleepier and sleepier. She, in return, examines your hands. She cleans over them with a warm washcloth, applying healing balms and ointments to your cuts and bruises, filing your nails to shape.

You both spend time setting and resetting your shared bed space. Being adventurers, and with Shadowheart's past, you're used to moving around often. Your bedroll, your belongings, everything is set up ready to pack at a moment's notice. Though, if you take the time you notice small personal touches that make it feel like yours. A dense hairbrush adorned in silver, Shadowheart's. A thick, hand-woven blanket made in fibre native to your home, yours.

When you begin to collapse from exhaustion, more often than not Shadowheart will settle in behind you. You don't mind being the little spoon, indulging in Shadowheart's body heat and mindlessly playing with her fingers in yours. Shadowheart enjoys pressing her face to the back of your neck, sharing your body heat. She feels somewhat protective of you in the night. Quietly, she worries every now and again that something in the dark will take you away forever. You sense that fear sometimes, the way she drifts off in thought before squeezing you a little tighter. It's a feeling you're not unfamiliar with. She falls asleep to the sound of your voice as you tell her of your adventures past. She dreams of your adventures together in the future; this is something you have in common.

WYLL

Wyll enjoys holding you close basically any chance he gets, and bedtime is no exception. You both keep a reasonable distance while doing simultaneous night routines: Wyll polishes and stores your days' weapons, you pack and prep bags for the next day. As you flit past each other, there are subtle passing touches. A lingering glance at your exposed shoulder, the tips of your fingers grazing against his night clothes. Some are less so, you rake your fingers over his hair and horns, pressing your faces together. Or he'll stand behind you as you wipe down your face, body pressed impossibily close to yours. He teases you about the blush that crawls up your neck.

As you lay together, Wyll finds that sleeping on his back with some tactically stacked pillows works best for his horns. You rest your head at his collarbones, holding his hand. It calms you to feel his chest rise and fall as he breathes, and you never pass up an opportunity to ask him about his seemingly endless adventurous stories. Wyll watches you doodle on his palm, his other hand holds you at your waist, occasionally slipping his hand under your nightshirt to caress your skin.

Lying on your side, you fold your leg over his. You relish in how he squirms slightly depending on where your thigh ends up. Revenge. Most nights, you both fall asleep just like this in each other's embrace. Surrounded by a nest of pillows and a light blanket, you fall into warmth. Comfort in the night that takes you away from the horrors of the day.

Bonus!

NPCs (Alphabetical)

GORTASH

Routine is something both you and Gortash appreciate but rarely achieve with your busy schedules. If Gortash gets a moment at home, you're out in combat. If you come back at a reasonable hour, he's in meeting after meeting. The one thing you try in earnest to maintain though is a nightly routine when your times do align.

You both debrief and undress, spewing out the stress of the day with little regard for whether it makes sense or how many tangents you go off on. Gortash stands at your back as you sit in front of your vanity. He loosens your hair while you clean your wounds, chuckling about the injuries you'd inflicted in reply. You take Gortash's hand in yours and sit him down on the mattress. You run your fingers over his temples and he melts like snow. His muscles are tight as you massage over his neck, his shoulders, leaving light scratch marks over his skin.

In bed, you both lie on your sides, facing the window. The night sky casts the dimmest light into your room, the air outside is quiet and still. There is respite here. You curl around Gortash's back, spooning him as he clutches your hands tight in his. This is your routine, your normalcy. Here, neither of you are bloodstained, neither are performing. Comfort is a strange and rare indulgence in your plights to take over the world; but whether here in your chambers, in a bedroll camping in the forest, or in a jail cell, it's the one thing you can find in each other.

RAPHAEL

Raphael is fond of studying you, examining every inch, every curve of your being with all the patience in the Hells. He's currently asked you to pose for a portrait, draped loosely along a red velvet chaise while the light of the outside world shines just right over your body. It's difficult to catch your face, your eyes especially, in paint. Raphael finds your eye contact far too inviting to concentrate for another quiet hour, so he ceases.

Placing his brushes down, you sit up and crack your neck. You stretch the stiffness from your limbs and extend your hands out to encourage Raphael to join you. He kicks off his dress shoes, climbing atop you with his knee inbetween your legs. His spine curves as he lowers down, lips brushing over your ear as he embraces you.

With some effort, you wrap your arms around him, smothered by warmth and the faint scent of sulphur. You do get used to it after a while. An open window allows a gentle breeze in the room, slowly drying the paint. The light diffuses through sheer curtains, and it makes you sleepy. Time is confusing and unruly here, but you crave a lazy afternoon (at least, that's how it feels) nap. Stroking the back of Raphael's hair, you relax back and close your eyes. Despite his reservations, Raphael soon joins you. His face stays buried against your neck, every breath embued with your smell. You're surrounded by each other, neither of you especially keen to move away.

ROLAN

Finding a place to sleep in Ramazith's Tower wasn't the difficult part, choosing where to sleep was. For the first few weeks, you and Rolan explored a great depth, you'd never climbed so many stairs and walked so many invisible platforms in your life.

One night, you'd decided rather adventurously to sleep up high on a balcony. You'd made a nest of sorts with Rolan, harvesting pillows and blankets and a mattress. The weather was clear and mild as the sky slowly turned to black. Rolan had set up approximately four hundred fail safes to ensure neither of you would fall in your sleep.

You both huddle down into the swathes of fabric. You remark to Rolan how different this was to the camps you'd slept in when you met him, or the Emerald Grove where he and his siblings had stayed. You face each other, legs interlocking, and Rolan places both hands on either side of your face. He remarks that it's to keep you warm but the air has barely a chill. You shift slightly to point out constellations in the sky, and Rolan's hands move downward and settle at your sides. He plays with the hem of your nightshirt, eyes affixed to wherever you point and gesture. The spell of night overtakes you both, and you fall asleep with your foreheads pressed lightly together.

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waa we did it gamers my first multi character piece!! Originally this was supposed to be a short and sweet dotpoint-style headcanons post but apparently I can't help myself. Because of how many characters there were to write and because I'm me it took a little longer than expected but I'm really happy

I've been committing myself to doing even just a little tiny bit of writing/creative stuff every day (with some gaps obvs I'm only human) and I gotta say it really does help

so if you're reading this, go write something. Or draw, or edit, or whatever but just do a little bit of something today. its good for the soul

take care! :3

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rafeyscurtainbangs · 2 months ago

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My Valentine - Rafe Cameron Blurb

+18 Minor DNI

Older!Rafe x Girlfriend!Reader

⭐️ republished ⭐️

+18 Minor DNI

warnings: swearing, pet names, fingering, rafe and the reader watch their porno

📖 What do you get the man who has everything on Valentine’s Day?

✨ “You want your gift, daddy?

“This is enough, truly,” he mumbles as he slides your bra straps off your shoulders. “But I’m a greedy man, honey. Let me have it.” ✨

800 words

Reader’s POV:

Valentine’s Day… What do you get your boyfriend? The man who has everything and anything he’s ever wanted, including you.

You pass him the little gift bag, watching his eyes sparkle as he takes it in, knowing he’ll most likely get something shiny purchased on his card. He humors you sweetly nonetheless, giving you that smile that makes your heart race a little faster.

His eyebrows pinch together as he pulls out the flash drive. “What do we have here?” He eyes the little device in his large palm, his curiosity peaks, turning the faux surprise genuine. He looks down at you, waiting for your response, but you simply shrug and giggle. “Alright. Alright. Let’s see what my girl got me. Yeah?”

He whisks you off your kitten-heeled feet, taking you into his arms, walking down the long hallways of Tanneyhill to his master bedroom. You let out a little gasp as you take everything in, the usual gifts and flowers, but Rafe loves how excited you get each time, regardless.

“Rafey…” You coo, making the high-points of his cheeks blush as you fawn over his sweetness and how well he takes care of you.

“Daddy’s always got you. You know that, princess,” he hums, dressing your new Tiffany necklace around your throat as he kisses his way to your ear. “Can’t wait to see what you got me, baby girl.”

“Why don’t you get comfortable? And I’ll go put something on,” you whisper onto his lips, to which he happily obliges.

You stroll over to the nightstand, littered with gifts purchased by Rafe, eyeing the lingerie sets.

“Somethin’ pink, princess,” he aids.

You change quickly, slipping into the matching silk robe before stepping into your heels again. Snagging the flash drive, you pop it into the tv, sauntering toward the bed as Rafe stalks your movements with a preditory stare, waiting for you to drop the delicate fabric.

His eyes are only on you for a moment before they roll back—Rafe grabbing for you fast, drawing you closer. You straddle his legs, feeling his cock, hard between your thighs.

“Tonight is going to be a good night,” he smiles, his hands drifting around to your ass, gripping tightly.

“Mmm… All night long?”

“All night long, angel. Gonna make you so dumb you forget your own name,” he chuckles raspily against your glossy lips.

“You want your gift, daddy?”

“This is enough, truly,” he mumbles as he slides your bra straps off your shoulders. “But I’m a greedy man, honey. Let me have it.”

You reach over to the nightstand, grabbing the remote, pressing play. Rafe’s eyes double with his devilish smile as he takes a rough grip on your curves. “Fuck, was this Moracco?” He rasps. “Did you record-” His voice trails off as he watches your naked body come into frame before adjusting the camera slightly, ensuring the perfect angle for him. “Holy shit. My girl looks fuckin’ good,” he moans before slapping your ass. “God damn. C’omere, princess.”

He snaps at the little band of your thong guiding you to slip it off. You finger the clasp of your bra flicking that away before relaxing your back into his muscular chest. Rafe snuggles into you, wrapping his strong arms around your waist as you kiss on camera.

“Look at how good we look. Shit,” he sighs, kissing you gently on the neck, drifting up toward your ear. “My own personal pornstar,” he groans sinfully. His soft voice in your ears gives you the giggles. “Ugh… Not the giggle too. Just kill me, princess.”

He draws his hands up to your breasts, taking a hold of them, massaging them in his large palms. He circles your nipples slowly, making you whine.

“Fuck, I gotta big dick. You think she’s gonna take it all in that tight little pussy?” He taunts. Rafe’s hand drifts over your naval, lowering to your sex, his other hand resting lightly on your throat.

He massages the inside of your thighs with a heavy hand, dangerously close to where you’re craving him most. “Mmm…” you purr. He grabs your chin roughly, directing you toward his lips.

You let out an airy sigh when he slides his fingers through your folds, the tip of his ringed digits dipping in and out of your entrance. His fingers rub around your clit, small waves of pleasure with every stroke of the hand.

“We’re gonna watch this again and again,” his fingers mirror his words; a smile felt against your lips.

“Please, daddy.”

“So polite, princess. So good f’me. Look at you take my cock. Fuck m’givin’ it to you so good,“ he hums.

”So – So good,“ you pant as Rafe adds more friction. ”Just like that.“ You plead. Rafe kisses your neck roughly—your heart starts beating faster.

He lets out a wicked laugh as you repeat yourself on camera. “Yes, Rafe just like that. Fuck!” Your desperate cries come pouring out of the tv speakers. He repeats your words teasingly through kisses which only makes you wetter, the squelching of your own pussy making the video hard to hear.

”Bet you can’t wait for me to stuff you full of my cock. Hmm? Look at you beg for me. I’m ruining you, honey. Jesus fuck. N’you’re just takin’ me like the whore you are,” he grunts. Rafe adds all four fingers, his strong hands rubbing your bundle of nerves. You hit your crescendo. “That’s it, baby,” he growls. “Cum for me.”

You feel yourself pulsing, shockwaves gripping your body as you ride the waves of your orgasm. Rafe’s fingers slip along your pussy, sinking in and out of your entrance slowly, just playing with you, letting you soak in all your pleasure.

You watch yourself fall apart on camera as Rafe cums with you. The two of you reaching for air, panting and kissing between breathes as he plays with the cum slipping out of your soaked hole, before stuffing it deep inside.

He lift his finger to his lips, sucking them clean before reaching for the remote.

“Round two, princess.”

#rafeyscurtainbangs library 📚#rafe cameron #outer banks #rafe #obx #rafe cameron smut #rafe smut #rafe x reader #rafe x fem!reader #older rafe cameron #older!rafe #rafe fanfiction #rafe cameron x me #rafe blurb

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greg-montgomery · 9 months ago

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Aaron going through boxes of old stuff and finding a journal of yours from a long time ago. He opens it out of curiosity and reads about how your younger self always wanted to be called princess from a significant other so he tries it out along with buying a nice bouquet of flowers 🤭

Aaron’s cheeks were almost hurting by smiling all day, because he was surrounded by boxes of your belongings that would soon be all over his house. Your house.

One certain box with the word “memories” in capital letters written on it though, drew his attention. Opening it, he was met with a few books, magazines, cards, and concert tickets.

At the bottom of the box, there was a pink journal with your name decorating its cover.

It looked personal, but it also looked like it was from a long time ago. He couldn’t help it, and with his curiosity getting the better of him, he opened it.

The pages were filled with pink glittery letters, little drawings, and stickers of Disney princesses and Barbie characters.

He smiled with affection while turning the pages and seeing what your younger self used to fill her journal with. He almost skipped a page when his eyes fell on the title written on top of it.

“My dream boy!”

Oh, this is gonna be interesting, he thought.

Aaron found himself competing with the ideal version of a boyfriend your teenage self had. He went through every single point you had written down, and mentally checked it.

That version of you, was still part of who you were today, and the last thing he wanted was to disappoint you or not be enough.

Tall – check.

Dark hair – check.

Sweet – check, well to you at least.

Brings me flowers – check.

Calls me princess – not check.

Princess, huh? That was new.

He knew that you were big on pet names, but princess had never occurred to him before.

A smirk grew on his face. It was time to see if your tastes had changed.

Just the day after, Aaron made sure to visit a flower shop after work and buy your favorite flowers. If he was gonna try something, he was going to do it right.

He found you sitting on the couch, eating a bag of chips and scrolling on your phone, some show on the TV playing in the background. You left it open for company when he wasn’t there and something inside him stung a little.

“Baby?”

You threw your head back on the couch and looked up at him as he moved closer. “You’re home,” you sighed with a smile. “Missed you.”

“I did too.” He leaned down to kiss you on the lips and brought the flowers he was hiding behind his back in front of you. “That’s why I decided to get some flowers to my princess.”

Your face lightened up at the sight of the beautiful bouquet and the sound of the pet name. “Aaron!”

You stood up on the couch and threw yourself at him, hugging him with a force that could bring down a bear. “Thank you!”

“You like them, honey?”

“I love them.”

Aaron sighed at the feeling of your lips on his neck, as you left little kisses on the curve of it. “Anything for my princess.”

Your face was still hidden in the crook of his neck but Aaron could feel you laughing.

“What are the giggles for?”

“Nothing…”

He pulled back just enough so he could look at your face, and grabbed your chin softly. You averted your eyes from him as if you had something to hide.

“Y/N?”

“It’s nothing!” you insisted. “I just like to be called that,” you added quietly, playing with a button from Aaron’s shirt. You still wouldn’t look at him.

“To be called what?” he asked.

“Princess…”

“I know.” He smirked.

“What do you mean?”

“I read it in your diary.”

“What?” you raised your voice and he couldn’t help but laugh.

“I found it through your old stuff.”

“Aaron, I’m gonna kill you!”

“I’m sorry!”

“No, you’re not. You’re laughing.”

“Oh come on, it got you what you wanted.”

“Shut up,” you said , furrowing your brows.

The two of you sat on the couch and he tried to pull you into his arms. After showing resistance for a few seconds, you let him hold you.

“What else did you read?”

“I saw the whole list. About your dream guy.”

“I don’t remember adding ‘he reads my journal without permission’,” you said.

“I do have all the rest though,” he said with a cocky smile.

“You do, I guess,” you admitted, rolling your eyes. “I was manifesting.”

“I hope you’re happy with the guy the universe sent you then, princess.”

“Ah…” you threw your head back with a lovesick smile. “And it's only getting better.”

#aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner #hotch #hotch 🪐#ask #lumi 🍊

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prythianpages · 5 months ago

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Dandelions | Azriel

Azriel x Green Witch Reader | The moment in which you realize you're in love.

word count: 1,713

warnings: fluff, kissing

a/n: Surprise Surprise! This is my 1,000th post on this blog and I wanted to dedicate it to Green Witch reader <3 This can be read as a stand alone. I was on reddit when I saw a comment that reminded me of these two and I just had to write it out before I lost inspiration, even though it was midnight when I saw it.

Walking through the cobblestone streets of Velaris, your heart feels light and content, further lifted by the enchantment that seems to weave through every building and tree. The rain from the afternoon had left behind shimmering puddles and brought upon a misty evening. Warm and humid, the air was alive with the croak of contented toads and the delicate flutter of moths.

As a green witch, your connection to nature runs deep. You cherish all living things, from the majestic trees lining the streets to the smallest insects that flit about underfoot. Many might find them insignificant, even terrifying. But to you, they’re lovely.

Yet, among all the wonders of Velaris, it's the shadowsinger walking slightly ahead of you who captivates your heart the most.

His dark hair, damp from the mist, clings to the back of his neck. It curls at the ends and you’re sure there’s a matching, distinctive curl of hair or two that falls down over his forehead that you would love to run your fingers through. His wings are tucked into him and though his back is turned toward you, you notice the slight tilt of his head downwards.

You also can’t help but notice the way his shadows slither along the ground in front of you both. Almost as if they’re clearing a path for the both of you. You don’t think much of it, even though you’re usually the one walking slightly ahead. Azriel is always attentive to your surroundings.

Your lips curve into a tender smile as you continue to admire him from behind. The mating bond hums softly between you. You give a tug and it’s instant, the way your chest swells with warmth as he responds. He doesn’t turn around but you catch the subtle twitch of his right wing. Something you notice he does when flustered or blushing.

Though you both are now aware of the mating bond or at least now aware that you both are aware, you came to a mutual agreement to take things slow. So Azriel courted you, determined to right the wrongs of his initial coldness. His efforts to show you his true self, the side he's always wanted you to see, have been nothing short of enchanting.

You always suspected there was more to Azriel than the stoic warrior facade he presented to you. And as the days turned into weeks, he revealed layers of his personality that left you breathless.

You discovered his love for reading, the way his eyes softened when he spoke about his favorite books. He took you to his favorite hidden spots in Velaris that he wanted to share only with you.

One evening, he surprised you with a picnic by the Sidra River. Since you could not prepare him food due to the bond, he had taken it upon himself to prepare all your favorite foods.

His gestures were not always grand, but they were always meaningful. Like the time he spent hours helping you gather rare herbs for your potions. Or the quiet evenings you spent in his arms, where words were unnecessary. Yet, he never stayed the night, always leaving before it got too late.

“y/n?”

“Yes?”

You hadn’t realized he’d been talking to you, too lost in your thoughts.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes,” you say again, seeing that you have reached your small townhome. Your apothecary is located right next door, the sign swaying slightly despite the lack of wind.

The fae lights hanging from your door’s overhang flicker on as the sun begins to set, casting a warm glow over the entrance. From the window, you spot a set of two glowing eyes watching you, bringing forth a smile. It’s your cat, Binx. He blinks at you in greeting.

Azriel draws your attention back to him as he carefully makes his way up the three steps that lead to your door. He offers you his hand, not wanting you to slip on the wet cobblestone. You take his hand, the warmth of his touch sending a pleasant shiver up your spine. His fingers intertwine with yours, strong yet gentle.

“Thank you,” you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper.

Azriel’s gaze locks onto yours, his hazel eyes warm with emotion. “I’d do anything for you,” he replies softly, his thumb brushing lightly over your knuckles. There’s a vulnerability in his voice, a raw honesty that makes your heart ache.

He steps closer and the space between you seems to hum with the energy of the bond you share. You find yourself giving in to the irresistible pull of that bond, wrapping your arms around his neck, and bringing his head down toward yours. Your lips meet in a tender kiss, a soft and delicate exchange but as the hands at your waist travel upwards, it morphs into something more heated. A kiss that speaks volumes about the growing connection between you two.

His hands cradle your face, one moving to the back of your head as he gently pushes you against your door. It’s when your tongue traces along his bottom lip that he pulls away. “You should go inside before the rain comes down again,” he breathes but you catch the way his pupils flare as he gazes down at your swollen lips. Droplets begin to fall from the sky yet neither of you move.

“I should,” you reply, your eyes sparkling with mischief as you pull him back in for another kiss.

You linger by the window, fingers pressed against your lips, drawn to the sight of Azriel walking away in the gentle drizzle. It wasn’t your first kiss and certainly not the last. Each kiss only further fueled the desire between you both but you two had agreed to wait to be intimate with one another until you’re ready to accept the bond. Something that was becoming a struggle with every passing day.

As you watched Azriel go, you saw something that made your heart skip a beat. He was pausing every few steps, his fingers gently lifting what appeared to be small worms off the wet pavement and guiding them to safety in the lush greenery that bordered the streets. His shadows danced around his feet, helping him.

And then it hit you—why Azriel’s attention had been on the ground as he walked you home earlier, why his shadows had been forming a pathway. He was saving the worms from being stepped on. Tears welled up in your eyes, and before you knew it, you were slipping out your door and running toward him.

“Azriel!”

Azriel turns, his brows furrowing in concern as soon as he sees you. He raises one hand—the one that hadn’t been picking up the worms—to caress your cheek, his thumb gently wiping away a rogue tear. “Why are you crying?” he asks, frowning.

“Because you’re so sweet and thoughtful and kind and I love you and—”

“You love me?” he interrupts softly, his right wing twitching as a blush creeps onto his cheeks.

“Yes, you. I love you and only you,” you repeat, voice trembling with the weight of your feelings.

And then he’s kissing you again, letting his lips convey those three words for him.

You glance over at Azriel, his focused expression making your heart swell with what you’re now certain is love. Every time he looks your way, his gaze softens and you feel like you’re about to burst.

His eyes had widened slightly when you had offered to help, not realizing he’d been caught. He had protested, claiming you’d only get sick if you stayed out in the rain with him. But you had ignored him, kneeling down on the damp ground.

So now you both were kneeling on the ground, the cool rain soaking through your clothes as you helped the small bugs to a safer path. Azriel’s shadows were eager to help as well, nudging worms and beetles your way. A bit too eager, as they sometimes sent the bugs skittering away toward the grass, and you couldn’t help but laugh at the playful chaos.

Just as you’re about to pick up another worm, a small movement catches your eye. A toad hops out from under a bush. Azriel startles but you grin, scooping it up into your hands. When he inches away from you, your eyes light up in mischief.

Before he knows it, you’re chasing him around, the toad held out in front of you. Azriel dodges and weaves, his laughter mingling with yours in the rain. His shadows seem to be on your side as one sneaky tendril crosses over his leg and he trips. You fall over him, the both of you collapsing in a heap on the wet grass. The toad hops out of your hold, much to Azriel’s relief. You’re both breathless and grinning.

"Do you still love me now?" You tease.

“More than anything,” he replies immediately, his wings stretching out under him to fold over you and shield you from the rain.

“Would you still love me if I were a toad?” You challenge.

Azriel laughs, his hazel eyes twinkling as he pulls you closer. Your head rests on his chest. “Even if you were a toad. I’d find a way to become one with you,” he says, the sincerity in his tone nearly bringing you to tears again, as he presses a kiss to the top of your head.

The rain grows heavier, and the two of you finally decide to seek shelter, running back into your home. When you ask him to stay the night, he doesn’t hesitate to say yes. After washing up and changing into comfortable clothes—Feyre had magically sent Azriel fresh garments at his request—the two of you nestle into the comforting warmth of your bed.

It’s not big enough to accommodate his wings. Something you're already working on replacing. He doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, it only gives him more reason to hold you closer.

Your back is flush against his chest, one of his strong arms draped protectively over your waist as you both watch the rain patter against the bedroom window. His chin rests gently atop your head and you close your eyes, feeling utterly safe and cherished.

The bond between you sings with contentment, but it’s the love dwelling within that bond that makes your heart overflow with joy.

a/n: This takes place after the first imagine but before you accept the bond with a witchy ritual as mentioned in these HCs, which I may or may not write. In my mind, Azriel fell first but you fell harder. Not only is this the first time you say I love you but also the first time he stays the night.

series tag list:@fxckmiup, @aria-chikage

General tag list: @scooobies, @kennedy-brooke, @sillysillygoose444, @lilah-asteria @the-sweet-psycho

@daycourtofficial, @milswrites, @stormhearty, @pit-and-the-pen, @mybestfriendmademe

@loving-and-dreaming

[series masterlist]

#azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x y/n #azriel fanfic #acotar imagine #acotar x reader #acotar fanfiction #azriel imagine #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x witch!reader #az!dandelions

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rootedinrevisions · 5 days ago

Text

Five Years

SUMMARY: Five years of friendship. Years of silent longing. One night that changes everything. When Tyler Owens, a charming, rugged man with a penchant for keeping things casual, finds himself at a crossroads with the woman he's secretly loved for years, he realizes he might have waited too long. After one too many moments where you've been left wanting more, you find yourself torn between the comfort of their deep connection and the pain of being stuck in the friend zone. Tyler has one last shot to show you that he’s not just the man you turn to in the hard moments—but the man who can make you believe in love, again.

A/N: Sorry for all the angsty Tyler lately! It's just been the mood/vibe lately so I've been rolling with it! Thanks to the person who sent this request in! I hope you like it!

PROMPT: "What was he doing back there? Flirting with you like he has a fucking chance?"

WARNINGS/TAGS: Angst.

WORD COUNT: 5.6k

TAG LIST: SEE COMMENTS

If you would like to be added to any of my Tag Lists please feel free to comment, send an ask, or send a DM and I'll be happy to get you added! Below are the fandoms I currently write for.

Glen Powell (himself and the characters he's played)

Top Gun: Maverick (Hangman, Rooster, possibly others soon)

Marvel / MCU (Bucky Barnes as of now, but possibly others soon)

WWE / Wrestling

It’s late, the kind of quiet that comes when the night has softened everything into shadows. You and Tyler are back in the motel room, tangled together in bed like it’s the most natural thing in the world. His arm drapes over you, and you’re curled into his side, your head on his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his breathing. The scent of whiskey lingers between you, mingling with the warmth of his skin, and you can still taste him faintly on your lips. Another night, another round of kisses exchanged under the dim motel lights, like something fragile and fleeting.

He stirs, his hand brushing along your back, and you wonder if he’s on the edge of sleep or just drifting in that space in between like you are. For a moment, you’re tempted to ask him the question that’s always on the tip of your tongue: What are we doing?

Instead, you stay silent, breathing in sync with him, wondering if he can feel the way your heart skips each time he holds you like this. He shifts, drawing you a little closer, and you catch a glimpse of something in his expression—something soft, maybe even vulnerable. But it’s gone as quickly as it came.

“Hey,” he murmurs, his voice low and slightly slurred. “You’re comfortable, right?” His hand rests at the curve of your hip, fingers grazing your skin in a way that sends a shiver through you.

You nod, managing a quiet, “Yeah. Always.” You know he’ll pretend he doesn’t remember this in the morning, brush it off like it’s nothing, and you’ll let him because it’s easier that way. But tonight, you can pretend a little too—that these quiet moments mean the same to him as they do to you.

You close your eyes, listening to his heartbeat beneath your ear, wondering how much longer you can keep pretending before you’re forced to admit the truth—to yourself, if not to him.

Then, out of nowhere, he says, “So… I just found out I’m being inducted into the PBR Hall of Fame.”

You blink, lifting your head from his chest to look at him. A smile lights up your face. “Tyler, that’s amazing! I mean, I knew you were a big deal, but… Hall of Fame?”

He chuckles softly, scratching the back of his head with that familiar modesty. “Yeah, kinda crazy, huh? Guess all those years getting tossed around finally paid off.”

You laugh, knowing he’s downplaying it. You’ve seen some of those old videos, clips of him taking on bulls with more force and heart than anyone you’d ever met.

“No one deserves it more than you,” you say softly, feeling that familiar warmth in your chest. “I’m so proud of you.”

A faint blush colors his cheeks as he looks away, and then, clearing his throat, he glances back at you.

“Thanks, means a lot,” he says, his voice softer. Then, after a moment, he adds, “Actually… I get a plus one to the induction ceremony. I was thinking maybe you’d want to come with me?”

Your heart skips at that. He doesn’t even pause to consider anyone else; he’s asking you. For a moment, you feel a surge of excitement that maybe this is more than just a friendly invite. But just as quickly, doubt seeps in. If he had a girlfriend, he’d take her, wouldn’t he? A familiar ache settles in your chest, the quiet reminder that maybe this is just about convenience for him.

“Are you sure?” you ask, trying to keep your voice steady, and casual. “I mean, you could take anyone.”

He glances at you with a soft smile, his eyes sincere. “Nah. Can’t think of anyone better. You’d come, right?”

The words are on the tip of your tongue—Of course, I’ll go.

Instead, you hesitate, just for a second, wondering if this is just a placeholder invitation until he finds someone to fill the spot he’s never openly said he wants to be filled. But you can’t bear the thought of missing the moment, so you nod, managing a smile. “Yeah, I’d love to.”

He grins, pulling you back into his chest, and you settle against him, feeling the warmth of his arm around you. But even as you breathe him in, letting the steady beat of his heart calm you, a question begins to take root in your mind. Where do we really stand, Tyler?

It’s a question you keep to yourself, swallowing it down as you close your eyes and listen to the silence settle around you once again.

* * * * *

The ballroom buzzed with energy and anticipation, and you could sense the excitement radiating from Tyler beside you. The event space was elegantly decorated, with every table set with crystal glasses and gleaming silverware. But you hardly noticed any of it; all your focus was on Tyler. This was his night. And you were honored to be here with him, even if you didn’t quite know what that meant for the two of you.

You eventually found your way to your seats near the front of the room, and Tyler’s hand brushed against yours as you sat down. His fingers lingered just a moment, a subtle contact that sent a rush of warmth up your arm.

Before you could say anything, the lights dimmed as the emcee took to the stage, announcing the start of the ceremony. The audience fell quiet, and Tyler’s hand was warm on your knee, a comforting weight that made your heart race. You glanced down at his hand, then back up to his face, wondering if he even realized the effect he had on you.

A part of you wanted to reach for his hand again, to close the gap between you both once and for all, but you stayed still, holding your breath as the ceremony began.

As the awards were announced one by one, you couldn’t help but steal glances at Tyler. He seemed to sit straighter with each name called, his eyes never leaving the stage. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the emcee announced Tyler’s name, and the room burst into applause. You clapped the loudest, your heart swelling with pride.

You watched as Tyler walked to the stage, his stride steady and confident, shoulders back with that natural charisma he carried wherever he went. When he accepted his award, he stood there with his plaque, his gaze scanning the crowd until it landed on you. The spotlight hit his face, highlighting the small, crooked smile you knew so well. And his eyes—dark, intense, focused on you—seemed to say something unspoken.

You felt your breath catch, frozen under his gaze, and for a second, it was like you were the only two people in the room.

His acceptance speech was simple and heartfelt. He thanked the people who had been there with him through the highs and lows. He spoke of long, hard days, the sacrifices he’d made, and the passion that drove him. But you could’ve sworn that when he mentioned his gratitude for “the people who kept him grounded,” his eyes found you once again.

As Tyler wrapped up his speech and made his way back to his seat, you barely had a chance to process the pride you felt for him, for everything he’d accomplished. But that brief moment when he’d looked at you on stage lingered in your mind, wrapping around you like a warm embrace. Could it have meant something more?

He sat back down next to you, and you leaned over, unable to keep the smile from your face. “That was incredible, Ty. I’m so proud of you.”

He looked at you, a soft chuckle escaping as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Thanks. I think I might’ve fumbled a little bit up there.”

“Not even close,” you replied, squeezing his arm. “You were perfect.”

The atmosphere at the afterparty was more relaxed, a contrast to the formality of the ceremony.

The room buzzes with laughter and clinking glasses, everyone here to celebrate the achievements of legends, past and present. You’re standing beside Tyler, trying to blend into the background of the room’s energy. But then, without warning, Tyler reaches for your hand, his fingers brushing yours before intertwining them completely. It’s such a small gesture, but it sends a rush of warmth through you. He glances at you, his eyes searching yours for a brief moment, almost as if he’s silently asking if this is okay, if you’re okay. You squeeze his hand, hoping he’ll understand that, yes, this is more than okay.

“Come on, there’s someone I want you to meet,” he says, his voice low and soft. He leads you through the crowd toward a man with a broad smile and lines etched deep around his eyes—Tyler’s old mentor. Tyler introduces you with a genuine warmth that makes you feel like you belong here, like you’re not just an accessory to his big night but someone he wants by his side.

As they begin chatting, Tyler’s hand drifts to your waist, his fingers pressing lightly into your hip as he pulls you closer, fitting you against his side. You feel a warmth blossom in your chest, and for a moment, the nagging doubts you’d been harboring vanish. His mentor jokes about old times, and Tyler laughs, giving your waist a small squeeze as if to share the moment with you. You let yourself lean into him, letting his warmth melt away the walls you’d tried to build around your heart.

But then, as the conversation comes to a close, he lets go. Just like that, his hand falls from your waist, and he takes a step back, sliding his hands into his pockets, a casual smile on his face. He glances around the room, no longer focused on you, and the sudden distance sends a chill down your spine. You’re standing side by side, but the connection feels fractured, like a missed beat. He begins walking next to you, his attention now elsewhere, no hand-holding, no gentle touches to keep you close.

Half an hour later you’re standing next to Tyler, trying to stay engaged with the conversation he’s having with an old friend he used to ride with, someone who knows a side of him you’ve only heard about in stories. Tyler’s posture is easy, his laugh warm and unguarded in a way that you rarely get to see. You watch him as he reminisces, letting yourself get lost in the sound of his laughter, in the way his eyes light up with a spark of the past. But as they continue to talk, it becomes clear that he’s in his own world, like you’re not even there.

The laughter between them grows, each memory shared drawing them further back into the years before you knew him. You shift your weight, feeling a slight ache in your chest as you realize just how separate you feel from this part of his life. A sense of loneliness creeps in, one you can’t shake, and you find yourself glancing toward the bar. Maybe a drink will help dull the sting.

You start to turn, your heart heavy, but just then, you feel Tyler’s hand reach out, his fingers wrapping gently around yours. The touch is so familiar, so comforting, and for a brief second, that hopeful warmth flickers back to life.

You glance over your shoulder, catching his eye, a hint of something unreadable there.

“You okay?” he asks, his voice quieter, as if trying to break through to you despite the noise around.

You swallow, forcing a smile to cover the twinge of sadness that’s growing in your chest. “Yeah,” you say softly, nodding toward the bar. “Just thirsty. Thought I’d grab a drink.”

He nods, giving your hand a slight squeeze before letting go, turning back to his friend with that easy laugh that now feels like a barrier you can’t quite cross. You turn away, your heart sinking as you walk toward the bar, feeling the absence of his hand like a chill creeping over your skin. You can’t help but feel a pang of disappointment that settles heavy and cold. Just moments ago, he was intertwining your fingers, holding you close with his hand on your waist, like you were more than just a companion for the night.

How did it change so quickly? How did he go from holding you, grounding you with those intimate touches, to leaving you in this limbo of almost but not quite? You realize that, despite how much he means to you, there’s a line between you that he doesn’t seem ready to cross. And that thought hurts more than you want to admit.

You’re leaning against the bar, lost in thought, when a voice breaks through the noise, smooth and warm. “Hey there. You look like you could use some company.”

You glance up to find a guy with a charming grin and a relaxed confidence that’s instantly disarming. He extends a hand. “Eli Vastbinder,” he says. “I don’t think we’ve met.”

For a moment, you’re taken off guard, but you shake his hand and introduce yourself, motioning to where Tyler’s standing in the distance. “I’m here with Tyler Owens.”

At the mention of Tyler’s name, a flicker of something—maybe disappointment, maybe surprise—crosses Eli’s face before he recovers his smile. “Owens, huh? How do you know the Tornado Wrangler?”

You can’t help but laugh at the nickname, feeling some of the tension ease as you explain. “We work together. I help him run his YouTube channel.”

Eli’s gaze shifts from Tyler back to you, a curious glint in his eye as if he’s sizing up the situation. He doesn’t linger on it for long, though, before flashing you a daring smile. “So, just coworkers, huh? In that case, you wouldn’t mind if I bought you a drink?”

The question lingers, sparking a twist of hesitation in your chest. You glance over at Tyler, hoping for some kind of sign, some acknowledgment of what you’re feeling. Your eyes meet his, and he offers you a casual smile before turning his attention back to his friend. The moment leaves you cold—another reminder of all the times he’s pulled you close, only to leave you feeling as if you’re just out of reach.

You turn back to Eli, a decision settling in your mind. Tyler isn’t claiming you. He never has. And he’s had five years to do so.

You give Eli a small smile. “Sure, why not?”

Eli’s grin widens as he orders your drink, leaning in just slightly as he asks about your work with Tyler. He’s charming, effortlessly making you feel seen and appreciated. There’s a warm intensity in his gaze, like he’s genuinely interested in hearing about your life, in learning the pieces of you that Tyler seems to take for granted. You laugh at his jokes, leaning in as he tells stories about the crazy things he’s seen on the road. Every so often, his hand brushes yours, sending a little thrill through you—like something you haven’t allowed yourself to feel in far too long.

It doesn’t take long for you to feel the weight lifting from your shoulders. There’s no ambiguity with Eli; his attention is clear, unburdened by mixed signals or unspoken boundaries. It’s refreshing, exciting, even, to be the center of someone’s focus without second-guessing their intentions.

You glance over at Tyler once more, but he’s still wrapped up in conversation, seemingly unaware of the ache you’ve carried alone. A part of you wants him to notice, to see what’s happening, to finally feel the urgency you’ve held onto for years. But there’s another part of you that’s finished waiting.

As you turn back to Eli, you find yourself smiling, the kind of smile that feels like letting go.

You’re laughing at something Eli just said, a relaxed warmth in your chest that’s been missing around Tyler lately, when you feel a familiar presence behind you. You glance back, and there he is—Tyler, wearing that easy smile that’s disarmed you a hundred times before. He leans close, his hand slipping around your waist, fingers warm and possessive against your hip. “Hey there, darlin’,” he greets, the pet name rolling off his tongue as naturally as the smirk tugging at his lips.

But Tyler doesn’t stop there. His gaze shifts to Eli, assessing him for a beat, and then extends a hand. “I see you’ve met my date,” he says, voice casual but with a certain edge, like a claim staked.

You freeze, glancing up at him, surprised and confused by his sudden assertiveness. Eli’s expression mirrors your own—slightly perplexed, eyebrows lifting as he takes Tyler’s hand and shakes it firmly. His eyes flicker back to you, questioning. “Date? I thought you two were just coworkers,” he remarks, eyes shifting meaningfully to Tyler’s hand, still resting on your hip.

Before you can answer, Tyler lets out a dismissive scoff, as if the notion of you two being “just coworkers” is absurd. “Coworkers?” he echoes, his hand tightening just a fraction. “Yeah, we’re a little closer than that.” He shoots a look at you that’s both playful and possessive.

You feel your blood simmer, heat rising in your chest at the presumption in his tone. As if you’re some claim he can lay when it’s convenient, without any real commitment. You step out of his grip, your voice firm as you say, “We are just coworkers.” The words come out sharper than you intend, but you don’t soften them.

Tyler’s smile falters, his brow furrowing, but you’ve already turned away, excusing yourself quickly to Eli before slipping out toward the exit.

Humiliation washes over you, prickling your skin as you push through the crowd, needing fresh air, needing space. You had been enjoying a perfectly nice conversation with Eli, feeling appreciated and even flattered, until Tyler decided to swoop in and turn the moment into something possessive and confusing.

As you reach the hallway, you feel a sharp sting behind your eyes. Tears blur your vision, and you blink them back, furious with yourself for letting Tyler get to you like this. You’re tired—tired of being in his orbit only when he wants you to be, of being treated as something more only when it suits him. Because heaven forbid another guy notices you.

The hallway is quiet, save for the soft murmur of voices drifting from the ballroom as you stand there, waiting for the elevator. The moment stretches, tense and thick, when you hear his footsteps behind you, his voice calling your name.

You don’t turn around. “Tyler… don’t.” The plea is barely above a whisper, but he ignores it, closing the distance between you, his face etched with frustration.

“What was he doing back there?” he asks, motioning down the hall toward the ballroom, his tone hard, possessive. “Flirting with you like he has a chance?”

Your heart twists painfully at his words. His tone says it all—like he assumes you’re his, like it’s obvious. Like you should know.

But you’re done with the assumptions. The words spill out before you can stop them, thick with months, years, of unspoken hurt. “And why would you care, Tyler?” Your voice cracks, and you feel the first tear slip down your cheek, quickly followed by another. “It’s not like we’re together, right? You said it yourself—we’ll never be anything more than friends. We’re just…” You falter, searching for the right words, but the truth tumbles out, raw and painful. “We’re just really close, and we make out sometimes. Nothing more.”

The weight of it hangs in the air, and you can see the impact of your words in the way his face falls, his expression softening, regretful.

“Hey,” he murmurs, reaching out, but you shake your head, a mix of anger and sadness bubbling to the surface.

“No, Tyler.” You step back, keeping the space between you. “I’m done. I’m done with this… with you.” Your voice shakes, but the conviction is there, clear and sharp. “I’m done not being good enough. Done being yours only when you want someone on your arm or in your bed. I can’t keep doing this.” You wipe a tear from your cheek, gathering whatever strength you have left. “I’m done with everything. Our friendship. The channel. All of it.”

The elevator dings, and the doors slide open with a quiet chime. You glance back at him one last time, taking in the hurt and confusion in his eyes.

“Go back to the party, Tyler. It’s your night. You deserve it.”

You step into the elevator, pressing the button as the doors start to close. The last thing you see before they shut is him standing there, looking lost and completely, utterly alone.

Back in the quiet solitude of the hotel room, you feel the emotions from the hallway encounter with Tyler crash over you. It’s almost overwhelming, but you shake your head, determined to focus on the immediate task. You kick off your heels and reach for the zipper at the back of your dress, letting it slide down as the gown falls in a pool around your feet. You step out of it, scooping it up to drape over the chair, and head to your bag, ready to change and leave before you can overthink it.

Digging through your clothes, you pull out the first shirt, but frustration prickles at you when you realize it’s one of Tyler’s. With an annoyed huff, you toss it on the bed. You dig deeper, pulling out another… his again. Why didn’t I pack more of my own clothes? you think bitterly, remembering that his shirts have been your usual comfort, your routine.

Finally, you find one of your own t-shirts and pull it on, then slide into a pair of jeans. You run a hand over your face, taking a deep breath to keep yourself from falling apart, and open your suitcase, methodically folding the rest of your things and stowing them away. As you pack, a plan begins to form, each step sounding clearer in your mind. You’ll finish packing, get a car downstairs to a nearby hotel for the night, and fly back tomorrow. It might be an awkward plane ride home, but you’ll put in headphones, turn away, and then… you’ll walk away from Tyler James Owens for good.

With your bag nearly ready, you look around the room one last time, eyes falling on the small pile of his things on the bed. His shirts, the ones you’ve wrapped yourself in so many times, now just reminders of all the blurred lines that never became anything real. You turn away, inhaling deeply to steady yourself, willing the resolve to carry you through whatever comes next.

You reach for the handle of your suitcase, ready to walk out of Tyler’s life for good, when the hotel room door opens behind you. Your heart races, and for a second you want to pretend you don’t notice him there, but when you turn, his expression says he’s already figured out exactly what’s happening. His eyes drop to the half-packed suitcase, then back to your face. His look of confusion shifts into something desperate.

“Please,” he says, his voice softer than you’ve ever heard it, almost raw. “Please, stay. We can talk about this. Just… don’t leave. Not like this.”

You shake your head, fighting the tears that are already building again. “Tyler, I’m done,” you say, your voice trembling. “You don’t want me, but you don’t want anyone else to have me, either. You keep me close enough to feel like there’s something between us, but it’s never anything more. It’s just not fair anymore.”

You curse under your breath, blinking hard as the tears spill over. You don’t want him to see you like this—vulnerable, broken, hurt. Swallowing back a sob, you start to walk past him, head held high even as you feel yourself shattering. Just as your hand reaches for the door, he says it. Those three words you’ve been waiting for, holding onto, for what feels like forever.

“I love you.”

It stops you cold, and you stand there, hand frozen on the doorknob, not sure if you actually heard him or if it’s just some desperate wish in your mind. But then he speaks again.

“I love you,” he repeats, his voice steady, almost pleading. “And if you love me—if you can still love me—then I’m asking you to stay and just… hear me out. But if you’re done with me, really done, and I’ve already lost you… then go.”

The silence hangs between you, thick and charged. You turn slowly, meeting his gaze, and there’s a look in his eyes you’ve never seen before. Vulnerability, sincerity, something real and unguarded. He’s finally opened himself up, given you the one thing you’ve been longing to hear, but the choice to stay or leave is yours.

Your chest tightens as you search his face, feeling the weight of all the years, the almosts, the near-misses, the longing. He stands there, his hands clenched at his sides, waiting, as if he’s holding his breath.

“You… really love me?” you whisper, the words barely audible.

“Yes,” he breathes, stepping toward you, his gaze never leaving yours. “I’ve loved you for a long time. I just… didn’t know how to show it, and I was afraid if I did, you’d walk away. But losing you… that’s the one thing I’m really afraid of.”

You take a shaky breath, looking into his eyes, feeling every bit of his honesty, and for the first time, he’s offering you everything, without conditions, without holding back. The pain and hurt are still there, but as he waits, the tears in his own eyes now, you feel something else rising to the surface—a glimmer of hope.

The words are out before you can stop them.

“I love you too,” you whisper.

Tyler steps forward, his eyes searching yours as if trying to understand the storm inside you. He reaches up, hesitantly at first, as though unsure if you’ll pull away. But when you don’t, his hands gently cup your face, his touch warm and grounding. His thumbs swipe at the tears still streaking down your cheeks, wiping them away as if he can erase all the pain he’s caused with one simple gesture.

“I’m sorry,” he says, his voice thick with regret. “I’m so sorry. For not telling you sooner, for not making a move sooner… for making you feel like you don’t matter. For making you cry. You deserve so much more than that.”

You’re frozen, his words sinking deep into the cracks of your heart that you didn’t even know were there. His thumb brushes along your cheekbone, a silent apology that speaks louder than anything else could.

He takes a deep breath, his voice low but sincere. “I know I’ve messed up, but I’m asking… can you give me another chance? To do it right this time? To take you on a real date, to buy you flowers, to tell the world that you’re mine… to be proud to have you by my side. I want to do this right, with you. Will you give me one more chance?”

The weight of his words hangs between you, and you feel the walls you’ve built around your heart begin to crack. He’s standing there, fully exposed, offering you everything he’s held back for so long. The room feels smaller, the air thicker as you look into his eyes, where you see nothing but vulnerability and hope.

You swallow hard, emotions warring inside you. You’ve wanted this—wanted him—to say it, to fight for you. And now that he is, you’re not sure whether to run or to stay. But as you stand there, feeling the sincerity in his touch and his words, something shifts. The hurt, the confusion, the loneliness—it all starts to unravel, replaced by a flicker of something new: hope.

You take a breath, your voice barely more than a whisper, but clear enough for him to hear. “Last chance, Owens.”

A smile tugs at the corner of his lips, but it’s softer, more relieved than triumphant. He doesn’t say anything else for a moment. Instead, he just pulls you into his arms, wrapping you in a hug that’s full of promise, the kind that says he’s never letting you go. And for the first time in a long while, you let yourself believe him.

You stand there, still in his arms, the weight of his words sinking in. The tension that had built up over the last few days—hell, the last few years—seems to fade away in that moment. Tyler’s hands are warm on your back, his arms strong around you as if he’s holding on, not just to you, but to everything that was between you two. His breath is steady, the pulse in his chest calming yours. He doesn’t let go, not yet. You don’t want him to.

For a long moment, neither of you speaks. There’s no need to. Words were said, the hurt was aired out, and now, the only thing left is the silence between you—a silence that feels like the promise of something better, something real.

He pulls back just enough to look into your eyes, his gaze soft, full of regret and hope. His thumb brushes against your cheek, wiping away the last of your tears. "I meant every word," he says quietly, his voice steady but raw. "Thank you for giving me this chance."

You nod, feeling something inside you shift, finally able to let go of the heaviness that had been pulling at you for far too long. You offer him a small smile, your fingers brushing his lightly as you give him a gentle squeeze.

He exhales slowly, the tension in his shoulders easing. “Hey…” His voice is quieter now, almost like he's considering his next words carefully. "How about we skip the rest of the party downstairs? We can grab some pizza, put on a movie, just... relax in here."

You glance at him, surprised by the suggestion, but something about the simplicity of it feels perfect. You nod, the corners of your mouth lifting into a genuine smile. “Yeah. That sounds perfect.”

Tyler’s eyes light up, a grin spreading across his face. “Good. Go ahead and get comfortable. I’ll order the pizza. Whatever you want.”

You feel a sudden sense of relief wash over you. It’s not just the break from the chaos of the night, but the quiet, intimate comfort of knowing that it’s just the two of you, no expectations, no pressure.

Tyler watches you for a moment, his smile softening as he watches you dig through your suitcase for something comfortable. You pull out a pair of sweatpants, replacing your jeans, and as you move to crawl onto the bed, he’s already a step ahead of you.

Before you can sit down, he reaches for the bottom of your t-shirt, pulling it up over your head. You freeze, giving him a confused look, about to protest. "Tyler, I’m really not in the mood—"

He cuts you off with a soft laugh, shaking his head. "Not like that," he says, his voice teasing but warm. "Trust me, I’m not asking for anything like that."

Your brow furrows slightly in confusion, but Tyler doesn’t give you a chance to dwell on it. Instead, he reaches down into your suitcase and pulls out one of the t-shirts you had tossed aside earlier—one of his shirts. He holds it out to you with a playful glint in his eyes. “Here,” he says, “put this one on instead.”

You take the shirt from him, still a little baffled. “What’s wrong with my other shirt?”

Tyler grins, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. He steps closer, leaning down slightly as if he’s about to let you in on a secret.

“Because it’s not your boyfriend’s,” he says, his voice low and almost teasing. “If you’re gonna be my girl, you wear my shirt to bed.”

A smile tugs at your lips, and you can’t help but feel a flutter in your chest. It’s the little things like this—the small gestures, the inside jokes, the way he’s already making you feel like you belong—that make the tension from earlier seem a little less heavy.

You slip the shirt on, and Tyler's eyes soften when he sees you in it, the way it fits just right, the way it looks like it belongs on you. You glance up at him as you finish adjusting it, your voice quieter now, full of warmth. “This better for you, boyfriend?”

"Yes." He grins, clearly pleased with himself. "I think you look pretty damn perfect in it."

You laugh softly, and for a moment, the weight of everything that had happened earlier melts away, leaving you with nothing but the quiet comfort of his presence. You sit down on the bed, pulling the blankets up and patting the spot beside you. "So, pizza and movies?"

Tyler nods, settling in beside you, having traded his tuxedo for sweatpants and a t-shirt. His hand finds its way to yours as he lets out a contented sigh. "Sounds like the perfect way to spend the night."

And for the first time in a long while, it feels like things are exactly where they need to be.

#Tyler Owens #Tyler Owens x reader #Tyler Owens x you #Tyler Owens Fic #Tyler Owens Fanfic #Tyler Owens Fanfiction

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fioredeciliego · 11 days ago

Text

Accidental Confessions - Karina x Fem!Reader

9k words

The auditorium hummed with anticipation as Y/N settled into her seat beside Rei, folding her arms comfortably. The room was packed with freshmen eagerly taking in their first taste of university life, but she was hardly paying attention to the introductory speeches. Her friends were all around her, immersed in their own excited chatter: Jiwon and Rei kept stealing small, affectionate glances, Yujin playfully teased a blushing Wonyoung, and Gaeul was scrolling through her phone, occasionally nudging Y/N to show her funny photos she’d saved.

Y/N couldn’t help but smile at her friends' obvious happiness. It was almost laughable how quickly things had fallen into place on day one—new classes, new people, new possibilities. Still, she stayed grounded, focused on what they’d come here to do. Medicine. The program was reputed for being grueling, so keeping her head down and blending in felt like a safe plan.

But as the room began to quiet down, her attention was snagged by a shift in the crowd near the auditorium entrance. Her gaze landed on a new group making their way down the aisle, effortlessly drawing the attention of nearly everyone in the room.

Jimin led them.

Y/N had heard about Jimin from passing conversations on orientation day. A sophomore in the medical program, Jimin was known not only for her academic ability but also for her popularity on campus. She was the kind of person others naturally gravitated towards, with an air of confidence that set her apart. Jimin’s friends followed close behind, talking and laughing among themselves, but it was Jimin who seemed to capture the room with ease, even before she reached her seat.

Y/N couldn’t quite place what it was about her that held her focus. Maybe it was the smooth, unbothered way she moved, or the casual glances she tossed toward familiar faces, like she was already at home here. Her clothes were simple, yet every detail looked effortlessly put together. People had a lot to say about her—stories ranging from her perfect grades to her rumored love life—and as Y/N watched her, she could see why.

“Ah, already captivated by the upperclassmen, are we?” Gaeul’s teasing tone jolted Y/N from her thoughts. Y/N brushed it off with a shake of her head, but as she looked back, something unexpected happened.

Jimin was staring directly at her.

The gaze was cool and observant, and Y/N’s breath hitched as their eyes met. It was like being caught off guard by a flash of lightning—sudden, intense, and impossible to ignore. Y/N expected Jimin to look away, but instead, Jimin’s lips curved into a small, almost private smile, a hint of mischief lighting her expression.

Y/N’s pulse kicked up, and she felt a sudden flush creeping up her neck. A smirk? It was barely there, but the way Jimin’s gaze lingered for an extra beat before turning back to her friends left Y/N feeling as if she’d been drawn into a secret she didn’t fully understand.

“Nothing, huh?” Rei’s voice was closer, her tone knowingly playful.

Y/N scoffed, feigning a dismissive wave of her hand. “She just…looked over here,” she muttered, though her mind was racing with questions she didn’t know how to answer.

“Looked over here?” Rei raised a brow, lips quirking in amusement. “Looked over here how? Because from where I’m sitting, it looked a lot like staring.”

Gaeul, catching onto the exchange, leaned in with a smirk of her own. “Staring and smirking,” she added. “Don’t think she does that for just anyone.”

Y/N laughed it off, hoping her friends wouldn’t notice the color rising to her cheeks. “I think you’re all just bored,” she said, but she could still feel the residual warmth of Jimin’s gaze, like a phantom touch lingering on her skin. Forcing herself to turn away, she stared down at her hands, trying to will her heartbeat back to normal.

As the orientation continued, Y/N occasionally found herself glancing back in Jimin’s direction, half-convinced she was imagining things. But each time she looked, Jimin seemed completely focused on her friends, laughing at something Aeri was saying or nodding along with a calm expression as Yizhuo gestured animatedly beside her. Y/N told herself she’d imagined that whole moment, that maybe Jimin was simply lost in thought and accidentally looked her way.

But deep down, she knew that wasn’t it. Jimin’s gaze had been far too deliberate, and that subtle, knowing smirk had seemed almost…calculated, as if it was meant to leave her feeling exactly the way she did now—off-balance and uncharacteristically flustered.

“Y/N, you’re zoning out again,” Gaeul nudged her shoulder, snapping her back to the present.

“Right,” Y/N replied, blinking herself out of her thoughts and forcing herself to focus on the faculty members now introducing the semester’s course load and expectations. She tried to take in the information as the dean highlighted the program’s rigor and upcoming assignments, but her mind kept drifting back to that brief, charged moment.

She glanced back at her friends, watching as Jiwon leaned into Rei’s shoulder, and Yujin and Wonyoung shared a small smile, the kinds of looks that spoke of something unspoken and deeply mutual. Y/N had always been slightly baffled by these things—by the way some people could connect instantly, how a single look could change the whole atmosphere.

But sitting here now, with the heat of Jimin’s gaze still lingering like an invisible thread between them, she thought maybe, for the first time, she understood.

After orientation the girls decided to head out near campus to eat. The café was buzzing with the lively chatter of students, its walls lined with posters advertising clubs, study groups, and all kinds of university events. Y/N sat in the middle of the café’s cozy corner with her friends, sipping an iced coffee and feeling the weight of the day slowly lift. Jiwon and Rei were huddled together, heads close as they shared some inside joke, while Wonyoung and Yujin debated over which study group was actually useful for their biochemistry class. Gaeul, ever the people-watcher, scanned the room for familiar faces while picking at a muffin.

“So…” Y/N started, not quite meeting anyone’s eyes as she stirred her drink absently. “Did anyone…um, notice that sophomore from orientation? Jimin, I think?”

It was a casual question—at least, she hoped it sounded that way. She’d spent half the morning trying to shake off that lingering, half-dazed feeling from her brief encounter with Jimin. Maybe talking about it would somehow make it feel less…intense.

Gaeul’s head snapped around so fast Y/N thought she might get whiplash. Her friend’s eyes widened as she broke into a grin. “Oh? So you did notice her.”

Y/N tried to shrug it off, but Rei and Jiwon had already leaned in, their faces lighting up with an interest far too intense for her comfort.

“She’s cool, I guess,” Y/N said quickly, trying to sound casual. “I just thought she seemed…you know, confident. Unbothered.”

“Confident and unbothered?” Rei repeated, exchanging a sly glance with Gaeul. “And what else? Tall, dark, and mysterious?”

“She does have that vibe,” Jiwon chimed in, winking. “And someone here is clearly into it.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, desperately trying to ignore the heat creeping up her neck. “No, I’m just saying…like, objectively, she’s cool. That’s all.”

“Uh-huh,” Gaeul leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms as she studied Y/N with a grin. “Is that why you stared at her the whole time during orientation?”

Y/N’s mouth fell open, and she sputtered a quick defense. “I didn’t stare! You’re imagining things.”

But Gaeul was relentless, leaning in closer, eyes gleaming with amusement. “Oh, sure, because you just ‘accidentally’ brought her up and just ‘casually’ called her cool.” She exchanged an exaggerated glance with Rei. “Do you think we should tell Y/N what the first stage of a crush looks like, or…?”

“First stage?” Y/N huffed, crossing her arms, though her cheeks were on fire. “Please. It’s not like that. She just…made an impression, that’s all.”

“Oh, an impression, huh?” Rei teased, putting her chin in her hands as if deeply interested. “Did it come with a smirk and a little eye contact?”

Y/N tried to hold her composure, but the way her friends were zeroing in on every detail made it nearly impossible. “You’re all ridiculous,” she mumbled, her tone a bit too defensive to be convincing.Wonyoung decided to step in, reaching across the table to give Y/N’s hand a reassuring squeeze. “Alright, alright, everyone, let’s give her a break. She just thought Jimin was cool, that’s all. Right, Y/N?”

Y/N breathed a sigh of relief, grateful to have someone on her side. “Yes, exactly. Thank you, Wonyoung.”

But then Wonyoung shot her a mischievous grin, shrugging her shoulders as she added, “Not that I blame you, though. If Jimin had looked at me like that, I’d probably be talking about her, too.”

Y/N’s relief melted into exasperation as Wonyoung’s words set the rest of the table off again.

Jiwon laughed, nudging Rei. “See, Wonyoung gets it. That girl had some serious energy at orientation, like she knew everyone was watching her. It was kind of impossible not to look.”

Gaeul nodded sagely, pretending to be thoughtful. “And you know, for someone who was supposedly just ‘making an observation,’ Y/N here sure remembers a lot of details about Jimin.”

Y/N shook her head, trying to ignore the traitorous grin tugging at her lips. “I swear, you’re all being so dramatic about this.”

“Hey, don’t fight it,” Wonyoung teased with a grin. “I mean, if I got that kind of attention from Jimin, I’d probably be just as starry-eyed.”

“Starry-eyed? I am not starry-eyed!” Y/N protested, but even she could tell it was a weak argument.

The group broke into laughter, and Y/N hid her face in her hands, laughing despite herself. She knew they were mostly teasing, but the way her friends looked at her—like they could see right through her act—made her wonder if maybe, deep down, there was something there. Something she hadn’t quite let herself acknowledge yet.

Rei gave her a gentle nudge, still grinning. “Just admit it. There’s a spark there, and you know it.”

Y/N peeked out from behind her hands, shaking her head as she tried to brush off their words. “It’s not like that,” she insisted, but her friends were all smiles, too entertained to believe a single word she said.

“Sure, sure,” Gaeul said, waving her off with a smirk. “Whatever you say. But remember this conversation when you’re head over heels and can’t deny it anymore.”

Y/N tried to fight back a smile but lost the battle as their laughter filled the café, mingling with the clinking cups and soft hum of music.

-- Later that week, Y/N found herself in the anatomy lab, her nerves firing on all cylinders. She and her friends had spent the last few days studying the basics, but the hands-on part of anatomy felt different—more real and, in a way, daunting. Now, under the stark fluorescent lights and surrounded by gleaming tools and models, her mind went blank as she tried to organize the instruments in front of her.

She fumbled with the scalpels, picking one up, then another, unsure if she’d even grabbed the right tool. Flipping through her notes in a mild panic, she barely noticed someone approaching until a smooth, amused voice cut through her concentration.

“Are you really going to need all five of those scalpels?”

Y/N looked up sharply, her breath catching as she met a familiar gaze. It was Jimin, standing just a few feet away with a casual ease, arms crossed as she observed Y/N’s struggle with barely concealed amusement.

“Uh…” Y/N stumbled over her words, feeling her cheeks heat up. “I, um, just wanted to… be prepared?”

Jimin raised an eyebrow, her mouth tilting into a small smirk. “I see. So you’re the freshman who can’t keep her scalpels straight?”

A nervous laugh escaped Y/N as she looked down at the cluster of tools on her tray. “Guilty, I guess.”

Jimin chuckled, reaching over to pick up the one scalpel Y/N actually needed. Her fingers brushed lightly over Y/N’s as she handed it over, her eyes twinkling. “This one should do just fine, trust me. You don’t want to overdo it on your first go.”

Y/N let out an embarrassed laugh. “I thought being over-prepared was a good thing.”

“Well, maybe,” Jimin said with a playful shrug, studying Y/N. “But you seem like you’d do fine even if you were under-prepared.”

Y/N blinked, thrown off. “Thanks, I think?”

Jimin chuckled, her gaze lingering. “Y/N, right?”

Y/N nodded, surprised she even remembered her name. “Yeah. And you’re Jimin?”

“Sure am, darling” Jimin said with a smirk that seemed to linger just a second too long.

Y/N’s cheeks went pink at the casual nickname, but she tried to play it off, laughing nervously. She felt her heart stutter slightly, the weight of Jimin’s gaze and her easy confidence wrapping around her. She tried to gather herself, focusing back on the task at hand. “So, uh… do you volunteer in this lab a lot?”

Jimin shrugged, picking up a second scalpel and holding it up to the light. “I’m a second year, so I’ve been through it already. Figured I’d offer a little wisdom for the fresh meat.” She gave Y/N a pointed look. “Or maybe just the cute ones.”

Y/N blinked, thrown once again by the playful undertone in Jimin’s words. “Uh… well, I appreciate the wisdom. I’d probably be lost without it.”

Jimin smiled, looking far too pleased. “Happy to help. Though I think you’re selling yourself short,” she said, leaning a little closer with an almost conspiratorial grin. “Besides, if you get lost again, I’ll be around. Just call, and I’ll make sure you don’t get overwhelmed.”

Y/N smiled, caught off guard by the offer but genuinely grateful. “Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind.”

Jimin leaned back, a glimmer of something unreadable in her expression, and gave a little wave before heading back to her own lab station. “Good luck, cutie,” she called over her shoulder with one last smirk.

As she disappeared into the crowd of students, Y/N felt her cheeks heat up all over again. Did she imagine the nickname? And the way Jimin’s gaze had seemed to linger just a second too long?

Y/N shook her head, trying to brush it off. It was probably nothing, just a friendly sophomore helping out a freshman… right?

But even as she went back to her work, a tiny part of her couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe, just maybe, there was more to it than that.

The steady hum of activity in the campus library was underscored by the soft scratching of pens and the quiet turning of pages. Late afternoon light filtered through the windows, casting a warm glow over the rows of bookshelves and study tables. Y/N was nestled at a large table with her friends, surrounded by open notebooks and highlighters as they reviewed the latest lecture notes for their anatomy class. A pile of flashcards sat between her and Rei, who was currently quizzing herself with intense focus, mouthing terms under her breath.

Y/N leaned over to Gaeul, whispering, “Hey, I just realized I don’t have that anatomy reference book we need.”

Gaeul glanced up from her notes. “You mean Anatomy Essentials? Isn’t that, like, a required textbook?”

“I thought I had it! I probably left it in my dorm,” Y/N said, sighing. “And I really don’t want to walk back just to get it.”

Rei nudged her, an eyebrow raised in interest. “Couldn’t hurt to take a break, right? Maybe you’ll run into a certain helpful sophomore on the way.”

Y/N felt her face flush as she remembered her earlier conversation with Jimin in the lab, and she shot Rei a look. “You’re never going to let that go, are you?”

Wonyoung, who had been casually eavesdropping from across the table, smiled mischievously. “I don’t see why she should. You were blushing like a tomato when you told us about it!”

“I was not!” Y/N protested, though her cheeks were already warming again.

“Oh, you were,” Gaeul chimed in, hiding her grin. “And who could blame you? Sophomore Jimin, practically a med school legend, calls you cute on day one? I’d be flustered, too.”

“Okay, fine. Maybe she’s… kind of interesting,” Y/N admitted, trying to downplay her reaction even as her friends’ knowing smiles widened.

Rei let out a satisfied sigh. “There it is. Our Y/N has a crush.”

Before Y/N could protest, Gaeul leaned in closer, her eyes gleaming with curiosity. “Tell us more about what she said. Come on, give us every detail.”

Y/N hesitated, casting a glance around to make sure nobody nearby was listening in. She couldn’t quite help herself; Jimin had left such an impression, and part of her wanted to share it. “Okay, fine. So she comes over while I’m struggling to find the right scalpel and makes this whole thing about how I’m a ‘freshman who can’t keep her scalpels straight.’ And then she, um… she started calling me cutie.”

Wonyoung raised her eyebrows. “That sounds… pretty flirty, actually.”

“Yeah, I thought so too, but…” Y/N trailed off, biting her lip. “I mean, she’s just being friendly, right?”

Rei shook her head with an exaggerated sigh. “She calls you cute, offers you help, stays in your space a bit longer than necessary, and you think it’s just friendly?”

“Sometimes I think Y/N could be oblivious even if someone put a neon sign in front of her,” Gaeul teased, her eyes twinkling. “I think Jimin was trying to make it obvious.”

Wonyoung gave a supportive pat on Y/N’s hand, though there was a teasing sparkle in her eye as well. “Hey, it’s okay, Y/N. Maybe she’s just the kind of person who’s friendly to everyone—though, from what I hear, Jimin’s a bit picky about who she gives attention to.”

Before Y/N could respond, a quiet but unmistakable voice spoke from behind her. “Hey, Y/N.”

She turned, slightly surprised to find Jimin herself standing at the end of their table, a casual smile on her face. Her friends, including Aespa members Minjeong, Aeri, and Yizhuo, were nearby, waiting by a row of bookshelves.

Jimin held a book in her hand, looking effortlessly at ease. “I overheard you mention needing Anatomy Essentials? You can borrow mine, if you want,” she offered, extending the book with a slight smile. “I already know all the material, so I won’t be needing it.”

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat, and she took the book, feeling warmth seep into her cheeks. “Oh—thank you! I didn’t realize you were so close by.”

Jimin tilted her head, her smile growing just slightly. “It’s a small library, and I just happened to be in the right spot.”

Y/N’s friends, who had been quietly watching the exchange, exchanged barely concealed glances of amusement. Rei’s hand came up to her mouth, as if she were suppressing a laugh, while Wonyoung nudged Gaeul under the table, her eyes practically gleaming.

“Hey, Jimin!” Wonyoung said, breaking the silence. “Thanks for helping our girl out.”

“Oh, it’s no trouble.” Jimin shrugged easily, but her gaze didn’t stray far from Y/N. “Besides, it seems like she could use all the help she can get with anatomy.”

Y/N let out a nervous laugh, feeling Jimin’s words settle over her. “Yeah, I’m still getting used to it.”

Aeri, who had walked over with Jimin, joined in, smiling at Y/N with a raised eyebrow. “Don’t worry, we’ve all been there. Well, maybe not Jimin,” she teased, nudging her friend. “She practically breezed through first year.”

Jimin waved it off with a modest grin. “I wouldn’t say that. I had help too, now and then.”

“From your many admirers?” Minjeong chimed in with a smirk, causing Yizhuo to stifle a laugh.

Jimin shot her friends a look, though she didn’t seem bothered. “Maybe,” she said, her eyes flickering back to Y/N, “but I think they’ve got nothing on Y/N here.”

The warmth in Y/N’s cheeks intensified as her friends snickered under their breaths. Trying to keep her composure, she managed a small laugh. “Thanks, I guess?”

Jimin gave her one last, lingering smile. “You’re welcome. And, you know, I’m around if you ever need a study partner.”

Y/N’s friends practically vibrated with excitement, but she just managed to nod, heart fluttering. “I’ll… keep that in mind. Thanks again, Jimin.”

With a parting wave, Jimin walked back to her table, Minjeong and Yizhuo leaning close and whispering to her as they all glanced back at Y/N’s table, clearly entertained by the exchange. Y/N’s friends immediately turned on her, their eyes wide with delight.

“She practically offered herself up as a personal tutor,” Rei said, fanning herself. “If that’s not interest, I don’t know what is!”

“Yeah, Y/N, did you hear the part about a ‘study partner’?” Gaeul said, nudging her. “Please tell me you’re not going to let this chance go.”

Y/N was too flustered to respond, her mind replaying Jimin’s lingering gaze and that easy, confident smile. She finally managed a shrug, though her eyes were shining with excitement she couldn’t entirely hide. “She’s just being nice,” she said, almost out of habit. Yujin let’s her head fall on top of the table with a loud bang.

Wonyoung put a hand on Y/N’s shoulder, giving her a gentle squeeze. “Y/N, we’re going to get you to realize what’s happening here. Jimin likes you, and you’re going to be the last person to figure it out if you keep brushing it off.”

Y/N laughed, unable to deny the thrill in her chest. “I’ll try to keep it in mind. I mean… it is kind of nice having someone offer to help.”

“‘Nice’?” Yujin echoed, raising an eyebrow. “Y/N, this is probably the most sought-after second-year flirting with you. ‘Nice’ doesn’t even begin to cover it.”

Wonyoung leaned in, a soft, amused smile on her face. “And when you finally realize it, we’re all going to be right here, watching it unfold.”

Y/N felt a pang of warmth, knowing her friends were just as thrilled as she was, even if she wasn’t entirely ready to admit it to herself. As they settled back into their notes, her mind drifted to the book Jimin had handed her, the warmth of Jimin’s gaze still lingering in her memory.

“Maybe,” Y/N murmured, glancing down at the borrowed textbook, “it’s a bit more than nice.”

After an intense first week of university, Y/N felt like her brain could use a hard reset. The thought of home—the smell of her mom’s cooking, the comfort of her own bed, and maybe even a bit of Leeseo’s playful pestering—was a welcome change of pace. The train ride home was calming, a chance to breathe as campus life faded into the background, replaced by familiar sights and memories.

When Y/N finally stepped through the door, she was greeted by the smell of something delicious simmering in the kitchen. But before she could even set her bag down, a loud squeal echoed through the house.

“Y/N!” Leeseo came barreling down the hallway, a blur of energy as she threw her arms around her sister. “I thought you’d never come back! College hasn’t, like, made you too cool for us, has it?”

Y/N rolled her eyes and laughed, returning Leeseo’s hug. “Too cool for you? Never. I’ve actually missed you, believe it or not.”

“Oh, I definitely believe it,” Leeseo replied, pulling Y/N down the hall and into her room without missing a beat. “Now, spill everything. I want to know everything about college life, your friends, your classes, the parties you’re probably going to…"

Y/N chuckled, flopping onto her bed and watching Leeseo plop down beside her, eyes wide with excitement and curiosity. She knew there was no way around it. “It’s been… a lot, honestly. But good! There are great people, and the classes are intense, but I think I’m handling it. My friends and I are figuring things out together.”

Leeseo’s eyes narrowed, a playful smirk appearing on her face. “Good people, huh? Do any of those ‘good people’ happen to be… a little extra good?”

Y/N’s face warmed as she realized where this was heading. “Leeseo…”

“Ah-ha! So there is someone!” Leeseo practically squealed, bouncing on the bed. “Who is she? What’s her name? Does she have a reputation? Oh my gosh, tell me everything!”

With a resigned sigh, Y/N glanced at her sister, who looked like she was practically vibrating with excitement. “Okay, there might be… someone. Her name is Jimin. She’s a sophomore. We kind of ran into each other a couple of times this week.”

Leeseo’s eyebrows shot up, her eyes twinkling with interest. “Jimin, huh? And she’s a sophomore? Upperclassmen vibes? This sounds dangerous already.” She leaned in, as if trying to read Y/N’s thoughts.

“Leeseo, come on. It’s really not like that. She’s just… nice, I guess. Friendly.” Y/N paused, realizing how inadequate the word “friendly” sounded when describing Jimin’s smirks and teasing looks. “Maybe a little flirty.”

“Oh, I knew it!” Leeseo practically shouted, laughing with delight. “So, tell me—what does ‘a little flirty’ mean in Jimin terms?”

Y/N hesitated, memories of their last exchange flickering in her mind. “She… well, she teases me. She called me ‘darling’ instead of my name, stuff like that.”

“‘Darling’? Oh, Y/N, that’s definitely not just ‘friendly.’” Leeseo’s eyebrows knitted together, her expression shifting as she absorbed this. “Look, all I’m saying is, be careful. College sophomores, especially the popular ones… they’re not always serious, you know?”

“Oh, I don’t think she’s interested like that,” Y/N said, though a part of her was still turning over those little moments she shared with Jimin. “Besides, I barely know her. I don’t even know if she was serious.”

Leeseo sighed dramatically, but her eyes softened. “I just don’t want you to get hurt, Y/N. College girls—especially the confident ones—can be hard to read.”

Y/N smiled, nudging Leeseo’s shoulder. “You know, you sound just like mom right now.”

“Maybe. But I also know what it’s like to fall for someone’s charm.” Leeseo grinned, a tiny blush coloring her cheeks. “Actually… I have someone I’ve been meaning to tell you about.”

Y/N’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “Oh? Do tell.”

Leeseo tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, glancing down for a second before looking back up at Y/N with a shy smile. “Her name’s Eunchae. She’s in my grade, and we’ve been… kind of seeing each other. I wanted to make sure it was real before I said anything.”

Y/N’s face lit up. “Leeseo! That’s amazing! Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“I don’t know… I guess I just didn’t want to jinx it.” Leeseo’s eyes shone as she spoke, and her happiness was so genuine that it made Y/N’s heart swell.

Y/N reached over, taking her sister’s hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze. “I’m so happy for you, Leeseo. I can’t wait to meet her.”

Leeseo’s smile widened, and she looked away, embarrassed. “Well, about that… you’re actually going to meet her tonight. I invited her over.”

Y/N’s eyes widened, and she laughed. “Already? You’re fast, little sis.”

“Oh, stop! She’s been dying to meet you too,” Leeseo replied, tossing a pillow at her sister with a laugh. “Just… try not to embarrass me, okay?”

The doorbell rang, and Leeseo’s face instantly brightened. “That’ll be her! Be nice!”

Y/N smirked, following Leeseo to the front door. When they opened it, a girl with a bright smile and warm, expressive eyes stood on the porch, looking both eager and slightly shy. She waved at Y/N, offering a friendly smile.

“Hi! I’m Eunchae,” she said, glancing between Leeseo and Y/N.

“Hi, Eunchae! It’s nice to finally meet you,” Y/N replied warmly, giving her a quick hug. “I’ve heard a lot about you. Apparently, my sister’s got good taste.”

Eunchae laughed, her cheeks turning pink as she shot Leeseo a playful glance. “Well, I’d like to think so.”

Leeseo rolled her eyes, pulling Eunchae further into the house. “Come on, Eunchae, let’s sit down.”

As they settled in the living room, Y/N couldn’t help but notice the way Leeseo and Eunchae glanced at each other, the quiet ease and joy between them. She felt a pang of nostalgia, remembering when things had felt just as simple and new.

“Alright, Y/N,” Leeseo said suddenly, snapping her out of her thoughts. “I know I’m usually the protective one, but I’ve got one request: let me meet this Jimin someday. Just to see if she’s worth all this thinking you’re doing.”

Y/N chuckled, shaking her head. “Oh, no. It’s really not like that. She’s… just someone I met. I wouldn’t even call her a friend yet; more like an acquaintance.”

Leeseo raised an eyebrow, giving her a look of playful disbelief. “Just an acquaintance? Y/N, I don’t think I’ve ever heard you talk about an ‘acquaintance’ this much before. Are you sure there isn’t a tiny, tiny bit more to it?”

Y/N paused, searching for the right words. “I don’t know… she’s intriguing, I guess? But it’s hard to say what her intentions are. It’s all just been casual run-ins and some light teasing. I can’t even tell if she’s actually interested or just… like that with everyone.”

Leeseo tilted her head, considering this. “Hmm. Well, college girls like her can be like that sometimes—charming and mysterious but hard to read. Just be careful, okay?”

Y/N smiled, grateful for her sister’s protectiveness but feeling a bit unsure herself. “Yeah, maybe. For now, though, I’m just letting things happen. If anything comes of it, you’ll both be the first to know.”

Leeseo nodded approvingly, relaxing back into the couch. “Good answer. That’s my big sister, smart and cautious,” she said with a teasing wink.

-- The weekend had flown by, and before she knew it, Y/N was back on campus, wading through her Monday routine. Her thoughts drifted now and then to her family and Leeseo’s “little sister advice,” which had been circling in her mind like a catchy tune.

She was weaving through the common area, textbooks hugged to her chest, when she heard a familiar voice call out.

“Y/N!”

She turned to find Jimin leaning against a nearby column, a confident smile tugging at her lips. Her presence was striking, standing out even in the busy hallway. Y/N felt her pulse quicken as she managed a small smile and walked over.

“Hey, Jimin,” she greeted, trying to sound casual despite the flutter in her chest.

“Hey yourself.” Jimin’s gaze lingered, and then she tilted her head with a playful smile. “So, my friends and I are throwing a party on Friday night for students from all years. Thought I’d see if you and your friends wanted to come.”

Y/N’s eyebrows raised slightly, feeling a jolt of surprise. “Oh… that sounds fun. Are you inviting… everyone?” she asked, her voice unintentionally hesitant.

Jimin chuckled, reading between the lines. “Not everyone,” she replied smoothly, eyes glinting. “Just the people who seem like they might be able to keep up.”

“Oh,” Y/N managed, feeling a little flustered. “Well, yeah, I think we could do that.”

“Perfect.” Jimin’s smile deepened, as if satisfied with Y/N’s answer. “It’s at the usual spot near the student center. Starts around eight, but feel free to come fashionably late,” she added with a wink. “Oh, and don’t forget to dress up. It’s not every day we get a chance to look our best, right?”

Y/N laughed nervously, trying to match Jimin’s relaxed confidence. “Got it. I’ll let everyone know.”

“Great,” Jimin said, her eyes lingering on Y/N for a beat longer than necessary. “Looking forward to seeing you there.”

With one last smile, Jimin turned and strolled down the hall, leaving Y/N standing there, trying to piece together what had just happened. Did Jimin really mean it for her specifically, or was this just an invitation in passing?

As soon as Jimin disappeared around the corner, Y/N’s thoughts snapped back to her friends. She quickly sent a text to let them know about the party, her fingers slightly shaky on the screen.

That evening, Y/N and the rest of the group met up at their usual café. The excitement in the air was almost palpable, as if the invitation itself was a sign of something bigger.

Wonyoung’s eyes sparkled as she read Y/N’s text out loud to the group for the third time. “She said just the people who seem like they can keep up. Y/N, if that doesn’t sound like an invitation meant for you, I don’t know what does.”

“Seriously, Y/N,” Rei chimed in, grinning widely. “Do you know how rare it is to get invited by Jimin herself? And not just invited—she wants you to dress up.”

“Maybe she just wants everyone to look nice,” Y/N mumbled, feeling her cheeks heat up. “She probably said that to everyone she invited.”

“Or she’s making sure you show up looking extra cute,” Gaeul teased, nudging her playfully. “I don’t know why you’re overthinking this.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, trying to hide her grin. “You guys are getting ahead of yourselves. It’s just a party. No big deal.”

“Sure,” Wonyoung said, smirking. “It’s not a big deal that Jimin invited you to her party and made a point of wanting you to look nice. No big deal at all.”

“Look,” Y/N sighed, “I just don’t want to assume anything. She’s probably just being friendly.”

“Or flirty,” Yujin interjected with a smirk, sharing a look with Wonyoung. “Just admit it, Y/N—you’re a little bit curious about her.”

Y/N hesitated, trying to find a way out of admitting anything. But her friends weren’t having it.

Rei leaned over, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “Come on, Y/N. It’s a party. You’ll get to know Jimin better, and besides, it’s the perfect excuse to look amazing.”

“Fine, I’ll dress up,” Y/N relented with a sigh, fighting a smile. “But I’m only doing it so you guys stop giving me such a hard time.”

The group cheered, sharing ideas about what she could wear, swapping makeup tips, and even planning out the details down to Y/N’s shoes.

The night of the party arrived, and the lively hum of music and laughter filled the air long before Y/N and her friends stepped into the house. She felt a blend of excitement and nerves, her friends’ confidence pushing her forward even as she wondered what tonight might bring.

Y/N had gone all out for the occasion. Her dress, a short, fitted number in a striking midnight blue, hugged her in all the right places, shimmering subtly in the lights as she moved. She’d kept her accessories minimal—a delicate necklace and earrings that caught the light whenever she turned her head—but it was enough to make her feel special. Her friends hadn’t stopped admiring her look since they’d met up to head over.

As Y/N stepped through the threshold, she immediately felt the warmth of the party envelop her. The air was thick with the scent of snacks and the sound of music pulsing through the crowd. People were scattered around the living room, chatting, laughing, and dancing, and the atmosphere was electric with energy.

Spotting Jimin across the room, Y/N's heart skipped a beat. Jimin looked effortlessly cool as ever, dressed down in oversized, light-wash jeans that draped over her chunky white sneakers, paired with a simple black cropped tank top that showcased her toned midriff. Her dark hair was styled in loose waves, framing her face and giving her a carefree, yet put-together appearance. The way she moved through the crowd exuded confidence, and Y/N found herself momentarily mesmerized.

It wasn’t long after she arrived that Y/N felt a tap on her shoulder. Turning, she found herself face-to-face with Jimin, whose relaxed smile sent a small shiver down her spine.

"Hey, glad you could make it,” Jimin said, her voice smooth and warm as she held Y/N’s gaze, the corners of her mouth tilting up slightly.

Y/N’s heartbeat quickened. “Yeah, thanks for inviting me,” she replied, trying to keep her cool.

Jimin’s eyes flicked over her, her gaze lingering for a moment longer than expected. “Looks like you took my advice on dressing up,” she said, a hint of amusement in her tone. “Not that I’m surprised. You look… really nice.”

Heat rose in Y/N’s cheeks, and she tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear, laughing softly. “Thanks. You look pretty good yourself,” she replied, hoping her voice didn’t betray how flustered she was.

Jimin chuckled, lifting two drinks from a nearby table and handing one to Y/N. “You know,” she started, leaning in a little closer so her voice wouldn’t get lost in the music, “there’s someone interesting I’ve noticed in the freshman class.”

“Oh?” Y/N asked, sipping her drink to disguise the nervous smile threatening to break out. “Who’s that?”

Jimin’s gaze softened, a playful glint dancing in her eyes. “Just someone who… caught my eye,” she replied, her voice casual but her expression intriguing. “Smart, funny, kind of oblivious sometimes.”

Y/N’s heart did a small leap, but she shrugged, taking Jimin’s words at face value. “That’s nice,” she said, assuming it was probably just friendly conversation. “Freshman class is full of interesting people.”

Jimin’s eyes softened with a hint of exasperation, her lips tilting up into a smirk. “Yeah, I guess it is,” she replied, giving Y/N a playful nudge. “But I think this one is a little more interesting than the rest. You should get to know her better.”

“Maybe,” Y/N replied, a hint of teasing in her voice. “But I’m not so sure she’d want to get to know me.”

“Oh, I think she would,” Jimin said, her tone flirtatious as she leaned closer, her warm breath sending shivers down Y/N's spine. “After all, who wouldn’t want to be friends with you?”

Y/N laughed nervously, the compliment making her cheeks flush. “You really think so?”

“Definitely,” Jimin said, her smile brightening. “You’re pretty unforgettable.”

Just then, a loud cheer erupted from the crowd nearby, breaking the moment. Jimin’s attention momentarily shifted, and Y/N seized the chance to collect herself.

“Want me to get us some drinks?” Jimin asked, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm.

“Sure! I could use one,” Y/N replied, trying to play it cool, even as her heart raced.

“Alright, don’t go anywhere!” Jimin winked before she turned and weaved her way through the bustling crowd. Y/N watched her go, feeling a flutter in her chest that she couldn’t quite explain.

Minutes passed, and Y/N found herself glancing toward the kitchen, expecting Jimin to reappear at any moment. But as the seconds stretched into what felt like an eternity, unease began to settle in. What’s taking so long?

Five minutes had come and gone, and still no sign of Jimin. Y/N took a sip of her drink, trying to shake off the nagging worry. It was a party, after all; it wasn’t unusual for people to get distracted. Yet, the more she waited, the more anxious she became.

Finally, unable to quell her curiosity any longer, Y/N decided to check on Jimin. She pushed through the throng of bodies, her heart pounding as she made her way toward the kitchen area. As she approached, she caught sight of Jimin standing near the counter, but her heart dropped as she noticed she was not alone.

Jimin was leaning in close to another freshman girl, their heads nearly touching as they laughed at something shared between them. The scene struck Y/N like a cold wave, the warmth of the party around her fading into a dull roar.

Jimin’s relaxed demeanor and the way she tilted her head back in laughter sent a sharp pang of jealousy through Y/N. She couldn’t help but feel small and unimportant, an outsider watching from the sidelines. The easy chemistry between Jimin and the other girl was undeniable, and Y/N felt a familiar sting in her chest that she had hoped to avoid tonight.

With her heart racing and a knot tightening in her stomach, Y/N turned away, trying to push the unwanted thoughts from her mind. You’ve known her for a week, get ahold of yourself she reminded herself, but the thought felt hollow. She couldn’t deny that a part of her was disappointed, despite knowing Jimin had every right to talk to whomever she pleased.

Y/N made her way back to the dance floor, seeking solace in the vibrant energy of her friends. As she approached, Wonyoung and Yujin were still dancing, their laughter infectious, but Y/N felt out of place.

“Y/N! There you are!” Wonyoung exclaimed, pulling her into a quick spin. “We were wondering where you went! Gaeul is getting some drinks and I think Rei and Jiwon are in the bathroom, doing god knows what”

Y/N forced a smile, trying to shake off the earlier encounter. “Just checking on Jimin,” she said, her voice casual despite the turmoil inside. “She’s... busy.”

“Busy how?” Yujin asked, arching an eyebrow, her curiosity piqued.

Y/N shrugged, trying to play it cool. “Just talking to someone else. No big deal.”

Wonyoung looked at her knowingly. “Oh, you mean that girl over there?” She pointed to the corner where Jimin was still chatting with the other freshman. “Looks like they’re having fun.”

Y/N’s heart sank a little further. “Yeah, I guess,” she mumbled, feeling a wave of frustration wash over her. “It’s whatever.”

Yujin exchanged a glance with Wonyoung,

“Forget about her!” Yujin encouraged, her tone lightening as she grabbed Y/N’s hand. “Come dance with us! You’re here to have fun, remember?”

Y/N sighed but knew they were right. She had come to enjoy herself, and standing off to the side worrying about Jimin was not going to change anything. So, with a reluctant nod, she allowed her friends to pull her into the lively crowd, the pulsating music drowning out the worries that still swirled in her mind.

The bass pulsed through the dance floor as Y/N moved to the beat, slowly letting the music drown out her unease. She let herself get lost in the rhythm, and for a moment, she even forgot about Jimin chatting away with that other girl.

“Mind if I join you?” Yunjin’s voice broke through her thoughts, bright and full of confidence. She flashed a smile as Y/N blinked in surprise. Before Y/N could even respond, Yunjin had closed the gap between them, her hands finding a comfortable spot on Y/N’s waist as they started to move together.

Encouraged by Wonyoung and Yujin’s excited cheers, Y/N allowed herself to relax, finding herself caught up in the moment. Yunjin’s playful energy was contagious, and soon enough, they were laughing and dancing like they’d known each other for ages. With every playful flirt Yunjin tossed her way, Y/N felt herself blushing, but she leaned into it, glad for the distraction.

That’s when she felt it—someone watching them. She turned, catching sight of Jimin across the room, her gaze fixed and sharp. Jimin’s usual cool, laid-back demeanor was gone, replaced by something else entirely. Her jaw was set, her arms crossed as she watched Yunjin’s hands slide down to rest on Y/N’s hips, their bodies swaying closer than before.

Jimin pushed through the crowd, her eyes narrowing as she approached. By the time she reached them, Yunjin’s arm was draped over Y/N’s shoulder, and Y/N’s laugh had grown into a carefree smile. But as Jimin stepped right in front of them, Y/N felt the tension spark in the air.

“Hey, Y/N,” Jimin said, her tone measured, but her eyes betrayed a hint of irritation. “Been looking all over for you.”

Y/N hesitated, feeling the tension settle in her stomach. “Oh, um… didn’t mean to make you worry,” she replied, offering a small smile.

But Yunjin, still holding her close, wasn’t about to back down. “You’ve only known her for what, a week? I’m sure she was fine without you, Jimin,” she said with a smirk, her voice laced with a bit too much confidence.

Jimin’s eyes flicked to Yunjin, her gaze hardening. “You’d be surprised,” she replied, her tone calm but edged with something that made Y/N’s pulse quicken. “We’ve actually gotten to know each other pretty well.”

“Oh yeah?” Yunjin shot back, raising an eyebrow as she held Y/N a little tighter. “Well, looks like I’m getting to know her pretty well too.”

The tension between them was palpable, and Y/N felt herself caught right in the middle of it. She looked from Yunjin to Jimin, her heart hammering as the two seemed locked in a silent battle.

Jimin’s gaze never left Yunjin’s as she took a step closer, closing the distance between them. “I think Y/N can speak for herself,” she said coolly, looking at Y/N with an intensity that made her breath hitch. “Don’t you, Y/N?”

Y/N swallowed, feeling the weight of their gazes on her. She was painfully aware of Yunjin’s arm around her and the way Jimin’s eyes held hers with a mix of challenge and something else she couldn’t quite place. “I… um… I was just… dancing,” she stammered, her voice barely audible over the music.

Jimin’s lips tilted into a smirk as if she’d won some unspoken argument. She reached out, gently brushing her fingers along Y/N’s arm, her touch warm and grounding. “Mind if I steal you back?” she asked, her voice soft but laced with something that sent a shiver down Y/N’s spine.

Yunjin scoffed, still unwilling to give in. “You know, Jimin, if you wanted a dance, you could’ve just asked,” she said, challenging. “But it seems like Y/N was having a good time without you.”

Jimin’s eyes darkened, but she didn’t break eye contact. “Funny, I was about to say the same thing to you,” she replied, the corner of her mouth twitching up in a smile that held no warmth.

Y/N felt her cheeks burn as she realized just how intense the moment had become. Her friends had started to gather around, sensing the tension, and she could feel their curious gaze on her. Aeri, Minjeong and Yizhuo had also appeared beside Jimin, each watching the interaction with barely concealed interest.

“Everything alright here?” Aeri asked, her eyes darting between Jimin, Yunjin, and Y/N.

Y/N cleared her throat, suddenly feeling exposed under the watchful eyes of their friends. “Um, yeah, everything’s fine,” she said, giving a nervous laugh as she tried to defuse the tension. “Just… dancing.”

But Jimin’s gaze softened as she looked at her, and a flicker of something vulnerable appeared in her eyes, as if she were silently asking Y/N to choose her. “Y/N,” she said softly, reaching for her hand, “can we talk?”

Yunjin opened her mouth to protest, but Y/N, feeling overwhelmed, gently stepped back from both of them, her heart pounding. “Actually, I think I need some air,” she said quickly, her voice shaky. Without another word, she slipped out of their grasp and wove her way through the crowd, feeling the weight of their gazes on her as she hurried toward the exit.

The cool night air hit her as she stepped outside, her heart racing as she put more distance between herself and the party. Her phone buzzed repeatedly in her hand, and a quick glance revealed several messages from Jimin, each one growing more urgent, and a few from Yunjin as well. But she didn’t have it in her to respond.

She kept walking, her steps quickening until she was finally back at the quiet solace of her dorm. Once inside, she leaned against the door, letting out a long, shaky breath. Ignoring the continuous buzz of her phone, she only replied to a single message—Gaeul’s, who had texted to check in.

I’m safe. Just needed to get away. I’ll see you tomorrow, she typed before shutting off her phone and sinking onto her bed.

Hahaha, fuck.

Y/N screamed into her pillow. --

Y/N lay sprawled out on her bed, staring at her phone. Last night kept replaying in her mind. And all her other interactions with Jimin.

What am I doing? she thought. Why am I even overthinking this? Maybe Jimin was just being friendly, maybe that’s all it was. She’d probably done all those sweet things to dozens of freshmen before. Y/N felt a pang of embarrassment at how easily she’d gotten swept up by it all.

She decided to text her friends and turned on her phone.

Her phone buzzing woke her up of her 10 minute nap.

There is no motherfucking way.

Y/N couldn’t even send her final message before she heard a knock on the door. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

Taking a deep breath, she scrambled to check her reflection in the small mirror by the door, smoothing down her hair and pulling herself together. Okay, just act natural. Pretend it’s no big deal. But her hands shook as she finally opened the door.

There stood Jimin, looking effortlessly cool as always, with a casual hoodie and that soft, knowing smile that never failed to make Y/N’s heart flutter. She held up her phone, her gaze flickering between Y/N and the screen. “I believe I got a text meant for someone else?” Her tone was playful, but there was something in her eyes—a glint of curiosity, maybe even amusement.

Heat rushed to Y/N’s face. “Wel! You see!!” She forced a laugh, hoping it didn’t sound as awkward as it felt. “That—that was not for you, obviously. Fuck, I am so sorry-”

Jimin let out a soft laugh, stepping into the room as Y/N shut the door. “It’s okay. Really,” she said, putting her phone away as she looked around the dorm. “I mean, I was a little…surprised, but also—” Her gaze softened, the smile turning sincere. “—I’m kind of glad I got it. Now I know I’m not the only one who’s been feeling something.”

“Hahaha, yeah, of course.” Y/N nodded. Then she blinked. “Wait, what?”

Jimin laughed. “You really are adorable.” She smiled. “I just mean…well, I’ve noticed you, too. I’ve noticed that it’s different, with you.” She paused, as if choosing her words carefully, her eyes never leaving Y/N’s. “And that’s not something I get to feel very often.”

Y/N felt her cheeks heat up, and she immediately looked down at her feet, a flustered laugh bubbling out. “Oh, well, um…” She bit her lip, struggling to form a coherent response. “I didn’t, uh, mean for you to…find out. Like, that. But, um…yeah, that’s…wow. Cool. That’s cool.”

Cool? There is no way brother.

Jimin let out a chuckle, and somehow that made it worse. “Tell you what,” she said, her tone as easygoing as ever. “Why don’t we grab a coffee this weekend? We can pretend I didn’t read that text, and maybe you can tell me more of what’s on your mind. Sounds fair?”

Y/N’s brain struggled to keep up. Coffee? She nodded so enthusiastically she probably looked like a bobblehead. “Yes! I mean, yes, sure, I’m down, sounds nice.”

I need to shut THE FUCK up.

Jimin’s eyes sparkled with amusement as she reached out, giving Y/N’s shoulder a playful nudge. “Relax,” she murmured, her voice soft. “It’s just coffee. No pressure.”

“Right, right, of course,” Y/N stammered, even as her heart pounded against her ribs. “Just…coffee.”

With a warm smile, Jimin lingered for a second, her gaze drifting from Y/N’s eyes to her lips and back up again. The air between them felt charged. Then, almost instinctively, Jimin leaned in, her hand finding Y/N’s waist.

Y/N’s breath hitched, her heart hammering in her chest as Jimin’s face moved closer. She could feel Jimin’s warmth, her soft breath fanning across her skin, and before she could think twice, their lips met in a gentle, lingering kiss. It was soft, tentative—yet filled with a warmth that sent a thrill through her entire body.

When they pulled back, Y/N was too stunned to do anything but stare at Jimin, her cheeks flushed and her mind racing. Jimin’s smile turned a little shyer, her thumb brushing lightly over Y/N’s hip before she took a small step back.

“I’ll text you the details,” she murmured, her eyes sparkling as she gave a little wave. With one last look, she disappeared down the hall, leaving Y/N breathless.

As soon as the door shut, Y/N sank onto her bed, covering her burning face with her hands.

She screeched.

233 notes · View notes

poppy-metal · 5 months ago

Note

fail marriage au…………………….

having your first big blow out fight after marriage counselling. putting everything you ever found aggravating or disrespectful or wrong or even just a bit annoying on the table. art doing exactly the same. it gets mean. it gets personal. it gets ugly. you scream at him, scream like a banshee and he shouts back. veins you didn’t know he had bulge in his neck, his fingers flex as he wildly gesticulates. you throw something, a plastic tv remote that shatters against the wall. it all passes in a heated blur, you hardly know what you’re doing or saying but that blood is pumping through your veins and you’re alive and so is art. alive. furious, at you. you stalk up to him, and he stands tall above you, looming like a storm cloud. a sweet faced angelic storm cloud that right at this second you couldn’t fucking stand. you jab at his chest with your finger as you yell, lay into him. why couldn’t he tell you how he feels? why did he have to be so fucking passive aggressive? why was tashi the centre of his fucking universe? why couldn’t he be a fucking man and tell you what he really wants? be a man art. be a fucking man for once in your goddamn life.

his nostrils flare, his anger rising with every poke. he grabs your wrist, yanks it up and leans in close. stooping, showing you that he is bigger. he would stoop to your level. he will fight back. you feel his breath on your nose and seethe. he’s still minty fresh. stupid cunt.

“what i want is for you to shut the fuck up and stop acting like you know everything.”

“fuck off, you limp dicked sack of shit.”

“fuck you cunt.” he flicks those brutal syllables at you, chewing his words, opening his mouth so you can see his tongue forming them. you feel the severity in the pit of your stomach. you feel something else lower.

“fuck me? fuck you!”

and in that moment you drew together, moving as one, in the most violent kiss of the modern age. he squeezes your wrist, still held aloft. your other hand grips his shirt collar, pulling so hard it hurts his neck. good. you hope his delicate little neck gets a friction burn and a rash and you hope it stings forever. he tongues furiously at your mouth, mashing his lips into yours and licking the side of your mouth. eating your face like he eats pussy. which he hasn’t done in a while, another thing to yell at him about later. his other hand grips the back of your head, holding it still so you have no choice but to recieve his hot, angry love. you kiss back with equal fury. you want to make him suffer your love. don’t want it? tough luck. it’s his. and he will take it. he grunts into your mouth, it vibrates your tongue. you pull back, but he doesn’t let you. he forces you back nearer to him, spine curving in hateful ecstasy. he kisses you for a few more seconds before drawing back only a few centimetres to rest his forehead on yours and breathe. your lips are wet with him.

“i love you,” you breath.

he caresses the back of your head.

“prove it.”

me when i overachieve.

anyway this is apart of my failmarriage au and you should probably read this part first to understand whats going on here. or just follow the #failmarriage au tag that i have.

your breath shudders out of you. you'd never heard that tone from him before, or rather, never directed at you. not exactly cold but, chilled. serious and pointed. dominant.

your hands fall from his hair, sliding down his throat, his shoulders. you stare into his eyes - he stares back. you feel like you're on a razor thin wire. concede or push back.

you wonder what this will fix. but you don't think you care. you want him. you miss him. your heart is pounding just thinking about it. you take a step back, two, three, several paces.

"okay," you say. you dont even know what you're agreeing too, just that you want it, whatever it is.

before you even have time to linger on that thought though -

because art is already stalking towards you, undoing his soft leather belt and letting it drop to the floor. you couldn’t move. you couldn’t breathe. just watching in this kind of stupified silence as art unczips his pants and slides his delicate fingers under his waistband. In three strides, art was right up in your space, owning it, staring you down with a cool kind of control in his eyes, heavy cock in his hand, already hard and flushed and mouthwateringly beautiful. you couldn’t speak. you couldn’t think. all you could see was art.

when art spoke, his voice was an iron grip closing around your throat. each word as clear and distinct as a brand to your hot skin.

“get on your knees”

you sink to the floor. It felt like falling, your knees knocked out from under you by the invisible string of his command that binds you to him. breath punches out of your lungs as you let yourself go under. art was already reaching out and grabbing the back of your head and shoving his cock past your waiting lips, pushing all the way to the hilt as his leaking head slammed into the back of your throat.

“god,” art breathed out, vice grip holding you in place. “You’re beautiful like this” and you were lost. years of built resentment and anxiety dissipating like smoke as art took over your senses. the taste of him, the smell of him, the warmth of him, the silk soft press of his cock down your throat. It was everything you’d been longing for from him.

your hands fly up to grip art’s waist, fingers trying to find purchase, pressing him deeper, holding him deeper, worried he might pull out but not able to hold yourself back. when art didn’t say anything, didn't tell you to stop, you sank forward and started to suck greedily, tongue running over art’s throbbing length, trying desperately to take him apart, to please him, to worship him, to give him what he wanted.

you heard yourself whine, felt your body sway forward, but you managed to hold yourself still, keep your tongue flat, keep your mouth wide and waiting, holding art still against the back of your throat, wanting desperately to prove you were good. that you loved him. That you wanted, wanted, wanted him.

"give me your hand,” art breathes, looking down at you, and you think briefly of the ancient greek god apollo, and how if art was a deity, you.d gladly stay right where you are. lovingly holding him in the back of your throat.

your mind was already starting to go fuzzy with the heavy weight of art on the back of your tongue, salt slowly leaking from his pink slit, the slow stretch of his your lips around art’s shaft starting to ache in your jaw. , but, still you had enough awareness to look up confused, meeting art’s eyes in a question. but art didn’t offer an explanation. just looked down at you, hand held out, patiently waiting, like it wasn’t a question of whether you would obey; it was just a matter of when.

shakily, your hand reaches out to his. by instinct or by pure coincidence, its the hand with your wedding band on it. your fingers brush against each other, and then arts fingers, lithe and strong, an athlete's fingers, slide between yours. he brings your clasped hands together against his chest. if your throat wasn’t stuffed with cock you’d gasp at the gesture, the intimacy of it alone. your palm against his bare chest, his right pectoral. right over his thunderous heartbeat. his wedding band presses against yours.

“Im gonna move, okay?” he breathes down at you, and his hand squeezes yours. “If you want me to stop just squeeze my hand two times.”

you nodded, a slight movement, eager and unbidden. art ran a finger under your jaw, fluttering his fingers against you. you had to shuffle a little to keep as much of art in your mouth as you could as he exhaled and used his free hand to slide against the back of your skull, cupping it tenderly.

a little punched-out gasp falls from arts lips as he slowly rocked his hips, pushingas deep as he could go as you moaned around him. art took a second, waited for you to look at him, blink the tears from your eyes, before he started the slow glide out of your mouth. you laid your tongue flat against the underside of him, tracing the veins, unable to move forward to chase him back down your throat as arts hand kept you firmly in place.

when he was all the way out, spit slick and gleaming, he rested the flushed head of himself against your bottom lip. rubbed himself there, traced every contour of your mouth with the slit of his cock. glossing your lips with the sheen of his precum.

“I love you.” he said - voice choked and you couldnt tell if it was from emotion or lust, maybe a combination of the two.

you felt something flare hot in your belly, but before you could utter a word, art was sliding back home, right back into the silk pallet of your throat. and you welcomed him greedily, lapping up every inch he gave you.

the whole while you held his hand, still pressed against his chest. you tilted open your jaw as wide as it could go, imagining you wanted to be a snake and swallow him whole. you took everything. you breathed through your nose when he was settled fully inside you - you sucked around him when he began to pull back, suctioning your mouth around him to mimic a pussy. a tight hole.

arent i such a good wife, you thought. no one could take his cock like you could. no one would drop to their knees and let themselves be used this way, but you would. to you, this was love. this was passion.

art lasted a few more minutes before he was dragging himself free from the warm hug of your throat -

“I want you spread out on the kitchen counter," art panted, jerking his chin. he reached down to wrap a loose hand around his wet cock, stroking it languidly. your throat ached with missing it. “I need to be inside you. I want to -” he swallows. “I want to fuck you."

you inhaled sharply. it was a word you didn't often hear from arts lips. especially in reference to sex. the crude word coming from him made your belly clench warmly. more, you wanted more of that.

you stared at each other for what felt like forever but was probably only a couple seconds, art’s cock still only inches from your face. you watched transfixed as art’s leaking head slipped between the tight circle of his fingers, flushed tip disappearing and pushing back through. It was filthy, it was gorgeous, and your whole body shuddered imagining what it would feel like at your entrance: the slow press, the slick head, the aching burn as it slowly pushed inside. because it would burn. the last time you’d had sex….. you didnt want to think about it.

Instead you hurriedly scrambled to obey. shoving the straps of your dress down as you went, feeling it pool around your waist as you bent against the cool marble of the counter. you’d never fucked here. suddenly that was a crazy thought to you. wasnt it a kind of ritual for a couple - to christen the house? your fingers curled into your palms as you pressed your bare chest down.

you felt art come up behind you and your breath hitched when you felt his palms skimming up the backs of your thighs. you hadnt realized you’d been trembling until that moment. something about his touch calmed you though.

ridiculous, to be shy when this was your husband. he’d seen your cunt a hundred times.

all thoughts fled your head when those familiar fingers parted the lips of your cunt - finding you wet. “baby” art’s strangled voice reached your ears as he felt through your delicate slit - he sounded beside himself with wonder. that you,d be this wet for him. this ready. he slid two fingers in easily - just a slight pressure at your entrance and there was a give of the flesh. and he was in - inside you. pumping steadily. “that’s it,” a kiss at the base of your spine, soft and special. “let me in. give me whats mine.”

yours, you dont know if you breathed it or just echoed it in your head. hips pushing back into him, opening yourself further. the stretch was full but it felt so right.

“god - you’re so responsive - how could i forget -” he was working himself up. his thumb nudged your clit, circled it with the pad before pressing down on it, his own goran covering up your keen. like it affected him more than it did you, to feel how you throbbed against him with need. “gonna put my tongue on your clit everyday and you’re going to let me. let me worship what i married, spread your legs and fucking take it-”

“oh god,” you’re whining. practically humping your cunt on his fingers. “whatever you want, baby. take it, its all yours.”

you clench around nothing when he suddenly yanks his fingers free, but you dont have to mourn the loss long, your empty spasming hole feeling the silken pressure of his cock in the next second. he grips your waist, wholly possessive as he drags you back onto him and, oh. Its so blissful. that tender ache in your cunt as its filled to the brim. You’d-

“fuck - i missed this - missed your pussy -”

yes, yes missed. you’d missed this.

art adjusts himself. spreads out his legs so he can really move, leans his broad chest over your back, covering you, smothering you, squishing you into the countertop but he doesnt care. you dont care. pinned beneath him and speared open like this - you’ve never felt more loved by him.

“so tight and warm - god - i never wanna leave -” he watches, pink lips parted where you’ve taken him. the flared open lips of your pussy hugging the base of his cock. a groan rips from his chest, loud, because he wants you to know, really fucking know, how overwhelmed he is, how much you make him feel, as he slowly drags himself out - only able to make it halfway before he has to bury himself back into that tight heat. your walls tighten and squeeze around him in these luxurious pulls and he feels spit pool in his mouth, the sensation enough to empty his brain. he rocks there, barely pulling free from the clutch of your body.

“treat me so well with this - little cunt - “ wet desperate kisses are pressed wherever he can reach, his mouth hungry for the salt of your skin. he pulls it between his teeth, some raw animal part of him just wanting to naw on you. he rubs his forehead against your shoulders as he starts to move his hips faster. finally pulling out all the way before he slams back in, knocking your hips into the hard marble, and he should say sorry, he should take more care, you’ll be bruised surely, but then his mind flits back to your therapy session - at the words you’d both said - how you felt - and the words exchanged in your fight. and he feels something kindle in his chest, sparked to life by the liquid heat pouring through him - you fucking - you’re so cruel sometimes and you dont even know - you dont even see what you’re doing to him, the power you hold, how much he’d give to you if only you’d fucking open up to him. get angry at him. demand more of what you want instead of fucking expecting him to read your goddamn mind.

he hadn’t felt the wet grip of his wifes pussy in months until just now. that couldn’t happen again.

he pulls himself to his full height - using his ringed hand to make a makeshift leash of your hair, wrapping it around his tan fist. anchors you back onto his hard dick again and again in hard punishing pulls that seem to punch moans from you.

“this is how i should have treated you from the beginning, huh? come home every day and bend you over the minute i step through the door. pound out all my frustrations on this tight cunt. use you to masturbate my dick.” he grunts - that viseral fury that’d you’d seen spark in him briefly before was back in full force now. you could feel it in the reverberating clap of his balls against your ass. the forceful grip on your hair, yanking your neck back, nearly pulling your chest off the counter, your tits bouncing. “maybe then you’d appreciate me.”

you dont know what part in you is broken that soaks his cock at his treatment instead of clamping up. his anger, his vitriol, it all speaks to a deep part inside of you that screams to be wanted. you whimper and bear down around him, meeting him instead of shying away.

“g - od - oh god, art - “

“would that make you my happy little wife?” he slows back down. drags his thick length in and out of you in purposeful rolls of his hips. “I bring all my shit to you and you devote this hot little pussy to warming my dick. you’ll take care of me, right? drop to your knees and give me a proper fucking welcome home.”

you cant think. your eyes are rolling back, your brain fogging. Its so good, oh god, how is it so fucking good. you’re drenched between your thighs, you can feel it running down your thighs. you can feel the hot raw part of your pussy that is being penetrated again and again on his cock as it retreats and then glides back in.

“Im gonna cum.” is all you can say. “art, im so close -”

“fuck,” he stops his movements. grinding his hips into yours, churning his dick inside you. his mouth skims your ear, he lets go of your hair to grip you around the throat. “tell me you love me. tell me you love me when you cum, baby, or i swear to god, i cant do this anymore -”

“I love you!” the words are the truest they’ve ever been in years. you’re on your tippy toes, squirming, trying to get away or trying to get closer, you cant tell. probably closer. you want art to carve apart for himself inside you - brand himself on you forever so you can never leave, never forget, never doubt this marriage. “I love you, i love you, i love you, i love-”

“I love you too. fuck - i need you to cum. cum on my cock and show me you still want this -”

you shatter apart. a million stars exploding in a galaxy. arts strong arms come around you like a band, wrapping you up against him as you shake. your breaths come out harshly in sync. the beats of your heart a fast thrum between you.

you turn your head, desperately seeking, and he’s there, already leaning down to take your lips in a kiss.

the weight of him still inside you is one you take comfort in. you dont want him to leave your body. you dont want this to end.

“stay,” you whisper against his mouth.

his hand cups your cheek, strokes his thumb over the swell of your flushed skin. “always,” he says back.

#ask #poppy fic #frens <3 #LMAO THIS TOOK ME HOURS AND ITS NOT EVEN 3K #wipes sweat from forehead #failmarriage au #art donaldson x reader #art donaldson smut #challengers x reader #challengers smut

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bullet-prooflove · 7 months ago

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The Last Time: Jack Reacher x Reader (NSFW)

Tagging: @kmc1989 @castle-of-ruin @baconeggndcheez @alishageorgia @hal3ynicol3

It’s past midnight and the stars are twinkling up in the sky as you and Reacher lie on a sleeping bag in the woodland near your house staring up on them. The trees rustle in the light breeze, the sounds of the forest a peaceful rendition.

Reacher’s fingers threaded through yours. The flames from the campfire illuminating his features, highlighting the freckles on his face. He’s more weather worn than you last time you saw him, his cheeks are grizzled, his skin a little more tan. He usually stops by every couple of months, shares your bed, walks your dog before he takes off again. He’s a nomad at heart, he always has been.

“This has to be the last time.” He says finally, swallowing hard against the well of emotion in his chest. “I can’t keep coming back here.”

You don’t say anything, not when he squeezes your hand just that little bit tighter or when he turns his head to survey your expression.

You know what the problem is.

Reacher is starting to settle.

His visits have been more frequent over the past year, he stays for longer, starts keeping things at your place. Nothing more than a couple of pairs of boxers and a t-shirt but they’re still there, still his. It’s the biggest commitment he’s made since retiring from the Army.

The man you first met arrived with only the clothes on his back, he didn’t need anything else and now he has a drawer in your dresser and his own mug in your cupboard.

“Is that why you insisted we camp underneath the stars tonight?” You ask him quietly. “You wanted it to be special?”

“Something like that.” He tells you, his voice a little rough. The time you have together is incredibly meaningful to him, you’re the closest he’s been to another person in years which is why he has to let you go. He can’t afford to have any attachments, not with the way he attracts trouble.

He rolls onto his side, his thumb ghosting over the apple of your cheek as he looks into your eyes.

“I want you to remember me.” He whispers, his lips brushing over yours. “Remember all the good we had together.”

He makes love to you that night, under the stars, the light of the campfire bathing your bare skin as he drives you to the pinnacle of release before he pulls you away again. He wants to keep you in freefall for as long as possible, to prolong the experience because Reacher, he isn’t ready for this to end, no matter what he tells you.

Your thighs clench around his hips, drawing him deeper. You can feel that climax building inside of you again, each wave washing over you, drowning you. Reacher’s hand comes to rest on your jaw, guiding your mouth back to his. He needs you to be immersed in him when you come, consumed completely because this is the memory he wants to leave you with, him loving you with everything he has.

He feels the exact moment the ecstasy hits you, you grip his dick so fucking tightly that you take him over the edge with you, his release spilling deep inside. He still doesn’t stop, he fucks it deeper, kissing you, touching you because Reacher, he’s not ready for it to be over, not yet.

“Jack…” You say quietly, your fingers threading through his hair as he buries his face into the curve of your throat. “This doesn’t have to be goodbye.”

But it does because Reacher, he can’t the thought of losing you and that’s exactly what’s going to happen if he stays.

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#jack reacher #alan ritchson #reacher #jack reacher x reader #reacher x reader #lee child #reacher show #jack reacher fanfic

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strangerstilinski · 7 months ago

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𝙞𝙩 𝙟𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙩𝙖𝙠𝙚𝙨 𝙖 𝙠𝙞𝙨𝙨

𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

word count: 2.5k warnings: none really, fluffy ending, steve is kind of a dick, mention of alcohol, gender neutral reader (pls let me know if i missed anything) based on that scene in tasm where peter spins gwen around to kiss her — with just a dash of enemies to lovers

It should go without saying that Steve Harrington is the bane of your goddamned existence. If the two of you aren't at each other's throats, it typically just means that you're both doing your best to pretend the other doesn't even exist.

And, sure, maybe it drives you a little bit insane that he seems to get along just fine with every person in your friend group except for you. It was like you pushed buttons that Steve wasn't even aware he had.

Nancy finds the whole thing amusing, says that Steve's clearly so in love with you that he doesn't know how to handle it. Eddie swears that Steve looks at you with hearts in his eyes, though any time you've caught his stare those ‘hearts’ tended to look a whole lot more like daggers. Argyle and Robin both insist that love and hate tread a very thin line, and eventually, a little push will have the two of you stumbling head over heels into each other's waiting arms. Johnathan tends to stay out of it, but then, he doesn't really need to say anything, because you've seen that look he gives you when he catches you looking a little too long at the moles dotted along the length of Steve's throat, or that stubborn lock of hair that tumbles over his brow bone, or the way his tongue pokes out and his eyes narrow cutely when he's concentrating-

You hate it. You hate Steve. Even now, you swear you hate him, regardless of the way you shamelessly ogle the curve of his bicep when he reaches across the back of the sofa to drape his arm loosely behind Robin's shoulders. You've accepted it. At this point, allowing yourself to admire his stupidly handsome physique was merely reparations for being forced to put up with him on a near-daily basis. Compensation for the never-ending bad attitude that he seemed to direct solely at you.

“Does anyone hear that?” Steve's voice speaks louder than your own suddenly, effectively cutting you off even though you'd been in the middle of a sentence. His eyes meet yours for just a brief second before his gaze is moving elsewhere, “It's like, this annoying buzzing sound?” He's sitting up a little straighter following his interruption, brows drawing together like he's listening intently for something.

His sudden line of questioning has thoroughly derailed your train of thought. The longwinded story you'd been regaling to the group about a customer at work is cut short, the words dissolving on your tongue as your try to work out what on earth Steve is referring to. Until his interruption, you hadn't heard anything.

“What are you even talking abou-”

“There!” He cuts you off once more, “There it is again! Did you hear that, Robs?” The fingers he nudges into his best friend's ribs makes her squirm away with a deep laugh.

You huff, “Are you seriously implying that I'm the-”

“God, you guys 're hearing that, right?” Steve interrupts with an irritatingly pleased grin on his face, “Like nails on a chalkboard-”

Though Robin's laughter isn't actually directed at you, your face burns hotly anyway. A pity-filled smile graces her lips when she meets your gaze after escaping the wrath of Steve's tickling, and his chuckles of amusement only serve to make you grind your teeth together in irritation.

“Real mature, dickhead.” You snap, snatching up the beer you'd set down on the coffee table when Eddie had actually asked you about your day a few minutes before. “I was in the middle of a story.”

“Yeah, no offense, honey, but I'm not sure any of us were that invested hearing you drone on about the ‘big tip’ some douchebag with a hand tattoo left you.” Steve grumbled with a roll of his eyes, “If your stories weren't so boring, maybe we wouldn't all be sitting here hoping for a hole in the earth to open up under us just so we don't have to keep listening to-”

“Steve. C'mon man-” Eddie tries, though his voice is drowned out by your own.

“Jesus, do you have to be such an asshole all the time?” You snap in Steve's direction.

“I'm just saying,” Steve shrugs, “Probably the only reason he left such a big tip was because pulled the wrong bill out of his wallet, alright? It sure as hell wasn't 'cause of your shining personality.”

“What, and just because you're a jackass, that means no man could ever possibly find me appealing?” You bite back.

“Yeah, well, your pretty face doesn't quite make up for your constant need for attention.”

“My need for attention?” You scoff incredilously, beer slamming back down onto the tabletop in front of you. The rest of your friends seem to fade even further into the background, the rest mist of your rage yet again blinding you to anything that isn't Steve fucking Harrington. “You're the one who can't stand when the focus is on me for ten fucking seconds.”

“So what, if I don't care that some prick hit on you at work-” Steve argues, “Sue me. If that makes me an asshole-”

“It does, as a matter of fact,” You interrupt easily, “Because I'm constantly listening to you whine about your conquest of the week, except I'm able to do so without acting like such a fucking-”

“Careful,” Steve hums, cocky little smirk reemerging on his lips, “You're sounding a little jealous, there, honey.”

“Oh, fuck off.”

“'S my house,” He returns just as quickly, “How 'bout you fuck off.”

The blood in your veins is full of fire. Your face is burning with rage and your eyes prickle traitorously with frustrated tears, because that customer from your story? He'd been the highlight of your god-awful day. The rest of it had been a fucking disaster.

You'd slipped on freshly mopped floors and dropped an entire table's drink orders. Subsequently, you'd been forced to finish your shift with sticky, soda pop-soaked socks that squelched wetly in your shoes with every step. Your boss had given you shit for the whole mess, even though it was one of your coworkers who had failed to put out the wet floor sign in the first place. You'd proceeded to burn yourself on a hotplate, twice. And then, after all that, you'd had little choice but to take an ice-cold shower before heading over to Steve's house, because the hot water heater in your decrepit apartment building was apparently broken. Again.

“Y'know what?” You grumble in defeat, “Fine.”

You're already rising to your feet, wiping the palms of your hands down your jeans to dry the lingering condensation from your half-finished beer. You blink furiously to push back the tears that had been pooling at your waterline, shaking your head at the ridiculousness of your own emotional state.

“Wha-” Steve is watching you with something like concern in his eyes now, “Wh-Where're you goin'?”

“I'm leaving,” You announce, gaze steadfastly avoiding where Steve has removed his arm from around Robin's shoulders so he can sit at the edge of the couch, as if he's planning to rise to his own feet at any moment. “I, um. I'll talk to you guys later.”

There are scattered protests from everyone, but you don't bear them any mind. You're already turning on your heel and moving toward the entryway with hurried steps. The front door slams shut behind you before you've even gotten your jacket all the way on. You've still got one arm struggling to find the hole of your sleeve when you hear the door swing back open behind you.

“Hey! Wait up.”

You're not sure why, but Steve's voice makes you slow where you've begun to move down the driveway, though you don't turn around to face him. He calls out to you again as he finally catches up with you. He all but throws himself into your path and at the risk of running straight into him, your steps finally come to a stop.

“C'mon, honey. Wait, wait, wait-”

You blow out a frustrated breath, your arms crossing over your chest like that might somehow put up a physical barrier between the two of you.

“I really don't want to do this with you, Harrington. Alright?” An air of defeat laces your words, one hand coming up to rub at the headache that's begun to pulse between your brows, “Just.. Not tonight.”

You move to step around him and the heel of your boots click against the pavement once, twice. But then something hooks into the belt loop on your jeans and you're tugged back. You nearly lose your footing at the unexpected shift in momentum, knees wobbling unsteadily for just a moment before you're twirled back around to face him and then your palms are meeting a firm chest.

The adrenaline has your brain whiting out for just a moment, any and all thoughts screeching to a halt. Warmth seeps into your palms from beneath the thin cotton of Steve's tshirt. The racing of your own heart in your ears drowns out the distant sound of laughter and the opening trailers of a movie rental coming from back inside the house. Your eyes are level with Steve's chin, your wide gaze locked on his lips as they quirk up at one corner with his gentle smirk. You're still standing pigeon-toed between his own larger feet, a little off balance but held firmly in place by the wide hand splayed across your waist.

“I'm sorry.” Steve says quietly — unexpectedly earnest.

It's only been a second or two since he dragged you back into his space, and to your surprise, his head dips, just a fraction. Steve brushes his nose against your own, a gentle stroke that sends butterflies in your stomach fluttering wildly. The cool mint clinging to his breath fans out over your face, smelling of the gum he's always chewing and smacking obnoxiously, but the scent this close is intoxicating. The hand he brings up to cradle your jaw is intoxicating. The loose flap of leather on his watch that tickles at the side of your throat. The way he's leaning in-

The passion he kisses you with, from the moment your lips touch, is intoxicating. It's all-encompassing. You can't think, and you're not entirely sure you're even breathing, but Steve's lips are moving in unhurried synchronization with your own. Your knees are weak. You're gripping the material of his shirt in your fists just for something to hold onto, but Steve' arm is curled tight around the curve in your spine now to hold you steady.

His tongue brushes warmly against your lips, licking softly at the seam of your mouth like he's asking for permission. The desperate sound that crawls up your throat at just that quick brush of his tongue nestles in the depths of Steve's brain where he files it away for later. He hitches his arm even tighter at your waist, pulling your stomachs flush until your chest heaves against his own.

Your head is a little fuzzy when you separate long enough for you to take a breath, and you're gasping almost comically in an effort to fill your lungs. Steve's quiet chuckle meets your ears, his hand sliding back from your jaw to cup the nape of your neck.

“You kissed me.”

The words fall from your lips in a whisper of disbelief. Your eyes are still closed, lashes fluttering against the tops of your cheeks. You’re terrified if you open them even a crack, the entire scene will suddenly fade away around you like some kind of dream. The airy cadence of your voice is partially due to your surprise, but also thanks to the far-too-easy grace with which you've been spun and manhandled and swept entirely off your feet.

“I did,” Steve agrees just as quietly, “I did do that.”

His forehead meets your own as your eyes flutter open and he simply holds you there for a moment, nose dragging across your cheek before he presses another quick kiss to your lips. His head tilts, thumb stroking soft over the side of your throat before his mouth finds yours again, and again. These kisses are different — Casual and tender, sweet and unhurried. Like he's kissing you just because he can.

“You-” Is all you manage to get out before your words are silenced by his lips slotting between your own, but you carry on with barely a pause as you click apart once again, “Y'r still doing it.”

“Mhm.” He hums easily, the sound rumbling beneath your hands on his chest.

“Why-”

Kiss.

“Are you-”

Kiss.

“Kissing me?”

Steve's breath mingles hotly with your own in the narrow breadth of space between your parted lips, “D'you want me to stop?”

“No, no, I- Hell no.”

And there's that perfect smile of his. Straight teeth make an appearance as his lips quirk up at the corner, a breathy spearmint scented laugh that sounds a little too relieved for the casual coolness that he's clearly trying to give off. His mouth opens like he's going to say something, but no words seem to come. Lips parted, throat bobbing as he swallows around the heavy silence weighing down his tongue.

He looks so pretty like this, you think. The streetlight light at the end of his driveway catches in his brown eyes, caramel sparking with flecks of gold and green that you've never noticed before, but you're sure you'll never be able to forget the sight of it now. You're still sharing breaths, faces so close that you can't avoid watching the way his full lashes blink at you dumbly. As if he isn't the one who spun you around and pulled you close and effortlessly gave you the best kiss of your entire life. As if, maybe, he didn't quite expect to make it this far, and now he's at a loss for how to proceed.

You release his shirt from your fist, the fabric crinkled and stretched with how tight you'd been gripping it, only to slide your hand up the back of his neck. The tip of his nose catches the bottom of your own, lips brushing faintly while your hand finds a new home in his hair. The soft strands tangle between your fingers when you give it a gentle tug and push up on your toes to draw yourself impossibly closer.

“If I'd known kissing you was all it took to get you to shut up, Harrington, I would've done it ages ago.” Your quip lacks its usual bite, but it breaks the silence between you, and it also seems to break Steve out of whatever spell he'd fallen under.

His tongue pokes out to wet his lips as he searches for an appropriate response, “Maybe we'll just have to keep kissing then.”

You find yourself swaying just a little on your feet at the way his eyes flick slow back and forth between your own, “Yeah.. Yeah, Maybe we will.”

When his lips descend on your own again, it's ages before he lets you back up for a decent breath of air, and even then he parts from you with obvious reluctance. You're both breathing heavy, lips a little swollen and shining wetly. Steve's expression has a warmth that you realize you've never actually seen directed at you before. Steve smiles at you, his eyes crinkling at the corners, and suddenly all you can think about is what Eddie has said a hundred times over.

It's like there are hearts in his eyes.

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