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rynwrites4fun · 6 days ago

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Love You Anyway (2) | Andrew Cody x Brother's Best Friend ! Reader

Andrew Cody x F ! Brother’s Best Friend ! Reader

Summary: You and Deran ditch the rest of the school day, joining his brothers for an afternoon at the beach.

Word Count: 6657

Warnings: Nine-year age gap (late teens / late 20s) — Andrew Cody x reader are NOT together in the “Then” timeline, Violence/Physical Altercation, Injury (scrapes, bloody knuckle)

Author’s Notes: Hello! The amount of times I rewrote part 2 lol. I was like is this too much drama for the 2 part??? but then I was like you know what, fuck it bc the Cody’s are chaotic and end up in crazy shit a way, so be it! after the 1st part, I again scoured the depths of gifs to find young shawn hatosy (i saved a bunch so ya girl is prepared lol.) time to figure out the next part lol Enjoy - Ryn

(Someone yell at me bc I’m still only half way through season 2 🫣)

THEN: BEACH DAY, 2008

“Hey dork” Deran nudges your leg with his sneaker.

“Deran, I’m trying to focus,” you mutter, eyes locked on the open textbook in your lap, pencil tapping lightly against your thigh as you reread the same line for the third time. You were trying to plan out your essay for history class, gathering evidence and quotes for it.

Deran flops down beside you on the lawn, unwrapping a sandwich with zero concern for your concentration.

“What are you working on?” he asks, mouth full of sandwich.

“History paper. It’s due in a couple of weeks.”

He groans. “Can’t you just enjoy your lunch break? It’s called a break for a reason!” He shoots you a teasing grin. “You’re always trying to go above and beyond. Chill out for once.”

You roll your eyes, but your pencil stills in your hand. “Some of us actually want to pass.”

“Pff, You are passing,” he says through a bite. “You’ve got, like, straight A’s. You could fail one assignment and still graduate with honors or whatever”

You glance at him. “That’s not how it works.”

He swallows his bite. “It kind of is, though.”

You shake your head, eyes dropping back to your notebook. “I don’t want to barely make it. I want to do it right.”

Without a word, he reaches over and closes your textbook with one hand.

“Hey—”

He rummages through his bag, pulls out a wrinkled bag of chips, and tosses it onto your lap. “Here. Eat something. Be human.”

You huff, but you don’t toss them back.

His flip phone buzzes in his pocket, and he pulls it out with one hand, flipping it open like muscle memory. “Hello?” he says, already stuffing another bite of sandwich into his mouth.

There’s a pause. “Where?” he mumbles around the bread.

He stands up slowly, dusting crumbs off his jeans, phone still pressed to his ear. His brows draw together like whatever he just heard changed something.

He squints, glancing toward the front of the school. You turn to look, following his gaze—and there it is. Craig’s Jeep idling across the street, surfboards stacked crooked on the roof, Craig in the driver’s seat waving like an idiot. A breeze tugs at the palm trees lining the curb.

Deran hangs up and tucks the phone back into his pocket. That playful grin creeps across his face—the one you’ve learned to be very wary of.

“You up for the beach the rest of the afternoon?” he swinging his worn Jansport backpack over one shoulder like it weighs nothing

Your eyes go wide. “What? I’m not ditching.”

“Oh, come on,” Deran groans, dragging the word out with dramatic flair. “We’ve already survived half the day. Just two more periods. Let’s skip.”

He takes a step back like he’s daring you to follow, that familiar glint of mischief in his eyes.

“Ditching two periods won’t kill you,” he says, flashing that boyish, reckless smile. “Seriously, you need to get your head out of the books. Live a little! We’re only young once—might as well enjoy it while we can.”

You hesitate. “I don’t know…”

“Come on,” he grins, holding out his hand like it’s a promise

You stare at it for a moment, heart thudding. You shouldn’t. You never ditch. There’s still homework to finish, notes to organize, things you told yourself you’d get done today.

but what would really happen if you skipped—just this once?

Your fingers tighten around the chip bag. “I don’t even have a suit,” you mutter, almost like an excuse.

But you’re already rolling the bag closed.

You unzip your backpack, shove it inside along with your textbook, and zip it back up.

Then you take his hand.

As you stand and swing the bag over your shoulder, he’s already grinning.

“We can stop by the store,” he says. “I’ll buy you one. So… is that a yes?”

“Yeah I gue—woah!”

Before you can finish, he yanks you forward and the two of you take off, laughing as you run across the yard.

—

“Oh man,” Baz snickers, resting his arms along the edge of the truck bed.

“What?” Andrew asks, brows furrowing. He’s in the bed of Baz's truck, his shirt already half-stuck to his back from the heat. His sunglasses hanging on the back of his neck. He’s moving beach gear around, before yanking at the handle of the heavy cooler wedged between two chairs.

Baz jerks his chin toward the parking lot with that trademark grin of his. “Check it out.”

Andrew glances up, eyes following the direction of Baz’s nod. That’s when he sees Craig’s Jeep pulling in, kicking up dust as it turns into the spot across the aisle. The engine cuts, the doors swing open—and then you step out.

Hair tousled from the wind. Laughing at something Deran says as he hops out behind you.

Andrew’s grip tightens on the cooler handle. “What’s she doing here?”

Baz shrugs, barely hiding the smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Guess Deran finally got her to loosen up.”

The last time they saw you was a couple weeks ago, when Deran brought you over to the house for their party. Andrew had figured that would be the end of it—that Deran would keep you away, that his warning that night would stick.

But apparently not.

Andrew doesn’t respond. His jaw flexes, the muscle ticking as he looks away and yanks the cooler free with a sharp tug, setting it down a little harder than necessary on the sand-streaked tailgate.

You spot them, Baz by the truck, Andrew in the bed. You break away from Craig and Deran as they take surfboards down from the rack from the top of the jeep.

You head toward the truck, lifting a hand in a small wave. “Hey.”

Baz grins wider. “Well, well. If it isn’t the little angel herself, come to grace us with her presence.”

“Angel?” you questioned.

“Yep,” he says, completely unbothered. “My new nickname for you.”

You figured it had something to do with those girls at the party—the way they’d made jabs at you for not drinking, smoking, not doing anything “fun.” Like being the only one with a clear head made you some kind of saint.

Baz still clearly thought it was hilarious.

You should probably tell him to cut it out. But you didn’t. Mostly because you knew it wouldn’t matter—he’d call you that anyway. And really, there were worse things to be called.

Angel.

It wasn’t the worst label to have.

Behind him, Andrew jumps down from the bed of the truck, not saying a word yet—but his eyes don’t leave you.

Baz throws him a look, then grins like he can’t help himself. “Honestly, this is perfect. Pope and Angel—look at you two. Holiest pair in Oceanside.” Bad throws his arm around Andrew’s shoulder.

Andrew knew that all too well.

Pope.

That one had followed him for years—another Baz original. He’d started calling Andrew “Pope” back when he took an interest in religion when he was younger. “Pope Andrew,” he’d say with a grin, and eventually everyone else joined in.

So yeah. Angel was probably here to stay.

Andrew knocks Baez’s arm off him. He mutters under his breath, “Don’t start.” rolling his eyes as he holds the cooler.

“You need some help?” you ask, stepping closer.

“We’re fine,” he replies curtly.

Then he turns, squeezing between the cars without another word, heading down toward the beach—leaving you standing there with Baz.

Deran and Craig come up beside you, their surfboards slung under their arms.

“Ignore him. He’s in a mood,” he tells you, glancing over at Andrew like it’s nothing new.

You nod, trying to push the unease down.

“When he is never not in a mood” Baz scores, grabbing stuff from the bed of his truck.

Craig nods toward the ocean. “Waves are decent.”

“You up for a surf lesson later?” Deran asks.

You hesitate, eyes drifting to where Andrew disappeared—his back already turned, putting distance between you like he couldn’t get away fast enough.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Baz chimes in, half-grinning.

“She’ll be fine—she'll be with us,” Craig replies.

“So you down later?

Baz just shakes his head, muttering something under his breath as he’s down towards the beach.

“Yeah, I’m down,” you say.

“All right. Craig and I are gonna go out for a while. We’ll come back in and teach you”

—

You went to the public beach bathroom to change into the suit Deran bought you. A one-piece floral rashguard swimsuit with bright colors and a pattern.

When you got down to the beach, the brothers had gone in the water. Deran and Craig were cutting through the waves, loud and reckless as ever, while Baz waded in farther down the shore.

Andrew was just stepping out of the ocean, water streaming down his chest, board shorts clinging to his frame. He ran a hand over his wet curls, the sun catching the droplets on his skin. You didn’t feel anything for the Cody brothers—not like that—but you’d be lying if you said they weren’t attractive. Fit, sun-kissed, and so effortlessly at ease in their own skin.

Still, it was Andrew you couldn’t stop staring at. He wasn’t bulky, just solid—broad shoulders, defined lines, that quiet strength he carried without needing to show it off. He moved with a calm confidence, grabbing a towel and walking past you like you weren’t even there.

“You just gonna stand and stare all day?” he asked as he dropped into the chair beside the cooler, voice even, eyes fixed on the horizon—never once looking your way.

You blinked, caught, heat rising to your face. “I—I wasn’t… staring.”

“You seem pretty fixated,” he said, casually toweling off his hair, still not looking at you.

It unnerved you—the way he could read you so easily without even meeting your eyes. Like he knew exactly what you were thinking… and didn’t care.

“I wasn’t staring. Or fixated,” you muttered.

He raised his beer to his lips. “Sure.”

Just that. No teasing, no smugness. Just calm, flat certainty. And somehow, that made it worse.

Flustered, you dropped your things beside him and sank into the sand, brushing your hair back as a gust of wind came off the water. He still hadn’t looked at you.

You sat there beside him, the heat lingering on your face as you leaned over and grabbed the sunscreen sitting on top of Deran’s towel, squeezing some into your palm before rubbing it onto your face and legs.

You shifted, unsure. You didn’t know how to act around him—not after the last time you talked to him after their party a couple weeks ago, when he’d looked at you with that same unreadable face and told you you didn’t belong.

Andrew didn’t say anything else. Just drank his beer and let the silence settle.

It wasn’t uncomfortable for him—you could tell. He sat still, steady. He lived in quiet the way most people lived in noise.

“You’re not getting in?” he asked, breaking the silence.

“Later,” you said simply. “Deran and Craig are gonna teach me how to surf.”

He gave a slow nod, like he wasn’t surprised, then took another sip of his beer.

“Skipping school for surf lessons, huh? That’s one way to learn,” he said quietly, a hint of dry humor in his voice.

You shrugged, trying to play it cool. “Sometimes you gotta trade books for waves. ”

“That sounds like something Deran would say. Well, don’t let the waves wash away what little sense you’ve got left.”

“Yeah,” you answer, trying not to let his tone get under your skin.

“So you just do whatever Deran tells you now?”

“No…” you say slowly. “Deran didn’t make me ditch. He just… convinced me.”

Andrew scoffs under his breath, shaking his head like that’s somehow worse. “Yeah. That sounds about right.”

You glance at him, feeling the weight of his judgment. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He looks over at you, “I expected Deran to ditch…” Andrew says, voice low and a little rough around the edges. “You’re the last person I thought would skip school.”

You shrug, trying to play it off, even though your skin feels warmer under his stare. “Well, here I am.”

“Yeah…” he says, gaze lingering. “Here you are.”.

You could tell he had a problem with you being here. He didn’t say it outright, but it was clear—in the tone of his voice, in the way he carried himself. The vibe he gave off said it all.

“Look, I think we… got off on the wrong foot…at the party” you say, referencing the party from later weeks ago.

Andrew doesn’t even blink. “We didn’t get off on any foot. ”

“Really?” you say, the word sharper than you mean it to be. “Because we had been talking. You didn’t seem to have a problem with me then. And then suddenly you say I don't belong?”

Andrew’s expression doesn’t shift much, but his jaw tightens. That flicker of something crosses his face—guilt, maybe, or regret—but he doesn’t own up to it.

“You don’t,” he says, too flat, too fast.

The words land harder than you expect. You blink, once, trying to keep your face neutral.

“Wow. Okay. And you still don’t care to explain why?”

You cross your arms, not to look defiant, but because it’s the only thing keeping your hands from shaking.

He looks away again, like that’ll make it easier. “It’s not personal.”

You laugh, dry. “Could’ve fooled me.”

You shake your head, eyes narrowing. “You know, for someone who says they only talk ‘when it’s worth saying… when it matters,’funny how most of what you say just makes you sound like a complete asshole.”

He exhales, barely audible. “This isn’t about me being an asshole.”

“No?” you snap. “Because from where I’m standing, it feels a hell of a lot like it is.”

His eyes narrow slightly, but not in anger—more like restraint. “You don’t belong here. That’s not me being an asshole, that’s just the truth.”

“Right,” you say, your voice flat now. “Thanks for the reality check, Andrew. I appreciate it.”

“Whoa, what’s going on over here?” Baz’s voice cuts in as he saunters over, clearly amused. “having a little holy quarrel?” He grins, eyes flicking between you and Andrew.

You scoff “I get why you guys call him Pope now” you direct it to Baz as you stare at Andrew “—because all he does is sit back, observing everyone like he’s some higher power, judging them like he’s got us all figured out. Knows it all, full of wisdom, right? Oh, wise one.”

Andrew snaps back, quick and sharp. “You done?”

You clap your hands together. “In Jesus’ name I pray,” you say sweetly, your expression innocent for a half-second—then it shifts, hard. “A-fucking-men,” you spit, seething.

You push off the sand and head toward the water, leaving Andrew and Baz behind.

Andrew exhales a long, deep sigh.

Baz bursts out laughing. “What was that?”

He drops into the chair beside Andrew, still grinning, skin sun-warmed and hair tousled from the ocean. A few drops of water flick off his shoulder as he leans back, relaxed in that effortless way Baz always is.

Andrew doesn’t look at him. His eyes stay fixed on you as you enter the water, laughing with Deran as he comes back in from the surf. The sound of your laughter carries just enough to reach them.

“You ever seen him like that?” Baz asks quietly, nodding toward Deran.

Baz huffs a quiet laugh, almost fond. “He looks like a goddamn golden retriever.”

Their younger brother acted like a normal teenage kid when he was around you. Carefree, easygoing, laughing at dumb jokes or complaining about school like it actually mattered. Something he—Baz, even Craig—never really got to be. They’d had to grow up fast, too fast.

So did Deran, in his own way. But at least he got to experience some sense of normalcy. Maybe not much, and maybe not for long, but enough to remember what it feels like.

“She shouldn’t be here. She’s not supposed to be part of this,” Andrew mutters. “Not the beach. Not us. Not any of it.”

Deran lifts you into the air and spins you before dropping you into the waves. You pop up sputtering, laughing, and swat at him.

“Yeah?” Baz says, as he glances at Andrew’s expression. “It’s the beach, Pope. You trying to ban her from public sand now?”

Andrew doesn’t answer, and Baz lets out a soft breath, almost amused. He looks back toward the water. “Looks like it’s a little late for that.”

They watched you throw your arms up in mock defeat as Deran splashed you. You laugh, bright and unbothered, the kind of sound that didn’t belong anywhere near blood or secrets or guns tucked under beds.

“You know what I mean.”

“Relax. They’re just having fun. It’s not like Deran dragged her out on a job.”

Andrew’s jaw tightens. “That’s not the point.”

Baz raises a brow, still watching him. “You’re really wound up about this, huh?”

Baz shrugs. “She’s not around anything,” he says, voice even. “As long as Deran keeps her out of the real shit, she’ll be fine.”

Baz and Andrew continue to watch you and Deran in the water—Deran flicks water at you again, and you shriek, chasing after him now.

Andrew exhales slowly but says nothing, taking a sip of his beer.

Baz looks at him, eyes narrowing slightly. “Look, I don’t know what your motive is here. But you don’t owe her anything. She’s not your problem.”

Andrew’s eyes cut toward Baz, his jaw tight. “I’m aware she’s not my responsibility.”

Baz is unconvinced. “You say that, but you’re acting like she is.”

Andrew doesn’t respond, his gaze already drifting back toward the shoreline.

Baz, trying to ease the tension says “It’s a beach day, man. She’s not walking into anything but sand.”

—

Eventually, Craig came in from the surf, shaking water from his hair as he joined you and Deran.

“Ready for your lesson?”

Deran and Craig walked you back to shore, dropping their boards on the sand. They knelt beside you, demonstrating how to paddle out, find your balance, and pop up on the board. The waves crashed gently nearby, a steady rhythm in the background, and the sun warmed your skin as you listened closely, soaking in every word.

Deran leads the way, taking you out into the water while Craig stays on shore. You borrow Craig’s board, the smooth surface slippery under your hands. With Deran’s steady guidance, you paddle toward the waves, your heart racing with every push.

You catch a wave and manage to pop up—but your balance wobbles, and you fall back into the water. Deran grins, teasing but encouraging.

He then shows off a bit, cutting through the surf with ease, pulling off tricks that make you smile. His confidence pushes you to try again, determination growing with every attempt.

The sun is beginning to set, painting the sky with streaks of orange and pink. The two of you sit side by side on your boards, quiet except for the gentle lapping of the waves and the distant call of gulls overhead. The ocean stretches endlessly before you, glowing gold under the fading light.

You glance toward the beach. From out here, the shore looked far, but you could still make out Baz’s loud gestures as he talked with Craig, and Andrew—still, quiet, arms crossed—watching the water.

Watching you, maybe.

You weren’t sure.

The ocean rolled gently beneath your board, sun glinting off the surface.

“I don’t think your brothers like me all that much”

He doesn’t answer right away.

You glance over, and Deran’s still staring at the horizon, watching for a wave you could ride.

“They just don’t know you,” he says finally, voice low. “Not yet. They’ll come around”

You give a small, dry laugh. “Pretty sure they don’t want to. I mean Craig's fine, Baz tolerates me…But Andrew…he’s…”

He shakes his head, looking out toward the horizon again. “Complicated. Always has been.”

“That’s one word for it.”

“He doesn’t hate you, you know.”

You scoff “I beg to differ”

Deran wanted to tell you—wanted to explain what he saw that night at the party when he came back with your drink. The way you sat there, unflinching under Andrew’s stare, not afraid, not intimidated like most people were. How Andrew, for once, didn’t shut down or walk off. He stayed. He talked.

Andrew didn’t talk to people. He barely tolerated most of them. But he watched you. Listened when you spoke.

Deran saw it. And it stuck with him.

But now, with the two of you drifting in the water, the sun low and the world quiet, he doesn’t say any of that. Instead, a grin spreads across his face, that familiar spark lighting up his eyes as he spots something behind you.

“Alright, this is it! This is the one!” he says, pointing toward the rising swell.

You glance back. Your heart starts to pound, adrenaline rushing just in time to see the wave forming, growing taller as it rolls toward you.

“Paddle, paddle, paddle!” he shouts, and you both take off, cutting through the water side by side.

You dig your hands into the cool water, pushing forward with everything you’ve got. The wave lifts you, and you pop up, shaky but steady, balancing as the water rushes beneath your board. The salty spray hits your face. For a moment, it feels like you’re flying.

You hear Deran cheer behind you.

Then, suddenly, a voice cuts through the roar of the ocean: “Watch it!” The guy drops in right in front of you, and you gasp, startled. It all happens so fast—the board shifts beneath you, your balance lost.

You fall off, plunging into the cold water. Fear spikes in your chest as you surface, heart racing from the shock.

Deran calls out after you as he paddles toward you, worry clear in his voice. “Shit, are you okay? Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine!” you say, treading water and grabbing hold of the leash to pull your board closer. “That guy came out of nowhere!”

“He fucking dropped in on you, almost clipped you,” Deran snaps, anger flashing across his face.

He’s angry, really angry. There’s something fierce in his eyes, protective. His knuckles are white around the edge of his board as he steadies it near yours.

He’s got that look in his eyes—the one that says he’s about to do something reckless.

“Deran—” you start, voice uncertain.

But before you can get another word out, he turns and starts paddling hard toward shore.

You curse under your breath and paddle after him, heart racing again for a different reason now. You knew exactly what was coming. Deran was going to find that guy, and it wasn’t going to be pretty.

—

You and Deran drifted further down the beach during the last few sets, far from where the others were, and too far for them to notice what was about to happen.

Deran made it to shore, board tucked under his arm, his pace quick and determined as he stalked after the guy who was several feet ahead, heading toward the showers.

With what energy you had left, your board in arm, you pushed through the soft sand to catch up, your breath coming fast. The tension in the air was thick, and you could see the way Deran’s shoulders were squared, his jaw tight, his whole body humming with anger.

“Deran,” you called, just loud enough for him to hear, “let’s go back to your brothers.”

He didn’t slow down.

“I’m okay, Deran!”

“But that wasn’t okay!” he snapped, stopping suddenly and whipping around to face you. His eyes were blazing, chest rising and falling with every breath.

You caught up to him, stepping in front of him, your board still clutched tightly in your hand. “I’m fine! I wasn’t hurt! It’s not worth it! Don’t start anything, please!”

He stared at you for a second, jaw clenched, like he was holding something back—like he wanted to listen to you, but couldn’t let it go.

Then he turned without a word, storming off again toward the showers.

“No, I’m gonna fucking say something!” he snapped over his shoulder. “He shouldn’t have dropped in and cut you off like that! That was your wave! You could’ve gotten seriously hurt!”

His voice carried down the beach, sharp and heated, drawing the attention of a few people nearby. You hurried after him

“Deran don’t!” You protested.

The two of you made it to the showers. Deran propped his board along the public's restroom building, you did the same

“Dude, what the fuck?!” Deran shouts as he barrels up to the guy rinsing off at the showers.

The guy turns, startled, water still running down his back. “What’s your problem, man?”

“You’re my fucking problem,” Deran snaps, getting in his face. “You don’t snake someone like that—she had the wave. You nearly ran her over!”

“It’s a crowded break. Shit happens.”

“Watch we’re you’re fucking going dipshit!”

“Deran, let’s go!” You’re pulling Deran back when the guy mutters under his breath, just loud enough to be heard over the showers,

“Maybe she shouldn’t be out there if she doesn’t know what she’s doing.”

Deran freezes.

You feel it before he even moves—his whole body goes rigid, like a switch flipped.

“The fuck did you just say?” he growls, spinning back around.

The guy shrugs, a smug grin spreading across his face. “It’s not my fault she wiped out. If she can’t hold her line, maybe she shouldn’t be out here.”

That’s all it takes.

“Deran!”

They clash instantly—shoving, fists flying, raw fury spilling over. The scuffle spills from the showers toward the nearby parking lot. Dirt dust and some sand kick up beneath their feet, the sound of grunts and punches echoing off the pavement.

You move without thinking, rushing after them.

“Hey—!” you shout, trying to wedge yourself between them, hand outstretched.

But in the chaos, a wild backhand meant for Deran catches you across the face and you hit the asphalt.

“Shit!” Deran barked, breaking from the scuffle.

You barely registered the way your hands and knees were scraped raw from the ground, your vision blurred.

The guy stumbles back, hand half-raised like he can take it back. “Shit—I didn’t mean to—she got in the way—”

You blink through the sting as you sit up.

Deran drops to his knees beside you, hands gripping your shoulders, frantic and wide-eyed.

“Hey—hey, look at me,” he says quickly, voice tight. Then his expression shifts when he sees the blood at your temple. “Fuck—your head. Hold on.”

The guy stammers something under his breath and backs away fast, grabbing his board in a rush before turning and sprinting off.

“Hey—!” Deran half-rises, fury flashing through him, but he stops himself. He can’t leave you.

“Fuck!” he hisses, torn, but kneels back beside you, one hand hovering near your face like he’s afraid to touch you wrong.

Gently but urgently, Deran helped you to your feet, one arm steadying. He didn’t say anything else, just guided you back toward the beach where his brothers were, his steps quick, protective. The surfboards were forgotten, abandoned and left without a second thought.

Craig was the first to spot the two of you coming down towards them on the beach. Standing up from the spot in the sand.

“What the—?” he said, rising to his feet fast, his eyes locking on your face. “What the hell happened?”

Deran’s jaw was tight, his voice low but barely controlled. “She got hit,” he muttered. “Some prick surfer dropped in on her. When I confronted him, we swung—and she tried to get in the middle.”

All three brothers stood now, the shift in energy sharp and immediate—like a storm rolling in.

Baz shook his head, voice heavy with disbelief. “You started a fight with her there? What the hell were you thinking, Deran?”

“I was just—” Deran began, but you cut in quickly.

You take a breath, steadying yourself.

“Yeah, the guy hit me—accidentally. I got in the middle trying to stop it. So, it’s on me.”

You glance at Deran, then back to his brothers, trying to calm the growing tension.

“Deran was trying to protect me, even if he went about it the wrong way”

You shifted beside Deran, the air still thick. You’d tried to stop him. You knew he was acting out of instinct, maybe even out of fear, but that didn’t excuse it. You hadn’t needed saving. You were fine before all this.

Andrew stood still, jaw clenched, eyes dark and cold. He looked past you, like the anger was burning beneath the surface. “Well where’s the guy now?”

“Gone,” Deran snapped. “Ran off like a coward soon as he realized what he did.”

Craig and Baz exchanged a heavy sigh before groaning in frustration, the sound thick with exasperation and disbelief. Baz ran a hand through his tousled hair, while Craig’s arms crossed tightly over his chest, his jaw tight in silent irritation. Andrew’s fists clenched at his sides.

“What does he look like?” Andrew asked.

Deran described the guy who’d dropped in on you in the surf—his build and characteristics.

Andrew didn’t respond. He just stared at you for a long moment, eyes unreadable, jaw clenched tight.

At this moment you left like an inconvenience to all of them.

Baz shifted in the sand, glancing at Andrew with a knowing look. He could see it coming—what Andrew was about to do.

“I take her to the truck,” Baz said suddenly, cutting through the tension. He was already moving toward you, his voice more serious than usual. “Grab our shit and let's bounce.”

Craig and Deran nodded wordlessly and moved to gather the towels, cooler, and scattered gear.

Baz didn’t wait. He placed a hand gently on your back, steering you up the sand. “Come on, angel,” he murmured. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

—

You sat on the tailgate of Baz’s truck, the cool metal pressing against your skin. He stood in front of you, his eyes focused and steady as he cleaned the cut on your temple, gently wiping the scrapes on your hands and knees with water from a bottle and the edge of his shirt.

“Well, good news—you don’t need stitches,” Baz said, glancing up at you. “It’s minor. Just bled a lot.”

“Do you feel dizzy or anything?”

“No, it just hurts”

You stayed quiet, your mind still reeling.

“You okay?” he asked.

Baz looked at you for a long moment, then wiped the last bit of blood from your skin. He tossed the bloodied shirt into the truck bed behind you.

“I told Deran I was fine,” you murmured. “Told him not to start anything.”

“Yeah, well… you know Deran. Fine doesn’t mean shit to him when he thinks someone messed with someone he cares about.”

He ripped open the bandage and gently pressed it to your temple, then stepped back, tossing the wrapper into the truck bed.

A few minutes later, Craig and Deran came walking up from the beach, arms full—towels, boards and the cooler.

“Where’s Pope?” Craig asked

Deran dropping the gear beside the truck. Craig set the cooler down beside the tailgate with a heavy thud.

Baz nodded behind them.

And then you saw him: Andrew. Walking quickly down the road toward the group, his pace steady like nothing out of the ordinary was happening.

“Where the hell did you—” Craig started, but stopped when his eyes landed on Andrew’s hands.

You felt your breath hitch, your eyes widening in shock. “Oh my god…” you muttered.

His knuckles were split and raw, streaks of red smeared across his skin, quickly becoming aware of what he had done.

He headed straight for the cooler beside you. He popped it open, grabbed a bottle of water, twisted the cap off, and poured it over his hands. The blood washed away in thin pink trails, disappearing into the dirt.

None of the brothers said anything.

They started moving again, business as usual—Craig and Deran went to strap the boards back onto the Jeep, Baz shook out the towels, acting like Andrew’s bloodied hands weren’t still dripping into the dirt.

But you stayed where you were, perched on the tailgate, watching him.

The water bottle hung loosely in his hand now, his other flexing and curling like the ache hadn't fully set in yet. His face was angry but something about the way he kept his head down, shoulders taut, made your skin prickle.

And something in your chest tightened.

He hadn’t said a word. Not to you. Not to anyone.

But you knew.

You didn’t know how you knew—but you were certain: the guy who dropped in on you out in the surf? Andrew found him. Andrew finished what Deran had started.

After a long moment, he looked up, his eyes locking with yours. His expression was angry—but you knew it wasn’t aimed at you.

“You okay?” he asked.

You hesitated, the answer caught somewhere between your chest and your throat.

“I… yeah,” you said quietly.

“Andrew…” you began, your eyebrows drawn together as you searched his eyes, your voice unsteady—unsure of what you were even trying to say. Grateful? Scared? Both?

He looked up after a long moment, eyes finding yours.

Andrew was angry.

It wasn’t because Deran started the fight with the surfer—or even because he did it for you. He understood that and probably would’ve done the same.

What bothered him was where it happened—in front of you.

He felt guilty, too. He’d warned Deran not to bring you around, but Deran hadn’t listened. He’d let his temper loose right there, reckless and stupid.

Still, Deran’s violence wasn’t the worst.

Deran had thrown punches, but Andrew? Andrew snapped.

When Deran brought you to the beach—hair wet, scraped hands and knees, bleeding forehead—there was no thinking. Andrew hadn’t seen the fight;only hearing what you and Deran said. But that was enough. That guy hurt you. That was all Andrew needed to know. No logic—just sharp, searing rage. He saw red. The kind of red that drowns out reason, leaves bruises on someone’s face, and blood on his knuckles.

Andrew had gone off and beaten the shit out of that surfer—and now you were seeing the aftermath. His knuckles were raw and reddened, the skin split open in places where it had met something—or someone—hard.

But he looked away, breaking eye contact, jaw tight like he couldn’t stand to see whatever was written on your face.

“Hey, you okay?” Deran asked, jogging up beside the truck, worry etched across his face.

“Yeah, Baz patched me up,” you said quickly, voice a little breathless, trying to keep the tremor out. You forced a small smile, but it didn’t quite reach your eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Deran said quietly

You swallowed hard, meeting his gaze for a split second before looking away. “Don’t do that again, please. I didn’t like that at all.”

Before Deran could answer, Andrew spoke up “Deran, I need to talk to you.”

Deran looked between the two of you, frowning, then nodded. “We’re just about done packing up. How about you head to the Jeep? I’ll be there in a minute, okay?”

“O-okay.” You slid off the tailgate, your legs a little shaky as you walked across the lot to Craig’s Jeep, the weight of everything pressing down on your shoulders.

Behind you, you could feel the tension shift the second you were out of earshot.

“I handled it.”

“Clearly,” Deran muttered, eyes flicking to the blood on Andrew’s knuckles.

Andrew’s voice sliced through the air—quiet, but razor-sharp.

“Next time you’re gonna confront and fight someone, do it when she’s not around. Don’t do shit like that again—understand me?”

Deran shifted his weight but didn’t back down. His eyes met Andrew’s evenly. “Yeah.”

Andrew didn’t soften. “I don’t want her around.”

Deran’s voice sharpened, “I’m not cutting her out just because you say so.”

“Did you not listen to me the first time? At the party?” Andrew’s tone went colder, more pointed. “She won’t last around us. I don’t want her around.”

“She’s my friend”

Andrew’s jaw flexed like steel, his eyes narrowing. “You really think it’s okay to drag your friend into this shit?”

Deran’s nostrils flared, frustration bubbling under his calm facade. “She’s not in anything,” he shot back, voice rising slightly. “You act like I brought her in on some job.”

Andrew took a step closer “You think it starts with that? It’s already started — the party, ditching school, the fight. This is how it happens. Piece by piece. One day, she’s too deep, and there’s no crawling back.”

Deran knew Andrew was right.

They only had a few months of high school left. You’d be going to college soon, off to some different world he couldn’t follow. Deran wanted you close—needed you close. He wanted to soak up every bit of your goodness before distance tore you two apart. It was selfish, he knew that. Even if it meant putting you at risk by keeping you around.

But you made things feel lighter. Easier. Like maybe the weight of their world didn’t have to crush everything.

College would take you away, and with you would go all the small moments that made life bearable.

“She’s not going anywhere,” Deran said stubbornly, like just saying it out loud could make it true.

Andrew didn’t argue this time. Just gave him a look—one that said you will learn.

Because his little brother wasn’t going to listen.

He was going to have to learn the hard way.

“You know what—fine,” Andrew snapped, jaw tight. “Keep her around. But when shit catches up to us—and it will—she’ll be the one standing in the crossfire.”

His eyes were sharp, voice low and cold.

“You keep pulling her into this life, that blood’s on you. Don’t come asking us for help.”

Deran didn’t say anything at first. Just stared back, jaw clenched, breathing hard through his nose.

“Deran, let’s go!” Craig called from the Jeep, his voice cutting through the tension.

Deran looked at Andrew one last time. Then, without another word, he turned and headed for the Jeep.

You had watched them through the rear windshield. They had been arguing—low voices at first, then sharper, more tense, like a storm building just beneath the surface. You couldn’t hear the words, but you didn’t need to. The way Andrew stood, rigid, and the way Deran’s hands kept flexing at his sides told you everything.

Deran climbed into the passenger seat without a word, slamming the door harder than necessary. Craig gave him a look but didn’t say anything, just threw the Jeep into gear and pulled away from the curb.

You stayed quiet in the back, heart still beating too fast.

You were still trying to wrap your head around why Andrew had gone after the surfer. It wasn’t even his fight to begin with. Was it just because you were his little brother’s friend—an extension of Deran?

He didn’t even like you or want you around, so why did he do it?

Maybe it didn’t mean anything. Maybe it was just instinct. Protection by proximity.

You glanced out the window as the beach faded behind you, sunlight slanting low across the water.

You didn’t understand Andrew. Not really. You were still trying to figure him out—where you stood with him, what he was thinking behind those unreadable looks and clipped words.

But one thing was clear: he wasn’t indifferent.

And that was enough to keep you wondering.

LYA Tag: @obfuscateyummy @princesssunderworld @jumpingjackalope @ahopelessromanticwritersworld @alexandrathegreat3 @cozyfanficnook @livingavilaloca @oldmanbunnylover @trustme3-13 @qardasngan @im-nowhere-but-also-somewhere

Love You Anyway | Then (1) (2)

#love you anyway #andrew pope cody #andrew cody #pope cody #andrew pope cody x reader #andrew cody x reader #pope cody x reader #animal fanfiction #animal kingdom fanfic #animal kingdom #shawn hatosy

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glasvera · 5 months ago

Note

Rivals Bruce Banner with fem reader he’s a total dork in love with her and it’s just fluff of the two being lovey dovey 🥰

Oh, this was a treat to write!

Oxytocin and Dopamine

Bruce Banner x Fem!Reader

Description: Bruce works too hard, even if the world needs his expert mind, and you're always ready to help him relax when he needs it.

Warnings/Disclaimers: Nothing but lovey-dovey fluff!

A/N: I like to think that I am moderately smart, but then I have to go and write someone who's smarter than me, and I feel like a fumbling toddler. Still, I hope I captured that adorkable charm.

Word Count: 1.3k

“Bruce…?”

Your voice enters before you do as you step into the lab he’d been working in. Better to announce your presence than accidentally startle him if he’s working with something delicate. Or, worse yet, to cause him any undue stress that might unleash Hulk. Hulk shared in Bruce’s affections of you, of course, but you knew firsthand just how clumsy he could be.

Though, it would seem you don’t need to worry about either of those outcomes, as you are instead greeted by the sound of soft snoring. A tender smile draws upon your lips. He’s passed out on his keyboard with his cheek typing a long string of letters into a document that should have only been a few pages yet was now quickly approaching twenty. His glasses are smashed against the side of his face, and the curve that should go over the bridge of his nose is instead poking against his eyebrow.

Setting the coffee you’d brought him down gently onto a desk away from any electronics, you wheel a stool over to sit next to him. Your fingers brush soothingly through his dark brown hair as you try to ease him awake.

“Honey,” you coo, tilting your head and leaning towards him as you caress his cheek. “Sweetheart, you fell asleep again.” Your words are accompanied by an airy titter. His face twitches under your touch, nose scrunching and lip pulling back into an involuntary sneer. One last snort catches in his throat as his eyes slowly blink open.

“Mm… what…? Oh,” he murmurs sleepily, adopting a dopey smile when he looks at you. “Hey there, beautiful.”

You giggle softly as your fingertips continue delicately tracing the lines of his face. “You’ve been typing the letter ‘s’ into this document for several minutes now, you know.”

He sits upright with a start, shaking his head before fixing his glasses to sit properly on his face again. “Oh, this? Um… yeah! This is just my translation for our reptilian allies, see? Sssssssss…” He hisses playfully. You giggle and rest your head on his shoulder, amused by his antics.

“Ah, how could I have overlooked that! Oh, but you might want to edit this part,” you tease, pointing to a spot where he had typed a “d” instead of an “s”. “I think this might be a curse word in their tongue.”

“Good eye, my love. This is why you’re my favorite assistant,” he praises, chortling and placing a kiss to the top of your head before he gets to removing the “translation” his sleeping self had worked so hard on typing out.

You snuggle against him, careful to leave him enough room so as not to hinder his typing. “So, what’s been keeping you up so late? The bed is lonely without you,” you bemoan. As if to answer your question before he speaks, you notice multiple diagrams of machine components, all meticulously labeled with accompanying descriptions as to each part’s functions.

“Artificial sunlight,” he mutters before letting out a long, drawn out yawn. His cheek rests against your head. “If Dracula wants to create a pocket of eternal night, we need a way to combat the vampires in the meantime while the others figure out a way to reverse the process entirely. I’ve examined the effects of different wavelengths of light, approaching it like one might design a grow light for plants, but it still needs something else…”

“Would caffeine help?” you suggest before wrapping your arms securely around his waist. “I brought you some coffee.” You nod your head towards the cup that you’d gotten for him.

“You really are too good to me,” he responds fondly, turning away from the monitor to face you properly as he returns your embrace. “But, loathe as I am to admit it, I may simply need a break to clear my head.”

You perk up at that, resting your chin up on his shoulder to look up at him. “I may have a few ideas…” you muse with a cheeky grin, drawing a circle around one of his shirt buttons with the pad of your index finger.

He smirks as he looks down at you, brushing the back of his hand along your cheek. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” he hums before cocking his head to the side.

“I think I am,” you purr, your smile only growing wider.

-----

Twenty minutes, four blankets, one set of string lights, and at least a dozen pillows later, a glorious fort has been constructed in the corner of the lab. Coffee had been set aside in favor of hot chocolate, and professional attire was forgotten and replaced by the comfiest pajamas the two of you had on hand here.

Your knees curl up towards your chest as you cradle your hot cocoa in your hands. Bruce situated himself behind you with your back leaning against him, his arms wrapped around your waist and his legs spread on either side of you. Your cheek and the side of your neck are being constantly littered with fluttering kisses, and you can feel his smile with every press of his lips. A contented hum vibrates in your chest.

“I thought this was supposed to be relaxing for you,” you chide playfully before meeting his lips in a chaste kiss.

“Pampering you with affection is relaxing for me,” he argues, squeezing your waist a bit tighter. “I think more clearly after a proper snuggle.” He smiles into the crook of your neck before adding, “Plus, the oxytocin released really is good for the mind. And, when I’ve suffered failure after failure with different prototypes, these bursts of dopamine help me get back to it in no time.”

“You had me at the first explanation,” you titter, taking a sip of your hot cocoa.

“Oh, don’t lie; you like it when I ramble on with scientific explanations,” he teases, and you can feel his laugh rumbling in his chest through your back.

You crane your neck, pretending to ponder it for a moment with your lips screwed to one side of your face. “Hmm… I suppose I do. I also just very much enjoy the sound of your voice.”

You set your mug down, turning sideways in his hold and draping one arm over his shoulder. His hold on your waist loosens, and he brings a hand up to cup your jaw, sweeping his thumb back and forth over the soft skin. The look he gives you is terribly tender, staring down with hooded eyes the color of rich chocolate and smiling ever so gently.

“I enjoy everything about you, you know,” he breathes softly, his gaze traveling over the contours of your face, committing it to memory for the umpteenth time since he’s known you. His thumb brushes over the plush of your bottom lip, and you lean into his touch.

“Didn’t realize it was a competition,” you tease, your breath whispering against the pad of his thumb.

He chuckles. “Never. Just a proclamation. One I will make as many times as you need to hear it.”

Your heart clenches in your chest, and you flash him a brilliant smile. He always knows how to make you fall in love with him all over again. Leaning down and nuzzling into his chest, you let out a contented sigh.

“So, Dr. Banner… what does kissing do, then?” you ask while your finger toys with the collar of his soft fleece pajama shirt.

He quirks a brow at your formal usage of his name. “Kissing…? It releases oxytocin and dopamine in addition to serotonin. Chemicals that make you feel good and crave more,” he explains.

“Good to hear,” you purr. It’s all the warning you give him before wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him down into a passionate kiss.

After all, that prototype could stand to wait a few hours more.

#bruce banner x reader #hulk x reader #marvel rivals x reader #marvel rivals hulk #marvel rivals bruce banner #glasvera writes #bruce banner #hulk

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pepsi-lily · 7 months ago

Text

Still trying to figure out how to draw this emo dork-upine.

Please don't repost my art.

#shadow the hedgehog #sonic the hedgehog #sonic movie 3 #sonic cinematic universe #scu #sonic fandom #artists on tumblr #traditional art

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lee-laurent · 7 months ago

Text

Swept Under the Rug - Jack Hughes

Summary: Jack's never been known for his... stable relationships, but Luke's bsf might just change that. The issue: Luke would rather die than see her date his brother

content: angst, mentions of being unfaithful, fwb, fluff!, kissing, mentions of smut but no explicit smut

wc: 4.9k

notes: hey! this was the second-most requested from my list of upcoming fics! if somethings don't line up, i'm sorry! i didn't proofread it :/ enjoy!!

Elizabeth Winters, known to most as Liz but forever "Lizzy" to Luke Hughes, considered the Hughes house her second home. Over the years, she'd spent countless days sprawled on their basement couch, eating snacks with Luke while they watched the latest Leafs game on the TV or sharing inside jokes that made no sense to anyone but them.

Luke was her best friend in every way that mattered: loyal, protective, and so steadfastly in her corner that it felt like he was her own personal guard dog. It wasn't uncommon for him to roll his eyes at her latest "crush of the week" or grumble about some guy who'd wasted her time. "You need better taste in men, Lizzy," he'd say with all the authority of someone who acted like he had it figured out.

It was that protectiveness that made the summer before Luke's second NHL season both exciting and a little bittersweet. With the pressures of professional hockey looming large, she knew their carefree, everyday hangouts would start to dwindle. Luke insisted they wouldn't, but Liz had been around long enough to know how life could pull people apart.

Still, the Hughes house held its usual chaotic energy, and Liz felt like she was where she belonged. Quinn was more of a quiet presence when he was around, often keeping to himself. Jack, on the other hand, was a completely different story.

He was impossible to ignore. He carried himself with an effortless charm that seemed to draw people in like moths to a flame. Jack was cocky but not in an unkind way--he knew he was good at hockey, good-looking, and awfully good at making people laugh. His reputation with girls, however, left something to be desired. Liz had heard enough stories from Luke to know that Jack was what one might generously call "a player."

"Jack thinks commitment is a four-letter word," Luke had joked once, earning a laugh from Liz.

She'd always been skeptical of Jack's allure, even if she had to admit he had the kind of grin that could probably get him out of trouble nine times out of ten. For her, he was Luke's annoying older brother, nothing more. Sure, he had that floppy hair that made him look like a dork when he tucked it behind his ears, and yeah, his laugh was infectious, but Liz wasn't about to fall into that trap. She knew better.

It was one of those lazy afternoons in early July when Liz found herself once again in the Hughes' kitchen, rifling through the fridge for a drink.

"You know, you're here more than I am," Jack teased from his stool at the island.

Liz rolled her eyes, popping the cap off a bottle of water. "Maybe that's because you're always gallivanting with whatever Instagram model happens to be in town."

Jack smirked, his blue eyes glinting with amusement. "Gallivanting? Who even uses that word?"

"People who read books," Liz shot back, feeling a small surge of satisfaction at the way he laughed.

Their banter was easy, but it meant nothing. Jack flirted with everyone, from waitresses to Luke's friends' moms. That was just who he was.

"Lizzy!" Luke's voice echoed from the living room. "You're not letting Jack corrupt you, are you?"

Liz turned to see Luke walking in, hair damp from his shower and a scowl on his face aimed squarely at his brother.

"Corrupt me? Please," she said, grabbing her water bottle and heading toward her best friend. "Your brother doesn't stand a chance."

Jack's mock-offeneded "Hey!" followed her out of the kitchen, but she barely looked back.

The rest of the day passed the way it always did when she was with Luke, easily. Luke hogged the whole sofa, their laughter punctuated by the occasional chirp from Jack, who had perched himself on the armrest at some point.

Despite her insistence that she wasn't swayed by Jack's charm, Liz couldn't help but notice the way his presence seemed to fill the room. When he cracked a joke, everyone laughed. When he smiled, it was impossible not to look.

But that was just Jack. And she wasn't about to fall for it.

Right?

Liz should've said no.

She should've declined when Jack offered to drive her home after another late night at the Hughes house. Luke had fallen asleep halfway through a Marvel movie marathon, his lanky frame sprawled across the couch while Liz had been left half-buried under a blanket. Jack, ever the night owl, had wandered in during the second movie, teasing her about her choice of snacks and stealing half her popcorn.

By the time the credits rolled, it was nearly midnight.

"I can call an Uber," Liz had said, brushing off the flutter in her heart when Jack offered to drive her.

"Or," Jack countered, "you could save twenty bucks and let me do the honours."

She hesitated, glancing at Luke, who was snoring lightly beside her. On paper, there was no good reason to refuse. Jack lived for late nights and seemed completely unbothered, even energized, by the idea of going out at this hour. It wasn't like he was some stranger--he was Luke's brother. She'd known him for years.

And yet.

"Fine," Liz relented, grabbing her bag.

The car ride started inncoently enough. Jack turned the music up, some mellow indie playlist filling the silence as the suburban streets blurred by. They talked about random things: the weirdest foods they'd ever tried, a debate about whether summer or winter was better, and the chaos of their childhoods.

Liz was laughing more than she should have, glancing over at Jack as he gestured animatedly about a prank he'd pulled on Quinn years ago.

But then... the conversation shifted.

"You don't really think I'm that bad, do you?" Jack asked suddenly, his once light tone now pointed.

Liz frowned. "What are you talking about?"

"You know," he said, flashing her a grin before looking back at the road. "The whole 'Jack's a player, avoid at all costs' thing. You and Lukey love giving me shit about it."

She shrugged, trying to play it cool. "I mean, you don't exactly have the best track record."

Jack laughed softly, shaking his head. "Fair enough. But you ever think there's more to me than that?"

She didn't know how to respond. Sure, Jack could be cocky and frustrating, but in moments like this--when it was just the two of them, the banter stripped away--he seemed... different.

"I guess I never really thought about it," Liz admitted, her voice quieter now.

"Maybe you should."

The air in the car shifted, subtle but undeniable. Liz felt her heartbeat pick up, her mind racing with questions she didn't dare voice.

They pulled into her driveway, the porch light casting a warm glow across the front of her house. Liz reached for the door handle, but Jack's voice stopped her.

"Wait."

She turned, finding him watching her with an intensity she'd never seen before.

"You're different, Liz. You know that?"

Liz blinked. "Different how?"

Jack leaned slight closer, his movements unhurried. "You're not like the other... Instagram model girls. You don't care about any of that bullshit they do. You're just... you."

It would've been easier to laugh off, to tease him for making her seem like a manic pixie dream girl. But something about the way he said it--he wasn't very good with words--made it impossible.

"Jack..." she started, but whatever she was about to say vanished the moment he leaned in.

The kiss was nothing like she expected, soft at first but quickly growing hungrier, fueled by weeks--months, years--of tension. Liz could hear her pulse in her ears, her hands gripping the fabric of his light hoodie.

It was wrong. She knew it was wrong. But it felt so, so good.

They broke apart, breathing heavily. Liz stared at him, the conflicting emotions a tornado in her head.

"What are we doing?" she whispered.

Jack smirked, though there was a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. "Living a little?"

Living a little. That was all this was to him.

"I can't," she shook her head. "Luke--he'd kill us both."

Jack sighed, leaning back in his seat. "Luke doesn't have to know everything you do, Liz."

Jack's world was one of easy charm and fewer consequences, but this wasn't just about him.

"I can't betray him like that," Liz said, her voice firmer now.

Jack tilited his head, studying her. "And what about you? What do you want, Liz?"

The question lingered, but remained unanswered as she hopped out of the car, whispering a quiet "thank you."

She barely slept that night. Her mind replaying their make out session--if you could call it that--over and over. The feeling of Jack's lips on hers, the look in his eyes.

She hated how much she wanted to kiss him again.

But the thought of Luke--the way he trusted her, the way he'd drop everything to be there for her--was a constant, gnawing idea in her mind.

Jack didn't seem like the kind of guy who thought too hard about the consequences of his actions. And she wasn't sure she could trust him to take this seriously, not when the stakes were so high.

The next time she saw Jack, he acted like nothing had happened.

"Morning, Liz," he said breezily, winking at her as he grabbed a cup of coffee from the kitchen.

"M--Morning."

Luke walked in seconds later, completely oblivious to the undercurrent of tension between his brother and his best friend. "Lizzy, you ready for some one-on-one later? I've been working on my wrist shot, and I'm gonna fucking smoke you this time."

"Dream on," she shot back, thankful for the distraction.

But as the day went on, she couldn't shake the feeling of Jack's eyes on her, the ghost of his lips on hers still fresh in her mind.

She was in shit. Deep, deep shit.

The kiss hadn't been intended to turn into anything more.

In the days that followed, she tried to convince herself it had been a fluke, a moment of weakness they could both pretend never happened. But Jack seemed to want to make that impossible.

It started small: a lingering loko when Luke wasn't paying attention, a teasing brush of his hand against hers as he walked by, or an offhand comment laced with double meaning that made her pulse quicken. Jack was the kind of person who thrived on the thrill of the chase, and Liz had unwittingly become his favourite game.

What terrified her most was how much she liked it.

It wasn't long before she found herself sneaking off with Jack during her visits to the Hughes house.

"Luke's in the basement," Jack whispered one evening, appearing from the doorway of the guest room when Liz had been scrolling through her phone.

"And?"

"And I'm here," Jack's grin was all confidence, but his eyes held something deeper--something that kept Liz from brushing him off.

"That's a bad idea," she said, even as she let him close the door behind him.

"Probably. But you're not telling me to leave."

He knew exactly how to read her.

Before she could come up with a retort, he crossed the room and kissed her. It was hungry, insistent, and impossible to resist. Liz melted into him, her hands tangling in his hair as he climbed on top of her on the bed.

"Jack," she mumbled against his lips, his hands resting on her exposed midriff. "This is insane." She was desperately trying to ignore the heat coursing through her veins.

"Maybe, but it doesn't feel wrong... does it?"

She just pulled him back down by the collar of his t-shirt, pressing their lips together, ignoring the chuckle he let out at her eagerness.

The guilt came later, after she'd put her clothes back on and fixed her hair, trying to find Luke.

"Lizzy, you're distracted," Luke said, passing a ball to her.

"What? No, I'm not," she lied, stopping it before it rolled into the grass.

Luke squinted at her, resting his stick on his shoulders. "Is this about that guy you were talking to a couple weeks ago? What was his name? Kyle?"

"What? No. Kyle was--he's nothing."

"Good," he said firmly, firing a puck into the net. "You deserve better than guys like him."

She swallowed hard, ignoring that she had just had sex with a 'guy like him.'

"You're too sweet, Lu," she forced a smile.

"Someone has to be," he shot back. "Speaking of which, if a dumbass like him ever tries anything, you'll tell me, right? I'm not afraid to throw hands if I have to."

"Sure, Lukey. You'll be the first to know."

It wasn't just the stolen kisses and heated moments.

One night, Liz found herself sitting with Jack on the porch swing, the cool summer breeze making her shiver slightly. She'd come outside to clear her head and Jack had followed.

"Penny for your thoughts?" he asked, handing her his sweatshirt off his back.

Liz pulled it over her head, the scent of his cologne wrapping around her. "Just... thinking about life, I guess."

"Deep stuff," he teased.

"D'you ever feel like you're living two lives?"

"What do you mean?"

"Like, I have this life with Luke and your family, where everything's normal and comfortable. But then there's... this." She gestured vaguely between them.

"I get it. It's like when I'm on the ice versus when I'm off. On the ice, everything makes sense. Off... not so much."

"I didn't think you overthought things."

Jack laughed softly, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "I don't show it, but yeah, I do sometimes."

Maybe there was more to Jack than the cocky, carefree persona he showed to the world.

"Thanks for the sweatshirt," she said, leaning a little closer to him.

Jack wrapped an arm around her, pulling her closer. "Anytime."

Luke remained oblivious to what was happening right under his nose, though Liz could feel the pressure mounting.

During another movie night, Jack sat on the sofa a little too close to Liz, his knee brushing hers. She stiffened, eyes darting to Luke, who was preoccupied with a bag of chips.

Jack smirked, clearly enjoying how it made her squirm, and draped an arm across the back of the couch.

"Jack, stop being weird," Luke said without looking up.

Jack laughed, shifting slightly but leaving his arm where it was.

"Lizzy, you okay?" Luke asked.

"Yeah, fine. Why?" she turned to look at him.

"Just... acting differently."

"Differently?"

"I don't know," he frowned. "Distracted. Are you sure you're not seeing that Kyle guy?"

Jack's jaw ticked.

"No! Of course not. I already told you that."

"Good. He sucks."

Liz let out a shaky breath, missing the grimace on Jack's face.

As she prepared to leave that night, Jack caught her arm near the door.

"You need to stop doing that," she hissed, glancing around to make sure nobody was nearby.

"Doing what?"

"You know what. You're going to get us caught."

Jack leaned in, his voice dropping to a low whisper. "Maybe I like seeing you squirm."

Liz glared at him, but her bright red cheeks betrayed her.

"Relax," he said, brushing some hair behind her ear. "I've got it all under control."

Liz wasn't so sure.

The thrill of meeting up in secret was intoxicating, but the constant risk of discovery weighed heavily on her. Every time she stepped into the Hughes hous, her favourite place, she felt like she was one wrong move away from a disaster.

Jack seemed unfazed. The secrecy only seemed to amuse him.

"Morning, Liz," he said one Saturday as she entered the house.

Luke looked up from his breakfast. "You're here early."

She shrugged, grabbing a mug from the cabinet. "You told me to come by, remember?"

He grunted in acknowledgment, but his eyes drifted to Jack who was barely concealing a smirk.

"What're you so fucking happy about?"

"Nothing," Jack said innocently, his smirk only widenening as he chugged his milk.

Liz quickly turned her back to both of them, focusing on making her coffee the way she liked.

The first time they almost got caught, it was Jack's fault.

Liz had stayed late at the Hughes, watching a game with Luke and some of his old teammates. Jack had wandered in halfway through (as usual), throwing jabs at Luke and stealing Liz's food.

By the time the game ended, Luke and his friends had disappeared to FaceTime someone else, leaving Liz and Jack alone.

"You staying over?" he asked.

Liz gave him a pointed look. "No, I'm leaving soon. Luke's just upstairs."

He leaned in. "That's never stopped you before."

Her cheeks flushed, and she shoved him away. "You're impossible."

"And yet you still like me anyway."

Footsteps came down the stairs and Jack leaned back, his expression turning neutral with incredible speed.

"You're still here?" Luke asked Liz.

"Yeah, I, uh, I'm just leaving now," she said quickly, standing up.

Jack gave her a small wink as she left, and she had to fight the urge to glare at him.

The second close call was even worse.

Jack: You coming over? Liz: I'm literally outside, dipshit. But Luke's gonna kill you if he finds out Jack: Lukey won't notice. We'll play some music ;)

She sent a quick, flustered reply before shoving her phone in her pocket and heading inside.

An hour later, she was sitting with Luke on the basement floor when he grabbed her buzzing phone and frowned.

"What's this?" he held up the screen.

Jack's name was at the top of the text thread, the messages not visible because the phone was still locked.

"Oh... you know Jack, always being a shit stirrer," she shrugged.

Luke's face screwed up, tossing the phone back on the couch. "Such a fucking weirdo."

"Yep," she giggled.

"You two have been acting weird lately," Luke said.

"What're you talking about?"

"You and Jack," he frowned. "He's always teasing you, and you get all... jumpy. It's not like you."

Liz forced a laugh. "Jack teases everyone."

"Yeah, but it's different with you," he continued. "It's almost like--"

He stopped mid-sentence, shaking his head. "Never mind. I'm just being paranoid. Right?"

She nodded, quickly steering the conversation in a different direction.

And despite the mounting tension, Liz and Jack continued to grow closer in ways she hadn't expected.

One night, after another hasty hookup in his room, Liz lay beside him, her head resting on his chest.

"This is crazy," she said, tracing patterns on his skin.

"What? Sneaking around?"

"All of it," she propped herself up on her elbow. "This isn't just... casual for me. I don't know if I can like keep this up if we're not... serious?"

Jack reached up to brush away the hair sticking to her forehead. "Who says it's not serious?"

She searched his face for any sign that it was just a cruel joke. "I've never seen you do serious with anyone before... and I've known you for my entire life... practically."

Jack sighed, his hand settling on her bare waist. "Didn't want to. Until now."

The sincerity in his voice made her heart ache, but it didn't erase the fear.

"What about Luke?"

Jack's jaw tightened. "I'll deal with Luke when the time comes. Right now, I just want you."

But the shadow of Luke's inevitable reaction loomed over them, a reminder that their time was running out.

It was late and the rest of the house was quiet. Liz had been curled up in Jack's room for hours, tangled in his sheets, the two of them caught in that dreamy post-sex haze.

"You should go," Jack murmured, pressing a kiss to her temple. "Luke's gonna freak if you're here when he wakes up."

She groaned softly, burying her face in his chest. "You've been saying that for the past hour."

Jack grinned. "I like having you here. Sue me."

Liz rolled her eyes, sitting up reluctantly. "You're gonna get me killed."

Jack leaned back, hands folded behind his head. "Worth it."

She shook her head, pulling on her hoodie and trying to ignore Jack's hungry gaze that followed her around the room.

Quietly, she opened the door and stepped into the dim hallway, closing it behind her as softly as she could. She had made it three steps when she froze, her heart plummeting to her feet.

Luke was standing at the other end of the hall, disbelief covering his face.

"Lizzy?"

"Luke, I--"

"What the hell are you doing?" His gaze flickered from her to Jack's closed door, realization dawning with horrifying clarity.

"Are you kidding me?" his voice rose, fists clenched at his sides. "Tell me this isn't what it looks like."

She opened her mouth, but no words came out.

Jack's door opened then, and Liz watched in horror as he stepped out, his expression calm.

"Luke," he started, but Luke cut him off, his face twisting in anger.

"Don't," Luke snapped. "Don't even try explaining your way out of this."

Liz had never seen Luke like this. In all their years of friendship, she'd never seen him so... angry.

"You," he pointed at Jack, his voice trembling. "You're supposed to be my brother. And you," he turned to Liz, his expression hurt, "you're my best friend. How could you?"

"Luke, it's not like that," she tried, her voice shaking. "It's not--"

"It's not what? A hookup?" he laughed bitterly, his eyes narrowing as he glared at Jack. "That's all it ever is with you, isn't it?"

Jack stepped forward. "It's not like that, Luke."

"Don't even try to defend yourself," Luke shot back. "You think I don't know you? You've spent your whole life treating girls like they're disposable. And now you're doing it to Lizzy?"

"She's not disposable."

Luke scoffed. "You expect me to believe that? You're just gonna toss her aside like everyone else when you get bored."

"That's not fair," Liz's voice trembled.

"Fair?" Luke looked to her, his eyes blazing. "Fair is me trusting you. Fair is you not sneaking around behind my back with him."

Liz flinched, tears stinging her eyes. "I didn't want to hurt you."

"Then you shouldn't have done it."

"I... I didn't plan for this to happen," her voice broke. "It just did, okay? And I didn't know how to tell you."

Luke shook his head, running his hands through his curls. "You should've told me the second it started. I could've handled that. But this?" He gestured between the two of them. "This is betrayal, Lizzy. From both of you."

"It's not what you think," she pleaded. "Jack isn't using me. He cares about me."

Luke barked a harsh laugh. "Oh, sure. Jack Hughes, the king of meaningless hookups, suddenly decides to care. Do you even hear yourself?"

"I care about her, Luke. A lot more than you think."

"Yeah? Then prove it. Because all I see is you doing what you always do--thinking about yourself."

Jack's jaw tightened, but he didn't respond.

Liz reached out, her hands trembling as she grabbed Luke's arm. "Luke, please. You're my best friend. I never wanted to hurt you."

Luke pulled away like she'd burned him with her touch. "You didn't just hurt me, Lizzy. You broke my trust."

She turned to Jack, silently pleading for him to say something that would fix this, but Jack looked just as lost as she felt.

Luke shook his head, backing away from both of them. "I need space. From both of you."

"Luke..." But he was already walking away, his footsteps heavy on the stairs.

Liz turned to Jack again, her tears spilling over. "What do we do now?"

"We give him time."

"What... what if he never forgives us?"

"He's your best friend, and he's my brother. He'll come around. Eventually."

Liz wasn't so sure.

She spent the days following in a fog, her chest constantly tight with guilt. Luke hadn't spoken to her since the confrontation, her phone sitting silent, devoid of her normal texts from her best friend. The distance felt unbearable, a stark contrast to the years of effortless closeness they had shared.

Jack, while supportive, didn't press her. He gave her the space she wanted to process things, though he made it clear he wasn't going anywhere based off his brother's feelings.

"You know where to find me," he'd told her the last time they'd talked.

On the third day of her slump, she decided the silence had gone on long enough. She drove to the Hughes', her heartbeat matching her knocks on the door.

It was Ellen who answered, her smile faltering slightly when she saw Liz.

"Hi, sweetie," she stepped aside to let her in. "Luke's in the basement."

"Is he... okay?"

Ellen sighed. "He's upset, but he'll come around. Just give him time."

Liz nodded, breathing deeply as she made her way downstairs. Luke was on the couch, a hockey game playing on the TV. He glanced up when she walked in, his expression suddenly guarded.

"What do you want?" he asked, his voice flat.

Liz's throat tightened, but she forced herself to speak. "I want to fix this, Luke. I miss you. I miss us."

He looked away. "You should've thought about that before you started hooking up with Jack."

Her eyes stung. "It wasn't just a hookup. It's way more than that."

Luke scoffed. "That's what they all think with Jack. You're just another girl to me, Liz. You're better than that."

"No, I'm not," she said firmly. "You think you know Jack, but you don't see the side of him I do. He's not perfect, but he's trying. And he cares about me, Luke. This isn't just sex for him."

"It doesn't matter. You lied to me. You both did. How am I supposed to trust either of you after this?"

Liz tried... and failed to blink back tears. "I made a mistake by not telling you, Luke. But that doesn't mean I stopped caring about you. You're my best friend. You always will be. Please don't let my mistake ruin us."

For a long moment, he didn't respond. Then, with a heavy sigh, he turned off the TV and faced her.

"I need more time," he said quietly. "I can't forgive you that quickly, Lizzy. But I don't want to lose you either."

She nodded, her tears still falling. "Take the time you need, Lu."

Later that evening, it was Jack's turn to face Luke's rage.

"You're really something, you know that?" Luke said, his arms crossed as he stood in the kitchen, glaring at his older brother.

"Look, I know I screwed up, okay? I should've told you the truth. But this thing with Liz--it's not a game, Luke. I care about her."

Luke's laugh was bitter. "Care about her? Since when do you care about anyone but yourself?"

"That's not fair," Jack snapped. "I've made mistakes in the past, yeah. But Liz isn't one of them."

"You don't get it, Jack! She's my best friend. She's like family to me. And you--you just take whatever you want without thinking about the consequences."

Jack stepped forward, his jaw tight. "You think this was easy for me? You think I didn't know how much it would hurt you if you found out? But I couldn't stop, Luke. I--"

"I love her," he finished.

"You love her?" Luke asked, an unreadable look on his face.

"Yeah... I do."

For a moment, Luke said nothing. Then he sighed, his shoulder slumping slightly.

"If you hurt her," he said lowly. "I'll never forgive you."

"I won't. I swear."

"Luke and I talked," Jack said, letting Liz snuggle further into his side. "He's still pissed, but I think he's finally starting to come around."

Liz smiled faintly. "He said the same thing to me. I just hope he forgvies us someday."

"He will. I know Luke. You know Luke. He'll get there."

"Did you really mean it? What you told him?"

Jack frowned. "I... what did I tell him?"

Liz smirked. "Don't play dumb, pretty boy. About...lo--"

Realization dawned on his face, and he chuckled softly. "Yeah, I meant it. I love you, Liz."

Her breath hitched and he squeezed her hand. "I love you too!"

It took a while, but eventually Liz and Luke were, well.... Liz and Luke again. They'd spend their free-time together just like they always had, making fun of horrible straight to Netflix movies and playing hockey in the driveway. They were best friends again, just as they were meant to be.

And slowly but surely, Luke came around to Jack and Liz being a couple. Jack had somehow proved his worth, whether it was through the way he supported Liz when she was down or how he already had every little detail about the girl memorized--her coffee order, her favourite book, what movies she watched when she was happy, sad, and the exact words she needed to hear when she was doubting herself.

It wasn't some grand gesture that that changed Luke's mind but a series of small everyday actions that proved Jack was serious. For the first time in his life, Jack wasn't just chasing a fleeting thrill or looking for a quick escape. He had found something real, someone he didn't just want--someone he was willing to fight for.

Luke still gave them grief from time to time, teasing Jack about being whipped or Liz about how much Jack was her regular type. But deep down, he was happy for them.

Because if there was one thing Luke cared about more than anything, it was that Liz was happy. And she was--truly, deeply, happier than he'd ever seen her.

And that was all that mattered.

#nhl imagine #nhl fic #hockey imagine #hockey fic #jack hughes imagine #jack hughes

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izzybluebell · 1 year ago

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i have known these dorks for almost the better half of my life and i'm still figuring out how i like to draw them.

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orikixx · 5 months ago

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Blueprints & Heartbeats (9/?)

Part: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10

Featuring: Nanami Kento

Cw: fem reader, wc 2.8k words, not proofread

Summary: academic rivals to lovers! a mixup in the architecture group project forces you to team up with Nanami Kento, the serious and stoic student. But maybe, he isn’t as brooding as you thought?

Author's note: to the anon who motivated me to continue this.. thank you😭 I’ve been working on it for a while so I hope you guys like this💕

It’s almost 4 pm now, and Nanami is mentally beating himself up over whether he went too far, opening himself up like that to you. He’s pacing around his dorm, nervously eyeing his palette, colorful oil paints laid out in neat, deliberate swatches, a few small brushes and a glass of water waiting nearby.

You knock on his door, a little hesitant. It’s not as if you haven’t been here before, but this time, it feels… different. The air surrounding you is buzzing, barely able to contain your excitement as your foot impatiently taps against the pavement. “Wonder what’s taking him so long,” you murmur, raising your hand to knock again, yet this time, it lands on his broad chest.

“Good afternoon, y/n. Sorry for the wait.” The moment you look up at him, there’s a big smile plastered on your face, and you happily step inside. Nanami looks at you, dumbfounded, until he finally closes the door. “You’re such a dork, Kenny”. He sighs at that, trying to be as little awkward as possible when you hug him, your small frame lost in his.

Nanami feels like he’ll never get used to you, even as you sit on the stool he’s set in front of his own, looking like you belong exactly in his dorm room. “You’re staring so much, didn’t even start drawing me yet!” “I’m.. figuring out your proportions.” He mentally curses himself for that, knowing that with the amount of time he’s spent observing you, he remembers every single detail about your face.

Suddenly, you light up. “Do you need me to do any specific poses? I can think of a few.. interesting ones”. Nanami groans loudly, causing you to giggle.

“You’re so uptight again, is something wrong?” Your eyebrows furrowed, a small pout on your lips, as the man in front of you suddenly won’t take his eyes off the canvas.

Nanami feels blush creeping up his neck, and he remembers his conversation with Gojo, thinking about how maybe he should get over himself and ask you out today.

“I’m all good. You just look very captivating today, even more than usual.”

“You can’t just say that!”

Nanami is unsure of what to respond to that, having mustered up all his courage just to tell you that last sentence. He blushes furiously now, picking up his graphite pencil and starting to roughly sketch your features. When his eyes finally dart in your direction, he can tell you’re blushing as well.

You try relaxing your face from your former pout at his sternness, not wanting to make this assignment any harder for him. “So.. do you have any other friends, that I don’t know of?” You hear Nanami sucking in a breath, and try your hardest to keep a natural expression.

“Not really, no. You’re the only one who stayed long enough to make me open up.”

You smile at that, though it’s a rather sad statement. “Would you mind keeping that expression for me?” Nanami’s eyebrows are now furrowed, staring at your face with concentration.

“The smile?”

“Yes, it makes your eyes appear lighter.”

You smile harder at that, and when Nanami finally looks at the canvas, picking up a small brush, you can see a small smile forming on his lips as well.

Nanami feels like his heart might explode out of his chest. The girl he’s been wanting for… well, too long, is currently giving him fuck me eyes without even realizing it. He tries focusing on the drawing instead, soft oil strokes on white canvas, when you speak again.

“You think it’s time for another brainrot lesson?” Immediately, a loud groan follows, making you laugh. “Whatever you want, y/n. Just stay still.” “Whatever you say, Kenny.”

You ponder for a moment, thinking about which brainrot should you teach the poor man this time. “Alright kento, you got two options yeah? When John Pork is calling, do you pick up or not?” “Who is John Pork?” Nanami sounds so serious it scares you, and you hold your laugh in.

“I’ll show you later. Now, since we’ve got plenty of time, what do you know about low taper fade?” “As far as I’m concerned, it’s a haircut, correct?” “You sound terrified, Kento”. Nanami gets up from his stool, now towering over you.

“Such a bratty little thing.” His fingers come up to trace your cheek, almost, before he stops himself. “Stay just like this for a moment,” Nanami says, surprisingly soft. You, of course, obey, looking up at his face, body looming over yours.

Nanami observes your face, trying to etch it into his soul. “Can I..” he murmurs softly, rough fingers brushing against your jaw. You nod, and he gently traces your cheek. You can feel blush spreading all over your neck, surely dusting your cheeks pink.

“Kento?” You look up at him, heart thrumming so loud he must be able to hear it as well. “This is necessary for the process, y/n.” He whispers that, hazel eyes lingering on your lips as his fingers trace your temple.

Your face is on fire now, eyes gleaming as you try catching Nanami’s gaze, yet his eyes are glued to your lips. “You know, you could kiss me if you want to that bad,” you say softly.

In just a moment, his hands are off you, and he’s facing away. “Fuck, too far? I didn’t mean to Kento, I was just-“

“For the love of god y/n, you sit here looking like a fucking angel, and then you say these things..”

Nanami pinches the bridge of his nose, and you sit there, speechless, for the first time.

“You.. what?” Nanami sighs, finally turning back to look at you. “It would be so wrong of me, to kiss you without even asking you out first..” You stand up, feeling his warm body almost touching yours, and you sigh.

“Well then, you better ask me out Kento, we don’t have all day”. Nanami notices, of course, that although you put on a confident front, your fingers nervously twirl the edge of your tank top, and your eyes are somewhat worried, looking up at him.

He tries to stay composed, ears bright red when he takes your hand is his bigger one, bringing it to his chest.

“Would you like to go on a date with me, y/n? I would love to take you to out, if you would allow it.” He braces himself for rejection, even though he knows you feel the same, as your big, gleaming eyes now happily squint at him.

“Fuck yeah, took you long enough, silly boy,” you say happily, arms immediately wrapping around him. You smile so hard your face hurts, burying your face Nanami’s chest, squealing like a little girl until you feel his hands on your shoulders, gently prying you away. You pout at him, crossing your arms and huffing as he chuckles. “Now..” he murmurs, leaning down and finally kissing you.

You stay still for a second, caught by surprise, before your hands immediately tangle in his hair, latching onto his lips like your life depends on it. One of his hands cups your cheek, moving lower to trace your the curve of your jaw before settling at your nape, drawing you deeper into the kiss.

The kiss is slow, deliberate, a taste of something sweet, long desired. Nanami’s lips are firm and surprisingly soft, tasting of coffee and something that’s just uniquely him. You can’t help yourself but bite on his lower lip, making him gasp and let go of the kiss.

You whine at the loss of his warmth, hands moving from his blond locks to grip onto his broad shoulders. Standing on your toes, you whisper in his ear- “You’re so annoying, I barely got to taste you”. Nanami blushes furiously, his hand wandering down to squeeze your hips.

“How am I the annoying one, when you sit here, looking at me with these tantalizing eyes?”

It’s your turn to blush, burying your face in his chest again. “Ugh, you have to stop doing that Kento!” You whine, and he chuckles, kissing the crown of your head.

“Come on, I need to finish your portrait.” With a sigh, you slump back onto the stool, and Nanami sits down at his. He picks up the brush again, continuing the gentle strokes on the canvas before speaking again.

“I’m sorry if I have been.. harsh, with the kiss. It’s a little embarrassing, but I have been craving you for so long, I couldn’t help myself.”

You smile, using all your willpower to not get up and kiss him again. “It’s alright Kento, really, I wanted you for a while as well,” you say, happily watching his cheeks changing shades of red.

“I can’t focus when you tell me things like that y/n. It makes me want to.. never mind.”

“You’re so shy it’s almost funny,” you say with a giggle, making him groan. “Do me a favor, just this once, and talk about anything else, please?”

You can’t say no to his defeated face, so then Nanami quietly cleans his paint brush, listening to you ramble about some show you’ve started watching recently, and how you think he’d like it.

After about an hour of rambling on your side, and hums of agreement on his, the portrait is finished. Nanami carefully places the canvas aside, the oil paint still wet, sticking onto his fingers. It’s almost 6 pm now, and you remember promising Gojo you’d meet up later today. You get up from the stool, quietly walking to stand by Nanami as he washes his hands in the kitchen sink.

The smell of the paint lingers in air of his dorm room, and you sneakily wrap your hands around his waist, hugging him from behind. “Would you mind staying for a little while more?” “Can’t, I promised Satoru I’ll see him today,” you say, smiling when he turns around to look at you. You rest your chin on his chest, looking up at his chiseled face.

“Then I’ll see you tomorrow. Will it be okay if I will pick you up at 7 pm for our date?” “Of course Kenny”. Nanami hums, and you let your body melt against his, his arms wrapping around your lower back as you savor the warmth.

“I can drop you off wherever you two are meeting, if you would like that.” “Awww, Kento you’re so mushy already, love that,” you say and giggle, laughing when he groans and buries his face in your hair. “Seriously though, I wouldn’t mind, thank you” and with that, you plant a small kiss on his cheek.

Still in his embrace, you pull out your phone, calling Gojo. You bicker for a couple minutes, eventually agreeing to meet up at some café downtown. When you hang up, Nanami is already there with his car keys in his hand.

“Are you ready to go? Or do you want to stop by your dorm first?”

“You’re too sweet Kento, and I’m good, we can head there now” you poke his nose before opening his dorm’s door, standing there as you wait for him to exit. “Ladies first,” you snicker with a small smile as he passes you, sighing and shaking his head disapprovingly. After he locks the door, he swiftly opens the passenger seat door for you, humming when you murmur a thank you.

Nanami gets in and starts the car, and once he’s on the highway, he puts his palm on your thigh, thumb brushing the soft skin. “I’m honestly surprised, I thought you’d only be driving in the 10 and 2 position,” you snicker and put your hand on top of his.

“Maybe I’m careful, but I can’t help myself when a beautiful woman is sitting right beside me.” You smile at that, stroking his palm as he stares at the road ahead. After a little while you get to the café, and Nanami pulls over just long enough for you to kiss him and say thanks. “Text me when you need pickup, okay?” “It’s okay, I’ll just walk ba-“ “Just text me.” You sigh, and with another kiss you part ways, as you see Gojo waiting for you at the entrance.

You sigh internally, knowing what’s about to come as you walk towards the white haired man. You approach him, and before even entering the place, he immediately jumps on you with a hug.

“What the fuck was that kiss? Girl you better tell me everything” Gojo almost yells that, and you quickly hush him down, walking inside.

After getting your matcha, and Gojo his overly sweet latte, you two sit down. “Okay so before I start you gotta promise not to yell again, I can’t have everyone here staring,” you say with an eye roll, and he eagerly nods. “Whatever you say, just fucking tell me already!”

You almost laugh at his whiney tone, before telling him about everything that happened with Nanami today. You can tell he’s having a hard time containing his excitement, and when you tell him that Nanami insisted on picking you up as well, he damn near cries.

“There’s no way, he’s definitely obsessed with you y/n” “Stop that, we just kissed!” You bury your face in your hands and whine, cheeks burning as you remember the feeling of Nanami’s lips on yours. “Either way, you clearly like him more than you let on,” Gojo says with a big grin.

“What’s up with that smile? You look creepy as fuck,” you snicker, watching him dramatically feign offense. “Can’t I be happy that my best friend finally got a normal boyfriend?” “He isn’t even my boyfriend yet!” You sigh, sipping on your matcha and leaning back in your chair.

“Oh you want him soooo bad, you’re just clueless to it idiot,” Gojo says, grinning again. You decide to stop fighting with him, and change the topic.

“Did you and Kento, like.. tell something to the professor? When you handled her?” You ask, your voice quieter now. “We did, I thought Nanami told you she won’t come near you again” you sigh, facepalming as you remember that night.

“He did, but we’re supposed to have a class with her tomorrow so I’m wondering how it’s gonna go..” Gojo sighs, grabbing his phone. “I’ll text him, we’ll find a way to handle it before class” he says reassuringly, shooting Nanami a quick text before putting the phone back down.

After another hour of the two of you yapping about absolutely everything, you decide it’s time to go. You send Nanami a text, asking if he’s still okay with picking you up, and he immediately replies that he’s on his way.

Gojo leans over the table, peeking over to read your texts. “Fucking lovebirds, I told you he’s obsessed!” Saying that grants him a smack on the head, making him huff and puff as you two walk outside, and he waits with you until Nanami gets there.

When his car pulls over, you both say goodbye with a quick hug, and you happily walk over to the car, getting in and landing a small kiss on Nanami’s cheek, much to Gojo’s delight, who’s still watching you and how flustered the man beside you gets.

“Thanks for coming Kento, you really didn’t have to,” you say softly, a big smile on your face. You feel like a kid, getting excited to see him when you’ve left his place only a couple hours ago, but you can’t help yourself.

“Of course y/n, it’s my pleasure. I want to make sure you get back safely.” He starts driving, and again puts his hand on your thigh. You don’t say anything this time, you simply play with his fingers for the entire drive. When he stops in front of your dorm, you unbuckle your seatbelt and turn around in your seat, now facing him.

“Have a good night Ken, hope you have sweet dreams”. You lean in, and he cups your cheeks, warm lips enveloping yours, and you whine into the kiss. His tongue prods at the seam of your lips, asking for entrance, one that you grant him, moaning softly as the muscle invades your mouth.

Fingers gripping his hair, you break the kiss, panting, your eyes gleaming. Nanami blushes, his breath eventually slowing down. “You too, pretty girl. I’ll see you before class.” You nod and hug him, and then leave the car, entering the dorm building.

You can hear him driving off, and enter your dorm room. You take a deep breath, and finally allow yourself to happily jump around and squeal happily. You can’t believe this, that Nanami actually did all of this just for you. The way he’s changed, everything he said today, sounding all too poetic coming out of his pretty lips.

You sigh dreamily, getting into your pjs, and comfortably cuddle under the thick blankets of your bed, wishing you had asked him to stay over. You may miss him already, which you find slightly embarrassing, but you know you’ll see him tomorrow morning, and you just can’t wait.

Divider credit: @soulari

Taglist: @yourname-exee @realalpacorn @zayuriluvs @galactacium @queenofthekill @nuhahani @nanamineedstherapy @des-todoroki @linaaeatsfamilies @darkstudentsaladbakery @sttaejoon-blog @sosole

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen nanami #nanami kento #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen fluff #nanami fluff #jjk x fem!reader #jjk x reader #fem reader #x reader #nanami fanfic #jjk fanfic #jjk fluff #fluff

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thezombieprostitute · 6 months ago

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Tech Tuesday: Steve Rogers

Summary: Steve and Newbie go on their first date!

A/N: Reader is female. No physical descriptors used.

Tech Tuesdays Masterlist

Steve can't remember the last time he felt so nervous. Well, no, the last time he was this nervous it was when he was trying to ask you out. But you said yes and now he's the most nervous he's ever been for a date!

He wishes he could grow out of the awkwardness he'd lived for so many years. That he could finally be the cool, confident person everyone thought he was until he started talking. As many muscles as he worked on, it couldn't stop him from being a dork. Especially around a beautiful woman like you.

He sighs fondly, remembering when you'd accidentally run into him, giving him a hug to keep from falling. For weeks afterwards he was kicking himself for not doing something smooth or giving you a cool pickup line or something. Instead he just hugged you back and asked if you were okay. He even stuttered as he spoke! The fact that you agreed to a date was nothing short of a miracle as far as he was concerned.

He'd gone over the itinerary with Bucky enough times that he didn't even have to say anything before Bucky was assuring him it was a good first date plan. Dinner at a diner you'd mentioned liking followed by one of those wine and painting classes. Food first so the wine wouldn't sour your stomach. And painting instead of sketching to avoid complaints that he was trying to prove his superiority.

He still winces when he thinks of Peggy being so angry that he was good at drawing. It was a bullet dodged, yes, but he still hates that she thought he was trying to be better than her. But painting wasn't his strong suit, so hopefully this would be better.

At the same time you're going through your closet, getting advice from Spitfire and Bubbles about what to wear since you don't trust your own opinion. You've been pining after Steve since your first day in the office and he actually asked you out! You don't want him to regret doing so.

"I think you should go casual," Spitfire proposes. "He sees you in your work clothes all the time, let him see what you normally look like outside of work."

"That's a good idea!" Bubbles encourages. "Especially if he's taking you to some more casual places like you said."

"But I wanna be like, sexy or something," you complain. "My casual clothes are just so plain."

"Just wear some cherry red lipstick," Bubbles comments. "He seems the type to go weak for that."

Spitfire nods in agreement. "Plus, if he's as interested as he seems, he's gonna find you sexy regardless of what you're wearing."

"That's true," Bubbles concurs.

You sigh in exasperation. "Okay, okay. I get what you're saying. But I still wanna look...good? I don't want him embarrassed to be seen with me!"

"If he even hints that he is, you let us know and we'll knock him straight," Spitfire retorts, making you smile and giggle. You're very grateful to have friends willing to go to bat for you.

You finally settle on a pair of dark jeans and a pastel long-sleeved t-shirt with your lucky flannel jacket. You feel comfortable and Spitfire and Bubbles are quick to assure that you look good.

Steve is waiting in his car outside your apartment building. He wasn't sure you'd be okay with his motorcycle and figured the car would be safer. As soon as you step outside, he's out of the car and opening the passenger door for you. You smile at the gesture and Steve beams at you.

When your close enough he can take in how you look, he's rendered speechless. You always look pretty when you're wearing your work clothes but now? You look absolutely stunning and he can't believe he's so lucky to get to take you on a date. He stumbles over his words a few times before finally saying, "you look so beautiful!"

Heat rushes to your face and you giggle, making him blush. "You really think so?"

"Absolutely," he breathes. You swear you've never felt prettier in your life.

"Thank you," you shyly reply. "You're looking very handsome, too." His blush deepens and he rubs a hand on the back of his head as he mumbles his thanks.

You take your spot in the passenger seat and Steve, all smiles, gets into the driver seat, feeling like he's walking on air.

The drive to the diner is mainly spent with each of you trying to say something but accidentally interrupting each other, followed by awkward giggling.

"This is a really nice car," you finally manage to get out.

"Oh, thanks," he blushes. "It's old, but definitely reliable. And way more comfortable than the Beetle I used to have."

"You used to have a Beetle? How did you fit?" You slap your hand over your mouth in embarrassment as you think about how rude your question could be.

Thankfully he laughs. "It was when I was a lot smaller. I used to be really scrawny."

"Really?"

"Had a lot of health problems growing up," he shrugs. You give a consolatory "aww" and he continues. "Finally got the medical help I needed and now I'm..." he gestures to his physique.

"I'm so glad you got your health in order. I can't imagine how frustrating it would be."

"Admittedly, I took that frustration out on others. Bullies, specifically, just so you know. They kept poking fun at me, so I kept fighting back."

"That's so brave of you! I'd have run away and cried." Like I do at work, you think.

"Bucky definitely wishes that was the case for me," Steve chuckles. "The number of times he had to come to my rescue..."

You chuckle at that. "So you've been friends for quite some time?"

"Yeah. He's also the one that, once my health issues were under control, helped me figure out a workout so I could be less scrawny."

"That's so good of him."

"He did make me promise that I'd stop fighting so much but I still get so riled up around bullies."

You place a hand on his arm, "well thank you for not punching my boss, bully that she is."

"Yeah, well..." he stutters for a bit, his face turning redder. "If she ever gets to be too much, you just let me know, okay? I'm good friends with HR."

"Thank you, Steve."

As you get more comfortable around each other the date becomes filled with laughter and bad jokes. You leave the diner with full bellies and big smiles.

At the class, you haven't even sipped at your first glass of wine but you can't stop giggling with Steve. The teacher for the class tells everyone there's no pressure to be perfect so don't worry about any mistakes. Steve leans into your ear and whispers, "just brush it off." You have to bite your tongue to keep from laughing out loud but he feels the way you're shaking with laughter and his eyes sparkle when he looks at you.

"Don't get too confident," you whisper back. "I'm easel-y impressed." Now it's Steve's turn to bite back a laugh while visibly shaking.

"You know why you should be careful around artists?" Steve whispers. "They're pretty sketchy."

"I still can't believe you're real," you whisper back, "and not just a pigment of my imagination."

Neither of you wants to disrupt the class but you just can't help how good you're feeling. How comfortable you both are with each other. How much more relaxed the atmosphere of the date has gotten. And you can't even blame the wine since you've barely finished a single glass.

The only time Steve freezes up is when you snuggle up to him, putting your head on his shoulder while you think about what color to pick next. He swears his heart stopped in that moment but he never wanted it to end.

The only moment that topped that was when he dropped you off back at your apartment. He walked you up to your building, like the gentleman he is, and you actually kissed him goodnight. It wasn't a deep kiss, but it was still full of affection and warmth and Steve wanted to drop to his knees and thank you. You giggle at the lipstick left on his lips and try to rub it away but he stops you, his smile never dropping.

"Can we do this again?" he pleads.

You give a shy nod, "next weekend?"

"Next weekend," he confirms.

Tagging: @alicedopey; @darsynia; @delicatebarness; @ellethespaceunicorn; @icefrozendeadlyqueen; @irishhappiness

@jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory; @late-to-the-party-81; @lokislady82; @ozwriterchick; @ronearoundblindly; @thiquefunlover63

#tech tuesday #tech tuesday: steve rogers #steve rogers x female!reader #steve rogers x reader #it!steve rogers #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x f!reader

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eldritch-spouse · 10 months ago

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If you combined Nebul and Patches I feel like you'd wind up with a very sexually confused litch.

I actually really like that concept.

That poor thing would be the most unstable, identity crisis riddled, dangerous undead.

Both Patches and Nebul died in traumatic ways, feeling as if their time alive was either incomplete or they were wronged too harshly, meaning this undead has twice the will to live, but his goals are incomprehensibly scattered, as are his tendencies.

Like Nebul, this lich wants utmost control and power. He wants to have people crumble before him, to dangle their existence at his crooked fingertips and have them quake in the presence of his might. Like Patches however, he cannot act composed for very long around someone he genuinely finds attractive and amazing, he has you in a restrictive trap, but he can hardly stutter why he has done this to you.

He begs you to beg him.

In the most confusing twist, your incredibly domineering and frightening kidnapper is a near-virginal dork who is either using toys to fuck you into incredibly powerful drops, or cumming in his robes at the feeling of your bare skin on his cock. And that lack of control angers him, at the same time that the midly disgusted look on your face makes him harder.

He can't even decide how to punish you consistently.

One moment you're allowed to top and hurt him plenty, the next he decides this is all wrong and your face is pressed against a patterned carpet.

He's so incredibly mad at you that he wants to tear you into pieces and rip your mind from your body, but all he does is turn the whip on himself and felt his back.

The moon still triggers some kind of slightly feral impulse on him, and Lord knows the sunlight is like a persistent itch that causes his throat to tighten- He hates gold and loves pearls, horses, astrology and animals in general are his sweet respite.

At the same time that he's wrapped around figuring gods out, a part of him thinks he ought to focus on being the god of his little corner instead.

There are, though, certain things that complement each other here. Both are very studious monsters who share an interest in bizarre lifeforms. So there's the theory and general talent/draw Nebul has with freaky monster-animals paired with Patches' drive to do insane field work and concerning experiments.

They're both quite bright, so if you ever make it out of this lich's hands, it's not because you outsmarted him, it's because he was too conflicted (once again) on what to do and the time window of hesitation doomed his efforts.

#Nebul oc #Patches oc #icantbelieveihadtomakeanotherone

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poiibbtt · 10 months ago

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A Little Bit Like Forever

Pairing: Dokyeom x Reader

Genre: Fluff, Friends-to-Lovers, High School Romance

Word Count: ~4,500

Synopsis: Middle school chaos, high school awkwardness, and a love hidden beneath playful teasing. From sneaky stolen bags to whispered confessions in a dim classroom, you and Dokyeom were always a little bit of everything—until prom night, where a few photobooth pictures capture the moment when "just friends" becomes something a little bit like forever.

A/N: Hi, I'm new here! I really hope you enjoy this fluffy Dokyeom (aka Dikeyyy) fanfic. My English might not be the best, but I put all my heart into this story! Let me know what you think, and thank you for reading! 🖤

Middle school was weird, but somehow, it was fun. Sitting in the middle of two boys, Dino on the left and Dokyeom on the right, felt like a tiny pocket of chaos that made you forget how awkward everything else was. You weren't close with anyone else in that class, but with Dino and Dokyeom, it felt like… a compromise. You let them doodle on your hands—swirls, random lines, some silly drawings—because, well, what else was there to do?

“Stop moving,” Dokyeom said one day, drawing some weird stick figure on your wrist. You laughed.

“Why? You trying to make me look cooler?” you joked, raising an eyebrow.

“Pffft,” Dino added with a smirk. “Cooler? Sure, if you want to look like a walking art project from a 5-year-old.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Wow, Dino, so supportive. Love that for me.”

But as fun as it was, things changed. Dino’s girlfriend, Mindy, didn’t exactly love your dynamic. She got jealous—angrily-so. Once she threw a fit so loud, half the school knew about it, and suddenly, everything felt off. When the seating arrangement changed, you were left out. Dino and Dokyeom hung out with the boys, and you… well, you made new friends, but group projects felt lonelier. Everyone paired up with their besties, and the boys? They didn’t choose you anymore. It stung more than you’d like to admit. You wondered if you were the only one who thought those days sitting together were special.

High school started, and Dino moved to China. It was just you and Dokyeom again, but this time, he sat behind you. You had Wonnie now, your partner-in-crime. Life seemed less lonely, at least until Dokyeom decided to continue being his usual playful self.

One day, you noticed your bag had mysteriously disappeared after class.

“Has anyone seen my bag?” you called out, frantically searching the classroom. A chorus of chuckles erupted from the back.

You glanced at Dokyeom, and there it was—his trademark smug grin.

“Okay, where’s my bag, Dokyeom?” you asked, crossing your arms.

“Oh, I don’t know, Y/N,” he said, shrugging innocently. But his smile said otherwise.

The boys were still laughing, and as soon as you found your bag tucked behind the locker, you stormed back toward Dokyeom. Without hesitation, you wrapped your hands around his neck, mock-choking him.

“You think this is funny?” you grumbled, tightening your playful grip.

He didn’t flinch. In fact, he just placed his hand over yours, his smile growing wider. “You really think you’re scary?”

You groaned, rolling your eyes. “Get out of here, dork.”

Then, it began: the daily texts from Dokyeom. At first, it was harmless. “Do we have any homework?” or “What was the page number for that assignment?” Simple stuff. You replied because you figured he was just lazy.

Until one day, during a quiz, his teammate Mingyu—a giant compared to the rest of the team—walked by your class. As the room fell into a sudden silence, he called out, “DOKYEOM!” and then, without skipping a beat, added, “Y/N! He likes you!”

Twice. He repeated it twice, just to make sure the message landed.

Your class? Dead silent. The teacher? Silent. Everyone? Absolutely, painfully silent. You were pretty sure time stopped. As your heart raced, you pretended like you hadn’t heard a thing. You passed the quiz sheets to the back like nothing happened, handing them to Dokyeom who sat there, not breathing, waiting for your reaction.

You didn’t give him one. Instead, you turned and asked, “Got the cells labeled yet?”

The entire room seemed to exhale at once, and time started moving again.

Later, you whispered to yourself, “I’m going to kill Mingyu when I see him.”

After that, things shifted. Dokyeom started texting you every day—not just about homework, but everything. From stories about Seungkwan hogging the bathroom to watch streamers, to Minghao pulling off ridiculous thirst traps for TikTok.

“And guess what Seungkwan did today?” Dokyeom messaged you one night.

You rolled your eyes but smiled at your phone. “What now?”

“He almost flooded the place because he was too busy watching Mobile Legends. And now everyone has to take shorter showers. Mingyu’s so mad, it’s hilarious.”

“You guys live like frat boys, I swear.”

Somehow, the messages made you feel… closer. And then, Dokyeom brought up middle school.

“Remember how Dino and I used to draw on your hand?” he asked one night.

“Yeah,” you typed back. “I figured it was just to pass the time.”

“Nah, we actually liked sitting with you.”

You paused, reading that over again. So, it wasn’t just you. The memories weren’t one-sided.

But the more you started to realize that you might like him, the harder it became to talk to him. You’d freeze up, getting tongue-tied whenever he was around. Dokyeom, on the other hand, seemed to hover around you more. Every time you looked up, he was already watching you, his eyes catching yours before you could look away.

Wonnie noticed, of course. “You two are ridiculous,” she teased, nudging you one day.

“What?” you replied, cheeks reddening.

“Don’t ‘what’ me. He’s literally attached to you at the hip.”

As if on cue, Dokyeom appeared at your table during a group project, not even in your group, just… there.

You glared at him. “Don’t you have work to do with your own group?”

“I’m more interested in what you’re doing,” he said, sliding into a seat next to you.

You groaned internally, but secretly? You liked the attention.

One afternoon, during a free class when everyone else was napping, Dokyeom found you. The classroom was dim, curtains drawn, and the soft hum of air conditioning filled the air. He sat beside you, closer than usual, and playfully took your hand in his.

“Your hand’s so small,” he mused, gently tracing your fingers with his. His lashes fluttered as he glanced down, and you found yourself holding your breath.

Your heart thudded in your chest, and you couldn’t help but think how close he was. So close that you could see the faint flecks of gold in his eyes. So close that… your thoughts scattered when his thumb brushed your palm.

“Is this weird?” he asked quietly.

You shook your head, but your voice didn’t seem to work, so you just sat there, hearts beating loudly in the stillness.

Another day, you walked into school, your stomach aching slightly, probably from the nerves. You passed by Dokyeom, who was sitting on the stairs with Soonyoung and Woozi. As soon as he saw you, he stood up, ditching his friends to walk alongside you.

“Not waiting for them?” you asked, tilting your head curiously.

“Nah,” Dokyeom said, his lips curling into that sheepish smile. “Only waiting for you.”

You tried to hide your blush, especially when Irene, one of the basketball girls, spotted the two of you together. She smirked, as if she’d seen something juicy that would spread like wildfire through the school.

But in that moment, it didn’t matter. Dokyeom walked you to class, and you two chatted like the world outside didn’t exist.

Then came the teasing—especially from Dokyeom’s coach during basketball practice.

“Y/N, you’ve got Dokyeom all flustered these days,” the coach teased, his eyes glinting with amusement. Your face burned red as you tried to smile through it.

When you passed the gym one afternoon on your way home, the boys started calling out, “Dokyeom, Dokyeom!” You rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t help the giddy feeling rising in your chest.

Later that night, Dokyeom messaged you, “Are you okay?”

You laughed, replying, “Mingyu needs to shut his mouth.”

As time went on, Dokyeom kept showing up—whether it was asking you to watch his games or just hanging around with you, Wonnie, and the others. One time, after begging you a million times to come watch a competition, you finally caved. Wonnie and Lisa came along for moral support (and for Lisa to cheer for her own basketball game).

The competition started, and Dokyeom—usually so confident on the court—was… off.

“Why does he look so nervous?” Lisa whispered to you.

“I have no idea,” you whispered back, watching him stumble over a pass.

When the game ended and it was time to go, you waved goodbye to him from the stands. “Good luck, Dokyeom!” you called out, and he waved back, giving you that shy smile that always made your heart skip a beat.

Lisa nudged you. “He was totally off his game because you were here.”

You grinned. “He’ll never admit it.”

Day by day, the countdown to graduation passed like a blur of final exams, senior pranks, and long talks about the future. And then, suddenly, it was prom night.

You were partnered with Dokyeom as prom dates, which everyone saw coming a mile away—even though he’d asked with that awkward, shy smile he’d never quite outgrown. The night of prom, you found yourself in a sleek black dress, feeling confident but nervous. When Dokyeom arrived to pick you up, the sight of him in a black suit was enough to make your heart skip. He looked so handsome—too handsome, honestly.

But if you thought you were nervous, Dokyeom was a whole other level. He could barely look you in the eyes when you walked out.

"You… uh… look great," he mumbled, scratching the back of his neck as his eyes darted everywhere except at you. His cheeks were flushed, and you could barely suppress a smile.

"You look pretty good yourself, Dokyeom," you teased, but that only made him turn even redder.

Prom was everything it was supposed to be—music, dancing, and laughter—but the real highlight came when you dragged Dokyeom to the photobooth set up in the corner. You’d convinced him to take photos together, even though he looked like he might faint from the sheer proximity.

“Come on, it’s just a few photos,” you said, grabbing his hand and pulling him in.

He looked at you and then quickly looked away, his voice low. "It's the dress. It's messing with my head. Stop looking at me like that."

You laughed, nudging him lightly. "Stop being so shy, it's just me."

But despite his shyness, he agreed, and you both stepped into the booth. You took the first pose, smiling hard, and when the flash went off, Dokyeom was grinning too—though you could tell he was still flustered.

For the second pose, you turned to him with a mischievous glint in your eye. Without warning, you kissed him on the cheek just as the camera snapped the picture. Dokyeom’s eyes widened, and his smile grew so big, he looked like he might burst from happiness.

By the third pose, you two were looking at each other, and the air felt a little different. More charged. Dokyeom’s gaze softened as he looked at you, and then he whispered, “You’re so pretty, you know? My heart is about to burst. Stop it.”

Before you could respond, he raised a hand and gently covered your eyes.

“What are you doing?” you asked, laughing softly under your breath.

“Just trust me,” he murmured, and you did. In the fourth pose, you felt his soft lips against yours, so quick and gentle, but enough to make your own heart race. When he pulled back, his face was bright red, and yours wasn’t far behind. You both sat there for a second, staring at each other, the weight of the moment sinking in.

Dokyeom was the first to break, covering his face with his hands. “You’re killing me, stop staring like that.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at how adorably nervous he was. “I like it when you’re all shy like this. It’s cute.”

He groaned, gently pushing you away with a smile. “Seriously, stop it. You’re making it worse.” But then his expression softened, and he took your hand again, squeezing it gently. “I love you, [Y/N].”

Your heart melted, and you couldn’t help but tease him one last time. “I love you too, Dikeyyy.”

Just as you were about to say something more, the curtain of the photobooth flew open, and the boys burst in like a whirlwind of chaos.

“Soarin’ like dolphins!” Mingyu announced dramatically. “C’mon, we want our turn!”

Dokyeom shot them a death glare, but you couldn’t stop laughing as you both stumbled out of the booth. The moment was over, but it was something you’d never forget.

#dokyeom x reader #seokmin x reader #dk x reader #dk svt x reader #dk x reader fluff #seokmin x reader fluff #seventeen fanfiction #seventeen fluff fic

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