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bosbas · 2 months

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Chapter 11: tell me I've got it wrong somehow

series masterlist previous part || next part

pairing: colin bridgerton x enemy!fem!reader WC: 4.3k words

Warnings: period-typical gender roles, small part of the dialogue in French, idiots in love!!, mentions of violence (nothing too graphic), mentions of blood

Summary: It took precisely two days in England for you to utterly despise Colin Bridgerton. It took him approximately twelve hours after that to hate you right back. But he doesn't care that you're the only person in the ton who doesn't like him. You're set to marry someone else anyway, right?

A/N: FINALLY. except not really. oops!

June 30, 1816 – If last night’s ball was any indication, it seems Lady Y/N has lost interest in finding a husband this season. More than a few whispers indicate that the Montclairs will journey to Spain to find better prospects for their youngest daughter. Let this be a call to action to the eligible bachelors of the ton so that they might consider being more… enticing suitors for our beloved Y/N. All this, of course, is to ensure that the Montclairs do not flee to the Spanish sun at the conclusion of the season. If nothing else, the Montclairs must stay so we can avoid losing Lady Y/N’s much-needed sense of style.

Colin stared in disbelief at Lady Whistledown’s column, letting it fall from his hands as he leaned back in his bed. If you were going to Spain at the end of the season anyway, why was he still here? He’d much rather be as far away as possible from anything that even remotely reminded him of you.

Unfortunately, Daphne had given him some sort of misguided hope that staying in England would magically make you like him. Or perhaps make you hate him a little less. But it was becoming increasingly apparent that this was not the case.

He wasn’t exactly sure what had changed from one day to the next, but you could barely look at him now. After your promenade, Colin thought you’d finally put your differences aside, and he could, at some level, be grateful to Lord Barlow for that, even if the man had acted completely indecently.

But the truce didn’t last.

Just three days ago, he’d run into you on the way to your father’s study to discuss pearl diving, and his heart had nearly skipped a beat when he saw you. You looked beautiful as ever, of course, and he was just staring at you dumbly, wanting to take in as much of you as possible.

You’d been humming as you walked down the hallway, smiling softly to yourself as you passed by a particularly large flower arrangement you had most likely received from a suitor. At that moment, Colin was sure that if you ever looked at him like that he would never recover.

Colin had tried to call out to you. Maybe if you were out of sight of the rest of the ton, you’d be more willing to speak with him. But the words had died in his throat as you had looked up and spotted him, just staring at you, across the room.

Your eyes had widened, and your demeanor had instantly changed. A switch from serene to shaken so sudden that Colin had barely had time to react before you had clutched your skirts and ducked into the nearest room.

And though Colin had traveled halfway across the globe largely on his own, he had never felt so far from someone.

Even now, in his room, away from Montclair House, he couldn’t help the deep shame that washed over him as he recalled how immediately you had rushed to get away from him. And Colin still had no idea why.

That was the worst part of it all. If he only knew what the problem was, he’d fix it. He’d do anything to be with you. Colin had had more than his fair share of escapades during his time abroad, but nothing even came close to the feeling he got when he was around you. The only person he’d known to dislike him. It was a cruel twist of fate, and he’d think it was funny if he didn’t physically ache with the need to be near you.

The irony of the situation was not lost on Colin. The more he was consumed by you, the more you pulled away. He’d been doing his best to avoid social functions for this very reason, but he feared he would not be able to do the same tonight.

“Colin?” called Violet, peeking her head through his door. “Is everything alright? You look a bit…”

“I’m fine,” insisted Colin, wiping his slightly damp eyes and sniffing as he sat up.

“Anthony and Kate are hosting a ball tonight,” said Violet carefully. Colin’s recent absence from balls had not escaped her notice, but as much as she felt for her obviously lovesick son, he was not excused from familial duties.

“Yes, I’m aware.”

“And you will be in attendance.”

Colin groaned. “Must I really be there? It’s one ball!”

“Actually, it’s been something like fifteen balls,” Violet shot back, unimpressed. “And I have graciously allowed you to be absent from them, but you will not miss your brother’s ball. You are still a Bridgerton. We do not miss family events.”

Sensing he didn’t quite have a choice, Colin sighed, “Very well, then. Could I at least continue sulking before we go?”

Violet laughed softly and gave her son a sympathetic smile. “It’s not a bad thing, you know. Being in love. Even if it’s a complicated situation such as this one.”

“I’m not in love!” lied Colin. “It’s just… I don’t know. It’s not love.”

Violet raised her eyebrows pointedly but said nothing, closing the door quietly as she left her son’s room.

Once he was alone again, Colin let out a frustrated groan and rubbed his temples. You would more than likely be in attendance tonight, and he needed to prevent what had happened in your hallway from happening again. He didn’t think he could bear having you practically sprinting away from him as soon as you saw him again.

Colin would simply have to stay out of sight of you. It was the only way he could stay at the ball. He didn’t ever want to look into your eyes and see the disdain and hurt that he saw three days ago. So, he decided he would be a wallflower tonight. Anything to keep you from seeing him. He would need to exercise a gargantuan amount of self-control to stay away from you when being near was the one thing he wanted, but the pained look in your eyes that haunted his sleep was enough to keep him in check.

---

Viscount Bridgerton’s ball was proving to be a supremely amusing affair. Your mother had decided that Louis should start looking for a wife, never mind that he was only two-and-twenty, and you were thoroughly enjoying watching how he was passed around from eligible lady to eligible lady.

After nearly an hour of dancing and politely chatting, your brother finally stumbled over to where you were standing. Of course, you couldn’t help but snicker as he muttered something or other about needing a drink.

“Tais-toi,” muttered Louis, crossing his arms over his chest as he crossed his breath (Shut up). “Maman veut aussi que tu danses avec quelqu'un” (Mother also wants you to dance with someone).

You turned to him, eyes wide. “Vraiment?” (Really?).

“Oui, c'est un autre duc,” Louis nodded and smiled evilly, gesturing toward where your mother was speaking to someone who looked to be at least Philippe’s age, if not older (Yes, it’s another duke).

“Non, mais je peux pas,” you whined (No, but I can’t). You thought your mother had given up on finding you a husband for this season, but you supposed she couldn’t help herself if it was a duke. Even if he were a prince, you were not so sure that you would want to speak with him.

Nigel Berbrooke and Lord Barlow, and you supposed Colin Bridgerton, too, had significantly dampened your excitement for the season. At this point, you were just looking forward to going to Paris for a few months once the season was officially over and trying to find a husband again in Spain next year.

But you didn’t even want to think about that. It felt like you were preparing for a prison sentence. One last year of traveling before you were limited to the confines of your future husband’s home with no escape other than your own mind. It was a chilling thought, and you were trying your hardest to avoid thinking about it. However, having your mother chatting you up to a duke was complicating that a bit.

Standing beside you, Louis was feeling quite annoyed after one grueling evening of speaking to unmarried ladies and their mamas. However, he knew that you had experienced about fifty times that many. So, taking pity on you, he leaned down and whispered, “Va dans le jardin, vite. Avant qu'elle ne revienne” (Go to the gardens, quick. Before she comes back).

Your eyes looked to the open doors leading to the gardens, and you decided the slightly nippy air was worth it if you could escape your mother and the unnamed duke. There were enough people outside that there was no risk of being caught in a compromising position, but it was far away enough from the ballroom that you knew your mother wouldn’t be able to find you immediately.

Flashing your brother a grateful smile and squeezing his arm, you practically ran toward the exit, wanting to get away as soon as possible. Once you were outside, you maneuvered yourself so you were hidden behind a fairly large plant, but still had a view of the ballroom through the window.

As Louis had predicted, your mother had come back to where you had been standing, duke in tow. She gave Louis a questioning look when she didn’t see you, and he simply shrugged, pointing to the other side of the ballroom. You sighed in relief, silently thanking your brother and promising to stop being quite so irritating toward him.

“Y/N?” you heard a voice say behind you.

Your stomach dropped. You turned around slowly, growing nervous as Lord Barlow came into your line of vision.

“Lord Barlow,” you said, feigning politeness in an attempt to avoid a scene. Your last interaction with him had not gone so smoothly, and you were afraid of what he would do now.

“So it is you,” said Arthur Barlow, his face contorting into an ugly sneer. He had never sounded so chilling when you were courting him, but you supposed at that time you hadn’t done yet anything to make him act so abrasive.

You cleared your throat nervously, looking around to see who else was nearby. But it seemed that everyone was too intrigued by this confrontation to put a stop to it. You internally cursed the duke for showing up at the exact moment that you wanted to be inconspicuous, but you smiled politely anyway.

“I hope you’re doing well,” you said awkwardly, not quite sure what else to say.

It seemed like the right thing at the moment, seeing as how no one, not even Lady Whistledown, knew what he’d been doing since he proposed to you. However, Barlow’s quickly narrowing eyes clued you in to the fact that it had actually been the exact wrong thing to say.

“You hope I’ve been doing well? You hope? I’m sure you do, Lady Montclair,” he said sarcastically, fury evident in his voice. “I’m sure you’ll be happy to learn that the Barringtons are positively drowning in debt. Sorry, were drowning in debt, since I had to pay off all of their debts once I was forced to marry into the family. And now I’m in financial ruin, all thanks to you. You, Y/N, have brought on the downfall of the Duke of Monmouth.”

You would be lying if you said you weren’t the least bit pleased that things had turned out poorly for Arthur Barlow. But more than satisfaction, all you felt was indignation as you looked at the pathetic man in front of you.

“I believe it was your decision alone to go outside the night of the Bridgerton ball, Lord Barlow,” you said, trying to sound as biting as possible. “It is a shame that your hubris has ruined your dukedom, but kindly leave me out of it.”

Barlow’s frown deepened and his eyes narrowed further, if that was even possible, as he practically shook out of barely contained anger.

“You harlot!” he screamed at you, raising his hand and reaching out to you.

“Barlow, you will cease at once!” came a commanding voice next to you.

You turned to see Colin Bridgerton at your side, and you couldn’t help the flutter in your stomach that you felt every time you saw him. But now was not the time to get distracted by inconsequential feelings.

“It’s alright, you don’t need to do this,” you urged Colin. “It’s not worth it. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

And surprisingly, you meant what you said. As much as you disliked Colin Bridgerton, you had no desire to see him hurt, even less so because of you. In some twisted way, you cared about this man. Far more than you cared about Lord Barlow, whom you had been ready to marry at one point in time. And more than anything it made you impossibly frustrated.

Upon hearing Colin, Arthur scoffed and turned to face him. “I see you’re happy to be next in line for my cast-offs, Bridgerton. But let me tell you, she’s far too uptight, that one. Won’t even put out when you tell her to.”

Immediately, your spine stiffened, anticipation tingling through your nerves as you sensed the mounting tension in the air. Colin growled lowly, clenching his fists and stepping closer to Lord Barlow. Yet, just as it seemed he might strike, the duke swiftly sidestepped, causing the Bridgerton to stumble.

Your lips parted in a silent scream as you saw Lord Barlow aim his fist at Colin. You watched, as if in slow motion, how Arthur’s knuckles made contact with Colin’s nose, and you felt tears welling in your eyes as he fell to his knees, his head thrown back with the force of the duke’s punch.

“Colin!” you screamed, finally finding your voice. You could barely breathe, feeling like your heart was beating out of your chest.

You rushed to his side, only vaguely registering that Lord Barlow was being roughly escorted out of the garden and likely out of the ball as well. Your eyes were glued to Colin, who was groaning in discomfort and bleeding profusely out of his nose.

“Colin, are you alright?” you gasped, kneeling beside him, and clutching his arms as you choked back sobs, your heart still beating out of your chest. “You shouldn’t have done that,” you scolded, tears running down your face as you found yourself unable to be civil with him even when he was kneeling on the ground with a bloody– and most likely broken– nose.

Colin, who was clutching his nose and groaning in pain, shot you an amused look. “Do I at least get some credit for trying to defend your honor?”

He sniffed, wiping away some of the blood with his hand, and reached for a handkerchief by his breast pocket. You were staring at him, horrified, as the blood kept streaming and he winced in pain. You had stopped sobbing now, but a steady stream of tears remained on your face as the panic mounted in you.

“Colin, you shouldn’t have done that,” you whispered again, trying and failing to sound upset with him as you instinctively reached out to wipe some blood off his cheek. You hiccupped as you reached over, trembling slightly as you did, but his hand caught yours before it could touch his face.

He suddenly smiled wide, and you rather thought he looked a bit deranged. There was blood on his face and his hands and he looked more than a little banged up, but he was still smiling widely at you with a mischievous glint in his eye.

“Can you say that again?” he asked, his eyes searching yours.

“Say what? That you shouldn’t have done that?” you sniffled, wanting to cross your arms over your chest in annoyance but not wanting to let go of his hand.

“No, the part before that,” he said, smiling cheekily as he intertwined your fingers with his.

“How are you smiling after someone broke your nose?” you said, growing irritated with him but not quite letting go of his hand yet. “You could have gotten seriously hurt. That was a stupid thing to do, Colin-”

“Yes, that. Again,” he pleaded, the yearning evident on his softly smiling face as he grabbed his handkerchief with his free hand, holding it up to stop the flow of blood from his nose.

“Colin-”

“Yes, that’s it. Just say that again.”

You shot him a confused look. “Colin?”

Is that what he wanted you to say? His name?

“Yes?” he pressed, smiling wide at you. “Can you say that again, please?”

“Again? Colin, why-”

“You hadn’t ever called me Colin before,” he said, looking at you wistfully. “I like how it sounds when you say it.”

“Oh,” you gasped softly. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Bridgerton, I forgot myself. It-”

“No, please,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “I can’t bear to have you call me Mr. Bridgerton one more time.”

You averted your gaze and bit your lip, suddenly feeling very conflicted. This was Colin Bridgerton. This was the man who had jumped at the first opportunity to compromise you once he heard you didn’t put out for Lord Barlow. You could not be on a first-name basis with him.

“Y/N,” he said softly, cautiously.

And suddenly you felt butterflies erupt in your stomach. Maybe you could allow yourself to be on a first-name basis with him. Maybe it felt too good to hear him say your name. Maybe you weren’t strong enough to hold him at arm’s length, and a half arm’s length would have to do.

“Colin.”

“I didn’t give him access to that terrace, you know,” Colin spoke, a hint of indignation lacing his words.

You nodded, lifting your gaze to meet his. “I know. I was looking for anyone to blame when Lord Barlow was the only one who wronged me. Your mother told me he forced the door open.”

“I could never have done that to you, it would’ve been unseemly” Colin insisted, gripping your hand tighter.

But you froze. Couldn’t he have done that to you? Based on what you knew about him, he certainly could have. But it was so difficult to parse the man who had just now defended you against Lord Barlow, who was sitting on the ground next to you and holding your hand, with the man who had wanted to continue Nigel Berbrooke’s disgusting conversation at the Danbury ball.

Feeling you stiffen, Colin’s heart clenched. This couldn’t be happening again. What had he done wrong this time? He was here, on the ground, literally bleeding for you, and you still had something against him.

“Please talk to me,” Colin begged, suddenly feeling very desperate to fix whatever was happening between you once and for all. “If you want me never to speak to you again, I will do that, but I must know. I must know why you hate me.”

You shifted uncomfortably, retracting your hand from Colin’s and placing it on your lap as you looked anywhere except for him.

“I don’t hate you-” you started weakly, but he was having none of it.

“Oh, spare me. I am not a fool. You hated me from the moment you saw me in Lady Danbury’s ballroom, even before our rivalry properly began.”

You bit your lip anxiously. If you were to tell Colin why you truly disliked him, and he was to take it in bad faith, you would be finished. Colin could tell everyone that you had been unchaperoned in the presence of two men of the ton, and given his place in society, no one would hesitate to believe him.

But it was exhausting. Hating him was far more difficult than anything you’d ever done, and you weren’t particularly eager to keep doing it. Perhaps this was the only way to let go, and trusting Colin right now would make things infinitely easier.

You finally met his gaze, feeling his blue eyes boring into yours. There was no anger in his expression, just a look of concern, with a hint of something else you couldn’t recognize.

Resigned, you sighed. “I saw you with Nigel Berbrooke at the Danbury ball before you even asked me to dance,” you explained.

A look of realization came over Colin’s face, and his lips, caked in dried blood, parted to make a perfect circle.

“Oh heavens,” he said, sounding terribly embarrassed. “I apologize that you had to see that. Honestly, I would feel worse about what happened, but he really deserved it.”

“I beg your pardon?” you said, frowning. “He really deserved what?”

Colin’s eyebrows furrowed and he sent you a questioning look. “You saw me break his nose in the gardens, right? That’s what you’re talking about? I promise I’m not usually a violent man, though I’m not particularly proving my point tonight. I apologize if I scared you off; it was not my greatest moment, but I do stand by my actions.”

“You- You broke his nose?” you said, your confusion growing as you tried to piece together what Colin was telling you.

“Well, yes. That’s why he left town for a month. His face looked something awful, and he was too embarrassed to say why. Though that won’t be a problem for me, since everyone already saw my nose get broken anyway,” he shrugged, wincing as he lightly touched his nose. “That’s what you were referring to, no?”

“Oh, dear. Oh, no,” you said, mortified as the realization dawned on you.

“What?” he pressed. “What is it?”

“I didn’t see any of that. I heard you talking with Mr. Berbrooke in the hall. He said that you could have any girl you wanted and that you just had to look for one with a big dowry and good hips. And then you asked to continue the conversation outside. And I thought- I just thought-”

Colin’s eyes widened. “And you thought I actually wanted to continue the conversation.”

You nodded, barely able to meet his eyes because you were so embarrassed. “But I suppose you just went out to the gardens to... Oh, no. And when he came back into town, he told me the only reason you were- the only reason anyone was pursuing me was because they wanted what I wouldn’t give Lord Barlow.”

“Y/N, I would never-” Colin started, fury in his voice, but he was too mortified to continue.

All this time, you had every right to resent him, and yet he stooped to childish antics to spite you. It didn’t matter that he hadn’t actually said those things; they were completely vile, and Colin understood that Nigel implicating him in that kind of talk would have been a glaring warning for you.

The incessant teasing, snide remarks, and rude comments were a grave misjudgment. How could he have treated you so poorly? How could he have treated anyone so poorly, for that matter? He had presented the most unbearable side of himself, sometimes descending into cruelty, all because he felt insecure. You had a valid reason for your hatred, and his behavior was nothing but a misguided attempt to mask his own insecurities.

What a complete mess.

“I’m sorry,” he said, resigned.

You shook your head quickly. “There’s nothing to be sorry for. I-I misunderstood and let that guide my actions. The fault is all mine.”

“Except it really isn’t, is it?” he said, reaching for your hand again, desperate to have contact with you again.

But you drew your hand back, too embarrassed that you had rushed to assume the worst so quickly. How differently the season would have gone if you hadn’t spent half the time trying to get under Colin’s skin.

“Either way, I’m so sorry,” you said, mortified as you saw just how much blood was on his face.

Colin had been willing to put himself in harm’s way to protect you and your honor. And you had spent months thinking he was one of the men who had no respect for you. You shook your head in disbelief, chiding yourself for your headstrong ways.

“I’m sorry, too. You had a real reason to dislike me, and I was just being childish,” Colin said, his eyes dropping to your mouth as you anxiously bit your lip.

If he wasn’t caked in dried blood, he might have tried to kiss you right now. He knew it would probably hurt like the devil, given that his nose was most likely broken, but he would have been willing to endure that just to feel your lips on his. But he couldn’t do it. Colin could still taste the bitter metallic taste in his mouth, and he knew he was in no state to be kissing anyone.

You nodded at Colin, fixing a stray strand of hair that had fallen out of place. “Can we be friends now, then?” you asked, half-smiling. “And not just as a favor to Eloise.”

Instantly, Colin’s heart dropped. He scolded himself for thinking you could ever consider him as a suitor. It was a well-known fact that you were looking for a titled gentleman with a large fortune. And, as a third son, he had neither of those things.

“Yes, friends,” he smiled wide, not wanting to fracture the fragile peace he had been waiting for since the moment he met you.

Friends was alright. Colin could do friends. He’d take anything at this point.

But as you turned away from him to see Anthony rushing over to scold his brother for starting a fight in his home and nearly giving Kate a heart attack, Colin felt his smile falter.

Oh heavens, he really did love you.

—

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sonarspace · 3 months

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more than friends, suguru geto

a/n: happy late 420...not proofread cause its 1am so bare with me if there are any mistakes 💔 content: getting high (kinda?), smut (oral, fem recieving. sex. missionary? mating press? idk what else 😭). wc: 3.6k

𓇼 ⋆. 𓆝⋆. 𓇼 ˚｡𓆉 ⋆𓇼 ⋆. 𓆝⋆. 𓇼 ˚｡𓆉 ⋆𓇼 ⋆. 𓆝⋆. 𓇼 ˚｡𓆉 ⋆𓇼 ⋆. 𓆝⋆. 𓇼 ˚｡𓆉 ⋆𓇼 ⋆.

you haven't seen him in two years. you had decided to go abroad to study for masters and stay there until you graduated. but your new home didn't feel like home because it didn't have him there. you've missed your friends especially suguru. he made everything feel better. you could get through anything as long as he was by your side.

between working and classes and the time difference you tried your best to stay in contact with him. he'd pick up your call any time of the day. hearing your voice was enough to make his day better. even a text from you would suffice. but when he didn't even get those, he'd be in a pissy mood. even more so when satoru would tease him "girlfriend didn't text you today, huh."

"shut up satoru. she's not my girlfriend." he fights back. oh how he wishes you were. so when you gave him the news that you were coming back he was elated. beyond elated actually. he immediately responds back asking for your flight details so he could pick you up. but you denied.

"i'll come over instead," you tell him on the phone flopping down on the couch with a smile you couldn't wipe off. you were thrilled at the prospect of being in his company once more. "i don't want our first meeting after two years to be in my airport clothes," you giggle. and he hums in thought. "okay, sweet cheeks. i'll see you then," and you could hear the joy in his voice as he hangs up the phone.

as your on your way to the airport you recieve a text from suguru.

⁞ suguru: change of plans, satoru's throwing a party, so we'll meet there. or do you wanna meet before and go over to his place?

⁞ you: why's satoru throwing a party?

↳ ⁞ suguru: because he's satoru.

↳ ⁞ you: makes sense.

⁞ you: don't think we'll be able to meet before the party. plane lands at 8 😿

↳ ⁞ suguru: i'll see you at the party then. have a safe flight, sweet cheeks 😸

as soon as you land, you grab a taxi and make your way to the hotel. you take a quick shower and change into a creamy ivory dress that hugs your body with thick straps adorning your shoulder. you take a look in the mirror before leaving and your cheeks are flushed at the thought of finally seeing him. luckily, satoru's location isn't too far from where you're staying so you grab a coat and walk to his place.

you buzz the doorbell once and then twice before satoru's presence graces you. he shouts your name in excitement and pulls you in for a tight long hug. as you hug him back you can't help but notice the smell of alchol and weed coming from inside.

he pulls back for a moment to admire you "i missed you," he murmurs as he places a sweet kiss on your forehead and hugs you once more. "missed you too satoru," you giggle trying to not get emotional.

"there's someone else who's missed you more than me though," he nudges your shoulder. "where is he?" you ask him. "come on," he shuts the door behind you but his penthouse is dark as you move in. he grabs your hand and pulls you in further. he flicks the light switch and you're met with a crowd yelling "surprise!"

you jump back and let out a laugh in shock. squealing as your closest friends make their way towards you. they all take turns hugging you and you're a blushing mess as he finally emerges from the crowd and comes over to you.

"hey," everything and everyone melts in the background. all you can see is him. his hair is longer as it drapes over his shoulder. his skin is covered in light facial hair. he seems taller. broader even. his eyes do a quick once over your figure.

"hi," you whisper feeling shy under his gaze. "no hug for me?" he teases. you laugh as you pull him in and he moves down to hug your shorter frame. your eyes close involuntarily as you hug him tight. you can feel the muscles he’s grown under his dress shirt. unable to control himself his nose pokes into your neck as he feels the familiarity of your smell wash over him. a mix of honey and cocoa butter. home sweet home, he thinks.

you finally break the hug and you feel everyone's gaze on the two of you. sure the two of you were not dating, but everyone knew you wanted each other. the tension between you two could be cut with a knife. you clear your throat as you look around, feeling a little awkward. it was so much easier when you talked on the phone, you think to yourself.

"want a drink?" he asks bringing you out of your thoughts. "yes, please."

"a margarita," you say together. "i remember," he smiles.

your social battery starts to drain as the night goes on and your friends ask you a ton of questions about your two yesrs abroad. suguru's leaning on a wall as he chats with nanami. his eyes kept finding their way back to you and yours to his. you looked an angel in the midst of everyone. all he could see was how the light on you shines brighter than everyone else.

"help me," you mouth to him when his eyes meet yours. he pushes off the wall and makes his way over to you, "excuse me everybody," he enunciates and breaks the circle of people surrounding you. "i think our guest is tired from her long flight, so i'm going to drop her off," he annouces as he grabs your hand.

you're not sure if its the little bit of alcholic coursing through you but his touch feels electric. a blush creeps up your neck as you he grabs your hand and pulls you through "you're just saying that because you want her all to your self." shoko speaks up. you chuckle as he rolls his eyes as he makes a face at shoko.

"want the last brownie?" satoru offers with a sly grin as you reach the door. "sure, im starving". you say. "aw shucks there's only one left," satoru fake pouts. "i'm good," suguru comments.

you break it in half and offer it to suguru "no, it's okay." he says but you push the half into his hand anyway. satoru gives you a quick hug and whispers "it's an edible". you gasp and pull away. "SATORU GOJO! WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME THAT BEFORE I ATE IT." you almost scream with annoyance.

"it's not strong, don't worry." he puts his hand up in defense. "it's an edible," you turn to suguru frustrated. "satoru, what the fuck?" suguru sighs. "you both seem nervous, it'll just help you feel better. plus it doesn't even have the same effect since you both halved it."

an annoyed pout makes it way on your face and suguru punches satoru in the arm in your defence. "you fucked up her mood, dipshit." however that stupid smile doesn't leave satoru's face, "you'll thank me later." he says as he bids you both goodbye.

"you've never had an edible before," suguru asks as you both walk out of the building. "no, how does it feel like?" you huff. "well it depends on the person. it could make you feel happy, hungry, sleepy, peaceful, or even horny. heh. but don't worry. i don't think it'll have the same effect on us cause we didn't take that much." he side eyes you.

you continue walking with a bit of distance between the two of you. it wasn’t like that before you purse your lips in thought. "look," he points. "it's your favorite." your eyes follow where he's pointing and you spot a stall selling yakitori. "wanna get some?" he offers. "yessss, please" you chirp excitedly. you sit on a bench across the stall as suguru grabs you a plate and two water bottles. "to sober up," he says as he places them near you.

you quickly down two sticks and suguru stares at you in quiet amazement. he couldn't believe you were here. sitting next to him and eating yakitori so joyfully. "you look beautiful," the words flow out of his mouth before he can stop himself. you choke on a bite as his words catch you off guard. "woah," he chuckles quietly as you cough multiple times and gain back your composure. "note to self to not compliment you while you're eating or i could end up killing you," he jokes making you laugh. "shut up," you meek out through your fit of laughter.

you turn on your side to face him, "you look really... really..." you're at a loss for words. "wow, thanks for the compliment sweet cheeks," he mocks. "nooo, you just look really really good, can't think of enough words. it's the weed making my brain fuzzy." and he guffaws.

"that's not how it works..."

"does so,"

"no it doesn't"

"how would you know?"

"it's only been thirty minutes... it needs an hour to take effect."

"maybe this one's just more powerful," you argue back with a cute scowl.

"whatever you say dummy," he smiles as he pats your head and stands up to throw the plates.

you walk side by side and with every step he moves in closer. your pinkies tangle with each other and he takes it as his sign to intertwine your hands. his hand grasping yours has a sensation build deep in your stomach. his thumb moves over the back of your hand in a soothing manner and a need for something more alerts in your brain.

"i really missed you," you break the silence as you near your hotel. he turns his face to meet your gaze, "i missed you, too”.

you stop walking and face each other. a smile creeps up his face. "what?" you squint at him. "can i kiss you?" you knew the question was coming but you're still taken aback. "yes,” you snicker.

his lips capture yours as soon the words are out of your mouth. the kiss is soft and sweet like holding a petal in your hand. your plush lips in between his. and it feels just like he thought it would. your hand moves over his shoulders pulling him in closer. he hums into your mouth as he pushes you to a wall. his tongue licks over your lips asking for permission and you part them. his tongue traces over yours trying to memorize the way your first kiss feels, the way you taste of alcohol and street food. so perfectly you.

he pulls back and you're both breathing heavily. a carnal need evident in both your eyes. "come on," you grasp his hand and lead him inside the hotel and to the elevator. his arms snake around your waist and he peppers your neck in kisses. the elevator dings and you quickly move in.

as soon as the elevator door closes his hands are on you pulling you in closer and moving his lips over your neck and collarbones. a kiss on your throat as he brings his lips up to yours. his hand moves up under your jaw, his finger brushing your cheek softly as he kisses you harder now and you whine into his mouth.

the elevator opens on your floor and you push him away stopping his lingering hands from making its way to your panties. you giggle as you walk backwards to your room, the sound echoing off the walls of the hallway. he follows with a smile plastered over his face. his heart swells with love for you just as a flower blooms after a rainy day.

you open the door and slip in and he locks the door behind him. your elbows support your body as you lean back on the bed with your feet crossed and dangling in front him.

he tries to move in close but you stop him with your heel pressing into his chest. your dress moves higher and his breath hitches as he notices your white lace panties. his hand wraps around your leg and fingers lightly scratch your thigh. he undoes the straps of your heels and presses a kiss on your ankle as he puts it down and gets on his knees. he removes the heels off of your second foot.

and peppers your legs with kisses. his eyes on you the entire time. his hands slide further up your legs and under your dress. "suguru," you whisper. "yes, baby," he hums grinning at your neediness when you pull him in closer with your legs.

"don't tease," you sneer at him. he chuckles in return, "did the guys back there not keep you satisfied?"

"did the girls here not keep you satisfied, suguru?" you tilt your head and the way you purr his name has blood rushing to his dick. he shakes his head, "no one comes close to you". he holds your eyes "no one ever will".

your cheeks heat up from the way he eyes you and you look away. "now now.." he grabs your chin, "give me a kiss and i'll make you feel incredible." you lean in and give him a long kiss. your hands hold his face as you suck his tongue into your mouth and he buckles forward with a whimper. you pull back with a smug smile.

he grabs your legs and puts them over his shoulders getting comfortable between your legs. his mouth colors your thighs in red bite marks. his gaze is unwavering as his mouth moves closer to where you need him. he pokes out his tongue and closes his eyes, letting out a groan "so wet, sweet cheeks".

he licks a stripe over your panties and hums at the light taste that runs over his tongue. he licks a few more times and then sucks over the spot where you clit is. giving it a peck once he pulls back and slides your panties off your legs quickly. he takes a moment admiring his view, your pussy glistening all because of him. he grows harder at the thought and whines as he brings his mouth to your core once more.

his tongue moves over your outer folds first and then he slowly licks on your inner folds. you hiss when his tongue makes contact with your clit. "she's sensitive huh?" he speaks referring to your pussy.

he licks your clit a few times before he sucks it in his mouth. he eases a finger into your hole at the same time. "she's greedy, look at how she's clenching around my finger," he chuckles under his breath.

your hands tangle in his hair as you mewl and buck your hips into his mouth, "ya gettin close, sweetness?" he asks sweetly moving his finger in and out of you at quick pace. "mhm," you hum in reply - not able to say much. his second hand makes its up way your body, palming your boobs over your dress. and his tongue moves in circle over your nub, bringing you closer to the edge.

"sugu-" you breathe heavily tipping your head back. he keeps sucking on your clit, his tongue teasing it every few minutes. meanwhile his finger rubs against that soft spot in you and loud moans spill out of you as you cum in his mouth.

he pulls back and moves his finger out of your cunt and into your mouth. your lips wrap around his finger tasting yourself. you hold his wrist in place as you bob your head slightly. his breath hitches at the scene. he tugs you downwards with his finger in your mouth.

you let go of his finger in your mouth and move into his lap. he grabs your face and kisses you him messily. all teeth and tongue. you pull back from the kiss spit connecting your lips. you undo the buttons of his shirt and his lips move over your neck. he wraps a hand around your throat tipping it up as he leaves kisses all over and licks a strip up to your ear lobe. a chill runs over you and you let out a whimper at his actions. he bites your ear lobe and then soothes it with his tongue.

his hands move under your ass squeezing at the flesh as he picks you up and drops you in the middle of the bed. he pulls off his unbuttoned shirt and slowly pulls off his pants and boxers, making a show of it. your mouth waters at his length as it spring up and hits his abdomen.

you reach out a hand and he grabs it pushing it by your head as he settles above you. you pull off the starps of your dress and he tugs it down your body until your nude frame comes into view. his mouth drops at the sight. "gorgeous fuckin body, gorgeous face, gorgeous girl. my girl?" he tilts his head slightly as if questioning you.

you titter "yes suguru, your girl." you confirm and the smile he gives as your heart melting. it reaches his eyes twinkling and lighting up his entire face. you spread your legs so he can settle between them. he pushes your hair back and pecks your lips once and then your cheeks, nose — showering your face in kisses making you smile until you break out in a laugh.

you maintain eye contact as your hand wraps around his dick and he gulps hard as your thumb rubs over his slit gathering his pre cum. your ringed fingers moving up and down his length, applying just the right amount of pressure without him having to guide you. so perfect for him, he thinks. "slow down," he whines. "gonna make me cum, if you keep going".

you guide it to your aching hole. "no condom. are you sure?" he asks sincerly. "i'm clean and on the pill" you hum. "im clean too," he beams. he pecks you once more before he pushes in slowly.

you both hold your breath until he pushes in half way. "can you take more?" he checks in with you. "yeah just give me a minute," you ask trying to adjust to his girth. "take your time, sweet stuff," he kisses your cheek.

"go ahead," you tell him after a few minutes and he pushes in completely, both of you whining in tandem. "fuck," his voice drops an octave.

he starts moving slowly. his tip pushes right against your g-spot. your walls snug around him. he drops his head into your neck. breathing heavily. your arms wrap around his back scratching lightly at the way he was making you feel. he picks up the pace after a while, moving all the way out with just his tip in and you moan at the loss of being full by him.

"suguru," you cry. "shh," he quickly shuts down your protests, rubbing your cheek as he pushes in harder nudging his cockhaed against your g spot making your eyes roll back. he pulls your legs up to his shoulder and the angle has you feel him deeper. he starts moving faster "feel so good, baby. can't believe, been missing out on this for so long." he whines, kissing your calf.

he starts thrusting at a toe curling pace. alternating between slow and hard, fast and soft — driving you insane. he rubs his thumb over your clit, making you reach your high. the sounds of your wet cunt and his hard thrusts are loud and can probably be heard by anyone passing your room. if this was anyone else, you would've probably not made a single sound but with suguru... you can't help but be loud.

"what a messy cunt you've got sweetness. just sucking me in so eagerly." he pushes your legs up to your chest fucking you faster. "tch tch" he tuts patting your cheek, when you shut your eyes from the simulation. "eyes on me". you nod. "how does it feel baby?" he asks.

"incredible," you whimper. he holds eye contact as he brings your legs down to wrap around him and he moves closer to you. breathing in synch. chest to chest. skin to skin.

if you tried hard enough you could feel his heart beating to the syllable of your name. "i've missed you so much," he whispers. his lips captures yours and you whine into his mouth. his tongue dances with yours. his thumb on your clit moves at an unwavering pace bringing you closer to the edge. you bite his lower lip as the band in your stomach snaps and you cum with a moan of his name. he follows suit chanting your name like a mantra.

he looks into your eyes once you both come down from your highs and all you could see was the love you had for each other reflected back. you stay like that for a while, a smile on both your faces. despite the fact that you had been apart for two years, your ability to understand each other remained unchanged as you gaze into each other's eye having an entire conversation without speaking. the distance and time only made your relationship stronger.

"so, weed makes you horny huh?" he breaks the silence. and you both bust out laughing.

a/n: i honestly dont know how i feel about this one but i hope you like it :). reblogs, likes, and comments are highly appreciated!

𓇼 ⋆. 𓆝⋆. 𓇼 ˚｡𓆉 ⋆𓇼 ⋆. 𓆝⋆. 𓇼 ˚｡𓆉 ⋆𓇼 ⋆. 𓆝⋆. 𓇼 ˚｡𓆉 ⋆𓇼 ⋆. 𓆝⋆. 𓇼 ˚｡𓆉 ⋆𓇼 ⋆.

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jiubilant · 4 months

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gf and i were talking the other day about the college of winterhold (as we do). given that it accepted students from across tamriel at its height—and that its students from abroad seem to outnumber its local students in 4E 201—it's reasonable to assume that passable fluency in a few languages is expected of or at least preferred in prospective students:

cyrod—the lingua franca of the empire, and of its scholarship. a majority of the arcaneum's texts are written in cyrod; if you can't read it, you might have a bad time at the college

bretic—because of the bretons' great advancements in magic, it's common for mage-scholars to learn bretic in order to keep abreast of the latest scholarly publications from the isles. most bretic tracts are quickly translated to cyrod, but many mages pursue the study of bretic anyway for an edge over their peers

altmeris—ditto for altmeris, though scholarly correspondence between mages in alinor and mages outside it has dwindled to a trickle during the thalmor regime

nordic—this one's most useful in the village when you're trying to order a pint

most of winterhold's masters are fluent in at least three languages (this was common among scholars in antiquity). by 201, incoming students often arrive with much less knowledge of languages other than their own and face a steep uphill climb to understanding their study materials

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venus616 · 2 years

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i'm just saying you can do better; {p.p.}

Pairing: peter parker x f!reader (gif is tasm but you can interpret this as any peter parker)

Summary: tell me have you heard that lately? i'm just saying you can do better... and i'll start hating only if you make me. (lyrics by drake, marvin's room)

translation: you and peter have been best friends for years, you had a crush on him but eventually got over it and he noticed you're about to move on to some other guy. he just had to get something off his chest before you did that

Warnings: friends to lovers, smut, alcohol mentions (margarita, beer, shots), vaginal fingering/sex, oral sex, praise kink (if you squint), jealousy, language, unprotected sex, 18+, NSFW

Word Count: 5.6k (2.4k is smut LOL)

A/N: once i decided on a title for this fic i couldnt stop humming marvins room sjdjnfjnd but yeah this was fun to write it was a previously abandoned wip (my first one ever for peter actually) that i revised the plot for almost entirely and this came out way better than i expected shout out to my oomf / friend for reading both times

She usually kept to herself and her closest friends, Peter being her best one. And don’t get her wrong, she loved Peter. There were no words for how much adoration she had for him, but unfortunately, she wasn't the only one.

Peter was their college’s most eligible bachelor, how could he not be? Top of his class, the freshmen’s favorite Physics TA and possibly the cutest guy at the school. Don’t get him wrong, he’s not necessarily a playboy but it was definitely a step up from his social standing from Midtown High. He enjoyed the attention, he’d be a fool not to. Especially because he’s being noticed as himself and not just when he’s in the suit. So yeah, he went on a few dates here and there. Hooked up with a couple people in the bathrooms of frat parties. Even flirted while he was helping students on their problem sets.

Unfortunately for her, she had to hear all about it afterwards.

Whether it’s from his end, a guy talking about the encounter in the dining hall or a girl talking about it before her organic chemistry lecture. She wasn’t the biggest fan of it, it hurt seeing someone she loved dearly, after realizing how deeply that love ran once he was single again, not manifest into a deeper relationship. Peter had been a core part of her life since high school, Aunt May adored her, her family adored him. She was even there for his break up with Gwen Stacy so she could study abroad.

As they got older she understood those were the things that just came with being the best friend to someone who was as amazing as Peter which is why she didn’t risk changing it. She accepted her place in his life and eventually those feelings of consistent jealousy that would flare during the first few months of their freshman year subsided. Sometimes they would come back up but she pushed it aside as false hope as there were outside parties involved. For example, the few times when her friends (that weren’t also his) accused him of being flirty. Each time, nothing came of it. So she refused to read too much into it until he said it explicitly.

She finally chose to actively move on from this high school crush, that she even started seeing someone from one of her classes and they were planning a third date for this weekend. This, because of course, came up during their hang out with their mutual friends in her and Felicia’s campus apartment. They were hanging out to take the edge off after midterms from last week and crowded in the kitchen counter playing bartender during. This was one of the rare times Peter could make it, so she appreciated the quality time with him.

After Felicia made a small margarita for her, she started asking how it was going with Johnny from the Bioethics course. Everyone’s chatter dropped considerably because everyone was interested in the prospective relationship in bloom with the Johnny Storm. She stuttered before clearing her throat, clearly embarrassed.

“It’s fine. I mean, he’s really sweet of course. And fun-”

“So have you guys hooked up?” Felicia cuts off. Peter smirks before looking to her for her response.

She feels her stomach flipping at his sudden attention to her answer.

She plays it off before responding, clearing her throat. “Yeah,” she shoots a grin meeting with the eyes across the room before the room erupts in a light cheer.

“We’re actually gonna see eachother again this weekend and go to his place in the city.” She smiles to herself in excitement. She bites the bottom of her lip as her friends shoot quirked up eyebrow glances her way.

“Well let’s celebrate! You're gonna get some from THE Johnny Storm! Bottoms up!” Felicia announces. The rest of her friends follow suit as she tries to laugh off the burning up of her cheeks and ears, not realizing the news of her sex life would be this exciting.

Peter bitterly smirks before taking a swig of his beer. He didn’t understand why this was such a big deal that Felicia practically had to make a show of it.

He also didn’t understand his annoyance and attempted to play it off. It increasingly became hard as the questions advanced and she continued blushing, describing the last few dates with him. Peter’s ears particularly perked up at the study date she had with him, finding out that she had canceled on him for Johnny through this.

Peter felt a twinge of disappointment in his stomach at this, not knowing if it was friend jealousy or something more. He knows he can’t be exactly mad, since the hangout they had planned was usually offhand, and he more often than not skipped out on those due to Spider-Man activities, simultaneously lying. He couldn’t blame her for eventually reciprocating, but for a boy? He hadn’t felt that let down by her since she admitted to him she thought his Bugle coworker Eddie Brock was cute.

Peter took another swig of his drink distractedly, causing Harry to ask if something was on his mind, but he shook his head quickly, lying to alleviate any worries from his friend.

As the night progresses and everyone decides that they’re the perfect amount of buzzed for a game night. After a few rounds of the card game B.S., she decides Candyland would be perfect, remembering that she has the game in her room. Not wanting to get up, she asks Peter to get it for her underneath her bed while he’s up throwing away his drink.

He obliges and turns to her room door, opening it. His eyes narrow at the picture of him and her next to her bed, accompanied by other pictures he’s taken for their group outings. His pace quickened up across the room and he reached for the frame. Peter quickly turned behind him to make sure no one was coming in to check and turned back to smile at it. He remembered this day fondly, the day they went to the state fair and won her a plushy of her favorite animal. In this photo he noticed how big she was smiling while he was only smiling at her posing happily. Peter used his spidey skills to his advantage and just played it off, to soak into her admiration when he won.

He put it back down as he sensed the footsteps coming behind the door to reveal her opening her room door confused.

“Pete, what are you doing? Hurry up, Harry is suggesting body shots again.” She giggled before sauntering over his body standing in front of her nightstand. He chuckled at the comment before she crouched down to get the game underneath her bed. She rose back up on her feet to meet his eyes, following her.

“You’re being a weirdo,” She said putting her hand on his broad shoulder, with a false concern in voice causing him to laugh.

He inhaled a little before quipping. “Are you ditching me to hang out with this new guy?” His voice raised a pitch to ensure the friendliness of the inquiry, attempting to mask his genuine offense.

She then shrugged, and face suggesting she didn’t know or care what he was talking about. It was that moment Peter officially identified his feelings as jealousy.

“If you’re referring to the one time,” she emphasized ‘one’, making Peter feel guilty enough to hang his head low in response, “I canceled on you then yes.” She rubbed the hand she still had on him on his shoulder.

“I’m sorry and I’ll give you a heads up next time. Now can we go so you can stop acting like such a baby?” She playfully tapped his cheeks with her palm but he caught her hand, holding it a little longer than usual.

Peter drank her gaze onto him as his hand engulfed hers, still remaining on her face. His fingers intertwined with hers as he leaned his face into her hand. Her breath hitched at the affection he was showing and slowly removed her hands from his, worried that one of their friends would see them with the door wide open. She broke eye contact, suddenly finding the boardgame in her other hand much more interesting.

“C’mon, let’s go,” Peter’s voice interrupted her thoughts, and soon after so did his hand as it landed on the small of her back, caressing that area lightly until he found her hand again to quickly lead them way out the room.

The rest of the night was odd to say the least.

Peter’s hands were always grazing hers, or finding themself right on top of her thighs. Whether it was to flag her down from the competitive streak they were both showing from the game or laughing at her reaction to one of his bad jokes, his hands were just constantly on her body.

Similar to other instances where she felt confused by Peter’s sudden affection, she attempted to play it off, but it got to a point where it was causing her heart to beat faster and a familiar heat to form within her stomach.

She let out a silent breath of relief that her friends began to leave, expecting Peter to soon leave with Harry. She went to the kitchen to throw food away but found Felicia looking back at her with a mischievous but apologetic look on her face.

“What?” She raised her eyebrow, ready to exclaim at her for leaving her with a mess when she agreed to set up if Felicia cleaned at the end.

“I have plans, sorry babe, but I will cook and clean tomorrow. I promise!” Felicia then dashed out after hugging her body quicker than she could think to respond, followed by the door closing behind her.

She sighed, slightly annoyed that out of all times for Felicia to mysteriously disappear yet again, that she had to do it the night she would clean up. Quickly, she decided to get over it, said her goodbyes to mostly everyone and noticed Harry and Peter still talking. She decided to ignore it until they would eventually make their exit and started on the dishes while they had their conversation.

“You’re not coming back tonight man?” Harry asked, confusion all over his face.

“No I will. Something just came up, so I'll see you later, yeah?” Peter averted Harry’s eyes and Harry understood, or at least assumed he did. Just another one of Peter’s mysterious disappearances, so he left without any further questions.

Harry quickly said bye to the hostess of the night causing her to look up from the sink when she saw Peter still in their apartment.

“Are you still here, Parker?” She sounded in disbelief, causing Peter to scoff.

“Am I not allowed to spend quality time with my best friend now?” She looked up from the sink to see him clutching his heart as if he had been stabbed, making her shake her head at his dramatics.

“For your information, I wanted to stay,” He added on. She wiped down the sink and washed her hands before walking back into the main room where he had sat on the couch, landing on the spot in front of him.

“I believe it’s called overstaying your welcome,” She bantered, causing him to playfully push her by her shoulder.

“Whatever,” He rolled his eyes as the silence of the apartment filled the air. They both noticed it, realizing whatever was there in her room earlier was still in the atmosphere, especially prevalent now that they were officially alone.

“I can’t believe you’re going out with him,” He puffed, muttering it a bit low compared to his usual volume. She furrowed her eyebrows, annoyed at the insuitation.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” She laughed pushing his shoulder back, mimicking his movement from earlier.

“No not like that, I just feel like you can do better than him,” Peter let the statement roll off his tongue and she froze in response, attempting to understand what he just said. Her eyes landed on the ground, avoiding him again before she could think of a proper reaction.

She quickly shook off what she thought it sounded like, which she thought was jealousy and just took the safe, protective best friend route.

“Should I have gotten your approval first?” She smirked, looking back up at him, reaching over to hold his hand in the safe way they always have.

Peter took it a step farther, just like how he did earlier, and intertwined his fingers with hers yet again.

“I think you should be with someone who’s more your type you know? A little more thoughtful,” Peter started, rubbing his fingers along the pad of her thumb.

“He’s cool I guess, but you shouldn’t be with someone who’s so cocky,” He stated, making her laugh, causing him to laugh as well.

“See you’re enjoying this. You want me to talk about him and beg you not to see him again?” Peter joked, causing her to gasp out as his accusations.

“Peter, you started this,” She pointed out, making his cheeks turn a few shades brighter at her acknowledgment. “I don’t know what’s gotten into you but it also just sounds like you’re describing yourself.” She comments before she could think, embarrassed at her assertion, but she knew if she didn’t call him out he wouldn’t stop it. The last thing she needed was one of her friends not approving of a guy she was seeing.

“I’m your type?” He clocked her. She didn’t know how to react so she watched his face for any hint of how to proceed. He only smirked with a smile playing on his lips, letting her know how much he was enjoying this.

“Oh shut up,” She smiles playfully before hitting him with her nearest throw pillow, him yelling out a whine, knowing it didn’t hurt.

“For your information,” She started, mocking his voice from earlier. “You’re being just as cocky as him right now.” She firmly stated as he placed the pillow back in lap.

Peter shrugged before readjusting himself to sit closer in front of her, dangerously close. It went back to feeling like 30 minutes earlier when he was all over her body.

“Yeah? But it’s okay when I do it.” Peter teased, leaning his head on the couch watching his presence words fluster her. He could feel her heart picking up its pace and it dizzied him, knowing the type of effect he had on her.

“I didn’t say that,” She argued back, making him draw his breath back in before egging on her claim from earlier.

“But I’m your type,” He stated, she sighed in defeat, knowing he wasn’t going to drop it and played into it due to this.

“I guess you are Peter,” She states lightly. If Peter didn’t have his Spidey senses on overdrive right now, he would’ve been convinced by the nonchalant act she put on right now. Instead, he respected her commitment to not allowing him to win, even when she’s flirting back.

“Then how come you’re not going out with me?”

What he said stunned her, she faltered momentarily before shrugging again with a smile.

“You never asked,” She stated, a smile bouncing off of her lips watching Peter form an answer. They decided to skip over the fact that they had been friends for almost 6 years, but she knew that her honest answer was that the mere idea of him going out with her was out of the question because of it.

Until now.

He remained still for a moment and she fixated on where their hands met instead, wondering if they had ever held hands like this before. While she was thinking, and while Peter used his free hand to tuck her hair behind her hair, she realized the answer was never, because it had always been much more innocent. However, tonight was anything but that.

“Can I try something?” His voice finally registered in her ears. Confused at his sudden switch, she nods.

Peter hesitates, going in to kiss her. Peter’s soft lips connect to hers as his hand cups her face. She instinctively deepened the kiss, silently asking for Peter’s permission to do so. Their breaths began to shake from the intensity of the kiss.

She practically lost her bearings when Peter’s hands made their way to her waist, pulling her towards his chest. She held onto his bicep, now flexed, as he hooked his hand underneath her leg to pull her around his hips where he sat.

They were an entangled mess, Peter placing her where he wanted and her obliging, but not coming up for air as she leaned even more into the kiss. Peter chuckled in between the kisses when he eventually grabbed her hips to hover above his own. She groaned at his strength, leaning back in to attack his neck and jaw in kisses.

She eventually started to nibble on his neck, finding his sensitive spot. He pants out, attempting to slow down her movements before bringing her closer.

“Fuck, you’re really going in on me there,” He muttered before he forcefully plopped her onto him causing her to grind on his forming erection, grinning at his acknowledgment. Peter placed his hand on her back and pushed her closer to his chest, nose and forehead pressed against one another with only the sounds of their breathing filling the room.

She leaned into his ear whispering lowly, “You like it.” She readjusted herself on him slightly, to grab on the waistband of his pants, tugging it down before snaking her other hand on the print straining against the fabric of his jeans.

Peter groaned, dick twitching in his pants from simultaneous surprise and arousal. He didn’t realize how different it would be sleeping with a close friend, but also underestimating how she would be in a sexual context.

He threw his head back as she unbuttoned his pants, in disbelief of what was happening right now. When he brought his head back up to watch her movements he saw her kneeled before him on the ground, rubbing his erection through his boxers.

“Fuck, slow down,” He breathed out while pulling his jeans off. Right after, Peter raised his t-shirt right above his abs while she pulled his boxers down, cock semi-hard.

Her eyes glazed over his body, only semi familiar with it whenever their friends went to the beach or the pool. She tried to hide her shock at he’s become exponentially toned since high school and just seemed to be getting bigger despite never actively going to the gym. She chose to pay it no mind and focused on his cock.

Mainly because she hated how attractive Peter looked right now, hair messy, shirt halfway off and looking down at her, closely watching her movements. The attention he was giving her was enough to make her want to shut down immediately. Their eye contact remained intense, both blown out with lust, both because of the compromising position the other was in.

She maintained eye contact and wrapped her hand around his length, slowly jerked her hand around him. When he was hard enough, she placed one hand at the base of his cock and another right on top, running her thumb over the slit a few times once the pre cum came out. She looked down at the wetness pooling out from him and focused on her movements, not wanting to lose this pace he had been receptive to. He was fully erect at this point, almost bucking his hips into her hands getting him off.

Peter was choking back his moans before he finally spoke. “Don’t be a tease,” He muttered.

She giggled and the noise went straight to his dick, causing him to buck once more in her hands.

Without saying anything, she placed the hand that had been on the base of his erection on his thigh and opened her mouth in an obscene way that was unfamiliar to Peter. Before he could take a mental picture of it, she slowly licked the underside of his cock up to his tip and wrapped her lips around him, her eyes never leaving his.

He whispered a curse under his breath from the scene in front of him, realizing this was just the beginning.

Her tongue swirled around the head of his cock, collecting the pre-cum that was previously spurting out and she dipped her head lower, dropping the eye contact to which Peter had a brief sigh of relief, becoming intimidated by the intimacy of it all. She shifted her focus on taking him whole and started to bob her head on him, engulfing his length with her mouth.

He started puffing out, mumbling praises that only encouraged her. “Fuck, you’re taking me so good,” She only nodded, attempting to take him deeper while swishing her mouth around him and continuing to bob.

Peter felt a tension forming in his stomach and wanted to tell her to stop but it escaped his head as quickly as it came because of how good her mouth felt. Peter fought the urge to instinctively thrust into her mouth and just cupped the back of her head, pushing the hair out of her face as she continued to gag around him, the wet noises mixing in with his moans.

“Don’t hurt yourself babe,” He said before moving a hand that was around her head to her cheek, making her look up at him. She bobbed her head a few more times, this time more shallowly and popped off his dick, gasping for air.

A trail of her saliva dripped from her lips to the head of his cock making his stomach burst with butterflies from the image of how flushed, and fucked out she looked from the immaculate head she just provided him with. His heart swelled from the action and all he could do was wipe the spit from her chin and cup her face.

“C’mere here,” He mumbled, bringing her to stand on her feet and lean down to kiss him. He kissed her rougher than the first time, presumably from the desire he’s built up from the foreplay. She was still trying to pace her breathing and he could tell so he slowed down, but snaked his hands down to the waistband of her jeans, reciprocating the unbuttoning of her pants like she had done for him.

She broke the kiss to replace his hands with hers and slipped them off. Shortly after she removed her top, revealing herself clad in some lacy underwear and a bra, standing before him.

“No fair, Parker,” She commented. He was briefly confused until she grabbed the hem of his shirt to remove it off of him, admiring his toned, relaxed figure in full view now. She kneeled back down on the couch cushions, her warm core hovering above his dick, teasing him as he could feel the heat on him with her knees on either side of his legs.

He brought his hand in between her thighs, attempting to move her underwear to the side but paused at the wetness of her through the fabric.

“So wet,” He tsked, making her smirk when he looked back up to her studying his movements. He placed her fingers firmly against her nub through the fabric, to which she grinded against, needing to feel his large fingers against her now throbbing clit.

“Impatient, too,” He added, finally moving her panties to the side to insert a finger, making her throw her head back. She unconsciously rocked her hip forward at the penetration to which he met by repeatedly thrusting into her before adding another.

Both his index and middle fingers were fucking her, long and slender but big enough to feel the pleasure of the stretch once she had relaxed around him. Peter eventually curled his fingers inside of her and flicked his wrists while inside of her, causing her to squirm on top of him. The sounds of her wetness coincided with her moans, progressively getting more sensitive and impatient.

“I’m gonna cum if you keep doing that,” She hissed at him, unable to control the steady rocking of her hips on his hands.

“Good,” He said with a hint of satisfaction in his voice. He brought his other thumb to rub her clit, making her movements sputter and breathing erratic as he played with her to her finish.

Peter felt her clenching around him more frequently and took advantage of it to thrust faster, curling his fingers back up to create more friction. She whined out at the change of pace and stimulation added onto her clit before eventually feeling the built up tightness in the lower pit of her stomach release, signifying her finish.

She continued to clench around his fingers as he continued to finger her despite her orgasm. She sobbed at the sensitivity she began to help but couldn’t help but continue rocking her hips into his fingers, riding them once again. She resumed panting out his name, begging him for something but couldn’t form the words.

“What?” He said, barely slowing down the thrusts of his fingers.

“Fuck me,” She responded, hardly audible from the groans surrounding the statement.

He nods, removing his fingers from her core, making her gasp at the sudden absence of him. She made quick work of her underwear, slipping them off her legs while Peter wrapped his hand around his cock, attempting not to completely jerk off to the sight of her.

She returned to her previous position, covering her completely naked form over Peter’s, feeling the tip of him right under to her wetness.

She sank down on him, both wincing at the feeling of each other. All Peter could focus on was the softness of being inside her, her skin, the flesh of her thighs being wrapped around him, the closeness of their chests being pressed up against each other and the brief vulnerability she was displaying by wrapping her arms around his shoulders. He felt faint at the presence of her scent while her head was tucked into his neck, combined by the steady sensation of her rocking her hips onto his cock.

“Peter,” She moaned.

“Yeah?” Peter was hardly taken out of his thoughts, answering automatically as he grabbed onto the flesh of her hips to control at the speed he thrusted into her from under.

“You feel so,” She groaned before continuing “So fucking good Pete. You feel fucking amazing inside of me.” She finished before plunging down faster onto him, making him look at her mouth agape. He could feel her clenching even harder and more frequently around him, combined with her wetness from the previous orgasm and just from sucking him off, it was almost too much.

Peter looked down to see where they connected and saw his skin glistening just from her arousal, and felt even more turned on.

“You’re gonna kill me,” He stated mindlessly, still in awe of how sexy she looked right now. In Peter’s point of view, he struggled with deciding what to focus on.

The way her tits bounced in front of his face, the way her ass and thighs felt when they smacked on top of his thighs repeatedly, causing the the jiggle of her body to be even more apparent, or how fucking close she was holding him. She alternated from both her hands clenching into his shoulders, or one hand on the nape of his neck and another pulling on his brown curls.

A bonus was how she sounded moaning his name and a string of praises for how he made her feel.

Of course, she noticed this.

“You like that don’t you?” Her voice caught his attention, barely realizing she was actually asking him a question

“What?” He breathed out, sounding just as fucked out as he looked, the sweat of each other making his hair stick to his forehead.

“When I say nice things to you,” She obliged to Peter’s physical request of her to slow down, which was him just forcing her movements to stop by the way he grabbed her.

“Mmm,” He didn’t answer, just closed his eyes and threw his head back on the couch, avoiding her quizzical stare.

“C’mere,” She said, pulling herself forward by pushing her weight on his shoulders and rising from his, now aching, cock.

Peter’s attention was caught, he shook his head in disbelief of her and opened his eyes, still hanging low to hide his irritation that her heat wasn’t surrounding him anymore.

“You’re so cute when you’re upset,” She fake pouted, then proceeded to giggle. Peter didn’t want to find it as cute as he did but he couldn’t help himself.

“You really are a fucking tease, you know that?” He growled before grabbing her by her thighs to lower herself back onto him and raised his hips from the couch to fuck her on his own pace. The force from his strength caused her entire body to rock from each thrust, but she relished in it, moaning out praise for how good it made her feel.

“Peter,” She yelped at a particularly hard thrust. “Just like that,” Peter’s head spun at this.

“Yeah, keep doing that, please,” She begged, fucking begged, Peter to maintain the force he had brought upon her. It was then he knew he played right into what she wanted when she taunted him for his praise kink. (He was then making a mental note of how well she knows him and how he’s probably just a little predictable.)

Peter was practically drooling to see her come apart on top of him like this, he threw his head back in the pillows once again to enjoy the view and moved one of his hands to her clit, putting pressure on her, bringing her closer to her orgasm.

He felt it building up by the way she clenched on his cock and couldn’t contain his moans any more.

“Moan, please I wanna hear you when you cum inside me,” She commented once he let a particularly loud one escape his lips. He was both shocked and embarrassed at the effect she had on him, because he almost came apart immediately at the invitation to cum inside her.

“You sure?” He whined, trying to bring her to finish before him.

“Yeah, I’ll be right there with you,” She said, finding his other hand on her waist and intertwining his fingers with her.

“Please?” Once those words left her lips he was finished. He instantly came inside her, her following right after.

Their orgasms swept them both away, sensitivity coming right after as she struggled to detach herself from him. Peter didn’t allow this and continued to fuck her through both their orgasms, relishing the pain and the pleasure this decision came with.

Her head was back in the crook of his neck when their movements slowed down and they had to catch their breaths.

Once their hearts reached a normal rate and they removed themselves off of each other, Peter broke the silence.

“Are you still going to see him?” He asked rather timidly. She didn’t understand the sudden shyness but decided not to comment on it. She shrugged in response before answering honestly.

“Probably,” She averted eye contact with him, looking at where their hands connected, ignoring their full frontal nudity because this was somehow more vulnerable.

Peter’s heart dropped, he wasn’t expecting that response, nor his reaction to that response. Without thinking about the weight of what he was going to say next, because he hadn’t been doing much of that tonight, he continued.

“What if you go out with me instead?”

She looked him in the eyes again before responding. She didn’t know what she saw in his eyes. It was a mixture of fear, desire and hope.

Then, it was her turn not to think before she responded.

“Like on a real date?” She realized how that sounded when she said it aloud.

Peter nods, knowing what she meant.

“I meant what I said about us,” He paused, watching for her reaction. She hung onto his words, encouraging him to continue. “I want to go out with you and if I’m your type then what’s stopping us?” He joked. In her head this was so unsurprising because it seemed right up his alley to joke about some offhand comment she made before they literally had sex and laughed, because of how predictable her best friend is.

“Well why didn’t you say anything before?” She inquires, shaking her head at how ridiculous he sounded. She studied his features again before he answered, watching him turn a few shades of pink.

“I didn’t want to mess anything up. I don’t fuck my friends you know.”

“Up until now,” Peter smirked at this comment, she was always so quick to rival his own quips.

He let the silence simmer before responding because he wasn’t sure just how she felt about this, him, or what they just did. He was afraid he had permanently damaged the friendship and wasn’t sure how he was gonna come back from it if that were the case.

So, he asked.

“Is it weird now?” He spoke barely above a whisper.

“What part?” She had to ask before she could answer.

“That we did it backwards.” He exasperated, feeling unsure of himself now that he had to verbalize what he meant.

She shrugged again, this time affectionately, not wanting Peter to get frustrated with her or himself.

“Maybe it can be a good weird,” She affirmed his anxiety by clarifying.

Peter’s stomach erupted in butterflies. “Yeah?” He raised his eyebrow in excitement.

“Yeah.” She bit her lip before leaning in to kiss him once again.

His hands dropped back down to her waist to bring her in closer as the certainty between them was solidified.

A/N: okay so when i was writing this i imagined comic book f4 johnny storm especially bc of the dynamic he has with peter in the comics (spideytorch my beloved) but when my friend reviewed this she asked if it was chris evans and while that wasn't the intention that made it so much better so just clarifying it wasnt on purpose but if you did that i hope it was fun

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ladylexis · 8 months

Text

I Think You Know

Pairing: Lee Know x Reader, afab

Trope: Best friend's brother, friends to more

Word count: 3.6k

Warnings: A little suggestive, but not smutty

The pungent scent of lilacs always reminds you of home. You inhale deeply, hands shoved in your pockets, as you walk up the street a couple blocks to your best friend Jina's house.

After months of studying hard on the other side of the country, you've returned home for the first time since starting college last fall. Jina's spring break coincided with yours, so of course she begged you to fly home to finally catch up. Laughing until you cry on video calls into the wee hours of the morning each weekend has helped soothe your loneliness, yet nothing compares to the real deal of being in your best friend's presence.

The refreshing chill of the evening air does little to calm your nerves, though. Even greater than your excitement to see Jina is your anxiety at the prospect of running into her brother, Minho.

After almost two years of studying abroad and traveling for internships, Minho is back at his parents' house for the first time. You've kept up with your best friend's older brother some over the years, mostly butting in when he called Jina.

Since he left, you've occasionally engaged with each other's Instagram posts. Whether silly, artistic, or merely mundane, Minho's photos almost always bring a bittersweet clench to your chest. When you see his figure framed off-center in front of glittering cityscapes or sunset-tinged coastlines you can't help but picture yourself tucked under his arm, your head resting casually on his shoulder.

_____

Since you can remember, Minho was a fixture in your life. While playing on the swing set in their backyard, his protective presence always kept an eye on his little sister and you, her closest friend. Minho was quick to help you up after a less than graceful jump from the swing, smirking at the glasses askew on your nose. Unphased, you spun around to push Jina's swing even higher as he chuckled to himself, shaking his head.

As teens, Minho laughed ruthlessly while playing paintball, chasing you and Jina around their shed. She sought refuge at the back of the old pickup while you made a run for the oak tree to get a better vantage point.

Before you could dive behind the sturdy tree trunk, Minho managed to squeeze a shot off. The fierce glare hidden behind his facemask instantly melted into a softer expression the moment you yelped in pain while taking his round to your back, just missing the padding of your vest.

After rushing to the kitchen to fetch an ice pack, Minho returned to the living room to find you sitting on the couch, contorting in an effort to see the source of the pain. Ever the attentive gentleman, he offered to inspect the growing welt to see if your skin was broken. You nodded and turned to face the back of the sofa, gritting your teeth and trying not to focus on the stinging pain radiating from the minor injury. Minho considerately lifted your sweatshirt just enough to check the raised bump at the base of your shoulder blade.

Chilled slightly from grabbing the ice pack, his cool fingertips innocently grazed your skin causing a warmth to spread through your chest. Minho drew in a quick breath, hand tightening its grip on the bundled fabric for a moment. Fearing the wound must look worse than you thought, you stuttered out a quick, "Is it that bad?!"

But before you could finish the question, he had quickly lowered the hem of your top and reached over your shoulder to shove the ice pack into your hands.

"It's just bruised," he mumbled as he abruptly turned to head upstairs, taking them two at a time.

A sharp sting brought your attention back to the predicament at hand. As you struggled to position the ice pack on the welt, you suddenly recalled that you were only wearing your black lace bralette under your sweatshirt. Mortified, you instinctively planted your face in the couch cushion to hide the blush creeping across your cheeks. Just then, Jina stormed into the front door. Thinking she was winning for once, she finally realized she was left alone outside and came looking for the two of you.

Ready to give you a piece of her mind, worry quickly replaced anger as Jina set her eyes on your crumpled form tucked into the corner of the couch. You reassured her that the welt was already feeling better thanks to Minho's quick rescue with the ice pack. Speaking of her brother, she asked where he had disappeared to. You weren't quite sure of the answer yourself, but you wondered for years afterwards if he had felt that same lick of heat in the moment.

_____

You skip up the familiar steps to Jina's front porch, and pause to take a deep breath in an effort to still your fluttering heart. Before you can even knock, the door flies open and Jina launches at you. She wraps you in a bear hug and hops to twine her legs around your hips. Squealing at a pitch you're sure would send her family's three cats into a frenzy, Jina peppers the side of your head with smooches and repeats how much she missed you.

"Let her go before she passes out. She's already turning red!"

Raising your eyes from Jina's embrace, you see him there, standing in the door frame. Although you can't quite make out his expression while he's silhouetted by the living room light flooding out the front door, Minho's eyes still manage to sparkle just like you remember. And it's back. Your crush on Minho tightens its tendrils around your heart. If only he knew the real reason your face was on fire.

Jina drops her feet to the ground with a pout. She turns to head inside, dragging you by the wrist and shouldering her annoying brother out of the way in the process. As you pass him you manage to squeak out a soft, "Hi, Min."

"Nice to see you again, too!" he yells with increasing volume as Jina continues pulling you towards the kitchen. Shaking his head, Minho closes the front door and follows both of you to grab snacks for the TV night ahead.

Jina settles into the middle of the sofa to share her bowl of popcorn while you stretch your blanket out enough to cover her as well. After sitting his armful of drinks down on the end table, Minho takes the last seat on the couch and immediately turns to flop his legs over Jina's lap.

"You're going to spill all the popcorn! And your legs are too heavy," Jina grunts as she pushes his thighs off her knees while you snicker from her other side. "Go sit on the loveseat!"

"Fine, fine," Minho sighs, rolling his eyes as he stands. "But I'm taking the remote with me! Hah!"

He sprawls out on the loveseat and flicks the TV on. As the Netflix menu illuminates the room, Minho begins to scroll through the recommended shows. You can't help but eye the dancing shadows forming from the veins on his forearm as he points the remote at the television and periodically clicks buttons. Were those veins always there?

You're shaken from your daydream by a subtle elbow to the rib. Jina leans closer to whisper in your ear, "Did you come to watch Netflix and chill with ME or my brother?"

You scoff and shove a handful of popcorn in Jina's mouth, shooting daggers at her with your eyes while she smirks, cheeks full. That damn Lee smirk must be hereditary.

"I've heard that series is really good," you pipe up as Minho passes the new releases in romantic K-Dramas. You expect a snarky retort from the reclining man, but he simply pulls his bottom lip between his teeth as he backtracks and clicks play on your suggestion.

A steamy scene opens the show before the intro even starts, and you feel your face grow warm. You begin to second guess your recommendation as this is apparently not one of the sweet rom-com shows you are used to watching. No wonder everyone has been chatting it up on social media. Jina however is enthralled, judging by her wide eyes and seeming inability to find her own mouth as she bumps a popcorn kernel into her lips repeatedly before finally succeeding to eat it.

Minho is quiet through the first episode, but movement draws your attention from the TV when you notice him resituating on the loveseat, pulling a throw pillow onto his lap. You have to admit, the show is pretty hot, but seeing his profile again in person is getting you even more bothered. It looks like he might be affected as well.

Nearly two episodes later Jina is failing to keep her eyes open, head lolling towards the comforting support of your shoulder. Unable to resist the call of nature any longer, you gently pat her hair to stir her awake.

"Hey, Min? Can you pause it while I run to the restroom?" you ask softly as you stand to stretch. He obliges immediately and a thin smile spreads across his face as he looks up at you, hair now messy from trying to find a comfortable position on the cramped loveseat.

"I can't keep my eyes open," Jina mumbles through a yawn. "Don't stop watching on my account, though. I can catch up tomorrow."

She shuffles down the hall in the Hello Kitty slippers you won for her at an arcade in middle school. You hear the soft close of her door as you head into the bathroom. Rather than feeling jet-lagged and exhausted like you expect, your heart seems to be racing as your mind keeps conjuring images of you and Minho in the scenes the drama characters find themselves in. You have got to snap out of it, you think to yourself. Before leaving you wash your hands and splash cool water on your face, trying to knock the blush down a bit.

Returning to the living room you find Minho has moved to the empty spot on the far side of the couch. His arm lifts the blanket you and Jina had been sharing. You freeze at the edge of the room, unsure how to proceed. Minho cocks his head and sends a few rapid blinks in your direction. He pats the couch cushion, inviting you to join him under the blanket. "What?," he says, "The couch is comfier and I was getting chilly. Shall we continue?"

You gingerly slide under the blanket at the opposite end of the couch. Although your face seems to get warmer and warmer, you have to admit the air temperature is dropping. You pull your legs up to your side beneath the blanket. Pointing the remote at the television, he plays the next episode and you snuggle back into the cozy warmth of the plush sofa.

As you become engrossed in the show again, you absentmindedly stretch your legs across the center cushion. Craving warmth, your toes become heat-seeking missiles and begin to work their way under Minho's thigh. You don't even realize your foot has betrayed you until he grabs your ankle. In embarrassment, you instinctively try to pull your foot back, but his firm grip gently holds you still.

"Tickles," is all he says, eyes still glued to the TV. He pulls your foot out from beneath his leg. Mind racing, you have already planned where you are going to dig your own grave after he lets go, but he doesn't loosen his hold. Turning now to face you, he extends your leg across his lap and squeezes the arch of your foot tenderly.

"Is this okay?" he asks, staring into your eyes as he awaits confirmation. Almost imperceptibly, you slowly nod your head a couple times before swallowing hard.

"I need you to use your words, Kitten," he whispers, stilling the motion of his hand.

"Yeah, s'alright," you manage as you avert your eyes back to the show. Even in the dim, blue light of the TV, you're sure Minho can now see the unmistakable red tinge blossoming on the tips of your ears.

His fingers begin to move again as he massages the ball of your foot now resting on his lap. No longer able to concentrate on the show, you reflect on the domesticity of the position you now find yourself in with your best friend's brother. These thoughts only further the spreading wetness in your panties.

You're screwed.

The episode ends rather abruptly as the main characters are finally starting to realize their feelings for each other. Arching his back and stretching his arms above his head, Minho interjects, "It's time for an action movie!"

"No! We have to see what happens next!" you yell, refusing to quit binging the new drama. Minho brings his hand to his mouth to hold a finger in front of his lips.

"Shh, you'll wake sleeping beauty," he laughs. You make grabby hands for the remote and he shoots his arm up, holding the object of your desire just out of reach. He can't help but giggle watching you struggle to lean forward and extend your arm enough to pry the remote away, nearly clamoring into his lap.

Your movements suddenly cease and you look up at Minho through your lashes, a devilish twinkle in your eye.

"Oh, no. That look means no good," he concedes. Before he can piece together what evil plan you have concocted, your fingers attack his exposed armpit, tickling him like your life depends upon it.

"Gaaaah!", he cries out as he instinctively tucks his elbow to his ribs, trapping your hand in the process. Ditching the remote over his shoulder, he leans over you to retaliate with more tickles. You squeal as you try to curl into a fetal position to protect your vital organs from the unrelenting tickle-attack.

As you attempt to roll away and admit defeat, your legs tangle in the shared quilt. Off-balance now, you fall backwards from the couch, pulling your blanket-burrito’d partner with you to the carpeted floor. You squirm on your back, Minho straddling your thighs, his hands pressing your wrists to the floor above your head. He has a wild look in his eye as he catches his breath and blows stray strands of hair off of his forehead.

Mouth agape, you notice his eyes drift from yours down to the camisole strap that has slipped off your shoulder. His gaze slowly follows your collar bone back to the taught line of your neck and up to your panting lips.

Minho’s eyes are now blown out into black pools of lust, no doubt reflecting your own desires. You feel the warmth of his breath against your cheek as his eyes return to yours again, blinking slowly, looking for any sign of apprehension in your expression. Your glance down to his plush lips is all the sign he needs to continue his advance. As he begins lowering himself down to your waiting lips, a door creaks open at the end of the hall.

In unison, both of your heads snap to the side and you hold your breath as you watch Jina groggily stumble to the bathroom, flip the light on, and shut the door behind her.

Minho exhales a sigh of relief and bows his head to your shoulder for a moment. You clear your throat, bringing him back to Earth, and he releases your wrists to gingerly lift himself from you. Helping you to your feet, he can't meet your eyes as he whispers, "I, uh, should probably call it a night."

As he pads down the hallway, head lowered, you double back to the kitchen to get an icy glass of cold water. What the actual fuck was that? Did Minho really almost just kiss you? Would he have if Jina hadn't interrupted? What would have happened if Jina had caught you making out with her brother in the middle of the living room floor?!?

You shake your head to clear your doubts before chugging the rest of the ice water in your glass. The last question would have to wait. You know you won't be able to sleep tonight without confronting Minho about the other questions racing through your mind. You steel your resolve and cross the living room.

The bathroom door is now open, and Jina's has closed again. Knowing her, she's probably already sound asleep. You round the corner of the hall and quietly approach Minho's room.

For a moment you debate whether you should softly knock, or just open the door to let yourself in. Not wanting to risk waking anyone else, you finally decide on the latter. Your hand reaches for the smooth brass knob, but it turns and unlatches before you even reach it. The door swings open and a stunned Minho faces you from the other side of the doorway.

Eyes wide, he leans forward to look down the hall briefly before pulling you into his chest as he spins you through the doorway, closing the door behind him as he does.

Your ear pressed to his chest reveals the same quickened heartbeat you have been afflicted with all day. His familiar scent washes over you, and you inhale the sweet muskiness before stepping back to stare up at him.

"Aren't you going to ask why I came to your door?" you question, finally breaking the silent tension.

"I think I know," he says, taking the smallest step towards you.

"Where were you going just now?" you muster, trying to keep your voice steady.

"I think you know," he says lowly, taking another step forward to meet you with hungry eyes. He raises one hand to caress your cheek as he lowers his other hand to your waist, pulling you in to close the gap between your bodies.

His lips finally meet yours, barely pressing together in chaste restraint. It's all you can do to refrain from devouring this man whole. Your lips part slightly and he tilts your head back to deepen the kiss. Your tongue traces his bottom lip as you shudder slightly and moan against his mouth. Something in Minho snaps and he presses you to the door as his tongue begins to explore deeper into your kiss. You slide a hand up his back. With the other you comb your fingers through his hair, tugging lightly. With that, a moan escapes Minho's lips and he drops his head back into your hand, brows knit together in ecstasy. You watch his Adam's apple bob under the milky skin of his throat as he catches his breath. The throb you feel in your soaked panties causes you to clench your legs together as your own head drops back against the door.

"Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait," he spits out, grabbing your hands and leading you to sit on the edge of his bed.

"I need to know. Do you have feelings for me?" he asks with pleading eyes, a tinge of worry in his voice. "Because I can't do this without knowing."

"Feelings?" you scoff, incredulously. "I've liked you since we were in high school, Minho! I have a lot of feelings for you. All of them, in fact."

You smile sheepishly at your blurted confession. A wave of relief washes over his face before he pulls you into a tight hug, burying his face into the crook of your neck.

"I've liked you for a long time, too, Kitten," Minho mumbles against your skin. "Do you want to stay here with me tonight and talk?"

"What are we going to tell Jina?" you ask, quietly fiddling with the tag in the back of his shirt as he holds you.

"We'll figure something out," he says, a soft crinkle lacing the corner of his eyes as he smiles at you tenderly, "Together."

___

The metallic click of the door latch stirs you awake. On autopilot, you roll over to try to figure out what woke you. Your stirring causes Minho's arm to tighten instinctively around your waist while he slumbers contentedly. You blush as your drowsy brain suddenly remembers where you are. Putting two and two together, you realize Minho wasn't the one leaving the room. You gasp, sitting up straight, and quickly turn to shake him awake.

"I think Jina just saw us in your room! What are we going to do, Min?!" You half whisper, half shout in his ear.

He sleepily shushes you and nuzzles his nose into the crook of your neck wanting nothing more than to snuggle you back to sleep.

"I'm being serious, Minho!" you say, smacking his arm lightly. "She's going to kill us!"

You hear another noise coming from the hall. You spin around to listen and clap a hand over Minho's mouth to keep him quiet as he confusedly rubs his arm, still half asleep.

Through the silence you hear the ruffle of paper sliding under the door. Turning to Minho with panic written all over your face, he rolls his eyes at your dramatics and pulls your hand from his mouth.

Minho rises to cross the room, and bends down to retrieve the folded sheet of paper. Standing, he opens it and scans the note quickly before a lopsided grin creeps up his right cheek.

Returning to flop down on the bed, he hands it to you with a smug expression.

"I see my plan finally worked.

Come to the kitchen for pancakes.

But for the love of god, please put some clothes on first."

#lee know x reader #skz fanfic #lee know fanfic #best friends brother #lee know #lee know scenarios #skz x reader #stray kids imagine

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caffeinetheif · 1 year

Text

Greenhouse

Yandere! Daivolo x GN! MC

WC: 2.5k

Warnings: basically everything that involves yanderes, blood, heavily implied (but not described) minor character death, imprisonment of MC, implied forced cuddling/bed sharing, blood, mentions of paranoia and the feeling of being watched, some minor violence from MC towards Diavolo (let’s be honest he kinda deserves it), attempt at a non-consentual kiss

A/N: y’all I’m super sorry for the absense. Work and school has been hectic. The stress of prepping for a study abroad is taking its toll that’s for sure. As always, I hope you enjoy and let me know if I missed any warnings! The title is a little cryptic, but I have my reasons for choosing it :)) Also, this was low key based off of a dream I had a while ago lol

“MC, darling,” a gentle voice rouses you from your peaceful slumber. It takes you a moment to remember where you are and who you are with.

Your mind reacts with panic. You’re still here, stuck in this cursed room with the demon who stole you away. The demon who faked your disappearance so he could keep you just for his own selfish desires.

“What, Diavolo?” you can’t help but let a bit of resentment slip into your voice. If there’s one thing that’s stayed the same after being snatched, it’s your distaste for being woken up.

The demon chuckles, “I apologize for waking you, dear, especially so late. There’s urgent business that I must attend to, but I promise I won’t be gone long!”

You glare at the back of Diavolo’s imposingly tall form as he stands up from your shared bed and dresses himself. If you had it your way, you wouldn’t even be here, much less sharing a bed with the Prince of the Devildom. You tried demanding your own room or bed when he first whisked you into his castle, but he laughed and told you that there was no need to be so stubborn.

Noticing your angry stare, Diavolo turns to you and smiles, “You can go back to sleep, MC. I know how much you hate being woken up.”

Diavolo restates that he’ll be back as soon as he can as he moves to press a kiss to your forehead. In a split second act of rebellion, knock your head into his chin as hard as you could without much of a windup. The demon doesn’t even flinch, but laughs instead.

“Still feisty as always!”

You think you see a flash of annoyance and disappointment in his honey gold eyes, but quickly flop back down in bed and turn your back to him. Maybe if he thinks you’re going back to sleep he will leave you be. You hear him bustle around the room a bit more before hearing his boots move towards the door.

That damn door! It locks from the outside and Diavolo has the only key. No matter how much you destroy the room searching for the key, you have never found where he keeps it hidden. The only idea you have is that it is somehow enchanted and bound to Diavolo in some way. Every time he enters and exits the room, he always locks the door behind him, which ruins your chances of any escape through it. Even the solitary window in the room is magically locked and indestructible to anything you throw or hit it with.

You hear the clicking of the lock becoming undone and the door opening. The door is shut quickly and you assume Diavolo has left. Time passes as you wait for the resounding ‘click’ of the lock sliding back into place. The sound never happens, your heart jumps with excitement at the prospect of Diavolo actually forgetting to relock the door in his hurry to attend to business. You quietly sit up and swing your legs over to stand. You move towards the tall solid wood door and listen for any notion that the prince is returning. You hear nothing for several minutes before you decide to test your luck.

Your shaky hand reaches out for the cold iron door handle and you slowly twist it. The inner mechanisms click and you wince as they echo throughout the empty room. Slowly, and ever so carefully, you push open the door. The hinges faintly groan but put up no fight.

The hallway outside is quiet. There is no sign of life from Diavolo or servants or maids. No footsteps or voices are heard. No demon is there to order you to stop or to get back in the room. There is no light coming from the hanging light fixtures or candle holders on the walls. The only light source is the gentle moonlight beaming in through the windows. The lack of life almost seems too good to be true, but it’s your only chance at escaping this hellhole.

Ever so carefully, you sneak out of the doorway. Twisting the handle, this time from the outside, you push the door shut so the hardware doesn’t alert anyone to the door being shut once more. You almost don’t believe that you’re out of that room. Before you begin the next phase of your escape, you look down the hall both ways. No one can see you leave, but that is an unlikely occurrence. So, you just have to out run them if you encounter anyone.

You start at a careful speed walk down the left hall. The paintings and portraits that hang along the wall seem to follow you with their eyes. A strong sense of foreboding urges you to move faster. A creak echoes from down the hall, and that’s all it takes for you to take off. You run down the ornate halls, ones that you had once admired. Now, they’re nothing but a mocking labyrinth and the paintings that adorn the walls mock you as you run. The tiled floor below does nothing to dampen the sound of your feet as your feet hit the ground.

Making turn after turn, you quickly find yourself lost in a state of panic and desperation. None of these halls look familiar and there is not a single living soul wandering around. No one is there to help you.

Or so you think. You make another turn and run face first into another person with a grunt. The force of the impact knocks you to the ground, but the other stays on their feet. You look up at the figure, the first living being you have encountered since arriving at the castle. He’s taller than you, but not tall by demon standards. He rubs at the spot on his chest where your head hit and he glances down at you in surprise.

“Huh?” he begins speaking, “there’s not supposed to be anyone in this wing of the castle, much less a human.”

Asking this demon, a servant of the castle, for help is a risky gamble, but one that you’re willing to take, “Please, you have to help me! I’m being held captive by Diavolo. Please, I need your help!”

The servant nervously glances around him, looking for any listening ears or prying eyes. He takes a shaky breath before saying, “You… you’re the reason Young Master has been acting strange.”

He sighs and looks like he’s contemplating something, “I shouldn’t. My Lord will have my head if he finds out I am helping you.”

Your gut drops, this is the first living being you have seen since you were brought to this wretched place! Is he really going to just… ignore you?

In a fit of desperation, you reach out and grab his sleeve, “Don’t leave me! I have to get out of here! I need to escape!”

Your outburst startles the demon and he shakes his head, “I didn’t say I was going to leave you. Follow me, and be quiet.”

Your heart leaps and you have to fight the urge to thank him, who knows if there is anyone listening. Turning on a dime, the servant walks through the decorative halls, making a number of right and left turns down other hallways. The two of you approach a ‘T’ shaped corridor and he seems to be attempting to remember something. Several seconds pass before he turns to the left option.

The length of the hall is uncharacteristically dirty, with dust coating the vases and paintings. The only light present comes from the moon peering through the occasional window. The few paintings that have been long neglected seem to follow you with their gaze and you hurry to keep up with your guide’s long strides.

Soon, the two of you finally arrive at a large, hardwood door. The demon quickly glances down the hall where you two just came from before flicking through his keyring. Finally, he stops once he finds a small, bronze key that matches the delicate hardware on the door and slides it into the keyhole. The key is twisted and you hear a dull click as the door is unlocked. The door creaks ominously as it is swung open to reveal a dusty, sparsely decorated room.

The unnamed demon enters the room and motions for you to follow him inside. Once you do, he relocks the door and quickly walks towards a tall painting that hangs on the wall.

The servant glances back at you, “Help me move this painting. There’s an old passageway behind here that leads to the courtyard.”

The sound of his voice brings your attention and you hurry to help him. As you approach the demon, you notice the painting is a portrait of a very young Lord Diavolo and his father sitting together. Something about this painting doesn’t sit right with you, but you choose to ignore it in favor of helping the servant move the large painting. The two of you lift in tandem and he guides the heavy frame to the side, leaving an opening just wide enough for you to fit.

“This is where I Ieave you. The rest of your escape is up to you. I will do my best to cover your tracks.”

As you slip between the wall and the frame, you glance at the demon and whisper a gracious, “Thank you, for everything.”

The demon nods and shifts the painting back over the entrance to the passageway and darkness engulfs you. It seems more like a tunnel than anything, but it is wide and tall, clearly made for much taller and broader demons. The lack of light wouldn’t phase any demon who enters due to their superior vision in the dark, but you? You’re nearly blind and depend on the feeling of the wall at your side to guide you.

As you maneuver down the pathway, you can’t shake the feeling of being watched. You know it’s silly and chalk it up to the paranoia resulting from Diavolo’s constant hovering. Regardless, you pick up your pace, opting to ignore the burning sensation of the stone wall dragging against your hand.

You don’t know how long you walk for. Luckily, the secret tunnel doesn’t seem to have any alternate hallways and consists of a single, winding one that leads to your destination. The chilly air and cold stone walls seem to sap all the heat from your body and you begin to shiver.

You finally see the moonlight beaming down at what you assume is the end of the tunnel. Glee fills you and you break out into a run as you grow closer to the light. The moonlight drifts down through a metal grate in the ceiling of the tunnel. It looks like it should be big enough for you to squeeze your shoulders through to get out. You stand under the grate and investigate the hardware. You don’t see any bolts or hinges on the grate that might hold it shut to your surprise.

The only thing that poses an issue is the height of the exit. The tunnel was not constructed with human height in mind, leaving the only exit a great deal above your head. With your arm stretched straight up as far as you could go, you still aren’t able to touch the metal. Even rising to your tiptoes the piece of metal is just too tall for you to touch.

With your heart pounding, you jump and swipe at the grate. The tips of your fingers brush against it. You jump and hit it again, and again, and again before the grate is dislodged far enough for you to be able to get your hand between the edge of it and the opening. With one more jump and a hard shove at the metal covering, the hole is completely uncovered. You mentally cheer, not wanting to give away your location to anyone who may hear.

It takes a couple more jumps for you to grasp onto the ledge securely, and at this point your arms and legs are exhausted. But you can’t give up, especially when you’re so close to being free! Just the feeling of the fresh air and cool breeze on your fingers is enough to spur you on. You bring your feet up against the stone wall as extra leverage to push yourself up and out of the hole. Adrenaline is one hell of a motivator.

The breeze caresses your face as you roll onto the grass surrounding the outside of the hole. You want to laugh, cry, yell, whoop and holler at the feeling of finally being outside. How long has it been since you have smelt dirt? You never thought you would miss the stuff, yet here you are.

“Have you finished having fun? I must say, you made it quite far.”

Your eyes snap open and your head shoots up to find the voice.

You see the one demon you are trying to escape. Diavolo, in all his glory, is crouching down a mere six feet away from the hole you just pulled yourself out of. The smile on his face doesn’t match the disappointment in his eyes.

A metallic stench fills your nose and brings your attention to Diavolo’s hands. Even with the moonlight projecting his silhouette and hiding most of him in darkness, you can still see the deep, ruby blood staining his hands. In the back of your mind, you know who it came from, but you don’t want to believe it. Lately, you find yourself not wanting to believe a lot of things.

Diavolo chuckles when he notices your eyes fixated on his hands, “It’s a shame, he was such a hard worker. To think such a dedicated servant would go behind my back to help you run away from me. Though, I do have several demons eager to replace him.”

No, no no no no! This can’t be happening! You didn’t even know his name, yet you find yourself grieving for the demon you just met.

Diavolo stands and a large, bloody hand wraps around your upper arm. He hauls you up like a sack of potatoes and ignores how you flinch and squirm at the feeling of the still warm blood seeping through your shirt. You can tell he’s furious as he moves to guide you back towards the castle.

“No, please, I just want to go home!” You panic, you can’t go back. If he gets you inside the castle again, you’re never getting out.

“Your home is here, MC. It’s here at my side where I can keep you locked away, where I can keep you safe!”

Anger surges through you and you kick and writhe, doing anything to get out of his grasp, “I’m not some object for you to own! I don’t belong to anyone, and certainly not you!”

Diavolo’s eyes narrow, and the aura he gives off is oppressive. Your brain screams at you to run, to get away, that Diavolo was dangerous. After all, he killed a demon in cold blood just because they brought you to an escape route.

“You were mine the day you arrived in the Devildom.”

#tw yandere #yandere diavolo #diavolo x reader #obey me #obey me x reader #obey me fic #om diavolo #omswd

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octuscle · 5 months

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How to become the fuck whore (remake)

Lawrence was ruined. Really broke. He had lost his job. He had lost his apartment. And the suitcase containing the last of his belongings had been stolen. Now he was standing on the street in the rain, waiting for lightning to strike him. That would have been the best solution. He was now in his late 50s, had never had any further training and was unathletic. He saw no prospects for himself.

Just as he was considering whether he should really throw himself off a bridge, a group of obviously drunk partygoers came by. "Dude, you look like shit!" said one of the young lads. "Do you need help?". It didn't matter now, his dignity was already shot to hell. So Lawrence began to cry bitterly and told his story. The boys around him were embarrassed at first. But then one of them started grinning and whispering with the others, interrupting Sebastian's lament. "Mate, come and join us. One of our roommates is abroad for a semester. You can have his room for a few days."

A few minutes later, Lawrence was sitting in the kitchen of the shared student flat. He had grabbed a jogging suit from the wardrobe of the guy whose room he was staying in. A little tight in the waistband. A little loose at the top. The boy obviously had a sporty figure. It felt a little strange to be an old man sitting among all the young guys. The boys all knew each other from the sports college, two were assistants there and three were still studying. They were all well-built and handsome alphas! He didn't fit in here. But Lawrence had no other choice.

After three beers and a joint, his eyes closed. He apologized and threw himself on his bed. As he fell asleep, he noticed the smell of sweat from the bedding. And he wondered why such sporty young people drank, smoked and smoked pot. But he didn't care. He had already fallen asleep.

When he woke up, the sun was shining. He had to orientate himself for a short while until Lawrence knew where he was and who he was again. In any case, he was well rested. And he felt better than he had for a long time. In his borrowed jogging suit, he went into the shared bathroom to pee. And a glance in the mirror confirmed it: the night had done him good. Maybe everything really was going to be okay. The bathroom looked just as he had imagined the bathroom of a shared student flat would look. Dirty, untidy. So he made himself useful. The others still seemed to be asleep, at least he didn't hear a sound. When he had finished with the bathroom, he continued in the kitchen, where there were still dishes from the week. And while he was washing up, two of the boys came into the kitchen. They had obviously both been jogging, sweat shone on their bare torsos and they were breathing heavily. Sebastian handed them both a glass of water and asked if he should make breakfast. The two boys grinned at each other and exchanged a fist bump. And ordered scrambled eggs and coffee.

For the rest of the day, Lawrence cleaned the apartment until you could have eaten off the floor in any room. He'd also been to the laundrette and neatly folded and put away the laundry that didn't need ironing. He had planned to iron the rest of the laundry that evening. The boys had come and gone, had food made in between and had no problem leaving a trail of devastation each time. But Lawrence thought it was only fair to tidy up and clean again. He found himself getting a hard cock more and more often at the sight of the boys. Why did they all have to walk around the apartment bare-chested? Or completely naked.

Larry was allowed to come into the living room of the shared flat to iron. The boys lounged on the sofa and zapped through various series. Every now and then they jerked each other off. Every now and then someone would ask for a beer or a sandwich. Larry then interrupted his ironing to go to the kitchen. It was already late when he was finally able to go to bed. But he wanted to tidy up the last remnants of the TV evening before he went to bed himself. He had already taken off the top of his tracksuit. And while he was cleaning the bathroom mirror, which was already smeared again, he realized that he didn't look so bad with his naked upper body. And as he lay in bed, he noticed that his room was the only one in which the beds hadn't been freshly made. And it hadn't been cleaned yet.

When Larry got up the next morning to get bread rolls and make breakfast, something was different. The top of his tracksuit was stretched across his chest. And he had difficulty pulling his pants up over his thighs. Maybe he would have to rummage through the closet later to find something better to wear. But now he had to hurry. The first of his masters were about to leave for their morning jog. He had to have breakfast ready by the time they got back.

As soon as he got back from the bakery, he had to take off his sweatshirt. It was far too tight. Besides, it was rude to cover his tits when he was allowed to see his masters'. And his tits were something he was proud of. He was proud of his whole body. But as his masters' cleaning slave and fuckwhore, he also had a duty to do his best.

#male tf #muscle tf #reality change #age reduction #ai image

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hearts4hughes · 4 months

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ECHOES OF LOVE | MARK ESTAPA

mark estapa x fem!reader

summary: in which reader confesses her love for her best friend— oops.

warnings: angst w/ happy ending, reader and mark both being blinded by love, nothing else!!

author note: my first writing after what feels like forever. oh my goddddd!! i have months of ideas and thoughts for more writings on the way. i haven’t done first person writing in forever, but i honestly love it!!

The University of Michigan had been my dream school since freshman orientation; Umich felt made for me. Yet, it wasn’t the only thing capturing my heart during those college years. Environmental Science class introduced me to Mark, and it wasn’t just about the subject matter. Mark, a walking ray of sunshine, entered a room like a force of nature, captivating everyone with his vibrant energy. Engaging conversations and lively class discussions made Mark the embodiment of an unforgettable college experience. It only took him two classes to claim the seat next to me, uninvited but eventually charming his way into my world.

Amidst my journey at Umich and with Mark, an opportunity to study abroad in Italy emerged. Excitement coursed through my veins, but it was tinged with a bittersweet undercurrent. Studying abroad meant a semester without seeing Mark, and my heart ached at the realization. The palpable truth lingered—I had feelings for him.

The day before leaving for Italy was spent entirely with Mark. We recounted memories, gossiped, and held each other. An emotional undercurrent hinted at something more than platonic love. In a moment of uncertainty and sadness, I confessed my love for Mark. The silence that followed my confession echoed in my ears as he stared at me with wide eyes. I had read the situation wrong, and tears brimmed in my eyes as I stormed out of his dorm.

The next morning, I vowed to leave the hurt and agony in Michigan and treat Italy as a fresh start. Italy became a sanctuary, a place where I could do as I pleased without worrying about the boy who rejected my love proposal. Now, sitting in the small, claustrophobic plane, dread overshadowed my return to the real world. Thoughts of making a scene to ground the plane lingered, as four months of studying abroad in Italy felt like pure bliss—warm weather, Italian boys, and zero drama. However, the sweet sounds of Taylor Swift couldn’t coax the cacophony of my racing thoughts. How to make a 12-hour flight even longer?

MARK: Hope Italy treated you well. We need to talk.

My hands trembled as I reread the message, the digital words carrying a weight that mirrored the turbulence within me. The plane had landed mere minutes ago, and as much as I dreaded my return to Michigan, a strange sense of comfort enveloped me the moment I stepped off the aircraft. As I navigated through the airport’s hustle, Mark’s message echoed in my mind, creating a symphony of worry and anticipation.

The journey from the airport to my dorm was a blur, the cityscape outside the window a mere backdrop to the whirlwind of thoughts in my head. The prospect of facing Mark, unresolved emotions lingering like a specter, fueled a mixture of anxiety and a glimmer of hope.

He wants to let me know how he feels. Is that good or bad? What if he found someone else? What if he doesn’t want to be my friend anymore? What if… I mentally stop myself from spiraling down that certain rabbit hole.

With a heavy heart, I approached my dorm building. The door creaked open, revealing the dimly lit room adorned with posters and decorations. The message from Mark burned brightly on my phone, demanding acknowledgment. The empty bed next to mine indicated my roommate Miley’s absence. As much as I missed her, part of me was relieved to be alone. I read the note on my desk written in her neat handwriting. She wouldn’t be home for the rest of the night. Good.

MARK: Where are you? We need to talk.

The urgency in his words heightened the tension, and I hesitated, almost responding, but I couldn't muster up the courage to press send.

MARK: Y/N, if you're trying to ghost me, at least turn your read receipts off.

Shit. I silently cursed the advanced technology of iPhones.

Y/N: What do you want, Mark?

MARK: To talk, we need to talk.

Y/N: Oh, now you want to talk. Seems convenient.

MARK: I'm serious, Y/N.

I scoffed as I read his final text message. Who's he to say when I need to talk to him? I could ignore him for the rest of my life, and it wouldn't even bother me—scratch that; I'd miss him more and more every day.

Y/N: Fine. Let's meet at Logan’s around 7:00.

Y/N: Seriously, Mark, don't make me waste my time.

I take a deep breath, trying to shake off the unease that settled in my stomach. Logan’s, the pizza place around the corner, wasn’t fancy, but it held a certain charm. Memories of late-night pizza runs with Mark flooded my mind.

I grab my phone, checking the time for the fifth time in ten minutes. Everything feels wrong, from the headache-inducing bright lights to the fact that Mark is ten minutes late. The air inside Logan’s is thick with anticipation, and I can’t escape the nagging thoughts that something significant is about to happen.

The door chimes as Mark finally enters, a disheveled look on his face. I try to read his expression, but his eyes remain elusive. We exchange awkward greetings, and the atmosphere tightens with every passing second.

“Hi,” Mark says, gesturing to an empty booth. The weight of his words hangs in the air as I comply. The vinyl seats are cold against my skin, and the tension in the room is palpable.

Mark fidgets with his hands, avoiding eye contact. I want to break the silence, to demand answers, but fear keeps me silent. Finally, he takes a deep breath, meeting my gaze.

“I didn’t handle your confession well,” he admits, his voice strained. “I panicked, and I’m sorry.”

His words hang in the air, and my heart races with a mix of relief and frustration. The apology doesn’t erase the hurt, but it opens a door to understanding.

“Mark, I know what I did was stupid. I ruined a perfectly fine friendship for my selfish feelings,” I sighed, shame laced my words.

“Y/N,”

“No, Mark,” I interrupted. “You don’t need to pity me, I get it.”

“Wait, let me finish.” He spoke, reaching over and grabbing my hands in his. “Y/N, I didn’t handle what you said well because I was scared. I was scared because I’ve never felt so much for a person.” He huffs, eyes filled with sincerity and care. “I love you, Y/N. I’ve loved you ever since I saw you. I can’t even put into words how you make me feel. These four months without you have been pure torture. Ask any of the boys, I’ve been a complete and utter mess.”

His admission hangs in the air, and I feel a whirlwind of emotions—shock, joy, and a lingering sense of pain. The rollercoaster of feelings leaves me momentarily speechless.

“Mark, why didn’t you say something before I left for Italy?” I finally manage to utter, my voice a mix of vulnerability and frustration.

“I was scared too, Y/N. Scared that you wouldn’t feel the same way or that it would ruin our friendship,” Mark explains, his gaze unwavering. “But the truth is, I can’t imagine my life without you. I couldn’t let this continue without being honest about my feelings.”

“Mark, I… I don’t know what to say,” I admit, still processing the whirlwind of emotions. “I thought you hated me.”

“I could never hate you, Y/N/N,” he brought his hand up to your face, caressing your cheek. “I’m stuck with you forever, whether you like it or not.”

I giggled, tears of joy spilling over and flooding my face. “I like that idea.”

#hearts4hughes #nora’s writings 💐#mark estapa x reader #mark estapa #umich hockey #mark estapa imagine

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