#their mutual disbelief and admiration of each other

[ahomeganeyatsu]

No words. Just thinking about Jean and Jeremy and their view of each other.

Of Jeremy on how Jean can keep such kindness under such cruelty in the nest.

Of Jean on how Jeremy could be so warm growing in such a cold house.

[daisymbin]

for lovers who hesitate - choi seungcheol

warnings: cheating ex, mentions of pregnancy (not reader), shotgun marriage (not reader), some curse words, mentions of blood (seungcheol in a fight), some angst (mostly on seungcheol's part, some of reader's towards the end) + this is a long fic so I'm sure I missed out stuff, my apologies. please let me know what I missed out so I can add them in!

pairings: choi seungcheol x reader

genre: fake dating, resurface of old feelings (reader) & a down bad choi seungcheol

wc: 13k (not sure what happened i was aiming 3500-5000 but oh well.)

a/n: 13k words...my longest fic on here yet..... this took quite awhile, even proofreading was a challenge, so I hope you guys enjoyed this one! but fr, I early respect and admire authors who always belt out 30k word fics, it's really not easy i don't even wanna think about it. it's one thing to get a long fic done and another to proofreading it all oof. ... and no writer really only proofreads it once

check out my masterlist! // cheol's m.list

“you've got mail~” seokmin sings down the hallway of your shared apartment, “it looks like a wedding invite…” his voice trails off, “are any of our friends getting married? why didn't I receive one?”

seokmin's question was reasonable, you did both have the same friend group, you grew up together, having tons and tons of mutual friends, you went almost everywhere together. he's like the brother you never had. but now he's got your interest piqued as well. who could it be?

on your hand sits a wedding invitation, beautifully adorned with gold accents, pink flowers litter the edges of the invite, a bright pop of colour in contrast to the plain white.

seokmin snatches the invite out of your hand, opening the invite as he reads, “you are cordially invited to celebrate the joy of han- what the fuck? is this a joke?” seokmin shuts the invite close and crumples it, “what the hell does that guy want?”

“han minjun?” you asked as curiosity plagues your mind. seokmin’s reaction only amplifies your own confusion, and you reach out to grab the crumpled invitation from his hands, smoothing it out with trembling fingers. his name stares back at you, a name you had once thought you’d never have to see or hear again. but here it is, boldly printed, like a ghost from the past come to haunt you.

“han minjun…” you murmur, your voice quieter now, filled with a mixture of disbelief and absurdity. the memories come rushing back like a tidal wave, each one hitting you harder than the last. you remember the good days first, the laughter, the late-night talks, the way he made you feel like you were the only person in the world. but those sweet memories are soon overshadowed by the darker ones, the ones you had worked so hard to forget.

you remember the way he’d become distant, how the warmth in his eyes had faded, and the excuses he’d given whenever you asked what was wrong. you remember the pit in your stomach when he’d cancel plans at the last minute, claiming he was swamped with work, even though you could hear the laughter of friends in the background whenever he called.

then there was that one night, the night everything shattered. you had gone to his apartment, unannounced, carrying takeout and hoping to surprise him. the sight that greeted you instead was something you’d never forget. minjun had been in his living room, his hand tugging on another girl’s hair, the other on her waist as they makeout heavily. their light giggles echoing through the walls you thought you knew so well. you’d dropped the food in shock, the containers spilling onto the floor, and the way minjun’s face had paled when he saw you… it was a moment forever etched into your heart.

“its not what it looks like,” he’d said, scrambling for an explanation, but all you felt was betrayal, the heartache, the realization that the person you’d trusted had broken you in a way you never thought possible.

you come back to the present as seokmin's voice pulls you back, “oh i dropped a post it, ‘hope to see you there - kim hanna’ who the hell is kim hanna?” seokmin reaches for the invite again, his eyes scanning the words imprinted on the paper, “kim hanna…isnt she the girl he cheated on you with? that little bi- how dare she send this invi- SHE'S MARRYING HIM?” seokmin's mouth ran faster than body allowed, never finishing his sentence, but you heard and understood every word.

you snatch the invite back. the wedding is in 2 weeks.

are you hurt? no. heartbroken? no. sad? no. upset? just a little bit. angry? oh yes, yes you were. all the anger still simmering beneath the surface as you grip the wedding invite tightly. seokmin watches you with concern, his earlier frustration shifting into worry as he notices the way anger starts to consume you.

“you okay?” he asks gently, placing a hand on your shoulder.

you softened, “yeah i just… i can’t believe he’s getting married after everything he did.”

seokmin’s grip tightens, his protective brother instincts kicking in. “you don’t have to go,” he says firmly. “and if you decide to, you won’t go alone. i’ll be right there with you, you know the boys will be too. whatever you need.”

his words bring a small sense of comfort, but the invitation still feels like a dagger, reopening wounds you thought had finally healed. “oh I'm definitely going,”

“why?”

“just because. & I need a date-”

“I can be your date.”

“no you can't.”

“why not?”

“because i need my date to be my fake boyfriend. i cant show up all single to an ex's wedding & everyone knows we grow up together. we're practically siblings we would never ever date each other! that's disgusting."

seokmin's fake dramatic gasp only leaves your laughing, the anger that once resided is now long forgotten. “how can you say that?” he continues, “don't you watch movies? don't you read books? or even better, fanfiction? that's like a really popular trope and it's popular for a reason! why? because it's real, it happens. what if I'm in love with you and you just don't know it? then what? you could have seriously hurt my feelings!”

“yeah could have, that means I didn't. and don't think I forgot about the time we all played truth or dare and chan dared you to kiss me and you literally threw up from how repulsed you were by me. how could you possibly be in love with me? unless...you puked because you were nervous.." you said as you wiggled your eyebrows disturbingly. “also what hell fanfiction do you read? why didnt i know about that?”

“EW!!!" he screams as he steps away from you, "AS IF YOU COULD EVER MAKE ME NERVOUS!"

“& the fanfiction? what do you read? come on, spill!”

“that's none of your business.”

“seok-”

“beyonce x reader.” it was almost as if he was dying to tell you.

the laugh you burst out only brings relief to seokmin, now he knows you're really okay. you've moved on, just angry at the audacity of them. “please beyonce would never pick you.” you joked as you got up from the sofa. “come on, be serious, this is serious stuff. I need a fake boyfriend.”

“ask seungcheol.” seokmin answers easily without missing a beat, as if the answer was obvious.

“why seungcheol?” you heart raced at the mere idea of seungcheol being your date for the night, let alone boyfriend.

“because…he never says no to you. like ever,” he gives a brief, small smile before he turns to walk away. “oh and also, don't you think he'd fit the role perfectly?”

[—]

but that's what happens when seokmin plants the idea in your head, because you now find yourself in seungcheol's apartment.

you sit in seungcheol’s living room, heart pounding as you try to muster the courage to speak. he’s standing in front of you, arms crossed loosely over his broad chest, looking at you with his usual gentle, patient expression. but somehow, today, that patience makes your nerves worse. you’re not sure why you’re suddenly so embarrassed; maybe it’s the way his dark eyes seem to search your face for any hint of what’s coming.

“so… what did you want to ask me?” he prompts, his voice warm and inviting, though there’s a hint of curiosity lurking beneath it.

you swallow, your palms damp. “you can totally say no if you want to, there’s no pressure at all but um-”

seungcheol’s eyebrows furrow at your hesitation, “you’re making me nervous,” he jokes, though there’s a genuine note of concern in his eyes. “what’s going on?”

you inhale deeply, avoiding his gaze as you force the words out. “so, i got this wedding invite. from…my ex.” you don’t have to elaborate for seungcheol to know which ex you mean. his jaw tightens almost imperceptibly, a flash of something dark passing over his expression before he smooths it out.

“han minjun,” he says, and the way he says the name makes it sound like a curse. his hands uncross, one clenching the back of a chair as he leans into it. “are you… are you okay?”

“yeah,” you say quickly, “i’m okay, really. just…it's in two weeks, and he’s marrying the girl he—” you stop yourself before the floodgate of bad memories start flowing. you look up at seungcheol, feeling your face grow warm. “anyway, that’s not the point. the point is…i need a date.”

seungcheol’s eyes soften, his tension melting away just a bit. “oh,” he says, and a smile tugs at his lips in realization, “you want me to be your date?”

“yes. i mean-” you fidget with the hem of your shirt. “only if you’re okay with it. you don’t have to-”

“of course,” he interrupts, his answer immediate, his voice firm. “if it’s for that, there’s no way i’d say no.” his protective instincts flare up at the mere thought of you facing your ex alone, and he wants to be there for you, to shield you from any pain that might resurface.

you feel relief wash over you, but then the real request lodges itself in your throat. you take a deep breath. “but… not just as a date,” you say quietly. “i need… i need a fake boyfriend. i can’t just show up to his wedding…single.”

seungcheol blinks, and for a moment, he thinks you’re joking. you watch as his expression shifts, surprise giving way to something more complicated. his smile falters, and his eyes search yours for any hint of hesitation, or a joke even. any indication that you might realize what this could mean for him.

a fake boyfriend. the words echo in his mind, and his heart aches, even as he tries to keep his face neutral. he’s spent the past 3 years hiding his feelings, protecting your friendship, waiting for a moment that never seemed to come. and now, here you are, asking him to pretend.

“a fake boyfriend,” he repeats, and his voice is steady, but there’s a hint of something broken underneath. he can’t help but imagine what it’ll be like to hold your hand, to smile at you, to pretend to be the one who gets to loves you openly…only to have it all stripped away when the charade is over. he knows he’s setting himself up for heartbreak, but how can he say no to you? how could he ever refuse you when you look at him like that?

“cheol?” you ask hesitantly, noticing his pause. “is that… is that too much to ask? i’m sorry, it’s just-”

he shakes his head quickly, forcing a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “no, it’s not too much,” he says softly. “if that’s what you need, then… i’ll do it.”

“really?” your eyes light up with hope, and he wishes he could bottle up the way you look at him, keep it forever.

“really,” he confirms, even though his heart is already starting to fracture. he pushes down the longing, the desperate yearning to be more than just a fake. because he knows this is all he’ll get—a bittersweet taste of something he can’t truly have. but for now, he’ll take what he can get. even if it means breaking his own heart for the chance to be close to you.

[—]

“rules. we need rules. oh and boundaries. just to be safe, you know? not make it weird.” you informed as you pick up a piece of blank paper & pen from your desk before jumping onto bed.

seungcheol lies on his stomach on your bed as he waits for you, “what kind of rules and boundaries do you have in mind?” he asks.

“well for one, no falling in love. like, we both have to promise that this stays strictly pretend. we can’t let it mess with our friendship.”

for a moment, silence fills the room. when you glance at seungcheol, his expression is unreadable. “no falling in love,” he repeats quietly, his voice almost too steady. you don’t notice the way his jaw tightens, the way he clenches his fist against the sheets.

you give him a nervous smile. “exactly. we both need to agree to that.”

“right,” he says, his voice softer now. “no falling in love.” he repeats louder this time, his heart aches at the irony, because if only you knew how deeply he’s already fallen. but he forces himself to nod, to play along, to act like he isn’t breaking the very first rule you laid out just by being here. “any other rules?”

“um, yeah,” you continue, scribbling your next point onto the paper. “okay,” you say, oblivious to the turmoil in his chest. “it has to be believable. like, no half-assing it. if we’re going to do this, we have to commit. but, uh, within reason, of course.”

seungcheol chuckles at that, the sound breaking through the tension. “within reason?” he echoes, his smile genuine this time.

“yeah, nothing too….much,”

“& what exactly is too much?”

“kisses,” you answer without missing a beat.

seungcheol smiles, "so, i can’t kiss you, even if it’s just for an act?"

you pause, thinking over his question. the way he says it, so casual yet so heavy, sends a shiver down your spine. “i mean… kisses are too intimate. that crosses the line.” you say, hoping your voice doesn’t betray how nervous the thought of kissing him makes you.

seungcheol watches you closely, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “too intimate?” he repeats, almost teasingly, but there’s something more in his eyes, something you can’t quite place. “but aren’t we supposed to look like we’re really together? won’t people think it’s suspicious if we… don’t at least pretend that we’re comfortable with that?”

“no one’s expecting a porno of us making out,” you argue, your cheeks warming at the implication. what a poor choice of words. “hand-holding, hugs, maybe a forehead or a cheek kiss if we’re feeling bold. but anything beyond that…” you trail off, your mind spinning and butterflies threatening to invade your tummy at the thought of seungcheol’s lips anywhere near yours.

he hums thoughtfully, propping his chin on his hand. “so, kisses are off the table. got it,” he says, though there’s a hint of disappointment in his voice that you dont pick up. “any other rules?”

“that's all i can think of for now, what about you? anything you dont want me to do? anything to add?” you ask.

“no, I'll do whatever you want me to.” he says, a mixture of fondness and longing swirling in his chest.

“okay, i guess we're really doing this huh?” you ask as you feel some tension leave your body.

“yeah,” he murmurs, even as his heart screams at the unfairness of it all. if only you knew just how real it already was for him.

[—]

“did you actually really ask seungcheol to be your fake boyfriend?” seungkwan questions, taking another sip from his iced americano, his eyes narrowing at you suspiciously.

you sigh, pressing your palms to your face. “how did you even find out about that?”

“seokmin told me. now answer me! did you actually?” seungkwan presses, his tone both exasperated and concerned. he’s your best friend. he knows every secret, every late-night confession, and every tear you’ve ever shed over seungcheol.

you glance away, fiddling with the hem of your sleeve. “yeah... i did,” you admit softly.

seungkwan lets out a small groan, leaning back in his seat. he’s silent for a moment, and you can feel the weight of his judgment hanging between you. but there’s something else there, too. something heavier, deeper. regret, maybe.

four years ago, you were a helpless mess, pinning after seungcheol like a lovesick fool. seungkwan remembered the way you’d light up whenever seungcheol was around, the way your laughter sounded a little brighter, your smile a little wider. and he remembered the way seungcheol seemed oblivious, never showing a sign of returning your feelings.

seungkwan had wanted to help you. he’d been desperate to see you happy, to save you from the heartache that came from unrequited love. so he’d done the only thing he could think of at the time: he’d set you up with someone else.

“do you remember when i introduced you to minjun?” seungkwan asks, his voice suddenly quieter, more somber.

you blink, caught off guard by the question. “of course i do,” you reply. how could you forget? you’d been resistant at first, clinging to the faint hope that seungcheol would notice you one day. but seungkwan had been insistent. he’d told you that minjun was a good guy, someone who could make you happy, someone who could help you move on.

“you were so against it,” seungkwan recalls, his lips curving into a wistful smile. “but you finally agreed, and... well, you actually hit it off.”

a small laugh escapes your lips, though it lacks any real humor. “yeah. we did.”

for a while, dating han minjun had felt like a breath of fresh air. he was charming, thoughtful, and everything you thought you needed. for a moment, you’d even believed you’d moved on from seungcheol. but now, years later, here you were again, tangled up in your feelings for him, pretending to date him, no less.

seungkwan’s expression softens as he looks at you. “you know, i really did think minjun was a good guy back then. i just... i didn’t want to see you hurt anymore.” his voice wavers, and you can tell he feels guilty, even if it wasn’t his fault that things turned out this way.

“i know,” you murmur. “you were just trying to help.”

seungkwan sighs, setting his juice box down. “but now you’re back to seungcheol, except this time it’s... fake. and that worries me.”

your throat tightens, and you don’t know how to explain that being with seungcheol, even if it’s just for show, feels better than being with anyone else. even if it hurts a little. or maybe a lot.

“it’s complicated,” you whisper, but seungkwan isn’t satisfied. his eyes bore into yours, filled with worry and protectiveness, like he’s already bracing for the heartbreak he’s sure is coming.

[—]

“do you think we should pick something that matches or just, you know, kind of goes together?” you ask, sifting through rows of dresses, your fingers brushing over various shades of fabric.

seungcheol tries to focus on the suits in front of him, but he’s barely listening, too distracted by the way your voice lilts at the end of your question. “hm?” he clears his throat, hoping you don’t notice how he’s completely lost his train of thought. “yeah, matching is… good.”

you raise an eyebrow at him, a small smile playing on your lips. “that didn’t answer my question, cheol.”

he laughs nervously, scratching the back of his neck. “sorry. what was it again?”

“do you want our outfits to match?” you repeat, holding up a dress. it’s a deep, elegant navy blue, and seungcheol’s heart does a weird little flip. “like this one? it’s the same color as that suit you’re holding.”

seungcheol swallows hard, imagining the two of you side by side, perfectly coordinated, like a couple in a fairytale. he tries to shake the thought away. “yeah, that’s… perfect,” he says, his voice coming out softer than he intended.

you seem satisfied with his answer, disappearing into the dressing room to try it on. seungcheol stands there, shifting his weight from foot to foot, heart pounding for no reason he can justify. he’s known you for years, been by your side for countless moments, but something about this—the idea of the two of you dressed up together, the way you trusted his opinion—feels different, it makes his heart race.

“cheol?” your voice pulls him out of his thoughts, and he looks up, his breath catching in his throat as you step out of the dressing room.

he’s not prepared for the sight. you look… breathtaking, the dress fitting you in a way that leaves him momentarily stunned. his eyes widen, and he opens his mouth to say something, but no words come out. it’s like he’s forgotten how to speak.

you tilt your head, concern flickering in your eyes. “is it bad?”

“no!” he blurts out, voice cracking embarrassingly. he clears his throat again; surprised at his own voice, his cheeks burning. “no, you look—” he stammers, searching for the right words, his mind a complete mess. but then, he smiles his boyish smile, his dimples dipping more than they usually do & says “god, you look… beautiful. really beautiful.”

you blink, taken aback, and seungcheol swears he sees your cheeks flush a little. he’s painfully aware of how warm his own face feels, how his hands are suddenly clammy.

“thank you,” you say, your voice softer now. you look at him, eyes wide and earnest, and seungcheol can’t handle it. he has to look away, but not before he sees the small smile spreading across your face.

he fiddles with the cuff of his suit jacket, trying to regain some semblance of composure. “you… you really think this is the one?” he asks, his voice cracking again. he winces.

you nod, your smile growing. “i think it’s perfect. but… what about your suit?”

he’s still trying to recover from seeing you in that dress, but he manages to nod. “right, my suit,” he says, forcing himself to focus. “i’ll go try it on.”

you sit down on a bench, and seungcheol practically sprints to the fitting room, his heart pounding. he stares at his reflection as he pulls on the navy suit jacket, trying to breathe. he looks like a mess, his hair sticking up from how many times he’s run his hands through it, his face still red.

“come on, cheol,” he mutters to himself. “get it together.”

when he finally steps out, he catches the way your eyes light up, the way you look him over and nod approvingly. “that’s perfect,” you say, and his heart does that stupid flip again. “we’ll look great together.”

he laughs, but it’s a weak attempt to hide how fast his heart is racing. “yeah. we will.” the words come out before he can stop them; even he knows he sounds completely & irrevocably smitten but he can’t help it, not when you’re looking at him like that.

[—]

“so, did you say yes to being her date?” seokmin asked casually, thumbs tapping furiously at the controller in his hands as he and seungcheol tried to hold their ground in the game. “you know, her fake boyfriend and all that?”

seungcheol’s fingers faltered on the buttons for a split second, and he shot seokmin a glare. “yah, focus on the game, we can't lose,” he grumbled, feeling his face heat up. but, of course, seokmin had to bring it up now.

“wait, what?” wonwoo’s attention snapped away from the screen, his character on the verge of getting attacked. he gawked at seungcheol. “when did this happen? and why didn’t you tell us?”

soonyoung’s eyes widened, and his character in the game momentarily stood still. “hold on, hold on,” he said, nearly dropping his controller in shock. “hyung, you’re telling us you agreed to be her date and fake boyfriend, and we’re only hearing about this now?”

“can we not talk about this?” seungcheol muttered, trying to refocus on the game, but his heart was racing. the way his stomach twisted at the mention of you and the fake dating arrangement wasn’t something he wanted to discuss—especially not with his friends teasing him about it.

“absolutely not,” soonyoung protested, his competitive spirit momentarily forgotten. “this is big news, hyung! you have to spill.”

“yeah, seungcheol,” wonwoo added, a sly grin spreading across his face. “why didn’t you tell us? don’t act like it’s not a huge deal.”

seungcheol sighed, his shoulders tensing as he kept his eyes on the screen. “because it’s not a big deal, its only for a day anyway,” he insisted, but even he could hear the strain in his voice.

“you’re so full of it,” wonwoo said, barely holding back a laugh. “you've been in love with her for god knows how long, now you agreed to be her date and pretend to be her boyfriend. how is that not a big deal?”

unfortunately, soonyoung & wonwoo, have possession over seungcheol's not so secret, secret. but really, everyone knows, it's only a secret to you, seungkwan & seokmin although seokmin has been starting to catch on for the past few months. everyone else has miraculously managed to somehow keep their mouth shut around seokmin and seungkwan for 3 years; knowing how close you are with the two of them. I guess in a way you could say the boys are loyal to him? anyways.

seungcheol’s grip on his controller tightened. “can we just focus on winning?” he pleaded, desperate to change the subject, but his friends’ curiosity was palpable.

“fine,” soonyoung said with an exaggerated sigh. “but we’re coming back to this later.”

just as seungcheol was about to let out a breath of relief, the sound of the front door opening made his heart stutter, and he turned his head, unable to help himself. you stepped into the apartment, bags in hand, looking slightly windswept but effortlessly beautiful.

“hey, i’m home!” you greeted, smiling at everyone.

seungcheol’s mind blanked, his focus slipping away entirely as he took you in. he barely registered seokmin’s frantic warning—“hyung, watch out!”—before his character was obliterated in the game.

“yes!” soonyoung cheered, throwing his hands in the air. “we won, wonwoo!”

wonwoo leaned back with a smug smile, “thank you,” he said, looking over at you.

you blinked, confused. “me? what did i do?”

wonwoo’s eyes glinted with mischief. “it’s nothing you need to know… yet,” he replied, his voice teasing, and he shot you a knowing smile. “but thank you anyway.”

you tilted your head, clearly still confused, but you shrugged it off. “okay, if you say so,” you said, heading down the hall. “i’m gonna go take a quick shower.”

seungcheol watched you disappear, his shoulders slumping as he realized just how badly he’d let himself get distracted. he could feel the heat rising to his face, embarrassment and longing twisting in his chest.

seungcheol couldn't let it show. or at least, he thought he didn’t. he tried to play it cool, act normal around you, and pretend that his heart didn’t stutter every time you called his name. but apparently, seokmin noticed.

“you’ve got that look again,” seokmin pointed out, a teasing lilt in his voice.

seungcheol turned to find seokmin leaning against the backrest of the sofa, a grin spreading across his face. he blinked, feigning ignorance. “what look?”

“you know,” seokmin drawled, pushing himself off the backrest to lean closer to seungcheol “that look you get when she’s around.”

seungcheol felt his pulse skip, an uncomfortable warmth creeping up his neck. he avoided seokmin’s eyes, choosing instead to stare at the floor. “i don’t know what you’re talking about,” he muttered, hoping his voice sounded steady.

“sure you don’t.” seokmin plopped down beside him, elbow nudging his ribs. “c’mon, hyung. you’re not exactly subtle.”

seungcheol rubbed the back of his neck, a nervous habit he couldn’t seem to shake. “it’s not like that,” he insisted, though even he knew how unconvincing he sounded.

seokmin raised an eyebrow. “really?” he asked, voice softening. “because the way you look at her…you look at her like you'd burn down the whole world for her.”

seungcheol’s throat tightened, and he pressed his lips together, finally meeting seokmin’s gaze. there was no judgment there, only curiosity and a quiet sort of understanding.

“i didn’t mean to,” seungcheol admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “it just… happened.”

seokmin’s smile was gentle now, the teasing gone. “and what are you gonna do about it?”

seungcheol’s hands fisted the fabric of his shirt, a sense of helplessness washing over him. “nothing,” he said, bitterness seeping into the word. “she’s too important. if i mess this up… i can’t lose her.”

seokmin studied him for a moment, the silence stretching between them. “but what if you don’t lose her?” he said quietly. “what if she feels the same way?”

seungcheol’s heart twisted painfully. the thought had crossed his mind more times than he could count, but he always pushed it away, too afraid to hope. “and what if she doesn’t?” he countered, his voice breaking. “i’d rather be close to her like this than lose everything.”

seokmin sighed, leaning back on his hands. “i get it,” he murmured. “but you can’t live your whole life being afraid. sometimes, you’ve got to take the risk.”

seungcheol let out a humorless laugh. “easy for you to say,” he mumbled, but his chest felt a little lighter, the weight of his secret shared, even if just for a moment.

seokmin’s smile returned, playful once more. “hey, i’m rooting for you,” he said, clapping a hand on seungcheol’s shoulder. “but seriously, the way you look at her… it’s gonna give you away one day.”

seungcheol swallowed, a smile tugging at his lips despite himself. “maybe,” he whispered. “but not today.”

seokmin grinned, standing up and offering a hand to pull seungcheol to his feet. “well, just know i’ll be there to say ‘i told you so’ when it happens.”

seungcheol took his hand, rising to his feet. “yeah, yeah,” he said, but his heart felt a little less heavy & a lot more hopeful.

[—]

seungcheol stood outside your bedroom door with seokmin, heart pounding as he took a steadying breath. it wasn’t the first time he was picking you up, but today felt different. maybe it was the gravity of the wedding you were attending, or maybe it was the fact that this arrangement had slowly become more real for him than he ever dared admit.

“hyung, you okay?” seokmin asked, glancing at him curiously.

seungcheol blinked, snapping out of his reverie. “yeah,” he lied, his voice sounding far more confident than he felt. “let’s just…get this over with.” he lied, it hasn't even started yet but he doesnt want it to end.

seokmin gave him a sorry look but said nothing, and before seungcheol could dwell on it, you opened the door to your room. his breath caught in his throat, and for a moment, he forgot how to speak. you stood there, radiant in a simple yet elegant dress, hair styled perfectly, eyes sparkling with nervous anticipation.

he was so down bad for you, it was almost pathetic.

he couldn't help the boyish smile that adorned his face, “you look… beautiful.” he didn’t trust himself to say more, afraid that if he did, the truth would come spilling out.

a faint blush dusted your cheeks, and you smiled, the kind of smile that made his heart feel like it was doing somersaults. “thanks, cheol,” you said shyly, adjusting your dress. “you clean up pretty well yourself.

he let out a laugh, hoping it masked the way his pulse was racing. “you ready?” he asked, extending his hand to you. “our grand entrance awaits.”

you hesitated for the briefest moment, but then you slipped your hand into his, and he had to fight the urge to hold on tighter, to pull you closer and never let go. he couldn’t, of course. this was all an act. just a performance to keep up appearances, to help you save face in front of your ex and everyone else.

but god, how he wished it were real.

[—]

the car ride was quiet at first, the only sound being the hum of the engine and the soft music playing from the radio. seungcheol couldn’t help but glance at you every few seconds, noting the way your fingers fidgeted with the hem of your dress. he knew you well enough to recognize the signs of your anxiety, and his chest tightened.

“hey,” he said gently, reaching over to take your hand in his. your eyes widened in surprise, but you dont pull away. instead, you stared at your intertwined fingers, and he wondered if you could feel his heart pounding.

“are you okay?” he asked, his voice softer now, more careful. “if you’re not, we can turn around. we don’t have to go.”

you shook your head, a small, determined smile forming on your lips. “i’m fine,” you whispered. “it’s just… weird, you know? seeing him get married.”

seungcheol swallowed, a lump forming in his throat. he hated that minjun hurt you and how he couldn’t do anything but hold your hand and hope it was enough.

“if you want to leave at any point,” he said, squeezing your hand gently, “just say the word. i’ll get you out of there, no questions asked.”

you looked at him then, really looked at him, and he felt like he was being laid bare under your gaze, your eyes boring into his. “thank you, cheol,” you murmured, and your voice cracked just a little. “i don’t know what i’d do without you.”

his chest ached, a mix of longing and fear swirling inside him. he wanted to tell you that he’d always be there, that he’d never leave, but he didn’t. instead, he settled for rubbing soft circles into the back of your hand with his thumb, hoping you couldn’t feel how badly he was trembling.

the silence in the car was comfortable, but electric, charged with something unspoken. the way your shoulders relaxed under his touch, the way your breathing evened out as he held your hand—it was almost enough to make him believe that you felt the same way.

but that was dangerous territory, and seungcheol knew better than to get his hopes up.

“you know,” he said lightly, trying to steer his thoughts away from the ache in his chest, “you’re kind of incredible. not everyone could handle a situation like this with so much grace.”

you laughed, the sound soft and a little self-deprecating. “i don’t know about that or this grace you speak of,” you said. “i’m still trying to convince myself not to run away.”

“if you run,” he said, a teasing grin tugging at his lips, “i’ll run with you. we can both escape and go somewhere far away. just the two of us.”

the joke made you laugh, but there was a wistful note to it, and seungcheol had to look away to keep himself from saying something stupid. his heart was a mess, pounding wildly with every word, every touch, every second he spent in your presence.

“thanks, cheol,” you said again, your voice quieter now. “really. i’m so lucky to have you.”

seungcheol drove on, your hand still in his, hoping that this moment would last a little longer.

[—]

the wedding had gone off without a hitch, at least on the surface. the vows had been exchanged, laughter and applause filling the air, and now the reception was in full swing. seungcheol had been trying his best to stay close to you, to keep you from feeling the weight of the memories this day might bring. but as he returned with your drinks, he froze.

there you were, standing stiffly, looking more tense than he’d seen you all night. and, of course, minjun was in front of you, a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes as he leaned in, saying something seungcheol couldn’t quite hear. your polite smile was brittle, your shoulders tense, and anger flared in his chest.

he forced himself to take a calming breath before approaching, setting your drinks down on a nearby table and stepping in between you & minjun, “hey,” he said smoothly, his voice calm but firm. “everything okay here?”

your eyes darted to him, a flicker of relief crossing your face. you tried to smile, but it wavered. “yeah,” you said, your voice a little too tight. “we were just… talking.”

minjun glanced at seungcheol, an eyebrow arching. “seungcheol?” he asked, a smug smile playing on his lips. “fancy seeing you here, i dont remember including you in the invite?” he quirked an eyebrow.

you opened your mouth, your voice coming out steadier this time. “actually, he's my plus one, since we're dating.”

“dating? as in, he's your boyfriend?” minjun asked as he sneaked a glance at seungcheol.

“yes, actually.” your words sent your stomach doing flips.

the disbelief on minjun’s face was palpable. he snorted, his gaze flicking between the two of you as if you’d just told a joke. “boyfriend? really?” he smirked, clearly unconvinced. “come on. that’s a little desperate, don’t you think?” minjun tries to reach for your hand.

before you could react, seungcheol stepped forward, his hand moving to reach for yours protectively; staking his claim. “i don’t think your wife,” he said, emphasizing the word with a hint of sarcasm, “would appreciate you making my girlfriend uncomfortable.”

minjun’s smile faltered, but he didn’t back down. “prove it,” he challenged, crossing his arms. “you really expect me to believe this… whatever this is?”

seungcheol’s jaw clenched. “we don’t need to prove anything to you,” he said, his voice low and controlled. “& you certainly don't have the right to ask for anything, much less a proof, not after all the shit you’ve done.”

minjun’s expression soured, but before he could respond, seungcheol turned to you, his eyes softening. “come on, pretty,” he murmured, his voice gentle and eyes earnest,. “dance with me?”

you stomach did somersaults, seungcheol watches you intently, he watches the way your expression melts into a grateful smile. you leaned in close and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. “thank you,” you whispered, so quietly he barely heard it.

his heart stuttered in his chest, warmth flooding through him. but he forced himself to push the feeling away, to remind himself that this was all for show. you were only doing this because minjun was watching, because you needed to keep up the pretense. there was no way you actually meant that kiss, no way you felt the same fluttering in your chest that he did.

but he couldn’t help the way his heart betrayed him, the way his entire body seemed to light up at the simple touch of your lips on his skin. he swallowed, hoping you didn’t notice the way his cheeks flushed, and offered you his hand.

“let’s go,” you said, taking his hand, your smile genuine and warm.

the music had shifted to a slow song, and seungcheol led you onto the dance floor, his fingers still intertwined with yours. his heart was pounding, his mind racing, but he tried to focus on you, on the way you were looking at him now, your eyes so full of trust and something he couldn’t quite place.

“thank you,” you said again, your voice a little steadier this time.

he gave you a small smile, trying to keep his emotions in check. “i’ll always be here for you,” he said, his voice soft. “you know that, right?”

you nodded, your gaze flickering down to where his hand rested on your waist. “i do,” you whispered, and for a moment, he thought he saw something more in your eyes. something he desperately wanted to believe in.

seungcheol tried to ignore the way your body fit so perfectly against his, the way your smile sent his heart racing. he couldn’t let himself read too much into the way you were looking at him.

but it was so, so hard.

“cheol,” you said suddenly, pulling back just enough to look up at him. “can i ask you something?”

he swallowed, his throat dry. “of course.”

“why did you say yes?” you asked, your voice hesitant. “to being my date and… pretending to be my boyfriend?”

his breath caught in his throat. he hadn’t expected that question, and he wasn’t sure how to answer without giving himself away. “because you needed me to,” he said finally, and it was the truth, even if it wasn’t the whole truth. “and i’d do anything for you.”

your eyes softened, and he wondered if you could see right through him, if you knew just how badly he was hurting, just how desperately he wanted this to be real.

“you’re too good to me,” you whispered.

he shook his head, a sad smile tugging at his lips. “no,” he said. “i’m just… selfish.”

you tilted your head, confused. “selfish?”

he opened his mouth, then closed it, the words dying on his tongue. he couldn’t tell you. he couldn’t ruin this. “never mind,” he said, forcing a laugh. “just… ignore me.”

but you didn’t. your gaze lingered on him, searching, and he had to look away before he did something stupid, like confess right then and there.

“cheol,” you said, your voice so soft it made his heart ache. “what are you hiding?”

“nothing,” he lied, pulling you a little closer, trying to focus on the music instead of the way your eyes were looking right into his soul. “i’m not hiding anything.”

but he was. he was hiding everything. the way he loved you, the way he wanted you, the way he’d give anything to be more than…this.

“okay,” you said finally, but he could hear the doubt in your voice. “if you say so.”

“you know,” he said as he let out a small sigh, his voice barely above a whisper, “you didn’t have to kiss my cheek just now. not for minjun’s sake, anyway.”

you tilted your head, looking up at him with wide eyes. “i didn’t do it for him,” you said quietly as seungcheol watches your eyes sparkle and dilate, for a moment, he forgot how to breathe.

“then… why?” he asked, his voice cracking slightly.

your gaze searching his face. “just because.. i wanted to.”

seungcheol’s mind went blank, his heart pounding so loudly he was sure you could hear it. he didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how to process the sudden, overwhelming rush of hope that filled his chest. 

“should we call it a night?” you asked, your voice gentle as you turned to seungcheol, who still seemed lost in thought. you weren’t sure if it was because of the way you had kissed his cheek earlier or if he was still worried about you, but his expression had been hard to read.

seungcheol blinked, snapping out of whatever daze he had been in. “yeah,” he said, nodding slowly. “let’s head home. but, uh, let me hit the bathroom real quick first?”

you nodded, offering him a small smile. “i’ll wait by the entrance.”

he nodded back, his eyes lingering on you a moment longer before he turned and made his way to the restroom. as he walked, he felt his heart racing, the memory of your soft kiss on his cheek replaying in his mind. you’d said it was just because you wanted to, but that couldn’t mean anything... right?

 seungcheol washed his hands, letting the cool water calm him down. he took a deep breath, trying to gather his scattered thoughts. he doesn't really want this night to end, he's not ready for that yet.

but that’s when he heard it: voices coming from one of the stalls, low but loud enough to catch his attention.

“man, i still can’t believe you're actually married,” one voice said, a hint of mockery in his tone. “and only because you got her pregnant. how the hell did you screw up that bad?”

what the hell? seungcheol’s jaw clenched, but he forced himself to stay quiet, listening.

“don’t remind me,” minjun’s familiar voice replied. “i know, okay? it’s not like i love her or anything. but i couldn’t just bail, you know? had to do the right thing, i guess.”

the right thing? seungcheol thinks to himself, yet cheating on you is okay?

the friend laughed, a harsh, grating sound. “still, hanna’s nothing compared to your ex. that girl is so much hotter than your wife. you should’ve stayed with her.”

seungcheol’s grip on the sink tightened, his knuckles going white.

“hey, i made a mistake,” minjun grumbled, clearly defensive. “she really is hot. i was just thinking with my other head back then, okay?”

“yeah, well,” his friend drawled, “i would’ve made a move on her tonight if she hadn’t walked in with that new boyfriend of hers. what’s his name again? seungcheol or something?”

“yeah, well, i tried to,” minjun admitted, and seungcheol could practically hear the smirk in his voice. “but he showed up before i could.”

“did you see the dress she was wearing?” minjun laughed as he added, “she's got such a killer body…bet I could make her cheat on that boyfriend of hers, what do you say? 50 bucks? bet on it?”

that was it. the final straw. anger flared hot and fierce in seungcheol’s chest, and before he knew it, he was storming over to the stall. he yanked the door open, and the look of shock on both men’s faces did nothing to quell his rage.

“what the fuck did you say? you think you can talk about her like that?” seungcheol growled, his voice low and dangerous. “after everything you’ve done?”

minjun barely had time to react before seungcheol’s fist connected with his jaw. the fight was quick, brutal, and messy, with fists flying and the sound of grunts echoing off the bathroom walls. seungcheol didn’t care about the pain in his knuckles or the way his cheek throbbed from a poorly blocked punch. all he cared about was defending your honor, protecting you from these men who had no right to even think about you, let alone look in your direction.

when seungcheol finally left the bathroom, his heart was still racing, adrenaline coursing through his veins. his cheeks were slightly bloodied and his knuckles were bruised.

but before he could reach the entrance to get to you, someone grabbed his arm. he turned, only to see hanna, minjun’s wife, looking at him with wide, concerned eyes. “oh my god,” she gasped, her hands flying to her mouth. “what happened to you?”

at first, she seemed genuinely worried, but then her eyes raked over him, and her concern twisted into something more flirtatious. she reached out, her hands brushing against his arms. “you look so hot like this with all the bruises,” she whispered, her fingers trailing down his biceps.

seungcheol stiffened, every nerve in his body screaming for him to pull away. “don't,” he held a hand up, “i have a girlfriend,” he said firmly, stepping back. he glanced around, hoping you hadn’t seen any of this.

but you had. your eyes had caught sight of the scene, the way hanna's hands lingered on seungcheol’s arms, and your stomach twisted painfully. you didn’t understand why it hurt so much to see it, why your heart felt heavy and your chest ached. this was seungcheol, your good friend. you’d moved on from this heartbreak years ago... right?

you tore your gaze away, your mind spinning. you couldn’t deny the pang of jealousy, the way your pulse quickened at the sight of him with someone else, but it made no sense. seungcheol was just your friend. nothing more.

when seungcheol finally made his way over to you, unaware that you saw him & hanna, was careful not to mention it or the fight that happened. instead, he focused on the gossip he’d overheard in the bathroom. “hey,” he said, his voice gentle, “did you know?”

you barely registered his words, your mind still replaying the image of hanna's hands on his arms. your chest felt tight, and you couldn’t explain why.

“apparently,” seungcheol continued, “this whole wedding is a shotgun marriage. she’s pregnant, and that’s why they’re doing all this.” he paused, searching your face for any reaction, but you weren’t really hearing him.

“huh?” you finally said, blinking as you came back to the present. your eyes widened when you took in his bruised knuckles and the cut on his cheek. “oh my god, seungcheol. what happened to you?”

“did you hear anything of what i just said?” he asked, a mixture of frustration and worry in his voice.

you glared at him, your concern overshadowing everything else. “no, but i’m sure it’s nowhere near as important as this,” you snapped, gesturing to his bruised face and bloodied hands.

seungcheol sighed, his shoulders slumping. “it’s nothing,” he insisted, but he knew you wouldn’t let it go. not when you looked at him with so much worry, so much care, and it made his heart ache.

“nothing?” the depth of your furrowed brows going deeper, “you're bleeding, cheol.” your tone angry.  “come on,” you said, your voice softening. “i’m taking you back to my place. i need to take care of those wounds.”

he tried to protest, but you wouldn’t hear it. “please, cheol,” you whispered, and the way you said his name made his heart stutter. he wanted so badly to believe that you cared, that this wasn’t just about him being your friend.

“fine,” he relented, his voice barely above a whisper. “but only because you’re so stubborn.”

you gave him a small, relieved smile, and he felt his resolve weaken even more.

back at your apartment, you lead seungcheol to the bathroom, rummaging through the first aid kit with a determined focus. he sits on the edge of the bathtub, watching you with a mixture of awe and longing. it’s overwhelming how gentle you are with him, the way your fingers tremble slightly as you gather supplies to tend to his wounds. he wants to believe this moment means something more than simple concern for a friend, that the tenderness in your gaze holds feelings he’s been longing to hear you speak out loud.

“does it hurt?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper as you dab a damp cloth against the cut on his cheek, your touch feather-light.

“no,” he says, his gaze never wavering from your face. the sting is nothing compared to the ache of wanting you. his heart pounds relentlessly, each beat echoing the longing he’s kept hidden for so long.

you move to bandage his knuckles, your fingers lingering on his for just a moment longer than necessary. “you’re so reckless,” you murmur, but your tone is soft, carrying nothing but worry.

he swallows, throat tight. “i couldn’t stand hearing them talk about you like that,” he admits, the words escaping before he can second-guess them.

your hands freeze. you look up at him, brows furrowing in confusion. “what do you mean?”

he hesitates, regret mingling with vulnerability, wanting to tell you everything but afraid of what might come next. “just... they were saying things they shouldn’t,” he settles on, the explanation falling flat compared to the storm raging inside him. “i couldn’t let it go.”

the bathroom feels smaller, the air thicker. you lean in closer, a wrinkle of worry creasing your forehead. “seungcheol…”

his hand lifts before he can stop it, and his fingers brush your cheek, gentle and unsure. “i just want to keep you safe,” he whispers, voice cracking, heart lodged in his throat. “even if it means getting a little bruised up.”

you’re so close now that your breath mingles with his, warm and intoxicating. your chest tightens, and something inside you shifts. you can’t tell if it’s the tenderness in his voice or the way his eyes seem to hold a secret you’ve always yearned to know. you feel your pulse spike, your mind racing. all the feelings you’ve tried so hard to bury come rushing back with an intensity that scares you.

you kneel in front of him, biting back the realization that you never really moved on, that you never truly stopped loving him. your feelings have been buried, but they resurface now, raw and undeniable, and you can’t pretend anymore.

“tonight was...a lot,” seungcheol says quietly, breaking the heavy silence. his eyes search yours, trying to make sense of the tension thick in the room.

you nod, hands trembling slightly as you pull back, though not far enough to break the spell. “yeah,” you manage, voice unsteady. “it was.”

seungcheol watches you with a gaze so full of longing that it makes your heart ache. he’s proud of you, he’s always been proud of you, but the way he’s looking at you now is different. “you were amazing,” he says, the sincerity in his voice making your breath catch. “the way you handled everything… i’m so proud of you.”

his words break something inside of you, and before you know it, you’re leaning in, closing the distance. it’s an impulse, a mistake, but you just couldn't help yourself. your lips brush against his, and for a heartbeat, time stands still.

seungcheol freezes in shock, but then he responds. his hands fly to your waist, pulling you closer, and he kisses you back with a fervor that leaves you breathless. the tension snaps like a taut wire, replaced by a burst of passion, and everything you’ve both kept buried pours out.

his fingers tighten around your waist, your hands finding their way into his hair, and you lose yourself in him. the way he tastes, the way he holds you, feels like a dream you don’t want to wake from. your heart races as the kiss deepens, desperate and all-consuming.

but then reality crashes over you like a tidal wave. you pull back abruptly, breaking away, your eyes wide with shock and horror. seungcheol looks dazed, lips parted, hair slightly mussed from your hands, and the sight of him so undone because of you only makes the guilt worse.

“i-” you stammer, voice cracking as you scramble to your feet. “oh my god. i’m so sorry.”

“wait-” he begins, but you’re already moving, stumbling backward, cheeks flaming with embarrassment. “i shouldn’t have… we promised we wouldn’t-”

“it’s okay,” he tries to reassure you, his voice gentle yet laced with desperation. he stands, reaching for you, but you take another step back, your emotions spiraling.

“no,” you whisper, shaking your head, overwhelmed and terrified by the feelings that won’t stop crashing over you. “i ruined everything.”

you feel tears prick your eyes, your chest aching with regret and confusion. the kiss shattered the fragile balance between you, and you don’t know how to piece it back together. “you should go,” you manage, voice cracking. “its getting late,” your head starts feeling dizzy, “I'll call you tomorrow.” 

before seungcheol can argue, before he can make sense of the whirlwind between you, you’re gone. you rush out of the bathroom, heart hammering, not sure where to go but needing to escape. the apartment feels suffocating, your feelings too much to handle, and you slam your bedroom door behind you.

you lean against it, sliding down until you’re curled up on the floor, tears spilling down your cheeks. what have you done? you kissed seungcheol, and now everything is a mess. the love you never let yourself acknowledge burns bright, and it terrifies you.

in the bathroom, seungcheol stands frozen, the ghost of your kiss still lingering on his lips. he’s never felt more hopeless, more in love, and more afraid that he’s lost you forever. the echo of your apology rings in his ears, and he clenches his fists, wishing he could take away the hurt and confusion you’re feeling.

he tells himself he’ll wait for you to call, but he’s terrified that this time, waiting might not be enough.

but still, seungcheol waits. 

the days stretched on, each one feeling heavier than the last. it had been a week since the wedding, a week since that kiss had turned his world upside down, and still, there was no call from you. you had promised, but the days passed in silence. he wanted so bad to be the one reaching out, but he knows you well enough to know that it wouldnt end well, and that you needed your own time to process things. but he couldn’t stop thinking about what had happened between you. each morning he woke up with a sliver of hope, a quiet, desperate wish that today would be the day you would reach out. but by every nightfall, the silence was all he had. the silence, and the ache that gnawed at him constantly.

he kept replaying that moment over and over in his mind, the feel of your lips on his, the way your eyes had searched his face afterward. the hope, the confusion, the raw vulnerability—it haunted him, leaving him restless and on edge. there was something about the way you pulled away from him, your apology spilling out in a rush, that made his heart ache. his own feelings were a mess, tangled up in things he hadn’t fully understood until that kiss, much less you, right?

he tried to keep busy, to drown the thoughts that plagued him. the gym became his sanctuary, his second home, a place to work out the frustration, the ache in his chest. he lifted weights until his body screamed for rest, hoping that physical exhaustion would bring some peace. but no matter how much he tried to tire himself out, the ache remained, lurking at the edges of his mind, waiting for the quiet moments when it all came rushing back.

work was just a blur, the hours blending together as he went through the motions. he found himself distracted, staring at his phone more often than usual, his thumb hovering over your contact, only to put it down before he could hit send. what would he even say? what if you weren't ready yet & him reaching out only made things worse? what if you didn’t even want to hear from him? what if his feelings were just a one-sided mess that he’d have to live with forever?

the days bled into one another, each one more unbearable than the last. he couldn’t tell anyone how much he missed you—how much he longed to hear your voice, to see you again, to figure out what all of this meant. so he kept it all inside, bottled up, carrying the weight of his emotions on his own. there were moments when he could feel it, the weight of his longing pressing on his chest, making it hard to breathe. he had tried to be patient, to give you space, but with each passing day, that patience was wearing thin.

he wondered if he’d done something wrong. had he misread the situation? had he pushed too far when he kissed you back? maybe you only kissed him because of the atmosphere or adrenaline or whatever? every time he thought about it, he felt sick. maybe you didn’t feel the same way. maybe he had crossed a line, and now he was paying the price for it. the thought of you slipping further away from him was unbearable.

his phone sat on the coffee table, screen blank, mocking him with its silence. he had told himself he’d wait, that you’d reach out when you were ready, but the longer the silence stretched on, the harder it became to believe that. he wanted to hear your voice, to know that you weren’t angry with him, to know that the kiss hadn’t ruined everything between you. but instead, he sat in his apartment, surrounded by the deafening quiet.

& seungkwan? seungkwan had been on you about it for days.

"seriously, you’re just going to leave things like this?" seungkwan had said one morning, his eyes narrowing at you over his cup of coffee. "you kissed him. you kissed seungcheol hyung. and now you’re acting like it didn’t happen. you think he’s not waiting for you to come around?"

you hadn’t responded at first, unsure of how to even begin to process it. all you could think about was the kiss, and how everything felt so wrong and so right in that moment, and how now, in the aftermath, everything was a mess.

"you’ve been so quiet about this. and it’s obvious to everyone. you’re both miserable. don’t you get it?" seungkwan continued, his voice growing more insistent. "you can’t just let it go, not after that. you owe it to yourself & especially to him to figure out what this is. what he is to you."

you had shaken your head, turning away, not wanting to face the truth. "i don’t even know what it is. i don’t know if i—"

"you’re making it worse by not doing anything," he cut you off, his eyes narrowing. "stop running from it. just talk to him, okay? if you don’t, you’re going to regret it."

you sighed heavily, sinking back into the couch. you had never been good at this kind of thing, especially when it came to feelings. but something in seungkwan’s words made you pause. the last thing you wanted was to regret anything.

"i don’t know if i can," you murmured. "i don’t know if he’ll even want to talk to me after everything."

seungkwan rolled his eyes, crossing his arms. "stop thinking like that. he doesn’t know what to do either, so you’re both stuck, waiting for the other to make a move. just go to him. get your act together."

before you could respond, the door to your apartment unlocks, interrupting your conversation, and there stood seokmin, looking far too cheerful for the somber mood that had settled over you.

"hey, what’s going on in here?" he asked, stepping inside with his usual bright smile.

you shrugged, feeling the weight of seungkwan’s words pressing on your chest. "nothing much. just… thinking."

seungkwan immediately jumped in, as if he couldn’t help himself. "you need to go talk to seungcheol. i’m so done waiting for this mess to sort itself out."

seokmin raised an eyebrow, a knowing look on his face. "ah," he crossed his arms, settling into the couch. "you’re still haven't called huh?"

"no," you admitted, your voice small. "i don’t know what to say to him."

"yeah, well, you’re not the only one," seokmin said with a sigh, his tone softening. "but running away from it won’t solve anything. look, and you know what cheol's like. if you tell him you need space & time & that you'll call him, he's gonna listen & wait for you. he’s not going to make the first move until you do so go talk to him, okay? figure it out. or at least to put that guy out of his misery."

you nodded slowly, trying to take in his words. it wasn’t that simple. it never was. but seokmin had a way of speaking to you that made you feel like maybe, you could take that first step.

seungkwan was still persistent, though. "seriously, i’m not letting you off the hook. you still love him after all these years, don’t you?"

"i don’t know," you said, your voice cracking. "i think i do, but i don’t even know how to deal with even coming to terms that i like him. everything’s so messed up. i kissed him, and now i… i don’t know what to do with all of it."

seokmin looked at you with an almost knowing smile. "sometimes, things don’t have to be figured out all at once. it’s okay to just… see what happens. go to him and talk. take it one step at a time."

seungkwan nodded eagerly, as if the suggestion had finally gotten through to you. "exactly. just go. trust me, you’re both miserable. just fix it."

the decision was made. somehow, someway, you had to go to him. you didn’t know what you were going to say, or how you were going to fix everything that had gone wrong, but you knew you had to try. the thought of never knowing how he felt, or whether you had a chance, was unbearable.

it had been days since you last saw him. days since everything had spiraled. and now here you were, on the verge of either fixing things or making them worse. you stood frozen, unsure of what to do. your hands trembled slightly, and for the first time in a long while, you felt completely out of control.

you knocked softly, but the sound felt too loud in the quiet hallway. a few moments later, you heard the shuffle of footsteps from the other side, and your heart skipped a beat.

the door swung open, and seungcheol stood there, looking absolutely stunned to see you standing there. his eyes widened in confusion, and for a brief second, you both just stared at each other in silence.

he seemed to take a deep breath, as if bracing himself. "you… you’re here," he said quietly, almost as if he couldn’t believe it. "are you… okay?"

you didn’t know how to respond. you wanted to say so many things, but words felt like too much. you stood there, rooted to the spot, unable to form a coherent sentence. the silence stretched, and then he spoke again, his voice breaking the tension.

"come in," he said softly, stepping aside to let you in, but you didn’t move. "did i… did i do something wrong? if i upset you, i’m sorry. i didn’t mean to. i really didn’t." his voice was strained, as if he was holding back something. "i know we agreed on the whole fake dating thing for just 1 night, and maybe i crossed a line. but i didn’t mean to. i didn’t mean to make things complicated. I.. I didnt mean to make you uncomfortable.”

he sounded so genuinely sorry, and that was the moment it hit you—seungcheol was just as lost as you were.

you swallowed, forcing yourself to step over the threshold. you walked inside, every part of you feeling as though you were making a decision you couldn’t take back. the door clicked shut behind you, and you stood in the middle of the living room, unsure of what to do or say next.

he gestured toward the couch, but neither of you sat. there was a tension hanging between you two, something unsaid but felt in the air. you stayed there, frozen, trying to process your thoughts while he watched you, waiting for something.

he cleared his throat, his voice quieter now. "come sit, please," he said. "talk to me, please. is it something i did? i… i can't fix it if i dont know what i did wrong."

you shook your head slowly, still unable to find your words. you felt like a mess, and you could tell by his expression that he felt the same. the weight of everything that had happened—the kiss, the awkward distance between you two after—was hanging over you both.

finally, you spoke, your voice barely above a whisper. "it’s not your fault."

"what do you mean?" he asked, his brows furrowing in confusion, a mix of hope and worry in his gaze. "what’s not my fault?"

"i kissed you," you muttered, the words coming out rushed, almost in a panic. "it was me. i shouldn’t have done it. and i’m sorry."

he seemed taken aback, a flash of guilt crossing his face. "but… why? why did you kiss me?” 

you bit your lip, looking down at the floor, avoiding his eyes for a moment. "i don’t know why," you admitted, the confession escaping before you could stop it. "i wasn't thinking…i just… i was jealous. i saw hanna with you, and i couldn’t stand it. i… i kissed you because of that, but now, i’m not sure if it was jealousy or because i like you."

seungcheol’s face softened, his eyes searching yours as if trying to make sense of it. "you were jealous?" his voice was barely audible, as if the question itself was too much to bear. his eyes were glossy, and his hands trembled slightly at his sides. he took a step closer, his voice breaking as he spoke. "you… you like me?"

you took in a deep breath, feeling the tears prick at the corners of your eyes. "i think so, i don’t know..I'm not sure but i don’t want to lose you over a stupid kiss."

seungcheol exhaled shakily as his heart falters to the pit of his stomach. he felt a mixture of anger, bitterness and heartbreak flare in his chest, his fingers threading through his hair as he took a moment to gather himself. "a stupid kiss," he repeated, “you dont know if you like me?” and there was a bitterness to his voice that made your chest tighten. he looked at you, his eyes shining with something raw, something that made your heart splinter.

"it's not just a stupid kiss to me," he whispered, and your breath caught. "do you know how long i’ve been in love with you? do you have any idea how many times i’ve tried to hold back these feelings because i was terrified you wouldn’t feel the same?"

your eyes widened, your knees nearly giving out at his words. "you… you're in love with me?" you whispered, barely able to believe it.

he let out a bitter laugh, the sound cracking in the air between you. "yeah," he said, his voice breaking on the word. "i’m in love with you. it’s been hell, watching you, waiting for the right moment, praying that maybe, one day, you'd feel the same. and then you kissed me, and god, for a second, i thought it was real. i thought maybe you felt it too."

your hands shook as you tried to process his confession, the weight of his words pressing down on you, leaving you breathless. "cheol…" you started, but he held up a hand, his gaze turning away from you.

"don't," he whispered, pain etched in every line of his face. "if you're not sure, if you don't know what you want, please… don't say anything. because this? this hurts too much."

your chest ached, your heart breaking at the sight of him, of the way he was barely holding himself together. "i’m sorry," you choked out, tears finally spilling down your cheeks. "i didn’t know. i never realized—"

"that’s the thing," he interrupted, his voice strained. "i've always been here, and you never realized." he swallowed hard, his jaw clenching as he tried to hold back his own tears. "i can’t… i can’t keep doing this if you don't feel the same,”

seungcheol softens as he took in a deep breath, “I can accept, no–I can understand if you don’t love me back,” he says, his voice breaking, “but i need you to at least be sure you like me. if you can’t even be sure you like me, then i don’t think i can do this.” his hands curl into fists on his knees, the weight of his words pressing into the air between you.

the tears come without warning, spilling down your cheeks as everything you’ve been holding back crashes over you. “cheol,” you begin to confess, voice trembling, “i was in love with you four years ago. back then, before everything. before my ex.” your confession hangs heavy, and you can see the shock and pain in his eyes.

“four years ago?” he chokes out. he’s crying too, his tears slipping silently down his face. “why didn’t you tell me?”

you wipe at your face, trying to catch your breath. “because i thought it was over. i thought my feelings had become platonic, that they’d evolved into this safe, distant affection. but seeing you... seeing hanna flirt with you... it hurt. it hurt because i realized i never really let you go. i still love you, cheol. and it’s not just this soft, easy love. it’s the kind that makes me want you even when it hurts.”

his sob catches in his throat, and he reaches for you, his hands trembling. “i’ve loved you for so long,” he confesses, his voice cracking under the weight of it all. “i tried to hide it. i tried to hold it back, but i couldn’t. you’ve always been the one, even when i knew i shouldn’t feel that way.”

the two of you sit there, crying together, the years of longing, misunderstandings, and suppressed emotions finally crashing down. he cups your face, thumb brushing away your tears. “so now what?” you ask, voice small and broken.

seungcheol pulls back slightly, looking at you with a playful glint in his eyes, but there's something vulnerable there too. he smiles as he rubs soothing circles on your cheek with his thumb. "now... now i ask you out on a date," he says, his voice softer, but his tone filled with so much emotion. “but—” he pauses, his smile fading slowly as his gaze turns serious now, “i’ll give you��five dates.”

“what? what do you mean?” your eyebrows scrunch in confusion.

seungcheol's smile returns as he takes in your pouty face before clearing his throat, “i'll let you decide if you still want me after that. no pressure. in case you change your mind.” his hand goes to reach for a stray hair near your cheek and tucks it behind your ear as he gives you a soft smile, still holding a certain sadness and uncertainty to it.

you smile softly, shaking your head. “i don’t need five dates to know my answer, cheol. i'm not changing my mind.” bold adrenaline suddenly pumps through your blood, and you hastily pull seungcheol closer to you in a quick motion, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt, and then you place a quick kiss on his lips. it's nothing romantic by any means, neither was it movie-scene-worthy. it's nothing like that, but it is more than enough to soothe your soaring heart, and it's definitely more than enough to send your message across to seungcheol.

seungcheol’s eyes widen in surprise as you pull away. "you’re…sure.” this time, it wasn't a question.

"i'm sure," you repeat anyway for him, stepping into his arms as your heart flutters at the feeling of him finally pulling you in, his embrace as warm as you'd imagined.

his arms wrapping around you with a warmth and desperation that sends a shiver down your spine. It feels like everything you've both been holding back for so long is coming unraveled, like this embrace is the start of something fragile but real. His face buries into the crook of your neck, and you feel his breath, heavy and uneven, as he holds on like he's afraid to let go.

"i've waited so long to hear you say that," he murmurs, voice muffled against your skin. His words are shaky, the tremble betraying the vulnerability he’s still trying to hide. "i’ve wanted this for so long, but i never imagined it would feel this terrifying."

your hand finds his back, holding him just as tightly. "it’s terrifying for me too," you admit softly, your voice trembling. "but... i’m tired of being afraid.”

he pulls back slightly, his forehead pressing against yours as his eyes search your face. “let’s give this a real chance, even if it scares us. even if it’s hard." he whispers, a hint of a smile breaking through the sorrow that had clouded his expression. 

you nod, your eyes locked with his. "i want to," you say, feeling a fragile hope bloom in your chest. "i want us."

a soft, relieved laugh escapes his lips, and he pulls you into a real kiss this time—gentle, slow, and full of everything unspoken. It’s not perfect, but it feels like a promise, like a beginning you both desperately needed. you lose yourself in the moment, your heart pounding as the weight of everything finally starts to lift.

when you both pull away, breathless but smiling, seungcheol rests his forehead against yours. "so, about those five dates, even though you say you dont need them," he teases, his voice a little lighter now, a spark of his usual playful demeanor coming back. "should we count this one, or start fresh?"

you laugh, the sound bringing color back into the space between you. "maybe we should count this one," you say, your heart feeling impossibly full. "but only if it means you have to try extra hard to make the next four unforgettable."

his smile widens, the warmth in his eyes chasing away the lingering shadows of doubt. "deal," he says, his hands still resting on your waist. "i’ll make every single one worth remembering, just you wait."

[thewulf]

Through the Years || Aaron Hotchner

Summary: Request - Aaron Hotchner x reader, It will be like 2 moments in different years... like the first time little Jack is comfortable enough around reader to call her mom... and the other one teen Jack not taking her grounding while Aaron is away and screamimg at her something like "You are not my mom"... Read Rest Here

A/N: This was tough to write. But overall very sweet. We love a good teenage melton.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader, Jack Hotchner x Stepmom Reader

Word Count: 2.8k

TW: Yelling, intentional hurt, Jack being mean lol

Year Six: Jack’s Question

The gentle hum of the air conditioner filled the cozy living room as you and Jack sat together on the couch, surrounded by an array of colorful crafting supplies scattered across the coffee table. Glue sticks, markers, and construction paper formed a creative mess as the two of you worked on a project together, a rare moment of tranquility in the chaotic life of an FBI agent's family.

As you guided Jack through the steps of creating a handmade card for his grandmother's birthday, you couldn't help but notice the way he looked up at you with a mixture of admiration and affection. His small hands moved with determination, mirroring your own movements as you carefully cut out paper hearts and glued them onto the card letting him guide how he wanted the card to turn out.

"Y/N?" Jack's voice broke through the soft hum of conversation, tentative and uncertain. He shifted back and forth on the couch letting whatever was on his mind eat away at him for the time being.

As Jack's voice broke through the soft hum of the television on, you turned your attention back to him. He looked so nervous that you could only put the supplies down and focus solely on him. "Yeah, Jack?" you replied, your voice soft and encouraging.

Jack shifted nervously beside you, his brow furrowing as he wrestled with his words. You could see the uncertainty flickering in his eyes, the weight of his question heavy on his young shoulders.

"Can I... can I call you Mom?" His voice was barely above a whisper, filled with hesitation and longing.

Your breath caught in your throat at his words, your heart soaring with joy and disbelief. It was a moment you had dreamed of, hoped for, but never dared to expect. Not so soon anyway. You and Aaron had been seeing each other for just over a year. And yet, here it was, unfolding before you in the most unexpected of moments.

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you gazed at Jack, overwhelmed by the depth of emotion welling up inside you. You wanted to gather him into your arms, to hold him close and never let him go, to shower him with all the love and affection he deserved. But you also knew that this moment was about him, about his courage in voicing his feelings, his desire to forge a deeper connection with you. And so, you swallowed past the lump in your throat, your smile widening with genuine warmth and love.

"Of course, you can, sweetheart," you whispered, your voice trembling with emotion. "I would be honored."

As the words left your lips, a weight seemed to lift from Jack's shoulders, his face breaking into a radiant smile that mirrored your own. In that moment, surrounded by the remnants of your crafting adventure, you felt a profound connection form between you, one that transcended blood ties and was forged by love and mutual respect.

Jack let out a sigh of relief, his smile widening as he leaned into your embrace. "Good, Daddy said I could," he explained, his voice filled with a mix of excitement and validation.

Your heart swelled with warmth at his words, grateful for Aaron's support and understanding. It meant the world to you that he had encouraged Jack to express his feelings, to embrace the bond that had grown between you. "Your daddy is a smart man," you replied, your voice tinged with affection as you ruffled Jack's hair affectionately. "And he's right. You can call me mom whenever you want. You can also call me Y/N. Whatever you want kiddo."

Jack beamed up at you, his eyes sparkling with happiness as he settled back into his seat, a sense of contentment settling over him like a comforting blanket. In that moment, it felt as though the world had shifted, the connection between you and Jack deepening with each passing second. And as you returned to your crafting project, your hearts overflowing with love and gratitude, you knew that this was just the beginning of a beautiful journey together.

Year Fifteen: Teenage Turmoil

The soft glow of the lamp illuminated Aaron Hotchner's cluttered desk as he typed away on his laptop, the faint clicking of keys the only sound in the otherwise quiet house. It was Friday night, the end of a long week, but for Aaron, the work was far from over. His eyes flickered to the clock, noting the late hour. Jack should have been home by now, safely tucked into bed. Anxiety gnawed at him as he tried Jack's number once more, only to be met with the unwelcome sound of voicemail. He would give it until 12:30 then he was going to be calling Penelope to locate his young son. He didn’t want to be overbearing but he couldn’t help it. Not with what he’s seen, what he’s had to deal with.

In the living room, you paced back and forth, your heart pounding with worry. Each passing minute felt like an eternity. With every unanswered call, your concern grew tenfold. The clock on the wall mocked you, its hands moving relentlessly towards midnight. You too knew how dangerous it was out there. But you couldn’t lock the kid in. He’d resent the both of you for the rest of his days if you did that.

Finally, the creak of the front door announced Jack's return. Relief flooded through you, quickly replaced by a surge of frustration as you caught sight of his nonchalant expression. "Jack, do you have any idea what time it is?" you exclaimed, unable to keep the edge from your voice.

Jack's eyes flickered to you, irritation flashing in their depths before he masked it with a careless shrug. "Relax, I lost track of time," he retorted, tossing his jacket aside without any regard for how stressed both you and his father were.

Your temper flared. "You were supposed to be home over an hour ago! Do you have any idea how worried we were?" As Aaron remained in his office, you and Jack were left to confront each other alone, the tension between you palpable.

He shrugged again before attempting to make a break for his room.

"Jack, please," you implored, your voice trembling with concern. "We need to talk about what happened tonight. It's not just about breaking curfew; it's about communication and respect."

Jack's eyes narrowed, his arms crossing defensively over his chest. "I don't need a lecture, Y/N. I'm not a kid anymore."

Your heart sank at his dismissive tone, but you refused to back down. "I know you're growing up, but that doesn't mean you can disregard the rules we've set. They're there for a reason, Jack. We worry about you when you're out late, especially when we can't reach you."

He scoffed, rolling his eyes. "You worry too much. I can take care of myself."

Your frustration bubbled to the surface. Your voice tinged with emotion. "It's not just about taking care of yourself, Jack. There are awful people out there and…”

Jack's demeanor shifted, his expression hardening with defiance. "You're not my mom, Y/N. You don't get to tell me what to do."

His words cut deep, a pang of hurt flashing across your features. "I know I'm not your biological mother, but I love you like you're my own," you admitted, your voice wavering with emotion certainly not expecting the conversation to take such a turn so quickly.

Jack's jaw clenched, his anger simmering beneath the surface. "Yeah, right. You're just trying to control me like everyone else. Well, news flash, it's not gonna work."

Your heart shattered at his harsh words, the weight of his rejection crushing you. "I'm not trying to control you, Jack. I just want what's best for you," you pleaded, tears welling in your eyes despite your best efforts to push them away.

But Jack's frustration boiled over, his voice rising with each word. "Stop pretending like you know what's best for me! You're not my freaking mom! You can't tell me what to do!"

As Jack's explosive words hung in the air, a heavy silence descended upon the room, filling the space with tension and uncertainty. Your heart felt as though it had been squeezed tight in your chest, the sting of Jack's rejection still raw.

A gasp came from your mouth as you tried to form any sort of coherent sentence. "Oh, I'm... I..." you began, your voice faltering as you struggled to find the right words. But your mind was a whirlwind of emotions, and you found yourself at a loss.

Jack's eyes widened, a flicker of realization crossing his features as he took in the impact of his own words. For a moment, he seemed unsure, caught between his anger and the weight of what he had just said. And then, as if sensing the weight of the moment, Aaron appeared in the doorway. His expression a mix of concern and disappointment. His presence seemed to ground the room, his steady gaze sweeping over you and Jack.

"What's going on here?" Aaron's voice was calm but firm, his eyes never leaving yours. He saw the watery tears that threatened to spill over at any second. He heard the tail end of the conversation and knew exactly why you were so devastated. You saw Jack as your own child and for him to say something so deeply hurtful left you reeling.

You struggled to compose yourself, the turmoil of emotions threatening to overwhelm you. "Jack... he... I don’t… I need to go," you managed to say, your voice barely above a whisper. Without waiting for a response, you turned and fled towards the kitchen, unable to even look at your stepson or Aaron in that moment. You felt utterly embarrassed. Like you hadn’t been loving that child for the last ten years of his life. Did he really feel like that or was he just lashing out?

In the living room, Aaron's expression darkened, his jaw clenched with restrained anger as he watched you leave. The weight of Jack's hurtful words hung heavy in the air, casting a shadow over their father-son relationship.

Jack shifted uncomfortably; his eyes fixed on the ground as guilt gnawed at him. "Dad, I didn't mean..."

But Aaron's patience had worn thin with his moody son. "Not now, Jack," he interrupted, his tone stern. "Right now, I need you to think about what you said and why it was completely unacceptable."

Jack swallowed hard, the gravity of his actions sinking in as he met his father's unwavering gaze. "I know, Dad. I messed up," he admitted, his voice tinged with remorse.

Aaron's frustration boiled over, his voice taking on the commanding tone he used when interrogating suspects. "You think you can just say whatever you want and there won't be consequences? You hurt her, Jack. You hurt someone who cares about you deeply, and I won't stand for it."

Jack's eyes widened, the full weight of his actions crashing down on him as he met his father's intense gaze. "I-I'm sorry, Dad. I didn't mean to..."

But Aaron cut him off with a sharp gesture. "Apologies won't cut it this time, Jack. You need to understand the gravity of your words and the impact they have on people." As Aaron continued to reprimand his son, he couldn't shake the worry gnawing at him. He knew he had to find you, to make sure you were alright. With a final stern look at Jack, he turned on his heel and headed towards the kitchen, his footsteps heavy with concern.

As he entered the kitchen, his heart sank at the sight before him. There you were, hunched over on the floor, your shoulders shaking with sobs. Without hesitation, Aaron crossed the room and knelt beside you, gathering you into his arms.

"Hey, hey, it's okay," he murmured softly, his voice a soothing balm against the storm raging within you. "You're alright, I've got you." Aaron felt a pang of anguish as he held you, his heart breaking at the depth of your pain. Gently, he lifted your chin, guiding your tear-filled eyes to meet his own.

"Honey," he whispered, his voice filled with tenderness. "Listen to me. You may not be Jack's biological mother, but you are his mom in every sense of the word."

You shook your head weakly, unable to comprehend his words through the haze of your despair. "But I-I..."

"No buts," Aaron interrupted, his tone firm but gentle. "Every day, in every action, every moment of love and care you've shown him, you've proven yourself to be his mother. You've been there for him, supported him, loved him unconditionally. That's what a mom does. That’s what you are, sweetheart.”

Tears welled in your eyes as his words washed over you, a glimmer of hope piercing through the darkness of your despair. "But Jack said..."

Aaron's expression softened, his thumb gently wiping away your tears. "Jack was angry and confused. He didn't mean what he said. And even if he did, it doesn't change the truth. You are his mother, my love, in every way that matters."

As his words sank in, a sense of warmth enveloped you, the weight of your anguish easing with each beat of your heart. In Aaron's arms, you found solace, reassurance, and a renewed sense of purpose. You leaned against Aaron's chest, letting the last of your tears fall, a sense of peace washed over you. His comforting presence wrapped you up in his warm embrace, grounding you in the certainty that together you’d be just fine. “Thank you.” You whispered as he held you in his embrace.

Aaron held you close, his hold on you a silent promise of unwavering support and love. "Anytime, honey," he murmured, his voice a soothing melody in the midst of chaos. "We'll get through this together."

Just then, the sound of footsteps echoed in the kitchen, and you looked up to see Jack standing in the doorway, tears glistening in his eyes. His expression was wrought with guilt and remorse as he hesitated, unsure of how to approach you.

"Y/N," he began, his voice choked with emotion. "I-I'm so sorry. I didn't mean what I said. I just wanted to hurt you, but I didn't mean it. I didn’t mean it at all, I promise. I need you! You are my mom! Please don't leave me." His words came out quickly as he wiped away his own tears.

Your heart shattered at Jack's raw confession, the depth of his pain washing over you like a tidal wave. Without hesitation, you opened your arms, inviting him into the embrace. Aaron backed off letting the situation between the two most important people in his life play out.

Jack rushed over and threw his larger frame right into your arms You wrapped him up tightly as he let his own cries out. The weight of his own words crashing down on him in the instant he saw how much he had hurt you. He was just a kid, of course you could forgive him. "It's okay, Jack," you whispered, your voice breaking with emotion. "I know you didn't mean it. I love you so much. I'm not going anywhere."

“I can’t lose you too.” He let out a whimpered cry breaking your heart even further.

Tears streamed down your own cheeks as you held Jack close, the weight of his words settling over you. "You’ll never lose me, Jackie," you reassured him, using his old nickname, a sign of the deep love you two shared for each other.  "I'm here for you, always. Always and forever kiddo."

Jack's sobs began to subside as he clung to you, finding exactly what he needed in your embrace. "I love you. I’m so sorry." he whispered again. His voice filled with sincerity.

A small smile tugged at the corners of your lips as you gently pulled away to look into his eyes. "I love you too, Jack. It’s okay. I forgive you." You said again, reassuring him.

He nodded, relief flooding his features as he buried his face in your arms once more, the weight of guilt slowly lifting from his shoulders. "You are one of the best things that's ever happened to me," you continued, your voice filled with warmth and affection. "Other than your father," you added with a playful grin, feeling Jack's chuckle rumble against your side. He gave you one more squeeze before pulling away. The remorse still heavy on his face. Carefully, you brushed the stray tears away from his face showing him the love that the both of you needed.

As Aaron joined you both in the kitchen, his presence a reassuring anchor, you shared a smile, knowing that no matter what life threw your way, you would be okay. For truly these two were the best things that had ever happened to you.

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Request Taglist: @fictionallifestuff

[purplereina11]

You're a highly successful basketball player who has just been transferred to Barcelona's women's team. The number 11 holds deep personal significance for you. Among the spectators is none other than football superstar Alexia Putellas, synonymous with the number 11 in Barça history, watching from the sidelines. What starts as mutual admiration quickly turns into something more, fuelled by weeks of playful yet intense online flirting. The chemistry between you and Alexia becomes undeniable.

When you reached Estadi Johan Cruyff, the atmosphere was electric—every pulse in the stadium throbbed with raw energy. The crowd roared in anticipation, chanting, hoisting banners high, all set to witness another blazing Barcelona masterpiece.

But for you? It was all about one singular presence. You hadn’t come for just the spectacle of the game—you were there for her. Alexia Putellas. With Maya and Liv tagging along, their eyes wide with amusement and intrigue at the public sparking between you and Alexia, the stakes were impossibly high.

"So, how are we feeling?" Liv pressed, nudging you as you sank into your front-row seat—exactly where Alexia had directed you. Wearing a cap to blend in proved futile amidst the contrasting white Nike hoodie chess move blazoned across your chest and cap that screamed for attention. Smartphones thrust in your direction, recording every moment of your bold stance. Front row wasn’t just a seat; it was a declaration.

"Nervous? Excited? Sweating a little?" Liv prodded.

You smirked, a hint of challenge in your eyes. "She’s the one who should be nervous."

Maya scoffed. "You talk as if she isn’t about to go full Ballon d’Or just to impress you."

And you weren’t hidden at all. The crowd’s buzz, with Maya and Liv flanking you from either side, was relentless. Despite your low profile—hood up, hands buried in your jacket pockets—it wasn’t long before gazes locked on you.

Not solely from the crowd.

From her.

The instant Alexia stepped onto the pitch for warm-ups, the atmosphere charged further. Every stretch, every pass, every jog was precise, yet her eyes inevitably wandered toward your section. She knew you were there.

A smug grin curled your lips as you leaned back, relishing the anticipation building just before kickoff.

The game exploded into life, and Alexia was a blur of speed and purpose. From the very first whistle, she was consumed—each move calculated, each touch a masterstroke. Every motion was deliberate as she dominated the midfield with an intensity that was impossible to ignore.

You leaned forward, elbows locked on your knees, poisoned with admiration and raw anticipation as she sliced through defenders as if they were mere phantoms.

"Jesus," Maya gasped, half in awe, half in disbelief. "She’s insane."

Liv burst out laughing. "She’s putting on a damn show."

You couldn’t tear your eyes away as Alexia collected a pass at midfield. A single, piercing glance upward, and then—like lightning—she burst into action. Effortlessly, she ghosted past one defender, spun with unreal grace, then twisted her hips to leave the next flailing in empty air.

By the time she stormed into the box, the crowd erupted in a deafening roar. A thunderous strike—top corner, a missile that sent ripples through the net like an explosion. The stadium convulsed with energy. Without a second thought, you sprang to your feet; the shot was seismic. And then, as if electrified by the moment, Alexia turned. She didn’t celebrate immediately. 

Instead, she locked her gaze onto you—a small, impish smirk playing on her lips that screamed, I did that. It cut through you like a jolt. Your heart pounded uncontrollably as you clapped slowly, your applause a mixture of pride and challenge.

Liv whistled beside you. "Oh yeah, that was definitely for you."

Maya teased, nudging you. "Still think she should be the nervous one?"

You sank back into your seat, arms crossed as you feigned cool detachment. And if you thought Alexia’s performance had peaked, you couldn’t have been more mistaken.

For the remainder of the match, she unleashed a barrage of jaw-dropping moves—impossible one-touch passes, laser-accurate through balls, flicks and turns that mocked the bewildered struggles of defenders. It was an onslaught, as if she was playing in a realm where gravity didn’t exist, while everyone else fought a losing battle.

Each spectacular feat was punctuated by a glance thrown in your direction—as if daring you to react, as if stoking the flames of a private duel. And, yes, you were reacting fiercely. But you refused to let her see the depths of your admiration and desire. So you maintained your cool. You smirked when she executed a flawless pass. You nodded when she navigated through chaos. You tilted your head ever so slightly when she caught you staring—a silent conversation woven into the game itself.

And Alexia reveled in it.

As the final minutes neared, a decision formed in your mind. You weren’t going to stay until the final whistle.

Just before full-time, you surged upward, preparing your exit strategy.

Maya’s eyes lit up immediately. "Oh my god, you’re running away."

You grinned wickedly. "Strategic retreat."

Liv snorted. "This is diabolical."

You simply shrugged. "Let her wonder where I went." Let her chase the elusive mystery. Because this game? It was far from over—never even close.

Outside the stadium, you resisted the urge to check your phone. You knew that the moment you did, notifications would flood in—teasing texts from your teammates, maybe even a message from Alexia herself.

Instead, you let the silence build. Let her pace her thoughts. Even as you returned to your place, messages began appearing.

Maya: You’re actually evil.

Liv: Alexia was looking for you after the game lmaooo. She looked pissed.

A smirk tugged at your lips. Then another message popped up.

Alexia: So you left.

Short. Direct. The unimpressed tone practically sizzled through the screen. You paused before replying.

You: Front row or nothing, right? You saw me.

Alexia: I did.

Leaning back against your couch, you savored the rising smirk on your face. She wasn’t done yet.

Alexia: And yet, when I looked again, you weren’t there.

Her irritation was palpable, but so was the thrill—she was still texting you.

You: Had to leave you wanting more.

Alexia: Dangerous game you’re playing.

Your stomach churned with a delicious mix of adrenaline and anticipation. You were relishing every moment. After all, nothing was ever going to happen—at least not the way the game was played on and off the pitch.

The three dots appeared, disappeared, then reappeared as Alexia composed her response. You held your breath without realizing it.

Alexia: Did you at least enjoy the show?

Your fingers hovered over the screen. Of course you'd enjoyed it—every mesmerising second. But admitting that would shift the power balance too far in her direction.

You: I've seen better.

Three dots appeared immediately, disappeared, then reappeared, again. She was crafting her response carefully.

Alexia: Liar.

The single word sent a jolt through you. She saw right through your facade, and that both thrilled and terrified you.

Your phone buzzed again before you could respond.

Alexia: I scored a hat trick for you today. To prove my point.

You hadn't stayed to see the third goal. The realisation hit you like a physical force. She'd continued her rampage even after you'd left—perhaps driven by your absence.

You stared at the screen, the revelation of her hat trick leaving you momentarily speechless. Three goals. For you. The audacity of it made your heart race.

You: Trying to impress me, Putellas?

The response came almost instantly.

Alexia: Did it work?

You bit your lip, considering how to maintain the upper hand in this delicious standoff.

You: Maybe if I'd stayed to see all three.

Alexia: Your loss.

Alexia: Did you at least notice how I don’t just play. I dominate.

Heat rushed to your face. The double meaning wasn't lost on you. You shifted in your seat, suddenly aware of how dry your mouth had become.

Alexia: You should have stayed.

Something in her tone made your stomach flip. You imagined her face as she typed it—that determined set of her jaw, the slight furrow between her brows.

You: Why? So I could watch you take your victory lap?

The response came faster than you anticipated.

Alexia: No. So I could find you afterward.

Your heart stuttered. The directness of her reply left no room for misinterpretation. She'd wanted to see you—to find you in person after the game. You swallowed hard, your fingers hovering uncertainly over the keyboard.

You: And what would you have done if you found me?

The three dots appeared, disappeared, then reappeared. The anticipation was excruciating.

Alexia: I guess you'll never know.

The challenge in her words was unmistakable. You could almost see her smirking on the other end, confident in her ability to make you regret your early departure.

You: Maybe next time I'll stick around.

Alexia: Maybe next time I'll score four.

A laugh escaped your lips. Her competitive nature was relentless, even in text form.

Your phone buzzed again before you could respond.

Alexia: There's a team celebration tonight at La Mar. Private room.

It wasn't a question or even an invitation—just information dropped casually into your conversation. Your pulse quickened as you considered your options. Going would mean surrendering some ground in this delicate game you were playing. Not going would mean missing an opportunity to see her again.

You: Is that an invitation?

Alexia: Take it however you want.

You bit your lip, weighing your response carefully.

You: Congrats on the hat trick. Truly impressive.

There. A small concession that acknowledged her skill without fully surrendering.

Alexia: You haven't seen impressive yet.

The boldness of her reply sent a rush of heat through your body. This was beyond flirting now—this was a declaration of intent.

You: Careful, Putellas. Your confidence is showing.

Alexia: It's not confidence when it's fact.

A knock at your door startled you from the exchange. You glanced at the time—nearly eleven. Who would be visiting at this hour? With a sigh, you set your phone down and that was this evenings interactions over with when your teammates had arrived with pizza and wine for a self invited movie night at your place.

The next morning greeted you with a whirlwind of chaos. The internet had erupted over your absence during the match's climax. Everywhere you looked, clips of Alexia’s breathtaking goal flooded the digital world, accompanied by heated speculations about the way her eyes had lingered on you after she scored. Twitter threads, TikTok videos, and Instagram comments meticulously picked apart every second of the exchange. Yet, perhaps most compelling was the footage capturing her scanning the stands at the match's end, unmistakably searching for someone.

That someone was you.

And when she failed to spot you, the brief flicker of disappointment that crossed her face? It was a moment the fans relished and replayed.

"Alright, so when’s the wedding?" your coach quipped the moment you stepped onto the practice field.

You groaned, exasperation evident. "Not you too."

Laughter erupted from Liv, Maya, and half of your teammates. Your coach, arms confidently crossed, remained unfazed. "What? It’s all over social media. ‘Alexia Putellas left searching for Barcelona basketball player after stunning performance.’ That’s you, by the way."

You shook your head in denial, picking up a basketball and dribbling it lazily to divert the attention. "She wasn’t searching for me."

Maya, ever perceptive, arched an eyebrow. "Wasn’t she, though?"

You chose to ignore her. However, your coach wasn’t finished. “Invite her to our open training session, she can run some drills.”

You smirked at the thought. "She’d probably crush them."

"That’s what worries me," your coach muttered, a trace of concern in her voice as she shook her head.

Later that day, while scrolling through Instagram, you saw it. A new post. Alexia, mid-game, in full focus. The second photo? A replay of that smirk after her goal.  And the caption?

Always front row

Your eyes widened. You knew exactly what she was doing. The comment section was already going insane.  So, naturally, you had to comment.

@yourusername: Didn’t think you noticed.

@AlexiaPutellas: You should know by now. I notice everything.

Your teammates were going to have a field day with this one. But at this point? You didn’t care. Because this wasn’t just some casual online banter anymore.  This was a full-on game. And neither of you were backing down. The second you hit send on your comment, you knew it was over. Not the game. Not the tension. Over in the sense that you were never going to hear the end of this from your teammates.

Because within minutes, your reply to Alexia’s post had gone viral. Fan accounts were already reposting it, making edits, analysing every single word. People were invested. And Alexia? She was definitely enjoying this.You could tell by the way she waited.

She let your comment marinate for a little while. Let people freak out over the interaction. Let the suspense build. And then her notification popped up.

@alexiaputellas: Pinned your comment.

You stared at your screen.

She pinned it.

Maya was the first to send a message in the lively group chat you shared with the two Americans, with whom you were swiftly forming a close friendship. Her text arrived with the familiar ping that signalled the start of another engaging conversation, and you could almost picture her typing away, her fingers dancing over the screen with excitement.

Maya: Oh, she’s COOKING you now.

Liv: You gonna let her get away with that?

You exhaled slowly.

No, you were not.

You scrolled through Alexia’s tagged photos fans had already clipped your interactions into threads, debates, and ridiculous theories.

And then you saw it. A perfect opportunity. A fan had posted a slowed-down video of Alexia’s goal celebration, zooming in on the exact moment she smirked at you.

Their caption?

She knew EXACTLY what she was doing. This is pure flirting.

So you took your shot. You commented on it with three simple words:

Did she, though?

Not even five minutes later Alexia fired back. You had no idea how she had even see your comment until you checked your replies on your comment and every single one she had been tagged in.

She had found a different clip of the goal, this time, it was a wide-angle shot, clearly showing you standing and reacting in the background. She tagged you in her comment, 

I’d say so.

You almost choked on your drink.

Your teammates, once again, were all over it, but this time Maya stupidly found her way into the teams group chat, engaging the rest of the team into making comments and screenshots galore firing into the chat when some were clueless

Maya: NAH SHE’S ACTUALLY INSANE FOR THIS.

Liv: She just destroyed you in 0.2 seconds lmfaoooo.

Your coach: I don’t know what’s happening, but please don’t start missing layups.

You just stared at your screen, heart racing. Because Alexia wasn’t just matching your energy. She was escalating it.

And now? You had to respond. You took your time, scrolling through your camera roll. And then you found it. A photo from your first game with Barcelona.

You, mid-celebration, number 11 bold on your back.

And the caption you chose, 

11 looks good on me, don’t you think? @alexiaputellas

You hit post.

And you waited.

The world exploded. People lost their minds in the comments. You weren’t sure if Alexia was going to reply immediately or let it sit—let the internet spiral first. But then, a new notification popped up.

Alexiaputellas: Liked your post.

Alexiaputellas: Commented: I prefer it on me.

You actually gasped. Because holy shit.

Liv called you immediately, cackling. "Oh, you’re DONE for."

Maya was losing it in the team group chat. Your coach just sent a 😐 emoji.

But all you could do was stare at Alexia’s comment. Because this? This wasn’t just a game anymore. This was personal.And now, you had to figure out what came next.  

The rush of adrenaline hit you like a well-timed screen, leaving you dizzy with possibilities. Your fingers hovered over the screen, reply options racing through your mind like fast breaks.

Direct message? Too private.

Another comment? Too expected. You opted for something different. Opening your Instagram stories, you snapped a picture of your practice jersey draped over your locker, your name clearly visible.

With steady fingers, you typed: Some things look better in person. Open practice tomorrow, 3PM.

No tag.

No direct mention.

Just an invitation hanging in digital space. Within minutes, your story had been screenshot and circulated across fan accounts.

The basketball facility's social media coordinator messaged you almost immediately. Just a heads up, we've had an unprecedented number of inquiries about tomorrow's open practice. Should we... prepare for something?

You sent back a casual Probably just the usual, knowing full well it was anything but.

That night, sleep evaded you. Your phone continued to buzz with notifications, each one a reminder of the public spectacle unfolding. Maya and Liv had transitioned from teasing to strategy sessions, sending you potential outfit options and suggesting pre-practice hair appointments.

You: This isn't a date

You insisted in the group chat.

Maya: Not yet it isn't.

Liv: Wear the black compression shorts. Trust me.

Morning arrived with your coach calling an emergency team meeting before practice. "I've just received word that we'll have additional security tomorrow," she announced, eyeing you specifically. "Apparently, we're expecting quite a turnout for our humble little practice." The team erupted into knowing laughter and whispers. "I don't care who shows up," your coach continued, "we run drills as normal. We're professionals." She paused, then added with the hint of a smile, "Though perhaps we'll showcase some of our more... impressive plays."

Practice that day was intense, everyone performing as if scouts were watching. You pushed yourself harder than usual, aware that tomorrow carried stakes beyond basketball. Later, as you scrolled through social media, you noticed Alexia had been conspicuously quiet. No response to your story. No new posts. The silence was more nerve-wracking than any reply could have been. Just as you were about to put your phone down for the night, it vibrated with a notification.

Alexiaputellas: Viewed your story.

And then, moments later,

Alexiaputellas: Posted a new story.

You tapped on it immediately. It was a simple image: a clock showing 3:00, with the caption Some invitations are impossible to decline. 

Your heart hammered against your ribs. This was happening.

The next morning dragged endlessly. You spent an embarrassing amount of time on your appearance before reminding yourself that you'd be sweaty and disheveled within minutes of practice anyway. When you arrived at the facility two hours early, the staff was already setting up additional seating.

You nearly laughed at the absurdity of it all, extra seating for a practice that usually drew maybe a dozen die-hard fans and curious tourists. "We've never had this many RSVPs for an open practice," the facility manager explained, looking both stressed and excited. "Social media team is setting up additional cameras too."

"There's media outside," one of the assistant coaches informed you, eyebrows raised. "ESPN, local stations, even some international press."

"You've got to be kidding me," you muttered, Maya sudden voice from behind making you jump.

"This is what happens when two elite athletes flirt publicly," Maya said, appearing beside you with a knowing grin. "The world wants a love story."

"We're not—" you began, but the protest died on your lips. What exactly were you doing? The line between playful banter and genuine interest had blurred somewhere between her goal and your invitation. You nodded, trying to appear casual while your stomach performed Olympic-level gymnastics.

The locker room was unusually quiet when you entered—your teammates all paused mid-conversation, watching you with barely concealed amusement. "So," Maya drawled, "just another Thursday practice, huh?"

You rolled your eyes, pulling your practice jersey over your head. "Can we please act normal today?"

"Define normal," Liv chimed in, "because I just saw three news vans in the parking lot."

Your coach entered, clipboard in hand, expression unreadable. "Listen up, team. Whatever circus is happening outside those doors, in here we're basketball players. Focus on the game." She paused, then added, "That said, management has requested we run some of our more... crowd-pleasing drills."

By 2:30, the facility was humming with activity. The usual trickle of spectators had become a flood. The bleachers filled with fans, students, and—most intimidatingly—media. You kept your eyes averted during warm-ups, concentrating on the familiar rhythm of your dribble, the perfect swish of the net. Your teammates were unusually focused during warm-ups, occasionally stealing glances at the rapidly filling stands. Your coach maintained a facade of normalcy, but you caught her instructing the team to run their most visually impressive drills.

At 2:55, the doors opened for the final wave of spectators. You kept your eyes deliberately fixed on the ball in your hands, refusing to look up despite the increasing murmurs rippling through the crowd.

At precisely 2:58, a ripple of excited murmurs swept through the crowd. You didn't need to look to know what had caused it. Or rather, who.

"Don't look now," Liv whispered as she smirked, "but your girlfriend just walked in with half the FC Barcelona women's team."

"Don't you dare look," Maya whispered as she jogged past you. "Make her wait."

So you didn't.

Through passing drills and shooting exercises, you maintained your focus on the court, on your teammates, on anything but the section of bleachers where you knew she must be sitting. The weight of her gaze felt like a physical touch across your skin.

Coach called for a water break, and Maya nudged you none-too-subtly. "She's in the third row, centre section. Wearing your number." Your hands fumbled the ball, and it bounced away traitorously. When you straightened up after retrieving it, you allowed yourself one quick glance toward the entrance.

Alexia stood there, flanked by several teammates you recognised instantly. She wore casual clothes, jeans and a jacket, but somehow managed to look more put-together than anyone else in the building. Her eyes scanned the court methodically before your eyes connected.

Alexia Putellas, football royalty, casually dressed in a Barcelona basketball t-shirt with your number prominently displayed. When your eyes met, she offered that same smirk from the football match, and raised her water bottle in a small toast.

The gym seemed to hold its collective breath.

You raised your own water bottle in return, allowing yourself a small smile before turning back to your teammates.

"Oh, you're good," Maya approved. "Very cool, very collected."

Coach blew her whistle, signalling the start of a scrimmage. "First team versus second team. Full court, game conditions." As you took your position, your coach passed by with a final instruction: "Show her what you've got." Your coach clapped her hands loudly. "Alright, ladies, let's show our guests what Barcelona basketball is all about!"

The practice session began with standard drills, but there was nothing standard about the energy in the room. Every move you made felt magnified, every successful shot drawing louder cheers than usual. You were hyper-aware of Alexia's presence, feeling her eyes track your movements across the court. The scrimmage began, and something electric took over. You played with a ferocity and precision that surprised even yourself, no-look passes that threaded between defenders, drives to the basket that left the defence scrambling, and shots that seemed to defy gravity before swishing through the net.

During a particularly intense sequence, you stole the ball, dribbled behind your back to evade a defender, and launched into a perfect fast break. As the last defender approached, you executed a spin move that had the crowd gasping, finishing with a layup that even your coach applauded.

You couldn't help it then – you glanced toward Alexia.

She was leaning forward, elbows on knees, watching with an intensity that matched your own. When she caught your eye, she didn't smirk this time. Instead, she offered a slow, appreciative nod that felt more intimate than any verbal compliment. The scrimmage continued, your team pulling ahead as you distributed the ball with precision, finding teammates in perfect position.

In the final minutes, Maya set a screen that freed you at the three-point line. Without hesitation, you received the pass and launched a perfect arc that sailed through the net just as the buzzer sounded. Without thinking, you glanced over. Alexia was on her feet, clapping with genuine appreciation, her teammates beside her looking equally impressed. She was watching you intently, that competitive spark in her eyes that you recognised from her matches.

She gave you a small nod, one athlete acknowledging another's skill, and something about that simple gesture felt more intimate than any flirtatious comment. Coach called for a final water break before the last segment of practice.

As you wiped sweat from your forehead, Liv sidled up beside you. "She hasn't taken her eyes off you once," she whispered. "And I'm pretty sure there are at least three photographers who haven't taken their lenses off either of you."

You rolled your eyes but couldn't suppress your smile. "Let them look."

The final portion of practice was designated for individual skill showcases. When your turn came, you felt a surge of boldness. 

Instead of your usual routine, you incorporated moves you'd been perfecting privately, a crossover that had defenders stumbling, a step-back jumper from well beyond the arc. Each successful demonstration drew appreciative murmurs from the crowd, but you found yourself caring only about one spectator's reaction. As practice wound down, Coach gathered everyone for closing remarks. "Thank you all for coming today. We appreciate the support and hope you enjoyed seeing what these incredible athletes can do." 

Coach called an end to the practice with a satisfied smile. "Cool down and stretches, then you're free to go," she announced, adding under her breath to you, "Nice work today. Funny how motivation works, isn't it?"

As the team dispersed for cool-down exercises, you noticed a small commotion near the bleachers. Several fans had approached Alexia for photos and autographs, which she was graciously providing while her teammates formed a protective semicircle around her.

You deliberately took your time with your stretches, uncertain of the protocol for this unprecedented situation. Was she going to approach you? Should you go to her? The questions buzzed in your mind as you towelled off the sweat from your face.

Part 3

[mimicmimikyuwrites]

Angel Wings - Lute (Hazbin Hotel) x Angel!Reader

Summary: Angels have always wrapped their wings around the ones they love in a display of the highest form of admiration and affection. Lute's yet to do it to you, until the most recent extermination, that is.

An angel wrapping their wings around another had always been seen as an intimate thing in Heaven and elsewhere, a sign of love and affection that was reserved only for those cherished the most. It was almost as serious as a sincere, straight-from-the-heart, confession of love.

You had always wanted another angel to wrap their wings around you, that other angel in question being Lute, your sweet (to you), yet violent girlfriend. However, she had always been far from affectionate, a result of her upbringing and training as a soldier, as well as her lack of experience in romantic relationships.

You had wrapped your wings around her plenty of times, the feeling of holding her close in such a warm, loving way made you feel like you had ascended beyond Heaven and into something even better. Yet, she never returned the gesture. Did she not see your relationship as seriously as you saw it? You thought that you'd never get to experience her showing you her love in the way only an angel could.

Until the most recent extermination.

She had come home in a horrible shape, one of her eyes swollen and black, bright gold, angelic blood dripping from her nose, and the cuts on her forehead and cheek. The same golden blood covered parts of her uniform, and in utter disbelief, you tried to convince yourself it wasn't hers until you saw the missing arm which you could only pray would heal back.

You opened your mouth, ready to say her name in shock, unable to say much else; until she sprung forward, wrapping you tightly in her remaining arm, followed by her wings closing around you, and she buried her face into your shoulder.

"Lute—" You began, cutting yourself off when heard the soft sound of her crying, something you had never heard or seen from her before.

"I'm sorry." She sniffled, hugging you even tighter. "I know crying is weak a-and—"

"Don't apologize. Never apologize for that." You reassured her, finally overcoming your shock and hugging her back.

"Adam's dead, and so are so many others," She explained, moving to face you. Her eyes held fear and desperation you never expected to see from her, and it looked as if tears threatened to spill from those same eyes even harder as she struggled to hold them back. "When I was in the middle of that battle I couldn't help but think, 'What if I die? What if I never see you again?' I know I've been blessed to have you show me so much love, and I haven't returned even a fraction of it."

Now, it was your turn to begin crying. "Oh, Lute," You murmured, softly cradling her face in your hands. As you wiped her tears away, the feeling of warmth around you dawned on you. You had been too caught up in the moment to notice the way she had wrapped her wings around you; the ultimate sign of an angel's love, and it felt like it, too. It felt like you were falling in love with her all over again, and it was divine.

You kissed her passionately, making sure to put every single ounce of wonderful emotion she was making you feel into the way your lips moved against hers. She kissed back with the same intensity, wings pulling you in ever closer. The kiss felt like it could last forever, but unfortunately, all good things must come to an end eventually.

When it ended you looked at each other, a mutual sharing of adoration for the other between you two. She glanced down, taking notice of how tightly she was holding you, a light blush covering her face at the realization. She let you go, giving you a sheepish smile and a 'sorry' for holding you so tightly.

"Don't apologize. It felt nice." You replied, smiling back at her warmly. Your attention then turned to her wounds. "Let's get you patched up, okay? That looks like it hurts."

She nodded, watching as you began to head further into your house in search of a first-aid kit. She called out your name, stopping you.

"I love you, I really do. Thank you."

You smiled at her. "I know. Just take your time. I know these things don't come easy to you."

[threestarsinline]

Children's Books and Leather Jackets (Part II)

Jason Todd x reader one-shot

Summary: You couldn't love your job more. Or at least, that's what you thought, until Jason Todd started coming into the bookshop every week without fail, like clockwork. And then you form a connection that tilts your whole world on its axis.

Word Count: 15.5K (total of 29.2K)

Category: More fluff for you all (yes, more jsjs), (plus slight angst related to mutual pining, idiots in love, friends to lovers and typical Gotham villain stuff)

Warnings: Jason stealing your heart (and you stealing his)

Author’s note: Well, here you go babes, the second (and final) part to what once was just a one-shot but that became so long that I had to split it up (despite how much it broke my heart to do so). Hope you enjoy it!

<Part I

After that night at the dinner (that you didn’t ever want to end, though of course, sadly, it had to), everything stayed more or less the same. Jason kept coming into the bookshop several times a week, buying books and checking out some others.

Except that now, while you scanned the children’s books, as you knew what they were for now, you asked how the kids were doing.

Except that now, a lot of times when he came in the afternoons, Jason stayed in the bookshop with you until you closed, keeping you company.

Except that now, sometimes Jason brought food with him and had lunch with you.

Except that now, you texted each other practically everyday, carrying on conversations from the bookshop and talking about everything.

Except that now, your heart, instead of giving little jumps, it run whole laps every time you saw him.

And right now, you’re buzzing with nerves.

Because you don’t know where the line stands anymore, having become blurrier and blurrier with each smile, every longing look and every soft touch on his arm or the small of your back when you pass each other a lot closer than what is necessary.

And now you’re bouncing behind the counter, wondering if what you are about to do today is too much.

When that white streak that you love so much makes its way through the door, you can hardly wait to show him what you’ve found. Jason, like always, greets you with a smile and goes directly to the counter, not bothering with excuses anymore.

“There you are!” You exclaim, barely containing your excitement.

“Hi to you too.” He chuckles at your warm welcome as he finishes approaching the counter.

“I found it.” You say with a grin. Surprise makes its way across Jason’s features, immediately knowing what you were talking about.

“You did?” He asks in disbelief. You nod proudly and from under the counter, you slip out the third and last installment of a book series about the adventures of Daisy the giraffe. In the store you only had the first and the second one and the kids loved them. They had read both several times but were unable to see how the story ended since the books were quite old and very hard to find.

“Oh my god, I can’t believe it.” Jason continues as he takes the book from your hands that are extending it to him. “You’re amazing, Y/N.” He looks back up at you with shining eyes. “How did you do it?” You shrug your shoulders.

“I just tracked it down.” You answer. The truth was that it had taken a lot of time and effort to find it but the kids’ joy and how happy you felt right now made it all worth it.

“You did a lot more than that, believe me. The kids are going to love it.” Jason says, glancing back at the book and then at you once again, his eyes full of admiration. “Thank you.” He adds almost breathlessly.

You nod in acknowledgement with a bright smile.

Jason had faced a lot of impossible situations during his life. Hardships that proved difficult to endure. From his days in the streets, to his Robin training and to his patrols as Red Hood.

But right now Jason feared that he may have found his greatest enemy. A problem hard to solve. A feat that will not be easy to achieve.

These damn braids.

Jason’s eyebrows are furrowed and he clenches his jaw in concentration. Despite having asked for help and Cass and Steph having taught him, he still was having trouble french braiding Lily’s hair.

He was in the area and decided to check on the kids, even though they didn't have a reading scheduled. After greeting the few that were there, Lily grabbed his hand and monopolized him.

She had asked him a few times to do her hair and he had tried but without much knowledge it had proved to be a disaster. At least now, even though it still felt a bit like an uphill climb, it seemed that his new skills were getting him somewhere.

They were sitting on some crates on the floor, Lily in front of him playing with her teddy and telling him his latest adventures as Batbear, making him chuckle at her great imagination.

He was working on the second braid when suddenly Lily fell into silence, deep in thought. He was about to ask her what was wrong when she finally spoke up.

“Do you like Y/N?” Lily asked, with the blunt curiosity characteristic of children her age.

Jason’s hands freeze on her blonde hair.

“Why do you ask?” Jason asks back nervously, afraid to give a clear response, as if after hearing it, Lily would run over to wherever you were to tell you. But she just shrugs her shoulders, lifting Batbear in her arms and examining his button-like eyes.

“She’s nice and funny.”

“Yeah, she is.” He coincides while slowly continuing to work on the braid.

“I like her. The other day she brought us all cookies from a bakery. They were delicious.” Lily continues, her voice acquiring a dreamy tone at the delightful memory.

Jason’s hands freeze once again. He had no idea you had done that. You hadn’t mentioned it to him. You had gone out of your way to buy treats for the kids and come here on your own on a non reading day.

Jason stands still on his seat, his gaze lost and thoughts clouded with you. He didn’t think that he could admire you more than what he already did, yet here he was, even more entranced by your kind nature.

“So you like her then?” Lily insists. She says it more in an innocent way rather than in the romantic sense, like when you meet a friend of a friend and they asked you if you liked hanging out with them. Just as Lily finishes her question, he ties up her braid and Lily turns her head, feeling him finish his work.

She catches sight of her reflection on a dirty window and lets out a delightful squeal that makes Jason jump in surprise. In an instant, the little girl is on her feet and admiring her hair from side to side, Batbear still in her grip.

Jason grimaces when he sees how the top of one of the braids is already starting to loosen and worries about what Lily will say. He still clearly needs more practice. But then-

“I love it!” Lily screams and Jason grins at her happiness. Ha, success. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.” She says in quick succession in a way in which the words jumble together and turns to give him a bone crushing hug, surprising for how little she is, and a sounding kiss on his cheek.

Then Lily sets off running, probably to show her friends her new hair, laughing all the way, completely forgetting about her earlier question. Jason can’t help but laugh under his breath too. He loves those kids.

He stands up and shakes his hands over his jeans to get rid of any possible dirt from the crate.

“Yeah, I like her very much.” Jason whispers, answering Lily’s question. His thoughts, as they usually tended to do, drifting back to you.

“Oh my god, what happened to you?” You ask him another day when he enters the bookshop with a black eye. He opens his mouth to answer but you interrupt him. “Let me guess, boxing again?” You say with eyebrows raised in a playful manner so that he doesn’t need to worry about a fake excuse. But he chuckles and shakes his head.

“Not this time, no.”

“No? Impossible.”

“Okay so, turns out that Damian, for whatever reason that I still cannot comprehend, threw his phone at Tim. But Tim ducked and guess who was passing behind him in that exact moment just peacefully enjoying his bowl of cereal?”

“No way.” You say breathlessly, a smile already pulling at your lips and a laugh making its way up your throat.

He nods and sees you put a hand over your mouth, trying to conceal your laughter. The sight makes him smile, despite the fact that the movement pulls at the swelling of his cheek under his eye, making him wince slightly at the pain.

“Sorry.” You say, failing miserably in containing your laughter.

“It’s okay, go ahead. It is funny.”

You then finally burst out laughing and Jason feels his heart swell, the sound having become his favorite in the whole world, like listening to his favorite song. And he can’t help but join in your laughter too.

“Though I did drop my precious bowl of cereal.” He adds with an exaggerated pout and you laugh even more, making him feel a radiating warmth that not even the sun could equal to.

“Oh, poor Jason.” You say.

As your laughters finally slowly die down, you round the counter and lift your hands to hold the sides of his face, turning him to see the eye better in the light.

“Are you okay though?” You ask in a low voice, serious now, almost like a whisper.

And with your hands holding him, Jason thinks that he will always be okay, no matter if he's drowning or bleeding to death.

“Yeah.” He whispers back.

Were you this close just a second before? He can clearly see how the lights of the bookshop reflect in your eyes now.

“Did you put something over it?” He nods. You tilt your head, not sure to believe him with how he hadn’t really treated the wounds on his knuckles that one time.

“Some ice.” You manage to coax out of him and you shake your head and click your tongue in slight disappointment. 

“Not enough.” You say, and just like that one time, with the bookshop empty except for you two, you guide him into the break room by his hand, sit him down and bring the first aid kit. You take an ointment from it and stand in front of him. You look down at him, asking for permission with your eyes and he gives an almost imperceptible nod.

One of your hands takes hold of his face to tilt him to the light and the tips of your fingers on the other start applying the ointment softly to help with the swelling.

Jason’s hands twitch to place themselves on your hips to bring you even closer but he grabs his own knees instead. He doesn’t have the right to do something like that. It’s not like he’s your boyfriend.

No matter how much he might want to.

So he contents himself with looking into your eyes that are concentrated on his wound.

He can feel the warmth of your body seeping into his with how close you are and he can’t help but close his eyes to savor it even further. 

He has never felt safer.

The silence of the intimate moment is deafening in the best of ways. He would gladly stay like this forever.

But then, just like a crack of thunder, cold surrounds him once again as you whisper that you’re done and retract your hands from him. You wash your hands in the faucet of the kitchen part of the break room and Jason follows your every movement hypnotized.

“Better?” You say as you return and sit in front of him.

With you? Always.

“Yeah.” He breathes out and he isn’t lying. He can already feel the swelling going down. “Thank you.” 

“It’s nothing.” You say, shaking your head and shrugging your shoulders.

It’s like you don’t see how much you do for him, and not just for tending his wounds. Just everything in general. Your laugh. Your long conversations. And it kills him. It kills him that you may not know just how much he cares about you.

And it kills him even more that he doesn’t have the courage to tell you.

“Oh, I almost forgot.” You say and quickly get up to grab a heavy looking bag from the corner before coming back. “I went to my parents’ last weekend and I got these books that I thought the kids might like.” You start as you take the contents of the bag out and put them on the table for him to see.

He notices how you worry your lip and how your shoulders tense and he wonders why you’re suddenly like that. He then looks towards the several books displayed on the table in front of you two.

“Most of them are bedtime stories. My mom used to read them to me.” You start and then your small posture and uncertain tone clicks. You’re shy about this. Almost ashamed that he might think that this is something ridiculous.

As if he could think anything negative about you.

“They’re not much but I loved them when I was little.” You continue and as you tell him more about them, he can see with how much fondness you remember them and how excited you are to talk about them. The insecurity seems to leave your whole body as you get lost in your explanation of the books. 

Two of them are quite thick and you tell him that they have several different stories, from a prince and a princess that could only meet at sunrise or sunset since one of them could only be in the light of the moon and the other in the light of the sun. And that if they were exposed to the other light, due to a spell, they would die; to a story about a mother reading to his son.

Another couple of them follow the adventures of a mole at his house and at the beach and the books include a small mole cut-out that you move across the pages to make him follow the story. Another one is about a boy and his dog that go on a great adventure thanks to a magical blue balloon.

As he listens intently, he marvels at you. You really were the most thoughtful, kind and beautiful person that he had ever met and he couldn’t get enough of it.

He has to resist the urge to close the space between you and kiss you right there and then. But he decides against it. He liked how everything was going with you and he didn’t want to ruin it by suddenly rushing and risking everything.

Aside from the fact that you still didn’t know about a part of his life that he’s sure would make you push him away and send you running. Even though every time that he thinks about it, he’s considering telling you more and more, wanting to be completely sincere and honest with you, knowing how much you valued that.

“Sorry, that was a lot. This probably was a bad idea.” You say after you finish explaining all the books. You’re about to start picking them up to put them back in the bag when you feel his hand enclosing over one of your own, softly stopping you.

Your breath catches in your throat.

“No. These are great, Y/N. I love them and I’m sure that the kids will too. Thank you for sharing them.” He says looking into your eyes. You were sharing with him and the kids a very personal part of you that you held very close to your heart. And he wanted you to know how much he appreciated it.

He also gives your hand a small squeeze to show you how much he means his words and to encourage you. After a moment, you smile and nod.

“Tell me more.” He says.

At his genuine petition, you can’t do anything but carry on, your radiant smile matching his. “Okay.”

It had been a long time since you had played any of these types of games. But you really do not remember being so bad at it.

After the reading that day, the kids had suggested (or rather insisted) on playing hide and seek.

So here you were, running around the playground trying to find a good place to hide all while questioning your life choices.

Had you really been this bad at hide and seek as a kid? Then again, it is quite easier when you’re much smaller and you can fit almost anywhere. Try doing that as an adult.

You turn a corner of the nearby buildings, entering into a small passage between the back of it and a wall separating the playground zone from the rest of the block. You know that Lily has had to have finished counting already. You don’t have much time left.

In the passage there are some piled up crates leaning against the wall. You consider hiding behind them though you know that it’s not the best hiding place. However, you’re already here and you can’t risk going back into the open space of the playground if you don’t want to get caught.

Just as you start moving towards them a voice whispers your name.

You turn and find that the building has a small space that cuts into it with a back door. Due to the afternoon light, the space is covered in shadows and leaning against the wall you find Jason, hiding. 

You can’t believe that you missed him with his impressive build.

But the place seems to work as a great hiding place, almost in plain sight yet easy to miss. So, when Jason extends a hand inviting you into it, you don’t think twice before taking it.

Next thing you know, your back rests in one of the walls carved into the building that lead to the door and Jason is positioned in front of you in a way that, even if Lily were to pass by and notice you, she would only see him. At least at first.

Jason leans his head out of the space for a second to check if anyone is coming and then he comes back in front of you.

And then your breathing hitches in your throat when you realize just how close you are, even though there is plenty of space in the small opening of the building for you two to stand next to each other without problem. Yet both of you remain in your current position, not daring (nor wanting) to move a muscle.

Suddenly all your nerves are alive and buzzing, your senses heightened and all you can see, hear and feel, is him.

You're hyper aware of everywhere that he’s touching you.

His left hand on your waist.

His right arm at your side, brushing up against yours, shielding you from view.

Your chests almost touching each other.

Your hands on his shoulders, even though you have no idea how they ended up there. The urge to bring him even closer to you, practically irresistible.

You look up to find that his green gaze is already on you. Up this close you notice that there is a slight shade of aquamarine blue in them.

You feel lightheaded and dizzy but in the best of ways. It’s like you’re drunk, even though you have never actually drunk enough to feel like this.

You realize then that you’re drunk on him. You want to drown in him.

Then the scent of his cologne reaches you and you know that you’re intoxicated with this man in front of you.

And the best part is that he seems just as intoxicated with you.

You don’t know how you two get even closer but then his nose is brushing up against yours, your breaths mixing together.

He’s leaning a bit over you so maybe you should feel a bit crowded but you don’t.

You feel safe.

The safest that you have ever been. And the thing is that it doesn't even surprise you. Everything feels easy and safe and warm with him.

Like nothing could ever happen to you with him by your side.

And you’re absolutely addicted to the feeling.

Jason is breathless, as if he has just run a marathon. His breathing as heavy as yours.

Your heart feels like it’s going to beat out of your chest with how fast it’s going, thrill and anticipation pumping through your veins instead of blood.

Your gaze drops and you suck in a breath when he wets his lips.

Your own tongue darts out to mimic his movement on your own, when you realize that they’re already wet and that he was the one mirroring your previous action.

Your eyes go back up to his and notice that his pupils are dilated. You can’t help but think that yours look probably the same.

It seems like he’s asking a question with that mesmerizing gaze of his and your throat feels dry, as if you haven’t been able to drink water in days and the only person that can alleviate it is Jason Todd.

His gaze flits to your lips once again and returns to your eyes just as fast and they seem to be pleading you.

You can feel yourself nodding almost imperceptibly.

You’re not sure you have wanted anything more in your life. Your stomach flips.

You close your eyes, feeling the ghost of his lips on yours.

And then-

“Got you!” Lily’s voice rings out, like shattering glass, breaking the spell and bursting the perfect bubble that you two were in, before your lips are able to make any real contact.

And just like that, you deflate like an old balloon forgotten by a kid in a fair.

You have never been more frustrated in your entire life.

You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to regain your senses, letting your pounding heart beat out the drug that the proximity to Jason Todd is, in order to come back to reality.

When you finally open your eyes, Jason looks just as frustrated and disappointed as you.

Your faces part, putting distance once again between them though your hands remain on his shoulders and his remain on your waist. Part of yourselves still refusing to let go of what had been about to happen, both of your breathings still heavy and deep.

“Come on, it’s your turn now!” Lily exclaims impatiently. She’s too excited about being able to hide now to really notice what was going on between you two.

“We-” Jason stops at how hoarse his voice is and clears his throat. “We’ll be right there.” He finally continues, though his gaze is still fixed on you.

“Great!” Lily chirps and she leaves the way she came, Batbear like always, tight in her grip.

You watch her go and when you look back up at Jason both of you have shy and embarrassed smiles. Sad for the moment that has left and unsure of how to proceed now.

You both suppose that keeping things how they are is the best course of action so very slowly and very reluctantly your hands leave each other. Not sure what to do with them now, since they still feel like magnets being pulled towards each other, Jason runs his hands through his hair and you fix your already perfectly placed clothes.

But as you two make your way towards the center of the playground, you both are hopeful that the moment will come again.

The road might have a few bumps on the way but it still goes on.

Jason didn’t know how it had gotten so late. He had meant to stop by the bookshop earlier and hopefully, after you closed, go grab dinner with you, as you two sometimes did now. But he had got caught up with patrol stuff with Bruce and now he would be lucky if he managed to catch you before you left.

Thankfully, he’s able to reach the bookshop twenty minutes before you close. But when he enters, you are nowhere to be seen. 

Rose and Jimmy are behind the counter, chattering between them and just like every time that he went into the bookshop and you weren’t there, he felt his whole body deflate. The idea of seeing you always being his driving force.

But just like that other time when he entered knowing that you worked that day but Rose had greeted him, worry begins to settle in him. Had something happened that had made you change your shift? Were you sick?

“Hello, Jason!” Jimmy says when he and Rose notice him.

“Good evening, dear.” Greets Rose.

“Hello. Sorry, didn’t mean to bother, I know you’re about to close.”

“It’s okay, you’re always welcomed.” Jimmy answers.

“It’ll be quick. I just wanted to see if Y/N was here, I-”

“Does this look right, Rose? I feel like-” You say, emerging from the bathroom but then you freeze in your step when you spot him. “Oh, hi, Jason.”

But Jason is unable to answer, in fact, he’s pretty sure that he has forgotten how to breathe because he’s stunned looking at you.

You’re wearing a very nice dress that you must have changed into in the bathroom, and it’s clear that you’ve dressed up for something.

You look beautiful.

You always do but Jason has never seen you so formal and it stirs up something in him. For a second, he can imagine that he’s come to pick you up for a date.

But the joy of seeing you doesn’t last long as he feels his throat dry and he swears that he can feel sweat begin to form at the back of his neck and run down his back. It takes him a second to understand those symptoms and the unsettling feeling in his stomach.

Dread. Panic.

Because what if you actually do have a date?

Had he waited too long? Neither of you were any experts on relationships but it really felt like you two were working towards something. But what if it was too late now? What if he had let time drag on too much and now he was forever stuck in some kind of friend stage? Just like when he didn’t tell you about why he checked out so many children’s books and then it had passed so much time that it became awkward for him to do so.

His mind is in a spiral now, racing with thoughts. In one of your many conversations and hangouts after the very first reading with the kids and the diner, you both had mentioned that neither of you were seeing anybody. It was an off comment, something that you tell a friend without thinking too much about the implications of it.

But the idea hung in the air. The idea that the persons that you two were seeing were each other.

But still, neither of you had said that out loud.

And the thing was that you two weren’t just friends. Or at least that’s what Jason felt like and he thought that you probably thought the same. You two had a connection there and you were heading towards being something else. Slowly but steadily and surely, you were building something.

Right?

Suddenly, he finds himself revisiting every interaction that the two of you have ever had. Every longing look, every soft touch and that oh so wonderful moment while playing hide and seek where you two had almost kissed.

He couldn’t have possibly imagined all of that on his own, could he?

If he thought that the memory of holding your hand while he helped you down the ladder that one time had been haunting, it was nothing compared to that moment.

That moment that had plagued his mind every damn day since.

Everything about it, how you had looked at him, the smell of your hair, your hands on his shoulders, your slightly parted lips, added to everything about you from the very first time he met you, like your smile or the soft tone of your voice, creeping onto his skin and taking a resident place there. Like ivy, carving marks into him, down his arms and up his back, clasping and biting into him, leaving him red and scarred forever.

The difference of those imprints with the scars that he had gained over the years of crime-fighting and suffering was that they didn’t hurt nor weighed him down. Instead, they lifted him up, invigorated him and softly caressed his skin, like your hands taking care of his wounds, reassuring him that everything would be okay. That with you, everything will always be okay. They showed how much someone cared about him and valued him.

The difference being that he would wear your marks proudly. 

And Jason finally decides that he doesn’t want to walk on the tightrope anymore. He wants to let go and fall into the void, take a leap of faith and come clean to you. Tell you that he’s in love with you and that he wants to be yours.

He can only hope that you may lay a safety net beneath him to fall into.

And if he’s not that lucky, he would have another invisible scar added to him, from both crashing into the ground and from having at least tried. And even though that one would hurt, more deeply and a lot longer than any physical one that he may have, you would have given it to him, and he would welcome anything that came from you with open arms.

He doesn’t know how he’s going to do all of that but what he does know is that before anything, he wants to be honest with you. Tell you about being Red Hood. You deserve to know what you’re going to get into (if you even decide that you want to), before you two delve into something deeper.

The only thing is that you two are already there. Too far gone for each other, even though Jason doesn’t know that you are. The one thing that he is certain about is that when he tells you, it will change the foundations of the road that you have been building together.

What Jason isn’t so sure of is if it will destroy them, or make them even stronger.

But something that he does know, is that right now is not the moment for any of that.

So, for the time being, he settles with greeting you back and eventually saying:

“You look… You look great.” Even though that is an understatement.

You smile and shyly look down, your fingers playing with the skirt of your dress.

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” He says, and while you two are busy looking at each other, you both miss Rose and Jimmy’s knowing looks and smiles. And before he can help it, he’s opening his mouth again. “So, uhm, do you have a date or something?” He tries to say nonchalantly, not wanting to sound too obtrusive, but the doubt killing him.

Your eyes widen and you chuckle, shaking your head.

“What? God no, just fancy family dinner. It’s my parents' anniversary. Since they’re visiting they decided to celebrate together.” You explain, and Jason can feel a wash of relief going over him, his racing heart calming down.

He hasn’t lost his chance.

“Oh, that’s nice. Congrats.”

You nod and grab your things, getting ready to leave before turning to Jimmy and Rose.

“Thanks again for letting me go early.”

“Of course, dear. And don’t worry about the dress, it looks perfect. You look lovely.”

“No problem, sweetie.” Jimmy adds before complimenting you too.

You kiss the couple’s cheeks in thanks before bidding them goodbye, Jason copying your words before opening the door for you.

As you two leave, you see Jimmy whisper something into Rose’s ear while putting an arm around her waist, bringing her closer to him. She chuckles and she kisses his cheek and Jimmy kisses her forehead in return.

Jason smiles at the fond interaction.

“They’re lovely, aren’t they?” You say, still looking at the couple.

“They are.” Jason says, already looking at you. You’re lovely too. “You’re going to the restaurant with your family now?”

“Yeah, I didn’t have enough time to spare after the shift to go back home so I had to change in the bookshop. My parents lend me their car in order to make it.”

Jason nods, trying not to look too disappointed at the fact that he can’t even offer to drive you there, and a comfortable silence settles between you, neither of you wanting to part ways yet.

But you have to go if you don’t want to be late so you sigh before speaking once again.

“I have to go.”

“Yeah.” Jason says, hands in his pockets. “See you soon then.”

“Bye.” You say and you haven’t taken two steps before Jason calls your name. You turn.

“You look very beautiful.” He can’t help but compliment you again.

You feel your whole face heat up.

“Thanks.”

You think about him the whole way to the restaurant but then again, when aren’t you not thinking about Jason Todd?

Jason has never been more scared in his life. Well, maybe he had, when he was in that damned warehouse. And then later, when he woke up after that without being able to recall who he was or where he was.

But this other type of fear... It's almost paralyzing, threathening to swallow him whole.

He runs as fast as he can, taking long strides, his rugged breathing making him have tunnel vision and only allowing him to focus on one thing.

You.

He hadn’t liked how close the situation had been to the bookshop from the very first moment that they had received the alert. Worry tight in his throat since he had always hoped not to ever have this kind of situation this close to you.

The bookshop’s neighborhood had always been one of the safest in Gotham, there were certain minor crimes, yes, which part of the city didn’t have them? But none of the rogues had ever attacked there.

You had once joked that you thought that the reason for it might be that some of the villains had family living there. You once even said that you could have sworn to have seen the Penguin accompanying an old lady that might have been his mother crossing the street.

Yet still, now an ACE Chemicals truck had been assaulted by Scarecrow and his henchmen. The truck wasn’t even supposed to be in the neighborhood in the first place, but the company and the police had received some information that an attack was being planned and they had decided to detour it.

And now you were in danger.

Jason keeps running with his hands clenched into fists that were turning tighter and tighter by the second.

He can feel sweat gathering on his forehead and he can almost hear a ticking clock hanging over his head as he puts some distance between him and the sickeningly looking mist of muddy green gas that had exploded in the truck.

The very same gas that was quickly spreading along the streets and that would reach the bookshop in a matter of minutes.

The first ones to arrive at the scene had been him and Tim, trying to control the situation until backup could arrive.

Scarecrow’s men were taking over the truck and before leaping into action, Jason threw Tim a look that even with the helmet on, Tim could perfectly understand.

If anything starts going sideways, I’m out of here. Going to her.

Going to you.

Tim was also aware of the fact of how close it all was to the bookshop and he just nodded, knowing how much you mattered to Jason.

They had been able to control the situation more or less as more and more police cars gathered around the truck. But then Scarecrow had finally made his appearance and everything derailed. At first, it seemed like they just wanted to steal from the truck but then something happened and the truck exploded.

Between the chemicals from inside the truck and whatever other things the villain and his gang always brought with them, the gas set off along with the explosion.

Scarecrow and his men scurried off immediately after, giving the feeling that that had certainly not been their desired outcome.

But the gas started spreading and they had no idea what chemicals were inside the truck or what the effects of it could be, but Jason wasn’t going to risk it.

And so, he took a quick glance at Tim, who already had his gas mask on, helping people on the street, and returning his gaze, Tim just nodded.

Go. We handle this here.

And with that, Jason set off.

The bookshop wasn’t actually that far away, just a few blocks, but Jason feels like he’s doing the longest run of his life and that time itself is slowing him down. He has also tried calling you but the line was already overloaded with all the emergency calls.

As he runs, he can hear through his intercom Steph and Duke shouting instructions to everyone nearby and Barbara guiding Bruce to track down Scarecrow.

His heart’s racing and when he finally catches sight of the bookshop, he feels like it’s going to jump out of his chest.

The sound of the door slamming open startles you in your place behind the counter. You turn your head to tell the person that had entered to mind their manners when you are met with a red stare that you had only seen in blurry pictures on the news and heard rumors about.

You take in a sharp breath as Red Hood closes the door and approaches you in quick strides. You freeze in your place, not because you are scared of him but because of the surprise of it. Especially when you look him over and your gaze can’t tear away from the brown leather jacket that felt so familiar to you.

Red Hood grabs your wrist, bringing you with him hurriedly into the break room. And though his grip is strong, you’re surprised to find that it doesn’t hurt at all. You can hear him talking and you know that his presence here can’t mean anything good, though not for you of course, you know that Red Hood wouldn’t hurt you, he didn’t hurt innocent people, but something must have happened.

However, you can’t seem to register any of his words, it’s like he’s saying something but you’re underwater, his words sounding muffled and jammed together.

Because for some strange reason you’re still fixated on his jacket.

He sets you down on the floor next to the sofa in the break room and crouches down in front of you. And then he does something that makes your brows furrow in confusion.

He calls you by your name.

How does he even know your name?

You want to ask him but everything feels so confusing right now, like a tornado spinning around you. You only manage to utter a weak “What…?”, before you can’t help it and your hands, with a life of their own, run over his arms, feeling the fabric of the jacket until they reach the lapels and grip them.

Your heart was already racing and your breathing labored from the whole situation but it seemed like they hadn’t reached their limit yet. Though you feel like they are surely about to do so. You can feel your heart go even faster as your mind begins spiraling with thoughts and you suck in a breath when the realization hits you.

Because this… This piece of clothing so characteristic of the vigilante in front of you, you had spent an awful lot of time staring and gawking over the man that wore it several times in your bookshop.

Because this… This is the very same fabric that your hands had touched while you had been inches away from kissing that very same man in an alley while you were playing hide and seek.

Because now that you were able to see it up close, you instantly recognize it.

How could you not? When you had spent so much time with its owner, laughing while you two ate lunch; admiring him when he found an interesting book on the bookshelves; feeling understood when you shared your worries with him; taking the opportunity to touch his arm anytime that you could, covered in this very same jacket, one of the few of this type that he owned; hoping that if you were to tell him how you feel, he would feel the same way; and wishing that you could kiss him without having to worry about the consequences?

Because this jacket belongs to the man that you’re in love with.

Because this jacket… This jacket belongs to Jason Todd.

And then everything clicks, how he works nights, the wounds on his knuckles, his occasional and strange run offs. Suddenly it all feels so blatantly obvious that you wonder how you didn’t see it before.

You know in your gut what it means but your brain is still catching up with everything going on around you to fully make sense of what your heart already knows.

For a quick second, the thought that maybe he shouldn’t wear the same jacket while patrolling and during his day to day, makes you want to start laughing. Though it’s true that unless you saw it more than once, several times and very close, no one would realize that they were the same jacket. But the reality of the situation around you helps you to rein in the inappropriate laugh.

And then your name being called again finally breaks you out of your thoughts, and the only thing that you can focus on is him.

Jason’s gripping your shoulders now, willing you to focus on him and needing to have some kind of contact with you to make sure that you’re okay. He moves frantically, his eyes quickly checking the front door of the bookshop through one of the break room’s windows that look into the main part of the shop, already seeing the mist of gas slipping under it, trying to calculate how much time he has left.

He’s been asking you if you’re okay and trying to explain what has happened but the sentences come out stumbled, his brain going faster than what his mouth can follow.

In his haste he doesn’t even register the change in the look of your eyes at your realization.

He knows what he has to do but he’s afraid of what it will entail. He wanted to sit down with you, tell you about being Red Hood and explain everything to you. He wanted to be hopeful that you may understand but now he doesn’t have the chance to let you know how he would have wanted to.

It feels like someone has pushed him from the tightrope beneath him, directly cutting it, or rather, that it has snapped over his own weight, not able to hold him and his secrets anymore, and now he’s falling and he can’t do anything about it.

And if you would have ever laid a net beneath him, he’s sure that you would cut a hole open in it now.

He’s about to break everything that you two have been working towards, a shattering earthquake destroying what once was a strong and beautiful road.

But it’s the only way to keep you safe.

And he would cut the rope sustaining him himself and willingly fall into the abyss if he had to to make sure that you’re safe. That’s the only thing that matters to him right now.

And that’s exactly what he does.

You watch perplexed as Red Hood takes the helmet off and you’re met with the sharp features and white streak that you love so much.

It really is him.

He’s Red Hood.

Jason is Red Hood.

Jason, who always seemed to be checking out children’s books, wearing leather jackets and making you smile like no one has ever done before.

Your Jason.

Out of the corner of your eye you see a weird mist start to seep through under the door to the break room that Red Hood- no, Jason, had closed after you two entered.

“Jason?” You whisper. He lifts his head up from where he’s been fidgeting with the helmet since he took it off to meet your gaze, and the broken look in his eyes makes your heart feel like it has been stabbed. “What’s going on?” He follows your line of sight and his eyes grow with worry.

“Scarecrow.” He mutters while turning back to the helmet, he pushes a few hidden buttons in it and you’re surprised to see how its panels shift, changing its shape slightly but still having a head-like form.

And then Jason turns to you, his hands lifting with the helmet towards your head.

Your face contorts with horror when you realize what he wants to do.

You immediately grab his forearms, pushing them down and therefore, the helmet too.

“What are you doing?” You say.

“I have to protect you. And we don’t know what the gas does yet so I’m not taking any risks.” He pushes the helmet towards your head once again but you repeat your previous action, preventing him from doing so.

“And you? What about you?” You ask desperately, the gas coming closer and closer towards you both.

Jason’s lips pull into a sad smile. “I’ll be fine.” He whispers. It’s like he has already resigned himself to something. You shake your head.

“No. I’m not taking it.”

“I have a spare small mask, don’t worry.”

You’re still so in shock from everything that you don’t realize that he’s lying, yet in the pit of your stomach you can already feel a pool of dread forming.

“But-” You start but he cuts you off.

“Y/N, listen to me. We don’t have much time. Do you trust me?”

Even with everything that has just happened, you don’t hesitate.

“Always.”

Jason nods and puts the red helmet over your head, the shifted panels allowing it to fit your head perfectly. Jason sighs with relief and looks at you fondly, his hands still on either side of your head.

Your hands come up to cover his own and he nods reassuringly. “You okay?” He whispers, and you nod.

Everything is going to be okay.

But then Jason starts coughing.

The gas has already reached you both and gathers at your ankles.

Your eyes widen and you reach for him as his hands let go of your head to support himself when he begins lulling to one side. “Jason!” You shout.

You can see his eyes losing focus, starting to get dizzy. While your breathing keeps coming in deep and clean thanks to the regulator built in the helmet, Jason seems to be gasping for air, like he isn’t getting enough oxygen or like his lungs are refusing what’s going in them.

And you finally realize that there never was a spare mask.

How could you have been so foolish?

You try to take the helmet off to give it back to him but it’s like it’s closed off. You press the buttons that you find on the underside at the back but nothing happens. You try everything but it just won’t come off.

Nothing.

You can’t take it off.

He must have locked it somehow, almost as if he knew what you would try to do.

You can’t protect him.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I’m so sorry.” A cough. “ I swear I wanted to tell you.” Another one. “ I was going to.” He says between short breaths before finally collapsing onto the floor.

You grab him before his head hits the ground and you hush him gently.

“It’s okay. Don’t worry, it’s okay.” Now it’s you the one holding the sides of his face softly.

One of his hands comes up to hold one of your own, and you can’t stand the look of utter adoration and affection with which he gazes at you.

Because you can’t help him.

And his look is as if he would be content to go this way, knowing that at least you’re safe.

And your heart breaks all over again.

The room is covered in gas now and it’s not until your vision becomes slightly blurry that you register the tears welling up in your eyes.

You cry for help but there’s nothing that can be done now. You also try calling 911, not caring what will happen if someone sees that he’s Red Hood. You just need him to be safe. But the line doesn't work. Jason begins to close his eyes.

“Hey, hey, no.” You urge. “Stay with me, stay with me.” Jason opens his eyes once more, fighting to stay awake, but you can see in them how he’s almost gone, his consciousness slipping away from him.

“Please.” You whisper, fighting the tears.

And then his hand holding yours falls limp.

And with it, your heart does too.

You shake him, call him, scream at him to wake up but it’s no use. Tears run down your cheeks now, raked sobs breaking though your chest.

You even try to take off the helmet again but of course, nothing happens.

You feel for his heartbeat, it takes you an agonizing second to feel it but it's there.

Weak and slow, barely perceptible, but it’s there.

Although you fear that probably not for much longer.

Fear and dread run through you, you don’t know how to fix this. You don’t want to let him go but he’s being pulled away from you.

And then the door to the break room bursts open.

You look up and there Red Robin stands.

And the way in which he shakes his hair away from his eyes with a movement of his head while looking around the room frantically, trying to locate you through the mist, makes your breath hitch in realization for the second time in the last few minutes.

Tim.

Then he notices Jason’s unconscious body in your arms and when his gaze meets yours, even with the helmet on he knows what you want to say.

Save him.

Your shifts at the bookstore have never felt longer. You had become so used to him and come to rely on his visits so much that now, without him, they only drag on and on and on, something that had never even happened before.

Even before him.

Your only solace being that he’s alive.

You often have to remind yourself of that fact when the memory of the fear of losing him claws back at you.

Jason is alive. He is okay.

After Tim found you two, he launched towards Jason, checking his vitals and addressing his state.

He told you that he needed to bring Jason to the batcave as soon as possible and you had immediately grabbed Jason’s hand, refusing to let go of him and profusely saying that you were going with him.

But Tim had only shook his head, explaining how Jason would kill him if he ever allowed you to not go to the hospital for a check up.

But you had fought him with tooth and nails, saying that you weren’t leaving his side anytime soon and Tim had no other option but to give up.

However, just as Tim was calling for Steph to come and help him with Jason quickly, you passed out.

Whether because of all the emotions and stress of those five minutes (because yes, since Jason first entered into the bookshop to protect you, it had only been five minutes, maybe even less), or because due to the shifted panels in the helmet, some gas had managed to slip in, you didn’t know.

Probably more the later than the former but still.

Next thing you knew, you woke up in the hospital. Thankfully without the helmet, Tim having probably managed to unlock it.

Through the doctors, nurses, and the news on the TV in the ER, you learned that the gas was dangerous but thankfully non-lethal. In most cases, like yours, people in the neighborhood who had only inhaled a bit just felt dizzy for a few hours or passed out for a bit.

In other cases, the most serious ones, like Jason’s, people were put into a coma-like state, with the lungs rendered to a point of near-exhaustion. But with good rest and the appropriate care, they would recover soon with no side effects.

Batman had managed to apprehend Scarecrow and just like the vigilantes had suspected from the beginning, it wasn’t a deliberate attack but a robbery gone wrong.

They let you go of the hospital that very same afternoon, with instructions that if you felt any kind of dizziness to come back. After your family (and Rose and Jimmy of course) checked in with you, you were finally able to grab a hold of your phone that had been left in the bookshop.

You were met with a text from Tim, how he had managed to get your number, you didn’t know, but it probably had something to do with the fact that all the Waynes were part of the Batfamily.

Or at least, that’s what you figured, once you were finally able to think with a clear head and digest all of your recent discoveries.

The text said that Jason had made it to the batcave safely, that he had been treated immediately and that he was resting now.

You have never been more grateful for anything in your life.

But that had been a week and a half ago. And you hadn’t seen Jason since.

You felt like a part of you had been ripped out and taken along with him. The absence of a vital organ leaving you empty.

Probably your heart, since it had left your chest and leaped itself into Jason’s hands a long time ago.

The neighborhood had been deemed safe after the gas dissipated and you were back to your job like nothing had ever happened, just like how it often was after any incident with a rogue in Gotham.

Life just went on. Gotham and its residents as resilient as ever. The fight and survival etched onto their DNA.

If there ever was something to admire Gotham for, its survival skills were definitely it.

You had wanted to see Jason immediately, and you had even called Tim so that he could tell you more about Jason’s state and tried to see when you could go see him but then your mother had called.

Your uncle had had an accident at work and he would need surgery.

Though there was some risk, it wasn’t a extremely dangerous procedure. But if there was something that all of your family had in common and that was characteristic of all of you, was that if something happened to someone, every single member of the family would come running to be there.

And you knew that you had to be there, you wanted to be there, but it still tore at your insides having had to leave without having being able to see Jason. But your uncle lived on the other side of the country and you had to take a plane that very same night to be able to arrive before the surgery the next day.

So, you had called Tim back, telling him that you had to leave, how bad you felt, how sorry you were and that you would try to come back as soon as possible. But Tim assured you that it was okay, that they would all take care of Jason, that it would take him a couple of days to wake up and be fully conscious and that he understood (and that Jason would too) that you had to go.

You nodded, trying to hold back tears and muff your sniffling due to all the stress that had taken a hold of you due to all the recent events. Tim had calmed you down and promised you to keep you updated. Helping you just like you had done when you met him.

Thank god for Tim Drake. You’re pretty sure that you would have lost it if it weren’t because of him. His reassurance a sign of a friendship for a lifetime.

And so, you left. Everything went well with your uncle and you were glad to have been able to see your family for a few days since quite a long time ago.

But when you came back, Jason wouldn’t see you.

It took Jason two days to wake up from the coma-like state, though he had been getting better and better with each passing hour, and a full day of only eating and sleeping before he was able to return to normalcy.

Still, when he first woke up, the only thing in his foggy brain was you. He asked about you as soon as he opened his eyes and Tim told him that you were okay but that you had to leave for a few days due to a family emergency, and that you had called every day several times to check in.

Jason let out a sigh of relief. Both because you were safe and because he didn’t know how he would have faced you if you had been there.

He was sure that you hated him now. Despised him. Sure, you had called to see how he was, but that’s just how you were, caring and protective. But deep down, he knew that you had to resent him for having hidden being Red Hood from you.

He was sure that if he saw you, the first thing that you would do was scream at him and tell him that you didn’t want him in your life anymore.

And he wouldn’t be able to bear that.

He didn’t know how he could ever go back to a life without you.

That’s why he refused to see you everytime that you reached out after you came back. Letting his phone ring out when you called, later just sending a quick text saying that he was fine, that he was just busy with some things in order to not worry you. He knew that it was unfair and that he was being an idiot but he didn’t know what he would do if he saw you, even though he knew that he eventually would have to.

And yet, despite all of that, he still couldn’t bring himself to fully cut ties with you. He simply couldn’t. Needing you at least in some way in his life just as much as he needed air. As well as the fact that he knew that he couldn't do something like that to you, at least not without explaining.

It wasn’t until Tim cornered him and talked some sense into him that he realized that he couldn’t put it off any longer. 

When Jason enters the bookshop, a chill runs through him as he shakes the drops of water from his hair. He had dreaded every single step that he took towards the bookshop, a cloud of shame hanging over his head. And then the universe had decided that he wasn’t miserable enough and so that cloud of shame had quite literally started to pour on him. He couldn’t help but think that he deserved it but still, it sucked.

He usually liked rain. Just not when he didn’t have an umbrella and was tethering on the edge of sanity while trying to hold the composure that he had created to give him the strength necessary to face you. And certainly not when he was holding a hot chocolate that he had bought for you; having already lost count of how many times he had previously done so when he came to visit you, in a sad attempt at a peace offering, even though he was sure that you would dump it on him; but that now surely was just cold chocolate.

Shit. He really was going to look like even more of an idiot than he already was.

“Jason?” Your soft voice comes through, like an antidote calming him instantly and soothing all his worries. Your presence, like always, making all of his dark thoughts go away.

Though that peace didn’t last long because you were here now and he couldn’t run now. He had to do what he had come to do.

Even though he still wasn’t sure what exactly that was, no matter how much he had tried to prepare himself. Had he come to apologize? Explain? Beg for your forgiveness? He had no idea.

It didn’t matter anymore because as usual, all his thoughts and working brain cells flew out of the window when he was near you. This time even more so than usual since he had never gone this long without seeing you. He just stands there, soaked from the rain on the entrance doormat, like a wet cat begging to be let home again after causing trouble and running out.

And you’re just standing there, in the doorway of the break room, looking at him like you couldn’t believe what you were seeing, as if he was some mythological creature and you didn’t dare to move an inch, either in order not to scare him away or because you were petrified in fear, Jason didn’t know.

And he’s just rendered speechless. His breath taken away from him as he takes you in for what possibly is the last time, trying to commit every part of your beautiful self to memory, all of those parts that he already knows by heart, before you kick him out of the bookshop and out of your life forever.

“Yeah.” He finally responds.

Great, Jason. Very eloquent.

No turning back now.

He gulps.

“Hi.” He adds, trying to act with normalcy but he winces when he realizes that it doesn’t match the situation at all. There really is no way of making this any easier, is there?

He expects you to start yelling at him, push him, anything. But you just keep staring at him. And then:

“God, you’re drenched. Wait here.” You disappear for a second and Jason can’t believe what has just happened, a bewildered look in his eyes. He expected anything but that. But he obeys, doing whatever you asked of him in his very nature, trying to move as little as possible so that he would only drop water onto the doormat. You return quickly and hand him a towel after taking the hot (cold) chocolate from his hands so that he can dry up a bit. 

You put the cup onto the counter as he shakes his boots on the mat, dries his face and ruffles the towel through his hair. When he finishes you approach him once again.

“Here, let me take your jacket. You're going to freeze.” Jason feels like he’s on autopilot as he follows your every direction, like a sailor the call of a siren. Not daring to move a single muscle or do any abrupt movement other than what’s necessary, afraid of breaking whatever is happening right now.

You hang his jacket on the coat rack by the door to dry a bit and then you turn back to him.

There’s a moment of silence, the only noise being the rain’s soft pattering against the windows, the dark clouds filtering the setting sun, casting the bookstore in a gloomy atmosphere though the place still maintains its warm glow from the few lamps turned on with a yellow and orange glow.

The place is quiet, not a single soul in the bookshop except you two. Jason made sure of coming around closing time so that you could be alone, without any other customers interrupting and, even though he wouldn’t admit it out loud, the small hope of finding the bookshop closed and therefore having the perfect excuse to delay this another day.

But of course, the universe wasn’t going to have it. He never was that lucky.

Jason is so stupefied that he doesn’t move from the doormat as you take a couple of steps closer to him and look him over. Assessing him. Studying him. He avoids your gaze, not knowing what to do under your scrutiny.

He might as well be a cactus now with how rooted he is to the goddamn doormat. And then he sees how your feet join his on it and he can’t help the chill that runs through him once again, but not from the cold this time, but from your intoxicating proximity, so reminiscent of the one from the ghost kiss in the alley.

This is it, he thinks. This is when you finally push him from your life forever.

But then you surprise him once again, when without any trace of hesitation nor fear you touch his face. Sofly cradling it as if you might still care about him.

He doesn’t understand anything that’s going on right now. He has never been more confused in his entire life.

After so many months, Jason had come to know you in such a way, so intricately well, that he could read you like a book. Just like you with him. But now, Jason is seriously questioning that because he has no idea what is going through your mind right now.

He finally gathers the courage to look at you, still afraid of what he’s going to find, but you’re not even looking at him.

Your gaze is fixated upon the small cut at the end of his left eyebrow.

A reminder of the Red Hood duty from the night before. How he had managed to get a wound there even with the helmet on, he had no idea.

He sees your eyebrows furrow and your expression change to one of worry.

And then your hands run down his sides until they take a hold of his, inspecting them over after taking the towel from them.

And you sigh, disappointed in finding what you hoped not to be there. The skin on his knuckles broken once again.

Jason feels like a stranded boat, lost at sea, the water around him lulling him to its will.

That’s you.

The rain continues on as you turn slightly and flip the sign of the bookshop to closed before locking the door.

As a lightning strikes in the distance, flashing momentaneous light into the bookshop and illuminating your soft features, you take Jason’s hand and just like several times before, you drag him to the break room, but this time, instead of on a chair by the table, you sit him down on the sofa.

And he lets you. He gladly lets the sea take his boat wherever it wants to. Even if it’s to his own demise.

You take the blanket resting on the arm of the couch and drape it over him, making sure that it stays on his shoulders before you take the towel back to the bathroom and for the third time, you grab the first aid kit there.

You return to the break room and not even your shuffling steps make his lost gaze go towards you.

Despite his big frame you had never seen him so small, curled onto himself, head hung in shame; and it makes your heart clench. He looks deep in thought, grabbing the edges of the blanket so that it stays wrapped around him, as if he’s contemplating how to say whatever he has come to say to you.

But you don’t care. He could stay quiet the whole time if he wanted to.

Because at least he was here.

And honestly, your first instinct at seeing him back in the bookshop had been to run to him and hug him like your life depended on it and never let him go. But you had ultimately decided against it, not wanting to scare him away.

His presence there still felt almost like a mirage to you, after having gone so long without seeing him for the first time ever since you met him.

So, it was a very welcomed step from just sending you short texts letting you know he was still alive and well.

And you couldn’t blame him. Like always, you two worked by taking your own time, giving each other space.

And you knew that Jason had a lot on his mind after the gas incident. In the chaos of it all, he had told you that he had wanted to tell you about being Red Hood before and you wholeheartedly believed him, knowing that it wasn’t something that you could just tell anyone at any given moment. And now he had to deal with the reality that now you knew about that part of his life.

And you had a feeling that he thought that you would push him away for it. Resent him. When it couldn’t be further from the truth.

Because now you saw the whole picture that Jason Todd was.

And you know what?

He still was your Jason.

He still was the man that you were in love with.

Someone to whom you felt connected in a way that you had never felt before. Someone that was your friend and that always managed to make you smile. Someone that was always there for you when you had a bad day. Someone that reads to kids in his free time. Someone that tries to make this city better and protects its people as a vigilante. Someone who goes out of his way to visit you, a completely normal and ordinary woman who runs a simple bookshop. Someone that didn’t hesitate in sacrificing his own safety for yours.

Yeah, you were still very much in love with that man.

And if he needed some time to come back to you, that was fine with you because you knew that he wouldn’t just leave you like that. During the last few days you could even have sworn to have seen him peering through the windows into the bookshop in passing, but when you focused a bit more, he was gone. Or at least that’s what you hoped, the string pulling you two together too strong. 

No matter how much it had pained you to have the person holding your heart keeping you at arm’s length.

Because a day or two more of waiting and you would have stormed into wherever Jason was and told him how much he meant to you until that stubborn head of his realized how you weren’t ever letting him go.

You also hoped that he didn’t resent you, for not having been able to be at his side when he woke up. Something that you will never forgive yourself for, no matter how you knew that it couldn’t have been any other way.

You sit down next to him and place the first aid kit on the coffee table in front of the sofa, getting all that you will need to heal his wounds ready. You take one more look at them and your heart clenches.

You don’t like how he doesn’t seem to take full care of himself.

Because to you, Jason Todd was a treasure. A treasure that you will never be sure how you had managed to be able to find.

And he should be treated just like one.

And that’s exactly what you intend to do.

You follow the same process as the last time to take care of his knuckles, Jason quiet and avoiding your gaze the whole time, before moving onto the cut on his brow.

You raise your hand with a cotton patch to put some antiseptic on it and your eyes finally meet his. The green in them, like always, lighting up your insides, a forest in which you would gladly get lost in.

Jason looks at you as one of your hands takes a hold of his chin to tilt his head while the other one begins treating the cut.

And Jason feels like dying when he sees the flash of pain that crosses your eyes because he knows that he’s the one who put it there.

From the very first time that you healed him, he could see how you didn’t like seeing him hurt. Yet he still had let you see his wounds and tend to them more times after that.

He really usually does tend to his wounds. Except that very first time with his knuckles that he had been so tired he had only cleaned them. But after feeling your soft hands taking care of him for the first time, it was like he didn’t want his wounds healed anymore unless it was you the one who did it.

And so, subconsciously, selfishly and guiltily, he barely tended to them, just what was strictly necessary, a desperate attempt and blind hope of you maybe wanting to heal him in order to feel your delicate touch, that Jason was sure did a lot more for his wounds than whatever any kind of medicine could do.

Your touch not only mending his wounds but also healing his soul and soothing all the bad thoughts in his mind.

But right now, Jason wants nothing more than to get on his knees and do whatever you ask of him. Anything to make the slight hurt that briefly passes your eyes go away. Beg if it's necessary.

He thinks that apologizing may be a good starting point.

“Y/N…” He begins but before he can go on any further you hush him, almost like you want to enjoy the silence and this moment of intimacy as much as possible.

Then you reach for the first aid kit again, taking a steri-strip from a pack that you had bought, along with some other extra items, knowing that the basics of a normal first aid weren’t going to be enough now that you knew that he was Red Hood.

You put it on the cut, careful of not hurting him. Jason watches you mesmerized, still not believing that you haven’t kicked him out yet.

Then, you take a normal band-aid to put over the strip, just to be extra safe but mainly because you want to see him smile.

“Is that a Hello Kitty band-aid?” He asks in disbelief, breaking the silence, as he watches you open the band-aid with the pink, red and white doodles.

“Yup.” You say as you put it, covering the cut and fully hiding it from view, Jason not putting any kind of resistance to it. And your heart clenches blissfully at the small smile that pulls at Jason’s lips. Oh, how much you had missed it, your own personal kind of drug. And you can’t help but mirror him too.

“Thanks.” He whispers once you’re done patching him up. You give a slight nod in return.

You pass your thumb softly over the band-aid to make sure that it doesn’t fall off and then you meet Jason’s eyes again, that look just like a kicked puppy’s. Shining with oncoming tears and wide in fear of what is going to come next.

“I owe you an explanation.” He finally says with a sigh of resignation and you shake your head.

“Jason, you don’t-”

“No, let me do this. I need to do this. It’s the least I can do, I owe it to you.” He says, taking your hands in his, one of which still was caressing his eyebrow and stares at them as he can’t help but begin to rub soft circles into the back of them.

Goosebumps raise all over your skin.

Jason takes a deep breath before he starts talking. It seemed like you still cared about him but would you still do so once he finally explained everything and told you the truth?

He didn’t want to get his hopes up. But he knows that he can’t delay this anymore. He doesn’t want to.

As he begins, a cracking thunder sounds in the distance, shaking the foundations of the road that you two have been building together to its core.

The question being, would it stand the storm?

You listen to him intently. He doesn’t look at you once, instead deciding to focus on your joined hands. Grabbing onto a last part of you before he lets you go forever.

“And I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you. I totally understand that you may not want to see me anymore. I betrayed your trust and that’s unforgivable. Some of the things that I’ve done…” He shakes his head. “I want you to know that I never meant to hurt you. Please know that. You mean so much to me. And even though it breaks me having to remove myself from your life, I know that it’s for the best.”

“Jason, I-”

“No, no. Let me finish please.” He continues ranting. “I promise you that I won’t let the feelings that I have for you get in the way. I will go out that door tonight and never come back again. I’ll let you get on with your life.”

You’re fairly sure that he doesn’t even realize half the things that he’s saying. It’s like he has opened a gate and now not only is he apologizing and telling you the truth about everything, but he’s also letting his feelings for you finally come to the surface, unable to stop himself. He’s so caught up in everything that he leaves them out in the open without even realizing it.

And you just want to smile. Because Jason Todd has feelings for you too. And he has just said it out loud. You try to conceal your beaming smile to not scare him away. He’s way too much into his own head now, spiraling around the fact that he has to remove himself from your life as some sort of self-imposed punishment and in order to at least spare himself a part of the pain that would come from you outright kicking him away.

But you would never do that. Because even with everything that he has just told you and the things that he hasn’t yet, because you know that his story is a lot longer than what an evening can hold and holds a lot more things and very much darker ones than what he has revealed for the moment, you still want to be here with him. You still want him in your life.

Nothing could make you want to stay away from Jason Todd.

Not even himself.

And if there’s one thing that you’re stubborn about is that you’re always there for the people that you care about.

You just need to make him see that. To make him see how important he is to you. And you’re going to do everything you can so that he does.

You call his name again, trying to center his attention back to you but he keeps rambling.

You can only think of one thing that might finally make him stop and listen to you while also making him realize how you feel about him.

You have never done something as bold as this before. And there’s still a knick of doubt in the back of your mind, but the mere possibility of Jason leaving and the fact that the safety line that you two had drawn about your friendship and your feelings is fully difuminated now after his unintentional confession, almost as if it had never actually been there, has you determined. You want to think that it would turn out right.

And if not, at least you would get to do something that you had wanted to do for a very long time.

So, after firmly saying his name once more, and one of your hands getting out of his hold and tilting his head towards you, just when his eyes finally, finally, lock with yours for a quick second, you press your lips to his.

It’s not a long kiss and there isn’t much movement but you hope that you’re conveying everything that you feel for him and more. You can tell that Jason’s caught by surprise but it doesn’t take long at all for him to slowly press his lips against yours, returning your kiss. He lets himself melt into it and you do too. You feel warm all over and then you both sigh against each other, the two of you having fallen off the tightrope and finding that not only there’s a safety net beneath you, but an infinite number under it, one after the other, in the impossible case that one might break.

A soft place to land, a warm embrace.

You think that you could die happily right now.

You part, not wanting to overwhelm him but just from that taste you can already feel yourself slightly dizzy in the best kind of way. You slowly open your eyes and see Jason already looking at you, not believing what has just happened. You take a deep breath. Might as well put the nail in the coffin now. Cement the road.

“I’m in love with you Jason. All that makes you be you. Including being Red Hood. And I’m not going anywhere. And I really, really hope that you aren’t either.” You whisper.

“I’m a mess.”

You tilt your head with a small smile. “Aren’t we all?”

“Are you sure?” He whispers back, caressing your hair, still giving you an out, a last chance for you to escape him and all his problems, before his instincts take over and he latches himself onto you forever and never lets you go.

You nod, not faltering in your resolve. “Yes.”

“I’m in love with you too. I love you.” He says next and nothing has ever felt so liberating. Jason feels light, floating. And all he wants to do now is say it over and over again, just in case that you might still not be aware of how much he loves you.

“Good. That’s very, very good. I love you too.” You giggle, pressing your forehead to his, your noses brushing each other. Jason grins.

“Can you do that again?” He asks, his gaze dropping to your lips, already knowing that the day that he goes by without tasting them will be torture.

Your smile widens even more, if that’s even possible, and you kiss him once again.

And again.

And again.

And again.

After that, everything stayed more or less the same. Jason kept coming into the bookshop several times a week, buying books and checking out some others.

Except that now, he also kissed you everytime he did so.

Except that now, you went on very official dates, not ones that could be mistaken by a friendly hangout.

Except that now, you paid a lot more attention to any news about Red Hood.

Except that now, you always patched him up.

Except that now, you spent nights in each other's beds.

And right now, you’re very confused.

Your brows knit as you try to understand what is in front of you. The computer screen showing the details of a book order that you had made for the bookshop a while ago but that hadn’t arrived, not making any sense.

You’re so concentrated that you barely register the jingle of the bell above the entrance door. Out of the corner of your eye you feel a figure come to stand in front of the counter.

“Just a second, please. I’ll be right with you.” You say almost automatically, trying to see if you can just wrap your head around what you’re reading on the screen, though you doubt that a few more seconds will make any difference. But still, you’re adamant to try.

“It’s okay. I’m just looking for my girlfriend.” The figure says and your head lifts up so fast at the voice that you should be worried about getting whiplash. But you don’t care.

Because there he is.

Jason Todd.

Your boyfriend.

You still feel giddy inside every time that you think about it.

You let out a small gasp before your lips twist into a wide smile and you might as well be The Flash with how quickly you round the counter and wrap your arms around his neck, hugging him tightly.

Jason’s smile is just as radiant as yours as he watches you come to him and gets ready for when you crash into him, wrapping his arms tightly around your waist and giving you a slight spin when your feet lift off the floor due to the force of your hug.

He closes his eyes and breathes you in while he hugs you and brings you even closer to him, if that’s even possible. Your bodies merged into one in your embrace.

Never in his wildest dreams would Jason have ever thought that he would find himself in this situation. One in which you rush to meet him glowing with happiness. One in which he gets to kiss you without the fear of being rejected and one in which he’s able to call himself yours. He never would have believed any of that when he stepped foot into the bookshop that fateful night, which he was sure would be the last time he would ever get to see you.

He still can’t believe how lucky he is to have you. He just can’t wrap his head around the fact that you want him. That you accept all of his demons and that you help him fight them. That you love him. He will never take it for granted.

God, he loves you so much.

Your feet touch the floor once again but he doesn’t let go. He lets his senses overwhelm with you, everything about you enveloping him and not letting him feel anything that isn’t you. Your scent, the feel of your hair tickling his cheek, your arms around him. He doesn’t want to ever let you go.

He’s finally home.

Two weeks and a half is too long without you.

You think the very same about him as you do the exact same with him, your senses taking every part of him in, committing him to memory once again, even though you already know them like the back of your hand.

The feel of his soft hair as you run your fingers through it, just like you had dreamed so many times before, the scent and feel of his leather jacket beneath your arms.

God, you love him so much.

You finally pull back and look up at him with stars in your eyes. And then, without sparing another second, he dips down to kiss you. Or you pull up to kiss him, you’re not sure.

The only thing that matters is that his lips are finally back on yours and that’s all you need to know. You kiss him deeply, savoring him after being apart for so long and he kisses you back just as eagerly, loving the feeling of finally having you back in his arms.

And just like everytime that you kissed, like the very first time, it feels like a dream. Because you still can’t believe that he’s yours and that you’re his.

It was a long time coming.

But it turns out that you two are still human and therefore still need to breathe, so you both pull away but only what is strictly necessary to regain your breaths. Your chests and foreheads are still pressed together and lips inches from each other, so close that you can’t tell which breaths are his and which breaths are yours.

Your fast beating hearts falling into the same rhythm, syncing once again, going as one.

One of your hands holds the side of his face, softly caressing his cheek, so smooth that he must have shaved that very same morning. You feel his grip on your waist tighten.

“What are you doing here?” You finally say between giggles, the drug of his proximity, like always, making pure happiness run through your veins.

“Wrapped the case early.” He answers breathlessly before not being able to resist anymore and kissing you again.

You can’t help the smile on your lips while you kiss him and you can feel another one pulling at his own. When you separate once again you smile at each other, your eyes shining with love and affection for one another.

Jason had left earlier that month to help Dick with a case in Blüdhaven for a few days but then the thing had gotten bigger and dragged them all the way to Metropolis, making his trip longer than what he had first anticipated.

And then earlier in the week he had told you that he wouldn’t be able to return until the end of it. But here he was. Holding you in his arms and kissing you on a peaceful Wednesday afternoon.

“Everything went well?” You ask, not daring to tear your eyes away from his, only perhaps to steal a quick look at his lips.

“Yeah. All good.”

Before either of you can say anything else or even try to kiss each other again, Rose, Jimmy and Charlie, all of whom had been chatting over coffee in the break room, emerge at all the fuss.

“What’s all this?” Says Charlie with a smile as you and Jason disentangle, though he keeps you tucked into his side with a respectful arm around your waist.

“Just a young lovers reunion, Charlie.” Answers Rose.

“Sorry for intruding on, kiddos.” Adds Jimmy.

“It’s okay.” You say.

“You must be this Jason that I’ve heard so much about.” Charlie comments.

“Yes, sir. And you must be the famous Charlie. Nice to meet you.” Jason answers while shaking his hand, though not before throwing you a glance that makes your cheeks heat up in embarrassment and hide your face in his shoulder for a second. So you talked about me too huh?

“You too. My grandchildren are going to be devastated that you’re with someone now, darling.” Charlie says jokingly towards you now.

“Sorry, Charlie.” You respond with an apologetic smile.

“It’s good to see you, sweetie.” Says Rose to Jason to which Jimmy nods in agreement.

“It’s great to be back home.” He answers and you feel his hand give your waist a slight squeeze.

Shivers run down your spine.

You look up at Jason lovingly, a gaze that he returns, and you’re so lost in each other that neither of you see the smiles and look of recognition that the elders have in their faces, having themselves experienced a love like yours that still lasted to this day.

“Go, honey. Take the rest of the day.” Rose offers. You turn to her surprised but you can’t help but to also be excited at the possibility of going out with Jason already. Maybe to see Lily and the other kids, since Jason hadn’t seen them since he left, though you had of course shown up to check on them and continue with the readings, or maybe to eat something at Millie and Ruby’s.

But you don’t care as long as Jason’s with you. There were so many possibilities and you two had all the time in the world. And you were going to seize every single second of it. You two had wasted enough time already.

You also already know that Jason’s either spending the rest of the week at your apartment or you’re spending it at his.

“Are you sure?” You ask Rose.

“Yeah, go have fun, kids.” Jimmy confirms. You thank them before smiling brightly at Jason and then going to get your bag and coat.

As you and Jason make your way towards the door, Charlie speaks up once again.

“You’re treating her right, I suppose.”

Jason looks at you as he opens the door of the bookshop before turning back to Charlie.

“Always.” He says without hesitating and Charlie nods, glad with his answer.

The elders watch you go, happy that you two have each other. They watch how Jason moves the hand on the small of your back to take your hands between his and blow into them to warm them up in the cold Gotham air. And how you then zip his jacket all the way up, adjusting the collar so that it would protect him as much as possible, both of you smiling and looking at each other fondly, before you disappear from their view hand in hand.

Because as it turns out, it isn’t really a surprise when the road stays as strong and sturdy as ever after that cracking thunder.

Because that night, the days after and over time, Jason told you everything. About his past, about his family. And over time all that you did was fall even more for him, loving every part, every scar that he decided to show you. And he did the exact same for you.

Because in the end, he still was your Jason, the kind and handsome young man who always checked out children’s books and wore leather jackets.

Please let me know what you think! Thanks for reading!

[waitimcomingtoo]

I Can See You

pairing: Peter Parker x Happy’s daughter!reader

synopsis: You can see Peter being your addiction and Peter can see you as a secret mission

real synopsis: Happy forbids you and Peter from dating, which only makes you want to do it more

Masterlist

“Hey.” You nodded at Peter as you wandered into his room. The hair on Peters neck stood up on high alert now that a stranger was in his bedroom. He shut his laptop and swiveled in his desk chair to follow what you were doing. He watched you walk over to his Lego shelf as if you’d been in his room a hundred times and admired his Lego titanic.

“Um, hello. Can I help you?” Peter asked.

“Did you build this?” You asked in reply.

“Oh, yeah. I did. It took me almost a full month.”

“Wow. It’s huge.” You said and gently ran your hand along the side of it.

“I know. It’s kinda cramped in here, though. I want to display it in the living room.” Peter told you. His tingle was telling him you weren’t a threat so now he just saw you as a pretty girl who had wandered into his room.

“You totally should display this thing. It’s awesome. What’s stopping you?” You wondered.

“The family pictures in the way.” Peter laughed dryly.

“Psh. Who needs those?” You joked, making him smile.

“Not me.” Peter played along. “But my aunt might be just a little upset if I replaced photos of her dead brother and dead husband with my Lego titanic.”

“That’s nothing. My dad replaced my high school graduation picture with a photo of his dead best friend eating a cheeseburger. It’s not even a good picture. It’s blurry and my dads pinky is in the frame.”

“Damn, your graduation picture? That’s next level. Either he really loved his best friend or it was a really good cheeseburger.”

“Probably both.” You shrugged. “Uncle Tony knew all the best cheeseburger spots in Queens.”

“Wait, Tony? Like Tony Stark?” Peter asked and stood up from his desk chair.

“Yeah, Tony Stark. Oh, that’s right. I forgot you knew him.” You said and tapped the side of your head.

“Your dads best friend.” Peter said to himself. “Wait a second. Are you…”

“Y/n Hogan. Your aunt invited my dad and I over for dinner.” You said and you held your hand out.

“Wait, you’re Happy’s daughter? But you’re so pretty.” Peter said in disbelief as he shook your hand.

“What?” You laughed.

“I didn’t mean that. I’m sorry. Your dad is a very beautiful man. I can see the resemblance.” Peter quickly followed up.

“Seeing the resemblance is impressive considering I was adopted.” You laughed again and continued looking around his room. You saw his Spiderman suit hanging in the closet and touched it with a fond smile on your face.

“Oh God. Can we start over? I feel like I failed at this conversation.”

“You didn’t. I actually think you’re doing a pretty good job talking to me considering the deep lore that runs between us and our mutual acquaintances.” You assured him.

“Oh.” He blushed. “Thanks.”

“No problem. So did this thing come with a Lego iceberg?” You asked and pointed to the Lego titanic.

“No. That would’ve been perfect. But unfortunately, Lego didn’t have a dark sense of humor.”

“But I do. Do you have any blue legos?” You asked with a devious smile.

“Yeah. What are you thinking?”

A few minutes later, you and Peter were sitting on his bedroom floor with his Lego bin between you. You led the conversation, much to Peters delight, as you added onto each others creations. Even though Peter was usually shy and awkward around strangers, he found it very easy to talk to you. Maybe it was because you were already apart of his secret world and he didn’t have to lie about anything, or maybe it was just because you got along. Whatever it was, Peter really enjoyed talking to you. You felt more like an old friend rather then a stranger. Happy came into the room after a little while and was surprised to see you already in there.

“Oh, there you are. I was looking for you. But I see you found Peter.” Happy said and gave Peter a stern look.

“You never told me you had a daughter.” Peter playfully scolded him to keep the mood light.

“That’s because I don’t disclose any personal information to teenagers in spandex.” Happy said curtly.

“Dad. Be nice.” You whispered harshly.

“What are you guys doing in here anyway?” Happy asked as he folded his arms.

“Making a Lego iceberg for Peters Lego titanic.” You explained and held up what you had built so far.

“Interesting, interesting. Peter, can I talk to you for a second?” Happy said through a fake smile.

“Yeah. Sure. Be right back.” He told you before getting up to follow Happy into the hallway.

“What’s up?” Peter asked kindly.

“Don’t even think about it.” Happy said immediately.

“Huh? Don’t think about what?”

“My daughter. Don’t even let it cross your mind. Because if it crosses your mind, I’ll know about it. And if I know about it, I’m gonna kill you.”

“Wait, you think I’m trying to date your daughter? I just met her. Relax.” Peter laughed.

“No, I won’t relax. I don’t ever want to see my daughter in your bedroom, okay? That’s gross. I don’t want you getting your horny little nerd germs on her.”

“We were just playing with legos.” Peter pointed out.

“That’s always how it starts.” Happy wagged his finger. “I know your type. You lure girls in with your boyish charm because they think you’re safe.”

“I am safe, Happy.” Peter insisted. “You know me. You know I’d never break her heart.”

“I know you won’t. Because you won’t get the chance.”

“I’m sorry, but why is it okay for you to date my aunt but not for me to date your daughter?” Peter asked and folded his arms.

“Oh, so it has crossed your mind? I knew you were thinking about dating my daughter.” Happy pointed accusingly at him. “I knew it the second I walked into your room. You’re thinking about her right now, aren’t you? Well stop. My daughter is not allowed in your head, okay? Ever. Get her out.”

“I wasn’t thinking about dating her until you put the idea into my head. But I kinda want to do it now.” Peter laughed in amusement and looked back at his room where you were.

“Don’t you even dare.” Happy whispered and took a step closer to him.

“Or what? What’ll you do?” Peter challenged him. He didn’t even care that much about it, he just wanted to antagonize Happy for his own amusement.

“Kill you.” Happy stated like it was obvious. “Like I said.”

“What if she likes me? Huh?” Peter smirked. “You can’t tell her not to date me. That’ll just drive her straight into my arms.”

“That’s not gonna be a problem because she’ll never like you. She’s too smart.”

“I’m a good guy, Happy. Tony knew that. Wouldn’t you rather her date a nice, responsible guy that you’ve known for years over some random stranger whose intentions might be impure?”

“She can date a guy I know.” Happy shrugged. “Just not you.”

“We’ll see.” Peter shrugged as well.

“What? What does that mean? We’ll see? We’re not gonna see anything because you’re not dating my daughter.” Happy declared.

“Maybe I will, maybe I won’t.” Peter shrugged again.

“No, you definitely won’t.”

“How are you gonna stop it?” Peter asked him.

“With a gun.” Happy replied. “That I use to kill you. To death.”

“I don’t think your daughter would appreciate you killing her future boyfriend.” Peter said innocently.

“You’re not her future boyfriend. You’re not her future anything. But you’re a future dead person if you keep this up.”

“Relax, Happy. I’m just messing with you. I’m not gonna date your daughter.” Peter laughed and patted Happy’s shoulder. Just then, you came out of Peters room with the Lego iceberg you had built.

“I’m gonna help May in the kitchen. Maybe I’ll accidentally knock down a few family pictures while I’m in there.” You said and winked at Peter.

“Why would you do that?” Happy asked you.

“Peter gets it.” You smiled coyly before disappearing down the hall and into the kitchen. Peter watched you walk away and felt something blossoming in his chest. That simple moment of sweet understanding between you was all he needed to fall head over heels for you.

“Happy?” Peter said without taking his eyes off where you had just been standing.

“Yeah?” Happy replied. Peter turned to face him, put his hand on Happy’s shoulder, and smiled sympathetically.

“I’m gonna date your daughter.”

Before Happy could respond, May called everyone in for dinner. Peter and Happy exchanged a look before throwing on smiles so that you and May wouldn’t suspect anything. Happy sat across from Peter with you sitting beside him, meaning that every time Peter looked at you, he got a kick under the table from Happy. Similarly, anytime you tried to ask Peter a question or start a conversation with him, Happy cut you off. Peter tried to do the same with you but was always met with a death glare from Happy. The incredibly silent and awkward dinner ended all too soon and Happy could not have taken you out of Peters apartment fast enough. You waved to Peter as Happy pulled you out the door but there was no time for an exchanging of words. What a beautiful wedding jk jk iykyk.

Peter was fully prepared to let his little crush on you go away on its own without any intention of acting on it. He knew it was a bad idea anyway to get involved with the daughter of the head of security, but that didn’t stop him from thinking about you from time to time.

“Hey Happy. I just wanted to report that I found a lost dog today. But then it ran away again after I returned to to the owner. I’m starting to think it wanted to be lost. Maybe he met a bunch of stray dogs and felt more at home with them on the streets than he ever did in his owner’s apartment. What do you think?” Peter asked over FaceTime as he gave Happy his daily report from patrolling the neighborhood.

“Kid, I don’t care. I never have. You don’t need to keep calling me with random updates of what you do on patrol.” Happy told him. In the background of Happy’s video, Peter could see you walking into the room with nothing but a towel wrapped around yourself and your wet hair hanging around your face. He perked up and felt his face heat up at the sight of you.

“Is that Peter?” You asked and walked over to where Happy was sitting.

“No. It’s not.” Happy said and tried to shut his laptop.

“Hi Peter.” You opened it back up and waved, leaving you with only one hand to hold your towel onto your body. Peter turned bright red as he stared at the screen and felt all dialogue options leave his mind.

“Oh, uh, hi.” He stammered. “I didn’t see you there. I didn’t even know you were home. How’s it going?”

“Pretty good.” You shrugged. “What kind of dog was it?”

“What?”

“The dog you found. What breed?” You asked with genuine interest. Peter smiled at you wanting to know and felt his blush deepen.

“Chihuahua. His name was Pinto.”

“Aw.” You smiled. “That’s so cute.“

“Oh, yeah. Very cute. Very, very cute.” Peters eyes glazed over as he stared at your through the screen. Happy looked back and forth between Peter and you before realizing what Peter was staring at.

“I’m hanging up now.” Happy warned.

“Wait-“

The call ended abruptly and Peter was left alone staring at a black screen. If Happy was going to stop him from seeing you, he would going to have to get creative.

A few nights later, Peter formed a new plan. If Happy was gonna date his aunt, he was going to use it to his advantage.

“Oopsie. I just accidentally ordered two pizzas instead of one. Silly me. What will we do with all this incoming pizza?” Peter asked as he dramatically scratched the top of his head to make it look like he was thinking.

“I don’t know.” May shrugged. “Eat a lot of pizza?”

“That’s a great idea, May. Or, and this is just coming to me now, what if we invite Happy over to eat some? So you guys can have a little date night. He even can bring his daughter. What was her name again? Telulah? Annabeth? Marcy?”

“Y/n?” May chuckled and raised her eyebrow.

“Right. Her.” Peter played dumb. “She probably likes pizza, right?”

“I know what you’re doing, but I’m gonna go with it anyway because there’s no way we can eat two pies and I hate wasting food.” May playfully scolded him as she dialed Happy’s number.

Much to Peters delight, you and Happy showed up a few minutes later. You were standing behind your dad with a bag behind your back.

“Hey. Thanks for the invite.” Happy said and kissed Mays cheek. You looked at Peter over your dads shoulder and waved.

“No problem.” May replied. “It was actually Peters idea.”

“Oh, was it?” Happy asked and stared daggers at Peter. Peter shrugged innocently before making eye contact with you. He discreetly nodded towards his bedroom before going to it. You followed after him once the coast was clear.

“Hey.” You smiled at him and shut his door behind you.

“Hey. Thanks for coming over. I’m glad you could make it.” Peter played it cool but was screaming on the inside over you being in his room again.

“I’m glad you invited us. I have a present for you but I didn’t have any way of getting in touch with you.”

“You wanna touch me?” Peter said in a low voice as he stared at you with his eyebrows raised.

“What was that?”

“I said you have a present for me?” He quickly corrected himself and threw on a smile.

“Uh huh. Look what I found.” You held the bag up and pulled out the Lego Super Star Destroyer, a Lego set Peter had dreamed of owning since he was a kid.

“What?! You got this for me?” He jumped out of his chair and held the box to read it.

“Yeah. You mentioned last time that you always wanted this one. I know you’re a big fan of the movies so I wanted you to have it.” You smiled sheepishly as you stared at him. His childlike excitement and wonderstruck expression made him even cuter than you typically found him. His expression changed suddenly when he realized he could never accept such a costly gift.

“This set costs a fortune. You really didn’t have to do this.” Peter looked apologetic as he looked into your eyes. You laughed a little at how bad he felt and put your hand on top of his.

“It’s okay. I wanted to do it.” You assured him. “Plus, Uncle Tony put me in his will so I’m kinda flushed with cash right now. I would’ve just spent the money on something stupid. And I know he loved you so he’d be happy I used the money to buy a Lego set for us.”

“Us?” Peter cracked a smile and felt his excitement return.

“Yeah. I thought we could build it together while my dad makes out with your aunt.” You suggested.

“Gross.” Peter grimaced. “But the part about building it together sounds fun.”

Now that he was willing to keep it, you tore the box open and dumped the pieces out. You and Peter sat next to each other with your knees touching as you built the spaceship. Peter snuck glances at you every now and then, and you caught them every time. You accidentally made eye contact at one point and he turned pink.

“You know, my dads been up my ass all week because of you.” You said with a soft laugh.

“Me? What did I do?”

“I don’t know. Did you tell him we were dating or something?” You questioned him, making him gulp.

“Actually, he told me not to date you.” Peter admitted.

“He told me the same thing. Little does he know, that just makes me want to date you even more.” You replied. Peter froze and realized that if what Happy said made you want to date him more, that meant you already wanted to date him in the first place. You realized that you had said too much at the same time Peter did and looked at him out of the corner of your eye to see if he was weirded out. To your surprise, he was staring at you with a soft expression. He quickly cleared his throat and looked away when you caught him staring.

“Doesn’t he know that the hottest thing a guy can do is be disliked by the girls dad?” Peter said like it was obvious.

“Exactly. I told him disapproving of you was just going to send me straight into your arms. And who could even blame me? They’re really nice arms.” You shrugged and gave Peter a coy smile. Peter laughed shyly and busied himself with the legos so you wouldn’t see him blushing.

“What did he say to that?” He asked you.

“That there will be a cold day in hell before he lets me go out with you.” You laughed.

“And what did you say?” Peter asked as he looked up at you and found that you were already looking at him.

“I told him that he can’t tell me who to date and if I wanted to go out with you, I will.” You said simply. Peter gulped and never broke eye contact with you and he reached for a Lego brick. Your hands accidentally touched and he saw sparks fly.

“Do you want to go out with me?” He asked quietly. You opened your mouth to answer just as May opened hers.

“Hey, kids. Pizzas here.” May said as she appeared in Peters doorway. You looked at him apologetically before getting up and following May to the kitchen. He desperately wanted to get you alone again to finish your conversation, but Happy was never gonna let that happen.

It came time for you and Happy to leave and Peter was visibly disappointed. As Happy and May said their goodbyes, you pulled Peter to the side.

“Goodnight, Peter. I had fun tonight.” You said sincerely.

“So did I. Thank you again for the legos. It’s the nicest thing anyones ever done for me.”

“I’m glad you liked them. Hopefully I’ll see you again. Hopefully soon.”

“Yeah. Totally.” Peter nodded eagerly.

You held out your hand to shake Peters, which Peter found a little strange. But when he shook your hand, he felt you slip a piece of paper into his. Peter waited until Happy was out the door before opening the paper up. Written in your handwriting was your phone number. Peter looked up in surprise and made eye contact with you.

“Call me.” You mouthed to him and made your hand like a phone just as Happy pulled you away.

And that’s exactly what Peter did. It became your nightly secret mission to sneak off and call Peter once you were sure Happy was asleep or preoccupied in front of the TV. You would talk for hours in hushed voices so no one would hear.

“Can you imagine what my dad would do if he found us out?” You asked Peter one night as you hung over the edge of your bed to talk to Peter.

“So there’s an us to find out about?” Peter asked and felt grateful you couldn’t see his blush over the phone.

“I don’t know.” You smiled timidly. “I really like talking to you, Peter.”

“Well that’s good. I’m happy to hear that. Because I like it too.” He laughed shyly.

“I think about you a lot when we’re not on the phone.” You admitted as you switched positions and rolled onto your stomach.

“You do?” Peter gulped.

“Uh huh. All the time.”

“What do you think about?”

“Oh, you wouldn’t believe half the things I see inside my head.” You chuckled. Peter gulped again and felt his face heat up. He cleared his throat before speaking again.

“Why don’t you explain it to me then?” He asked. Before you could answer, a loud crash sounded from his side of the phone.

“What’s all that noise?” You asked him.

“Mays looking for the pasta maker.” Peter sighed. “We have a thousand boxes of mezzi rigatoni but she wanted fettuccini.”

“Fettuccine actually sounds amazing right now. I need to get up and make some food. I just hope my dad went grocery shopping or else I’m eating sleep for dinner.”

“You should come over tonight.” Peter said before he would overthink it.

“Really?”

“Yeah. Come make pasta with us. May usually burns something and then gives up about 15 minutes into cooking so we wouldn’t have to hang out with her the whole time. We could make pasta together. Just the two of us.”

“Okay. My dads watching a movie in the den so he won’t mind if I go out. I’m in.” You smiled and started to get ready to see him.

“Awesome. Great. See you soon.” Peter grinned and hung up the phone. He quickly brushed his teeth and put on a fresh shirt before joining May in the kitchen. There was a knock on the door soon enough and Peter practically ran to open it.

“Ciao.” He said as he flung the door open.

“Ciao, bello.” You replied. “Scopiamo stasera o cosa?”

“Wait, what? I don’t actually speak Italian.” Peter sheepishly.

“That’s probably for the better.” You laughed and walked into his apartment.

“Oh, good. You’re here. And you brought wine! Even better. Come in, come in.” May kissed your cheek before taking the bottle of wine and opening it.

“Peters been dying for you to get here.” She whispered in your ear, but loud enough for Peter to hear.

“May.” Peter whined and motioned for her to zip it.

“What? I’m just being honest.” May shrugged. “Honesty is the best policy. That’s what I always say.”

“She’s right. That’s a great policy.” You said and gave Peter a look.

“Oh yeah? Does your dad know you’re here?” Peter asked you and folded his arms, already knowing the answer. Your smile dropped when you realized he was right.

“A little lie never hurt anybody.” You replied. Peter smirked, knowing he caught you.

“Come here. I’ll show you how to make the dough.” Peter said and led you to the kitchen with his hand on your back. You and Peter made the pasta dough while May chopped up some tomatoes and made a sauce. May switched the radio on to play some instrumental background music that made the apartment feel like a small cafe in Italy.

“All right. I think we’re ready. I’m gonna get the pasta maker. It should be in the attic.” May broke up the party and put the meatball back in the sauce.

“If you can’t find it, what do we do with all this dough?” You asked her.

“I don’t know. Make a shit ton of Pizza.” May shrugged and left to go find the pasta maker.

“Okay then.” You chuckled. Once you and Peter were alone, you hoped up on the counter and leg your legs swing.

“Should we try it to make sure it tastes good?” You asked as you rolled some dough between your fingers and made a snake.

“Yeah, but not that piece. You made a worm.” Peter said and pointed to your dough.

“So what? It’s just dough. Try some.” You replied and dangled the dough in his face.

“Dough way.” He laughed at his own pun and swatted the dough away.

“Oh, we’re making pasta puns now? You’re gonna pay for that.” You playfully warned him.

“But I dough not want it.” Peter pouted and leaned on the counter you were sitting on so you were caged in between his arms. You both became aware of how close you were at the same time and laughed shyly.

“Can’t think of anything other than replacing “do” with “dough” huh?” You asked and raised an eyebrow.

“Dough, I can’t.” He shamefully admitted. You gave him a look and he held up his hands in defense.

“That one was different.” He pointed out.

“All right. I’ll give it to you. Now eat the pasta worm.” You playfully demanded and dangled it in his face again.

“No. Get that thing away from me.” He laughed and smacked it away. It flew across the room and stuck to a nearby cabinet with a loud smack.

“Wow. Look at that.” Peter said, genuinely dumbfounded.

“It’s kinda beautiful.” You said as you quietly stared at the pasta in awe. Peter turned to look at you and rested his hands back on the counter.

“You’re kinda beautiful.” He said in a soft voice. You tore your eyes away from the pasta to look at him but couldn’t form a single word.

“Even with flour on your face.” He chuckled and wiped a smudge of flour off your cheek with his thumb. You gulped and discreetly picked up some flour off the counter.

“You have some flour on your face too.” You told him as you stared into his eyes.

“Where? Here?” Peter asked and touched his cheek.

“No. Here.” You smirked before throwing the handful of flour at him. Peter coughed and waved his hand to get it away from his face.

“Oh, you’re gonna pay for that.” He warned and grabbed a handful of flour. He went to throw it at you but you caught him by the wrist to stop him. Peter wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you closer to him so that you couldn’t block his next attempt. But instead of feeling flour on your face, you felt Peter kissing you. You weren’t actually sure if you kissed him or he kissed you, but you didn’t really care. You wasted no time in tangling your hands on his hair and deepening the kiss. His hands slid up and down your back before finding their way up your shirt. You felt your entire body heat up as you kissed him and felt all the tension that had been building up release into the atmosphere between you. He kissed you until you felt dizzy but you didn’t stop even then. You started to unbutton his button down when the moment was interrupted.

“Found it!” May called from the hallway. You jumped apart so quickly that you fell right off the counter. You screamed on the way down as Peter watched with his hands over his mouth. He rushed to pick you up just as May came back into the kitchen. She took one look at the flour covering the two of your, most noticeably the flour handprints on either of Peters cheeks, and knew what had happened.

“Oh my God. What happened in here?” May played dumb.

“Fell.” You and Peter said in unison.

“Oh no. Are you okay?”

“Maybe?” You smiled weakly and rubbed your throbbing head. Peter touched his hands, which now felt cold from the absence of you.

“Oh my God. How did you get flour all over your back?” May laughed and turned you around to see the flour Peter had left all over your clothing.

“I’m a messy girl.” You shrugged and hoped she’d buy it.

“Look at that. The flour on Y/n’s butt looks like a perfect handprint. How funny is that?” May laughed again and pointed to the handprint Peter had left on your black leggings. He turned so red that he had to turn around so May wouldn’t see it.

“I’m gonna go potty.” You said quickly and ran to the bathroom.

“She okay?” May asked once you were gone.

“Her? What? Yeah. She’s fine. Nothing weird happened while you were gone.” Peter said a little too quickly.

“Hm. How did that piece of pasta get stuck to the cabinet?” May asked and pointed to the pasta Peter had flung.

“I’m not sure.” Peter lied.

“Are you feeling okay? Your face and neck is all red.” May asked and pressed her hand to Peters forehead. He knew she was getting suspicious and had to think of a lie to get out of there.

“I have to poop.” Peter blurted and walked out of the kitchen.

“Y/n is in there.” May called after him.

“I’ll go to the other bathroom!” He shouted back.

Peter passed the bathroom in the hallway and stopped outside of it. He pressed his ear against the door to try and hear if you were freaking out or not.

Which you 100% were.

“What the hell are you doing? You can’t just kiss him. You slut bag! You hussy! You don’t even know how he feels about you.” You whispered to the mirror. You splashed some cold water on your face to calm down before looking at your reflection.

“Woman up and get your shit together. Go out there and make pasta with your dads girlfriends nephew like a fucking normal person.” You warned yourself in the mirror.

The bathroom door suddenly opened and Peter fell inside. You gasped and pulled him the rest of the way in before shutting the door.

“I’m sorry! I wasn’t doing anything!” Peter said quickly.

“What are you doing out here?!” You whispered harshly.

“Nothing! I just wanted to talk!” He whispered back in a panic.

“So you wait outside the bathroom door? What if I was pooping?! You would’ve heard it.” You whispered even louder and angrily shook his shirt.

“But I didn’t.” He said weakly.

“I think I need to go home.” You sighed and left the bathroom.

“Wait, no. Please stay.” Peter pleaded as he followed after you. He caught you in the hallway and gently pulled your arm to get you to stop.

“I can’t. I can’t go back in there. She’s gonna know something sus happened.” You whispered to him and pointed to the kitchen.

“It wasn’t sus. But I really think we need to talk about it.” Peter said and looked at you with his big puppy dog eyes. You knew he was dying to talk about it and you felt guilty leaving him after what happened.

“Peter, look. I’m really sorry that I kissed you-“

“I’m not.” He cut you off and pushed you against the wall. The interrupted kiss was resumed and even more passionate than the last. He had you up against the wall as he kissed you as if he hadn’t seen you in years. You forgot all about the pasta and your dads warning and just got lost in his touch. You both knew it was wrong and that you could be caught any second, and that’s what made it feel so right. Peter squeezed your hip, signaling you to jump up and wrap your legs around his waist. You couldn’t feel him smiling into the kiss as he pressed you against the wall. That was the moment you knew you were never giving this boy up, no matter what your father said.

“Peter! Y/n! What happened to my sous chefs?” May shouted from the kitchen. You pulled apart and stared at each other as you caught your breath.

Peter gently set you back down on the floor but stayed in your personal space as he leaned against the wall. You never broke eye contact with him as he fixed a strand of hair that he knocked onto the wrong side of your part. You gulped and smoothed your clothing down before looking away.

“Can we talk after? Please? Don’t go home.” Peter pleased as he buttoned his shirt back up. You looked him up and down and knew you were at his mercy.

“Fine. You’ve convinced me. I’ll stay.” You agreed. Peter smiled in relief and led you back to them kitchen.

“Look who decided to join us.” May smiled proudly and stepped to the side to reveal Happy standing behind her. Peters knees buckled and he immediately fainted onto the ground. You caught him and let him lean on you as you waved your hand in front of his face to wake him up.

“Dad? What are you doing here?” You asked through a big fake smile.

“I could ask you the same thing.” He said through an even faker smile.

“I was making Peter with Pasta. I mean, pasta with Peter.” You stumbled over your words as Peter came to and nearly fell over again. You held him upright but his waist until he could stand on his own. Happy was watching the whole thing and growing more suspicious by the second.

“Hm. You didn’t mention you were going over my girlfriends house when you said you were going out. I find that a little strange. Don’t you?” Happy shrugged as he folded his arms.

“Maybe I find you a little strange.” You said out of the corner of your mouth.

“Now that Happy’s here we’re gonna need some more pasta. Honey, can you knead the rest of the dough?” May asked you.

“Sure. I can dough that.” You laughed nervously. Happy gave you a strange look and you gulped.

“I’m sorry. I kiss-poke. I mean, misspoke.” You gulped again and went over to the dough. Peter went to follow you and earned a longing glare from Happy as he did. The two of you bumped into each other and dropped things on the floor numerous times from how nervous you were now that Happy was there. Once Happy and May disappeared to the couch to drink wine, Peter knew it was safe to talk.

“Stop being weird.” He whispered to you.

“I’m about to murder-suicide us.” You said at full volume.

“Peter, can you help her? You gotta put your elbow grease into it.” May called from the couch.

“Yeah. I can dough that.” Peter replied.

“Stop making dough puns.” You hissed.

“I literally fucking can’t.” He deadpanned. You suddenly felt his arms wrap around you as he put his hands on top of yours to knead the dough.

“What are you doing?” You asked him.

“Helping you knead the dough.”

“Why wouldn’t you just stand beside me?”

“Because this is how men show women how to do things in rom coms.” Peter said very seriously.

“Okay, but we’re not in a rom com. We’re in real life in your real kitchen with my dad who has a real gun.”

“He won’t shoot me. I’m his girlfriends only nephew. I’m untouchable.”

“And so am I as long as my father is present.” You said and slipped out of his arms.

“Is everything okay over there?” Happy asked from the couch.

“Yes.” You and Peter shouted back in unison. You finished with the dough and brought it over to the pasta maker.

“You better speed run this fucking pasta before I lose my mind.” You whispered in his ear.

“I’m going as fast as I can.” Peter whispered back as he put the dough in the pasta maker as painstakingly slow as possibly. The pasta maker squeaked as he turned the handle and echoed off the walls of the silent kitchen. You could feel sweat running down your face and started to fan yourself.

“I can’t handle this. My dad is gonna know what we did.” You said and gave your hair a stressful tug.

“We haven’t done anything wrong.” He pointed out as he finished up with the pasta. You nodded in agreement and picked up the pasta he had made.

“Yet.” He added and stole a kiss against your neck. You gasped and put your hand where his lips had been.

“What are you doing? My dad is in the next room?”

“I know. That’s what makes it so exciting.” Peter said and leaned in to kiss you again.

“The water should be boiling by now. Can you start putting the pasta in?” May asked as she appeared in the kitchen. You quickly turned around and pretended to be doing something so she wouldn’t suspect anything.

“Sure.” Peter smiled calmly at her and put the pasta into the boiling water. May went back to the living room, leaving you and Peter alone once again. You picked up a wooden spoon and pushed the pasta around the pot in an attempt to look busy.

“I can see you. Stop staring at me.” You said when you felt Peters eyes on you. You looked up and sure enough, he was watching you with a soft expression.

“I’m sorry. I can’t help it.” He said as he walked over to you. He wrapped his arms around your waist from behind and pulled you into him. It felt nice for a moment but you knew it shouldn’t be happening.

“I am off limits, okay mister? You cannot be staring at me like that.” You whispered and slipped out of his arms.

“Off limits? What does that mean?” He played dumb.

“It means that we cannot happen.” You said and gestured between the two of you. “We can never, ever happen. My dad will reign hell fire on you for even thinking about it. And he’ll reign regular fire on me because I’m his daughter which will be less hot but still really bad.”

“Psh.” Peter scoffed. “I’m not scared of him.”

“You should be. He has access to all of Uncle Tony’s weapons. So unless you want to get blown up or turned inside out, you need to stop. That’s means stop staring at me, stop touching me, and definitely stop kissing me.” You whispered as you got in his face. Peter smirked now that he had you close again and put his hands on your hips. You gulped and looked anywhere but his eyes as he got close to you.

“You want me to stop kissing you?” He asked as he tilted your chin up to look in his eyes.

“Yes.” You replied, but it came out like more of a question than a statement.

“Are you sure?” He asked and moved in even closer. His lips brushed yours when he spoke and you felt your eyelids flutter shut. Right before your lips could touch, you covered your mouth and stepped back.

“No. No more. We can’t.” You said behind your hand. Peter smiled sadly and nodded his head. He looked disappointed but like he understood.

“I know we can’t happen.” He said in a soft voice. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t want it to.”

“It doesn’t matter what we want.” You gently reminded him and nodded towards the living room where Happy was.

“So you want it too?” He asked innocently and tilted his head to the side. You sucked in a sharp breath and thought about the way it felt when he had you up against the wall and how badly you wanted that again.

“Peter.” You breathed out.

“Do you have any idea how beautiful I find you?” Peter asked you. Footsteps approaching made you jump apart and turn your backs to each other.

“Hey guys. How’s the pasta coming?” May asked as she walked into the kitchen.

“It’s coming.” Peter replied.

“It’s definitely pasta.” You nodded in agreement.

“Great. I’ll set the table.” May laughed at your strange behavior and grabbed some plates. Once you were alone again, you answered Peters question.

“Yes.” You told him.

“What?”

“You asked me if I’d want this to happen too. My answer is yes.” You said and looked into his eyes. Peter smiled now that he knew you felt the same but didn’t want to let you off that easy.

“Oh. But then I asked you if you knew how beautiful I found you so I thought you were answering-“

“Shut up.” You laughed as you cut him off. Peter smiled fondly at you from across the kitchen and you felt yourself smile back.

“Do you really feel the same?” He asked, all teasing in his voice gone.

“I do. But I told you, it doesn’t matter what we feel. We can’t date. Ours is a forbidden love.”

“I know. That’s what makes me want you even more.” Peter said with a wicked smile. You stopped leaning on the counter and started to walk to Peter when your dad suddenly walked into the kitchen.

“What are you guys talking about?” Happy asked suspiciously when he noticed the love struck expression on both your faces.

“Dad.” You whined. “Don’t you knock?”

“Knock on what? You’re standing in the middle of the kitchen.” He pointed out. You and Peter exchanged a look, and then you and Happy exchanged a look. Happy looked at Peter and narrowed his eyes, making Peter panic.

“Dinners ready!” Peter shouted despite 75% of the people in the apartment being right in front of him.

“Um, Peter, the pasta is still raw. It’s only been in there a few minutes.” You reminded him.

“Dinner!” Peter said again. “Let’s sit and eat.”

You shrugged and went with it to keep your dad from getting suspicious. You drained the pasta and put it in a big bowl before Peter added the sauce on top. You brought it to the dining table that May had set and put it in the center. Everyone sat down and served themselves some pasta.

“So what’s new with everyone?” Happy asked.

“Nothing.” You and Peter said at the same time. You gave him a look and he gulped nervously.

“Is anything new with you?” You asked May politely.

“Yeah.” Peter nodded. “Talk about yourselves. Tell us everything.”

“Well, um, May and I have been thinking about getting married.” Happy said sheepishly. You spit out your water as Peters jaw dropped.

“Oh.” May smiled tightly. “I didn’t realize we were telling them.”

“Wait, married?” You asked them.

“Yeah. Thinking about it.” Happy nodded as May shook her head.

“But, uh, if you guys got married, what would that mean for us exactly?” You laughed nervously and gestured between you and Peter.

“Well, I’d become Peters uncle, so you guys would technically be cousins.” Happy shrugged as May nodded in agreement. A chill ran down your spine at the use of the “c” word. Peters mouth started to heavily salivate like it usually did before he threw up.

“Cousins?” You choked out.

“Or would they be siblings?” Happy wondered.

“Oh God.” You whimpered. “Not siblings. Anything but siblings.”

“No, just cousins.” May explained. “Because I would become Y/n’s stepmom but Peter isn’t my son so they would be cousins. But you guys could consider each other siblings if you really wanted to. It might be nice to have a sister, right Peter?”

“Stop talking.” Peter said in a grave voice as he gripped the table to keep from fainting again.

“Relax guys. It won’t be too weird. You’re basically cousins already.” May said with an innocent smile.

“Oh no. Don’t say that.” You whispered and clutched your stomach.

“I’m gonna throw up.” Peter said through a gag.

“Why?” Happy asked as he narrowed his eyes at Peter.

“Yeah. Why wouldn’t you want to be cousins? It’s just you and me on holidays Wouldn’t it be nice to have a bigger family?” May asked Peter.

“Don’t call us “family”, please.” Peter said and gagged again.

“Yeah, no more.” You pleaded. “Not while we’re eating.”

“Are we missing something?” May asked.

“I don’t want her to be my cousin.” Peter grimaced and shook his head.

“Peter. That’s disrespectful.” May scolded him.

“No, it’s okay. I don’t want him to be my cousin either.” You assured her as you wiped some sweat from your forehead. You looked over at Peter and he was just as distraught if you were. He was pale and sweating and extremely close to breaking. You snapped your fingers at him under the table and motioned for him to keep his mouth shut. May and Happy exchanged a suspicion look at the strange behavior in front of them.

“Is there something you guys aren’t telling us?” May asked and leaned on her hand. She stared at Peter, who looked at you in a panic. You shook your head at him, making Happy frown in confusion. He turned to stare at Peter, and that’s what made Peter break.

“I made out with my cousin.” Peter blurted before gasping for air. You groaned and put your head down on the table as May and Happy reacted.

“You what with your what?” May scrunched her nose in disgust.

“You what with my what?” Happy asked and glared Peter.

“Haha. He’s just kidding.” You laughed nervously and waved your hand.

“He better be.” Happy stated without taking his eyes off Peter. Peter was staring all around the room at everything other than Happy.

“This pasta is amazing. Let’s all eat it and stop talking.” You said and shoved some pasta into your mouth.

“It’s a little undercooked.” May commented. “How long did you guys leave it in the water for?”

“Peter?” Happy asked calmly.

“Yes, sir?” Peter answered while looking up at the ceiling.

“Look at me.”

“Yes?” Peter said and looked near Happy, but not at him.

“Peter, look me in the eyes.” Happy commanded. “Right now.”

“I am.” Peter scoffed as he stared at Happy’s ear.

“Not at my ear. My eyes.”

Peter shut his eyes and turned to face Happy head on.

“Open your eyes.” Happy said through clenched teeth. Peter slowly opened one eye, then the other. Happy was glaring at him with a face redder than the sauce May had made.

“Did you make out with my daughter?”

“Which daughter?”

“The one sitting beside you. The only one I have.”

“I don’t understand the question.”

“Let me ask it again then. Did you or did you not make out with my daughter?”

“No.”

“Okay. Good.” Happy nodded in satisfaction.

“She made out with me.” Peter clarified.

“Peter!” You shouted and looked at him.

“You’re a dead man. He’s a dead man.” Happy declared and lunged across the table at Peter.

“Wait! She kissed me! I didn’t kiss her.” Peter defended himself as he scrambled to get out of his chair and run away from Happy.

“You did the second time.” You pointed out.

“Second time? There was a second time?” Happys voice got louder as he chased Peter around the table.

“Daddy, no. Don’t hurt him!” You protested and stood between your dad and Peter.

“Move it, honey. I’m gonna fight him. I’m gonna fight him up real nice.” Happy declared and grabbed the bowl of Italian bread off the table. He started throwing pieces at Peter, but Peter dodged every one.

“Stop dodging my bread!” Happy shouted and threw his last piece.

“Ha! You’re all out of bread.” Peter pointed at the empty bowl before hiding behind you.

“I’ll just have to use my hands.” Happy said and lunged for Peter again.

“Hold on. Step away from my nephew.” May said as she stepped in front of you and held Happy back. Happy stopped trying to attack Peter and caught his breath.

“Happy, you need to calm down.” May told him. “Your daughter isn’t your property. She’s a beautiful young woman. She is allowed to make her own decisions. And that includes deciding who she wants to date.”

“I know that.” Happy sighed. “She just can’t decide on him.”

“Why not, dad?” You asked him.

“For starters, he rented a very inappropriate movie when we were in Germany. No man who respects women would rent a movie called “Grinding Nemo”. I can’t have a guy like that dating my daughter.”

“I was like 15!” Peter whined. “I just bought the first one I found!”

“Grinding Nemo?” You turned and asked Peter.

“It’s like Finding Nemo but instead of fish it was this guy looking for this girls-“

“I don’t even want to know.” You cut him off.

“Happy, you know Peter.” May reminded him. “You know he’ll stop at nothing to protect the people he cares about. She’s in good hands.”

“But why do they have to be his hands?” Happy pointed to Peter and sat back down. You squeezed Peters shoulder before going to sit down beside your dad.

“May is right. You knew I was gonna start dating eventually. And you also know that Peter is a great guy. You should be glad someone like him turned my head. He’s nice, responsible, smart, respectful, and loved by Uncle Tony. So come on, dad. Let me date my cousin.”

“But Tony asked me to look after him. And I don’t always so the best job. I try, but you know he won’t listen if he has his mind set on doing something. God forbid something had ever happened to him….” Happy trailed off and looked down at the ground.

“You’d be letting down the two most important people in your life.” May finished his sentence with a sad smile.

“Its hard for me to remember you’re not a little girl anymore. I thought I would have more time to prepare for this.” Happy admitted. “And I thought Tony would be here to help me. But you’re just growing up so fast. I can’t keep up.”

“We’re both growing up, dad. But we’re doing it together so it’s less scary.” You told him as you put your hands on his shoulders. Happy smiled fondly at you before looking over your shoulder at Peter.

“Do you really like him?” He asked you.

“I do. He listens to me. And he makes me smile.”

“Gross.” Happy gagged.

“Dad.” You whined. “Stop it.”

Happy sighed and looked up at everyone in the apartment. When his eyes landed on Peter, he got up and went over to him. Peter raised his fists in case Happy tried to attack him again, but Happy lowered them.

“Peter, you have my blessing to date my daughter.” Happy said sincerely.

“You have my blessing too.” May spoke up. “But I don’t love the whole cousin aspect.”

“Me either.” You agreed. “Please never get married so we’re never actually cousins.”

“We were never actually talking about marriage. May just said “Aw” during an allergy commercial that showed a wedding.” Happy admitted.

“So we’re good then? We can date without it being incestuous or forbidden?” Peter asked hopefully and wrapped an arm around you.

“I guess so. Just no PDA in front of me, okay? I don’t need to be reminded of this. Ever.” Happy asked and Peter immediately removed his arm.

“No problem, sir.” Peter replied.

“I’m glad that’s settled. Let’s get back to the family dinner.” You smiled and sat back in your seat. Everyone scrunched their face in disgust and you realized your mistake. Calling it a family dinner now that everyone knew you and Peter had kissed and nearly become cousins made everyone a little queasy.

“I, um, I apologize for my choice of words.”

Tag List 🏷️

@awesomebooklover17 @thebookwormlife @imanativeofswlondondahling

@tom-hollands-wifey @whatareyouhidingpeter @takenbyheartstrings @ultrunning

@imyourliquor-youremypoison @andreasworlsboring101 @peterparkoure

@justcallmehitgirl @jackiehollanderr @emmamarshmellow @unbelievableholland

@sovereignparker @every-marveler-ever @undiadeestos @eridanuswave​ ​

@solarxmoonchild @canyouevencauseicant

@quaksonhehe @lovelessdagger

@thesuitelifeofafangirl @marshxx @nooneinvitedfascistbarbie @maybemona

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 @officialsimppage e @peterbenjiparker @itsemohours

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@so-very-asleep @veryholland @white-wolf1940 @firwproof-blog

@nowayhomeparker @imobsessedzs @spideyspeaches

@spideyspeaches @hihiweezing

@mathletemadison  

[aventurineswife]

Okay, but how Jiaoqiu is going to be with someone who enjoys spicy food and is very VERY tolerant to it? Like, they have little to no reaction to the dishes where one bite is enough to cause even toughest to ask for water, meanwhile they just: "Hm... Not bad, could add more spice though." *Adds extra spice*

Spice Is the Soul of Life

Summary: While preparing a fiery stew of your own creation, you share an intimate and playful moment with Jiaoqiu. As the two of you challenge each other’s tolerance for heat, the shared experience sparks a deeper connection, revealing mutual admiration and kindling an unexpected bond.

Tags: Jiaoqiu x Reader, Cooking, Slow Burn Romance, Playful Banter, Spice Tolerance Challenge, Tender Moments, Found Family.

Warnings: Descriptions of spicy food and intense heat (potentially triggering for readers sensitive to food or spice-related content), Light suggestive undertones of romance.

A/N: this lowkey sounds like me ngl...🧍‍♀️

The aroma of freshly simmering chili paste wafted through the air as you stirred a bubbling pot of stew, the crimson liquid glistening ominously. It was a dish of your own creation, a concoction so fiery that even the most daring food connoisseurs would hesitate to try it. Yet, to you, it was comfort food, a beloved indulgence that reminded you of home.

Behind you, Jiaoqiu’s soft voice broke the silence. “That scent… Sichuan peppercorns, dried ghost peppers, and…” He tilted his head slightly, his fox ears twitching. “A hint of fermented chili bean paste, isn’t it? Quite the combination.”

You turned to see him standing in the doorway of your shared kitchen, leaning lightly against the wall. Despite his blindness, his eyes, half-hidden beneath his lashes, seemed to glow in the dim light. His presence was both calming and commanding, a blend of healer’s warmth and strategist’s precision.

“You caught all that just by smell?” you asked, impressed.

“Of course,” he replied with a soft chuckle. “A refined palate starts with a refined nose. Though I must admit, the intensity of your spices makes it quite easy to identify.” He tapped his chin lightly and made his way toward the counter, his movements fluid despite his lack of sight.

“You say that as if you couldn’t handle it,” you teased, placing a bowl of the stew before him.

Jiaoqiu’s lips curved into a sly smile as he took a seat. “I’m not one to back down from a culinary challenge, especially one involving spice. Let me be the judge of its ferocity.”

You raised an eyebrow, handing him a spoon. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

With a graceful motion, Jiaoqiu took a spoonful of the stew, blowing gently on it before tasting. For a moment, he paused, his expression unreadable. Then, a slow, satisfied grin spread across his face.

“Rich, layered, and delightfully numbing,” he murmured, savoring the heat that spread across his tongue. “You’ve outdone yourself.”

“Really?” you asked, surprised. “Most people would be scrambling for a glass of water by now.”

Jiaoqiu chuckled softly, his bushy tail swishing behind him. “Did you forget who you’re speaking to? I was raised in the Alchemy Commission. We specialize in potions that burn as they heal. My tolerance for spice is… considerable.”

Your eyes lit up with a mischievous glint. “Oh? In that case…” You reached for the jar of extra chili oil and added a generous dollop to his bowl. “Let’s see how considerable it really is.”

Jiaoqiu’s laughter was warm and unrestrained as he stirred the added spice into his stew. “You’re a bold one, aren’t you? Very well, I accept your challenge.”

As he took another bite, you watched closely, expecting even the slightest sign of discomfort. Instead, Jiaoqiu’s expression remained serene, though a faint flush rose to his cheeks.

“Hm,” he mused, setting his spoon down. “Not bad… but I think it could use a touch more Sichuan peppercorns to balance the bitterness of the ghost peppers.”

You stared at him in disbelief. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“I assure you, I’m not,” he replied, his tone light but sincere. “In fact…” He reached for the peppercorn jar and added a sprinkle to his bowl, stirring it with practiced ease. “There. Now it’s perfect.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head. “I guess I’ve met my match.”

Jiaoqiu smiled. “And I, mine. It’s rare to find someone who shares my appreciation for spice, let alone someone who can surpass me in resilience.” He paused, his expression softening. “It’s… refreshing.”

You felt warmth rise in your chest, one that had nothing to do with the spice. “Well, I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“It is,” he said simply, his voice carrying a sincerity that made your heart flutter.

The two of you continued to share the fiery stew, the spice creating a shared experience that seemed to burn away any barriers between you. In that moment, surrounded by the warmth of the kitchen and the heat of the dish, you felt a deeper connection forming—a bond as enduring and intense as the flames you both so loved.

As the evening wore on, Jiaoqiu leaned back with a contented sigh. “You know,” he said, his tone contemplative, “spice is much like life. It burns, it numbs, but it also awakens. Perhaps that’s why I’ve always been drawn to it.”

You nodded, understanding his sentiment. “And sometimes, the hotter it gets, the more alive you feel.”

He turned his head toward you. “Exactly. And with someone like you by my side… I think I’m ready to face whatever heat life throws at me.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, and you couldn’t help but smile. “Careful, Jiaoqiu. You might make me think you’re a romantic under all that wisdom.”

He chuckled, his laughter as warm and comforting as the stew you’d shared. “Perhaps I am. Or perhaps… I’ve simply found someone worth sharing my fire with.”

[inheritedbelly]

Exchange Agreement

Waking up in my uncle's body had always been an unpleasant experience, but the first time was a shock I’ll never forget. As soon as I opened my eyes, I was immediately greeted by a sight that made all the white hairs I now possessed stand on end. I blinked a few times to process that the enormous stomach of my uncle was now stuck where my once beautifully defined abs had been. It was there, sitting on me like a watermelon. It took a few seconds to grasp the reality, until I stumbled out of bed with difficulty. I was now heavy and bloated, struggling to move with the agility I once had.Still a bit dizzy, I followed the sound of what seemed to be my old voice shouting in my uncle's bathroom. As soon as I arrived, I saw my body feeling up my chest in disbelief, with an expression of curiosity. The moment our eyes met, the shock was mutual, and we stood there, wide-eyed, staring at each other.

After a few occasional swaps, we discovered that, for some inexplicable reason, we could switch bodies for 24 hours whenever either of us wanted, and for some reason, this only worked between the two of us. It was a full 24 hours. In the beginning, the swaps happened more often on my uncle's side, of course, since I didn’t like being a hairy, overweight man. He seemed to find the idea of being a handsome young guy like me fascinating, as if he had been given a temporary ticket back to youth.

Waking up occasionally in my uncle's body became a recurring nightmare. I remember moments when I would simply open my eyes after a nap, and there I was, lying in his bed in just his underwear, with my hand resting on his belly. It was disgusting.

The worst of all, of course, was going to the bathroom. Peeing with my uncle's body was terrible. Not to mention the bath. I never thought I would have to see this man naked so many times a day. As the exchanges only ended after 24 hours, I had to face many more intimate moments. I was once aroused by my uncle's body, it was so embarrassing... But what could I do? I think that so much friction between my flesh ended up making me hard. I confess that I have admired myself naked on my uncle's body in front of a mirror and I'm not proud of it... It was more out of curiosity than for other reasons

And his job… exhausting. I spent the entire day with his huge butt planted on a tractor, following the instructions he had given me. Even while sitting, that body sweated like it was running a marathon. There was no way to wear the same clothes two days in a row.

Over time, my uncle seemed to lose his enthusiasm. I think he realized how the swaps were affecting me and that my life wasn’t as glamorous as he had imagined. And honestly, I couldn’t stand being old anymore. Months passed, and I was never taken out of my body again, until a party was announced at my college, and my uncle, in one last burst of youthful curiosity, insisted it would be a good farewell to my body. He promised it would be the last swap, and it was… but not in the way I wanted. I gave in. I also needed a break from the loud college parties and decided to stay home, watching TV while stuffing myself with something.

The swap was done, and here I was again, in my uncle’s heavy body. I got out of bed, feeling the familiar weight press down on my legs as I sat up, letting out a long sigh. It had been so long that I’d almost forgotten the feeling. I went to the bathroom. "Hello again, big guy," I said to my reflection in the mirror, patting my belly with a hint of nostalgia that I didn’t like to admit. But as the day went on, I remembered all the reasons I hated being in this body.

When night finally came, I threw myself onto the bed, sighing heavily. I just wanted those 24 hours to end quickly. I was already anxious to return to my body, to my normal life, and never be this guy again. But then, just as I was falling asleep, a phone call woke me up. It was my dad, calling my uncle—meaning me. When I answered, I got the worst news of my life. There had been a car accident. My body, my real body, had died. The despair hit me like a punch in the gut. I was trapped, forever, in the body that had once been a temporary experience. Something that had even been fun for my uncle. Now, it was my new reality, my new life. My young body, my entire life, had been wasted. Now all I had was my uncle's body. The reflection in the mirror of someone who wasn’t me. But now it was the body I would have for the rest of my life.I felt the death of my oncle, but we mostly fougrt more than anything elso, and now, in a way, i was condemned to see his reflection forever and to adopt his life as my own. It was his name they would call me by from now on…

Years have passed since that fateful day, and here I am, living a life I never chose, but one that now seems to fit perfectly. I took on my uncle’s identity, and while I left my old job behind, I found a new home as a mechanic. I spend my days in a workshop, fixing motorcycles and cars, always with my belly sticking out, exposed to the heat and dirt. I learned to smoke and drink like my uncle, adopting his habits and even his way of speaking. The curious thing is that over time, I began to realize that those moments when I felt excited in his body were actually reflections of a deeper desire to be like him. Now, sitting in a plastic chair, waiting for a new customer, I rest my hand on my sweaty belly, a symbol of my new life. I can't deny that, strangely, it's not so bad after all. This body that once felt foreign to me is now part of me, and in a way, I've found a peace I never imagined I would have.

[consciouscarrot]

day 14 - first kisses [s.black]

sirius black x fem!reader

content warnings; fluff, r’s first kiss but not sirius’, kiss gets the teensiest bit heated at the end

notes; all likes, comments and reblogs are much appreciated <3 :)

kinktober/flufftober masterlist

—————

the two of you were walking back after your first date, having confessed your mutual love for each other just a few days ago, hearts pounding in fear of rejection, and then in awe that you felt the same way. the date had consisted of spending the afternoon trailing around the shops in hogsmeade, before he’d bought you both a couple of butter beers at the three broomsticks, sitting together on one side of a booth with your thighs pressed tightly together.

now, you were walking back to the castle, wanting to make it back in time for dinner. the glittering snow crunched under your boots, breathing in the crisp air as a group of your classmates passed by. you and sirius were taking your time getting back, walking leisurely to try and make the date last a tiny bit longer, desperate for it to never end.

he’d intertwined your fingers early on in the date, craving the casual intimacy and wanting to break the ice a little. he’d barely let go of them all day, only reluctantly letting go when the aisles in a shop had been too narrow, and even then he’d complained dramatically about his hands freezing off without your warmth.

your gloved hands were now swinging between you, fingers clasped together, him occasionally using them to pull your body closer to his.

sneaking a quick look at him, you watched him as you walked, half listening to him talk about how he’d accidentally lobbed a book at a first year’s head the other day, when it had been intended for james’ “fat skull”.

his black curls were bound in a loose bun, thick strands falling from its tie, framing his sharp features, his pale skin smooth, nose slightly pink with cold. you thought to yourself that he somehow got prettier and prettier everyday, and you were still in slight disbelief that he liked you so much.

eventually getting back to the castle, you stepped through the fat lady’s portrait, the heat from the common room fireplace hitting you all at once, turning your once shivering form into a sweltering mess with all the thick clothing.

you scrambled to take off you coat, sirius copying your actions, leaving you in just your t-shirt and jeans. he took your coat from you, ignoring your protesting, slinging both of yours over his arm before reaching for your hand again.

you clung to him as you walked up the steps to the dorms, the hand not in his clutching at his bicep, nails softly digging into his skin.

you stopped outside your dorm, turning on your heels to face him. you were unsure on what happened now, hoping that he’d chose to kiss you, but not positive that he’d want that just yet.

he was closer than you’d expected him to be, cheeks heating as you wracked your brains for what to say, hoping that the little “hi,” you settle for isn’t too weird.

you’re instantly comforted by his warm chuckle, followed by his own, “hi, trouble. c’mere.”

you were tugged into him, lean arms surrounding you in a long hug, eyes fluttering shut in tranquility.

missing your face, he let go to admire you, the lavender eyeshadow you’d picked out enhancing your eye colour perfectly.

you paused, noting him watching you, panicking that you’d done something wrong, and he’d finally began to found you annoying.

“what?” you asked nervously, chewing the inside of your cheek.

he went to tell you ‘nothing’, his brain hardwired to refuse any kind of vulnerability, but saw the insecurity written on your face, evidently thinking some sort of awful, self-conscious thing about yourself, and instead decided to push himself, knowing you needed it.

“you’re just so pretty,”

relief flooded you, happy that he was still more than tolerating you, but cheeks heating as you quietly whined his name, staring at the ground to hide from his stare.

he ducked his head down, following your gaze and rubbed your arms, feeling your silken skin, fingertips dipping under the short sleeves of your t-shirt.

your hands rested against his chest, fingers subconsciously fisting the material there in order to keep him close.

“siri,” you whispered his name again, leaning in to him a little more.

his hands grasped your hot cheeks, gently tilting your head up to look at him, his face almost touching yours.

“i really wanna kiss you, puppy,”

“i don’t know how to,”

“it’s okay, i’ll show you,”

“yeah?”

“yeah,”

he finally closed to gap between you, rosy lips pressing against yours, soft pecks turning into long kisses, your mouth clumsily trying to follow his movements.

he smiled into you at your eagerness, whispers of gentle encouragement for you to slow down and enjoy it, before swiping his tongue over your bottom lip, flicking it against yours when you gasped at the new sensation.

you tried your best to match his rhythm, but eventually relaxed into it and let it happen, the feeling of his hands on you calming you immensely.

it was all so innocent, and although your movements were a little clumsy, it was his favourite kiss by far. he could spend forever like this, and wished that he’d done it sooner, even if he knows that you needed the proper build up.

pulling back for air, you giggled as he trailed little kisses all over your face, lips making their way over your cheeks, up to your forehead and hairline, down to your chin and jaw.

setlling, he tilted his head to the side, nose pressing into your flushed cheek with one last kiss, chest still pressed to yours.

you brought your hands further up his body, toying with the loose strands of his hair, velvety wisps sliding through your fingers. you focused all of your energy on maintaining eye contact, trying and failing to not fluster under the intensity.

his focus flitted over your glossy lips, his spit pooling slightly in the corners of your mouth. you made a keening noise when he wiped it away, still a little dazed from the kiss.

“y’okay, baby?” he asked, fingers tracing over the slope of your nose, gliding down as you shivered and nodded. he thought his heart might explode with the way your wide eyes looked up at him, so saccharine and full of love.

“‘nother one, pretty please,”

“oh no! i’ve corrupted you, you’ve turned into a scoundrel!”

you shriek when he rubs his nose into your neck, giggling as his dark hair tickled the exposed skin, licking there just to tease you further.

he was ecstatic that you’d had the confidence to ask though, so he quickly indulged you, kissing you with a little more tongue than before. your breaths quickened, chest heaving with the effort as his hands began to slide down over your body, settling at your waist to pull you right into him.

sirius walked you backwards, seemingly wanting to press you into the door, but you gasped as you began to fall, door apparently not shut properly.

he caught you, wrapping his arms around you and making sure you were alright, brow furrowing with worry.

but, the sound of your roommates giggling interrupted him, making you flush again and bury your face in sirius’ chest, whining pitifully, and only made worse by his chest vibrating under you as he tried to hold back his own laughter.

[writerofsorts]

Back to Rosewood

(image creds: to the owner)

pairing: jason dilaurentis x female reader.

summary: 2x02 "the goodbye look" episode imagine/rewrite.

warnings: mentions of murder.

*read previous part here!

—————

Night had fallen upon the town of Rosewood and [Y/N] found herself in the safety of her bedroom in her home. She was seated at her desk, trying to finish up her homework. However, the work laid open in front of her, unfinished as she found herself constantly getting distracted by the events of the past few months. 

She had never once imagined that Ian’s death would bring up so much trouble for her friends and herself. The entire town seemed to believe the girls were liars, not believing their words of Ian being Alison’s killer. On top of that, she and her friends were still dealing with A along with therapy. 

[Y/N] groaned and buried her face in her hands, thinking about the meeting with the therapist, Dr. Sullivan, earlier that day. She and the girls were close to telling the doctor about their cyber bully, and [Y/N] had to admit that it felt good. 

But, as always, A was one step ahead and was successful in keeping the girls quiet. [Y/N] knew Dr. Sullivan must think she and her friends were crazy indeed by the way they had acted. 

A knock on her door made her look up at the doorway and her parents along with her brother stood there with small smiles on their faces.

“You busy, kiddo?” her father, James, spoke first. 

“Uh, no, not really,” [Y/N] shook her head, closing her books and pushing them away. “Come on in.”

Her parents entered the room first and sat on her bed while she turned in her chair so that she sat facing them. Her brother, Sid, came to stand next to her and perched at the edge of her desk, playfully messing up her hair. She gave him a playful glare before laughing when he stuck his tongue out at her. 

The parents took a moment to admire their kids and the beautiful bond they shared. Reality hit them the next moment and they looked at each other sadly, knowing what they were about to ask next was going to take their daughter’s smile away, even if it would be temporary. 

“So, sweetheart,” Leslie began, clearing her throat. “Your father and I just got off the phone with your therapist a few minutes ago.”

Just as they had expected, the playfulness in [Y/N] faded as her expression turned serious.

“Oh,” she replied softly after a few moments. “Uh, yes, today was not a good day.” 

“She didn’t tell us exactly what happened,” James spoke next. “However, she did tell us that she doesn’t think it would be helpful to continue seeing you girls as a group.” 

“So, she wants us to come in for individual sessions?” asked [Y/N], thinking that shouldn’t be too terrible. 

“Well, yes,” her father continued after sharing a glance with her mother. “Also, based on your sessions, she’s making a recommendation.” 

“Which I’m not a fan of,” her brother added to the conversation for the first time. 

“W-what recommendation?” [Y/N] asked. Her worry grew with her brother’s words and she looked at him once before turning towards her parents again.

“Dr. Sullivan doesn’t think you girls are capable of maintaining a healthy friendship at the moment,” Leslie explained with sympathy lacing her voice. “So, she’s recommending that you girls spend some time apart.”

“Are you saying that I can’t see or talk to my friends?” [Y/N] asked in disbelief.

“This is not forever, honey,” James replied quickly. 

“I don’t understand what the shrink is trying to do here by splitting up [y/n/n] and the girls,” Sid commented. “They’ve been through so much. And, now with everything that’s happened with Ian, separating them is a terrible idea!” 

“I know, son,” sighed James. “The other parents and we talked. We all mutually agreed that Dr. Sullivan’s suggestion might be for the best.” 

“Unbelievable,” Sid muttered with a shake of his head. 

“[Y/N], sweetheart, say something,” Leslie said softly. 

“I- I don’t know what to say,” [Y/N] replied with a shrug. “It looks like you guys have already decided.” 

“It’s just temporary, we promise,” her mother answered apologetically. 

[Y/N] dropped her gaze to the floor. She wanted to be upset and throw a tantrum, but that was not her. At the same time, she knew without a doubt that she and her friends would not just stop hanging out.

Even with this new restriction from their parents, [Y/N] was sure that she and the girls would find a way to connect and deal with the fallout from Ian’s death as well as the threat of A. They had to. 

“I understand,” she said, looking back up at her parents with a light smile. 

Her parents gave her a hug and thanked her for being understanding before leaving her room. Her brother, however, hung back with a suspicious look in his eyes. 

“What?” [Y/N] asked, crossing her arms across her chest. 

Her brother didn’t reply and waited until he was sure their parents were downstairs and out of earshot. 

“You and your friends are not gonna listen, are you?” he asked quietly, his lips curled in a smirk, and [Y/N] sighed. 

“Look, I feel bad, but we can’t just not hang out,” she answered softly. “There’s a lot going on and we need each other.” 

“Hey, it’s going to be okay,” Sid's playfulness disappeared and he moved to hug her, not liking the fact that his little sister was under a lot of stress. “I’m on your side in all of this. If you need anything, I’m right here.” 

“I know,” she said, hugging him back. “Thank you.” 

“Just be smart in sneaking around, though,” he teased, pulling back from the hug and ruffling her hair. 

“For sure,” [Y/N] chuckled, nodding in agreement. 

…

Later that night, [Y/N] was woken up by the vibration of her cellphone on the nightstand. She grabbed the phone to see a text message from Spencer: ‘S.O.S.’ 

[Y/N] quietly made her way down the stairs to grab her coat and sneakers. Just as she finished wearing her coat, her phone vibrated yet again and she checked it to see a text from Hanna this time: ‘I’m waiting in your backyard.’ 

[Y/N] loved that she and Hanna were not only the best friends but neighbors as well. That was how they became close, anyway. Still when it came to sneaking out at night to meet up with her friends, she wasn’t a big fan as she didn’t like the dark. But with Hanna, it was easier and she didn’t feel as scared. 

She hurriedly wore her shoes and slipped out of her house through the backdoor to see Hanna waving at her while her other hand was buried in her coat pocket. 

“Can’t believe Dr. Sullivan thought she could keep us apart from each other,” Hanna scoffed when [Y/N] reached her. “You can’t tell a lot about a person by their shoes, after all.” 

“We’ll talk about it later,” [Y/N] said, half amused as she dragged Hanna with her. “Now, let’s go.”

The night was dark and chilly as the two friends made their way towards the greenhouse where Spencer had told the girls that she would be waiting. 

When [Y/N] and Hanna reached the greenhouse, Aria and Emily were already there with Spencer. The five girls huddled closer together and Spencer began to explain about why she had messaged them all so late. 

“Anyone could’ve sent that, Spence,” Aria was the first to speak after Spencer showed the girls a text that Melissa had received from an unknown number. 

“Yeah, it could be some jerk trying to mess with Melissa,” Hanna added. 

“Maybe, but it doesn’t seem random,” Spencer sighed, looking down at the message again and reading it. “It’s not safe. I can’t tell you.” 

“I can’t tell you what?” Emily asked, her brows furrowed in thought. 

“Wherever he is,” Spencer said, sounding confident. 

“Spence, Ian is dead,” [Y/N] spoke, wrapping her arms around herself. The thought of Ian being alive made her feel uneasy. “I mean, we all saw him, didn’t we?” 

“True,” Hanna said, touching [Y/N]’s forearm over her coat. “But, there’s only one way to know if its Ian texting Melissa or not.” 

The other girls looked at Hanna curiously as she looked at Spencer with determined eyes. 

“Answer him, Spence. Ask him something that only Ian would know.” 

Spencer nodded before typing, ‘how do I know this is you?’ 

‘Ask me anything,’ came the reply almost immediately from the unknown number. 

“I know,” Spencer whispered to herself before her fingers flew over the phone’s keyboard. “What are we naming our baby?” 

“What’s the baby’s name?” [Y/N] asked once Spencer finished typing. 

“Taylor,” Spencer replied just as the phone in her hand buzzed. She took in a deep breath before looking at the phone only to gasp out loud the next second. With wide eyes, she showed the phone screen to her friends who all showed similar expressions. 

‘Taylor,’ the text read.

“It is him,” Hanna whispered in disbelief. 

“Oh my god,” Emily said just as [Y/N] spoke, “Ian is alive.” 

As if the girls weren’t already terrified, the wind outside suddenly picked up and the greenhouse’s doors started to slam over and over again. 

“Did things just get incredibly worse?” Aria asked, trying to speak louder over the sound of the wind. 

“I don’t believe this,” Emily said, shaking her head. “Ian’s dead.” 

“Zombies don’t text, Emily,” Hanna said sarcastically. “He is alive somewhere.” 

“Spence?” [Y/N] called when the girl in question remained silent for a long time. 

“I have to get this phone home before Melissa notices that it’s gone,” Spencer said, her lips almost trembling. 

“Okay and then what?” Hanna questioned as the wind continued to blow rather wildly outside. “What do we do about this information?” 

“Do we tell the cops?” Aria asked, shivering a little. 

“That’s not a good idea,” [Y/N] answered. “Telling the cops never works out well for us.” 

“True,” Emily sighed in defeat. 

“Why is Ian texting Melissa anyway?” Aria asked but before Spencer could answer, Hanna added, “And, why is Melissa answering him?” 

“Is she?” asked Emily, skeptic. “I mean, we don’t know how long this has been going on.”

“Spence, you’ve got to find out what Ian told Melissa,” Aria said to the stressed-out girl. “You are the only one who can find out what he wants.” 

“And, where he is,” Hanna commented. 

The slamming of the door got louder than before and suddenly rocks started to fall off the roof, causing the girls to panic further. 

“Let’s get out of here,” [Y/N] spoke, grabbing Hanna and Aria’s hands, who were standing next to her, and dragging them towards the exit. Emily and Spencer weren’t far behind. 

Once they got to a safe distance from the greenhouse, things were strangely quiet except for the soft chirping of crickets. They walked down to Spencer’s house which was closer. 

“Let’s just finish this at school,” Hanna spoke first. “I’m cold, damp, and scared. We could talk at school.” 

“We can’t talk at school, remember?” [Y/N] asked once they stopped near Spencer’s house.

“Yeah, the five of us are supposed to have separate time,” Aria said in disappointment. 

“Doctor’s orders,” Emily said with a roll of her eyes. 

“So, what are we supposed to do?” scoffed Hanna. “Not talk to each other when we’re all literally in the same classes?” 

“We just have to play it cool,” Spencer said calmly even though she was anything but after everything that happened. 

Before the girls could talk further, a loud noise interrupted them. They turned in the direction of the noise and were surprised to see a familiar face outside the DiLaurentis house. 

“It’s Jason,” Spencer whispered, surprised. 

[Y/N], meanwhile, froze in her spot. The last time she had seen Jason was several months ago when he visited her at the hospital after A hit her with their car. 

Even though it was dark, she could still make out his appearance and she was taken aback a little by what she saw. The last time he was in Rosewood, he seemed… put-together, for the lack of a better word. He wore suits and had his hair done nicely, not one strand out of place. 

Seeing him now, however, reminded her of the old Jason. His hair had grown a little and fell over his forehead as he bent down. He was wearing a fitted Henley shirt that hugged his muscles with denim jeans. He definitely looked good and she had to try her best to not blush at her own thoughts, especially in front of her friends. 

Hanna slowly slipped her arm around [Y/N]’s, pulling the latter out of her thoughts. 

‘Did you know he was back?’ Hanna mouthed and [Y/N] shook her head in denial. 

“Did he move back in?” Hanna asked, clearing her throat lightly. 

“Looks like it?” Aria said, sounding unsure just like the rest of them. 

“What is all that?” Spencer asked in confusion as she and her friends watched Jason throw away a bunch of things into the dumpster. 

“That looks like all the stuff people left on their curb when Ali went missing,” Aria said. 

“Maya said her family kept those things when they moved in,” Emily added. “They didn’t have the heart to throw them out.”

“Apparently, Jason’s moved on,” Spencer said with sarcasm and [Y/N] frowned at the brunette’s tone. 

“What is he doing in that house anyway?” asked Aria. 

“You know what? We’ve already got a lot on our plates,” Hanna said, trying to shift the conversation away from Jason. “Let’s just go home.” 

“Han’s right,” [Y/N] said, grateful for Hanna’s interference. “See you guys at school tomorrow.” 

The other girls agreed and said their goodbyes before splitting up. 

“[y/n/n], did you know Jason was coming back?” Hanna asked again when it was just herself and [Y/N]. 

“No, I didn’t,” [Y/N] replied. “The last time I saw him was at the hospital. I remember he said he would be coming back but he didn’t exactly keep me updated. I mean, he didn’t have to.” 

The girls soon reached [Y/N]’s backyard and paused in front of the door. 

“Do you think he’s moved back for good?” Hanna asked softly. 

“I don’t know,” [Y/N] shook her head. “But, why would he, though? It’s not like there’s anything here for him, is there?” 

“You never know,” Hanna replied softly. 

[Y/N] smiled a little at her best friend; the fact that Hanna was so hopeful regarding her and Jason touched her. 

“Go get some sleep, Han,” [Y/N] said, playfully pushing the blonde in the direction of her house. 

“You’re no fun,” Hanna pouted, walking backwards. 

“Good night, Hanna banana,” [Y/N] laughed, opening the backdoor quietly. 

“Good night, [y/n/n],” Hanna said back before the two girls entered their homes at the same time to get some sleep. 

…

“Wait, so Jason doesn’t believe that Ian killed Ali?” [Y/N] asked in a whisper, glancing at the closed door of her bedroom once. 

The next evening, [Y/N] was in her bedroom, scrolling through her twitter feed when she received a call from Spencer. The younger Hastings had gone to welcome Jason back to town – in other words, she had gone to spy on him – and it hadn’t gone so well. After returning home, [Y/N] was the first person Spencer had called to share how her conversation with Jason went. 

“I mean, I think so?” Spencer replied in a whisper as well and [Y/N] could feel the frustration in her friend’s voice. “He asked me if Ian said the words I killed Ali and I told him he didn’t, but that’s what it seemed like and he got all snippy about it!”

Spencer huffed out a breath and [Y/N] bit her lip in thought. 

“Do you think he’s in denial?” Spencer asked, continuing their chat quietly. “He and Ian were besties. He probably doesn’t want to accept that his best friend killed his little sister?” 

“I’m not sure, Spence,” replied [Y/N]. “Even if they were best friends, Jason can’t just look past the fact that Ian killed Ali.” 

“That’s what I’m saying!” Spencer agreed. “Hey, do you remember that one day Ali and Jason were fighting?” 

“You have to be a bit more specific because all they did was fight around us,” [Y/N] said, mild amusement lacing her voice and Spencer scoffed out a laugh. 

“I’m talking about the time Jason was mad at Ali for going to his room and messing with his stuff?” Spencer recalled and [Y/N] found herself nodding at the memory. 

“I do,” she said. “That’s when Ali made that comment about things being hidden until she wants them found, right?” 

“Yes!” Spencer exclaimed, trying her hardest to keep her voice quiet. 

“But, why are we suddenly talking about the past?” [Y/N] asked, confused. 

“I- I had a thought,” Spencer said, her words coming out slowly which worried [Y/N]. 

“What is it?” 

“Jason used to be so aggressive, [y/n/n]. Do you think he-” 

“Spence, don’t go there,” [Y/N] interrupted quickly. 

“You didn’t let me finish!” argued Spencer. 

“You were going to suggest Jason had something to do with Ali’s murder,” [Y/N] said, not liking the words that left her mouth. Spencer’s brief silence on the other end was all the answer [Y/N] needed to know that she was right. “Where’d you get the idea that Jason could be an accomplice in Ali’s murder?” 

“I don’t know what else to think,” Spencer admitted quietly. “He’s suddenly back in town and doesn’t believe Ian killed his sister.” 

“Don’t do this, Spence,” [Y/N] advised softly. “We’ve already got zombie Ian and A on our hands. Let’s not add Jason into the mix.” 

“I guess so,” sighed Spencer. “I’m sorry.” 

“No, don’t be,” [Y/N] replied. “I understand we’re all kind of on the edge right now. But, let’s not overthink. For now, at least.”

“I’ll try,” Spencer sighed again, dramatically this time, causing [Y/N] to chuckle. 

“Hey, I should go now,” said [Y/N]. “I’ve been in my room for a while now. I should make an attendance downstairs for dinner.”

“Yeah, of course,” Spencer laughed. “See you in school tomorrow?” 

“Definitely,” [Y/N] responded. “Good night, Spence.”

“Good night, [y/n/n],” Spencer replied before hanging up.

...

The girls were sneaking out yet again in the middle of the night. [Y/N] was starting to dislike Dr. Sullivan because she hated that greenhouse with a passion. It was creepy, to say the least, but she and her friends had no other choice. 

“It was in the pocket of her coat,” Spencer said, showing her friends pictures of Melissa’s ultrasound. “Her coat was wet and so were her boots.” 

“She lied to you about going out?” [Y/N] asked. 

“I don’t think she went far,” replied Spencer. “I checked the driveway and it was dry under her car so I don’t think she drove anywhere.” 

“Who would she want to show these to?” Aria asked, handing the ultrasound pictures back to Spencer. 

“I can only think of one person,” Hanna said with a roll of her eyes. 

“Ian,” Emily said, letting out a deep breath. “Spencer, if you’re saying she didn’t drive anywhere to see him, then that means he must be close.”

“Han, you were right,” Spencer said. “This is the worst time to be splitting up. We have to stick together.” 

“Exactly, no matter how much lying it takes,” Hanna nodded. 

“If only all of our parents were like my brother,” [Y/N] sighed. 

“Can we switch siblings?” Spencer pouted at [Y/N], who instantly shook her head. 

“Absolutely not,” [Y/N]’s instant reply was met with light laughter from her friends and they all cherished it. It had been a while since they’ve had the chance to be normal teenagers and to just have fun. 

“Let’s get out of here,” Aria said after a while and the girls agreed before walking out of the greenhouse. 

They were passing by the DiLaurentis house again when Emily suddenly stopped in her steps, causing the other girls to do the same.

“What is that?” she asked, looking at what appeared to be garden supplies laying on the front yard of the house. 

Before they could inspect further, a bright flashlight shone in their faces and they held their hands in front of their eyes. 

“Jason?” Spencer asked first, squinting at the taller man and he finally lowered the flashlight. 

“Oh, it’s you,” he said after he noticed the familiar girls in front of him. 

“Yeah, it’s only us,” Aria answered with an awkward smile. 

He turned off the flashlight and when he looked up, his gaze fell on [Y/N].

“Hey, are you better now?” he asked her, his voice softening. “I haven’t seen you since the accident.” 

“Oh, uh, yes, I’m better now. Thank you,” [Y/N] replied, smiling lightly at him. She felt nervous with his attention on her. It also didn’t help that she could feel the curious eyes of Aria, Emily, and Spencer on her as well. Except for Hanna, the other girls didn't know about Jason visiting her at the hospital. 

“So, what have you been up to?” Hanna asked Jason casually, shifting the attention away from [Y/N] for which the latter was grateful for. 

“I’ve been replanting all day,” Jason replied. “I’m putting up a fence as well.” 

“A fence? Why?” Spencer asked – her eyes and voice were obvious of her suspicion of Jason. 

“Privacy, security,” Jason answered, his voice turning a little rough. “There’s a lot of curious creeps in the world and one way or another, people are gonna mind their own business.”

The girls looked at each other subtly, feeling a little uneasy with Jason’s piercing eyes shifting between them. 

“You girls better go home,” he said before turning to walk back into his house. 

The girls walked a little further away and stopped by the side of the road again when they heard the sound of Jason shutting the door. 

“[y/n/n], you didn’t tell us Jason visited you,” Spencer shot instantly.

“I didn’t think it was important,” [Y/N] replied, shrugging a little. 

“But, why did he visit you?” Aria asked, frowning in confusion. 

“He was probably being nice, Aria,” Hanna answered before [Y/N] could. “And, yes, I know that he visited [y/n/n], because I ran into him there.” 

[Y/N] looked at Hanna at the blonde’s easy lie. Hanna didn’t meet Jason at the hospital; [Y/N] had told Hanna about Jason visiting her with some get well soon gifts. Since Hanna was already aware of her feelings towards Jason, she was the only person [Y/N] felt comfortable sharing about his unexpected visit with. 

“Look, he probably visited me, because he felt obligated to since he worked on Ali’s memorial with us,” [Y/N] said, hoping to move past this topic. 

“That makes sense,” Emily said calmly after a few moments, which caused Aria and Spencer to loosen up a little as well. “And, am I the only one thinking who is Jason trying to keep out with that fence?” 

“Keep out or keep in?” Spencer asked back, and [Y/N] could tell the former still believed that Jason was helping Ian hide and had some part in killing Ali. 

“Look, it’s too late to be doing this,” Hanna said. Similar to [Y/N], Hanna had an idea of where Spencer might be going with this and she was exhausted to be working on any more mysteries for the night. “Let’s just do this at school tomorrow or whatever.” 

[Y/N] internally sighed in relief when the other girls agreed with Hanna and parted ways, making their ways towards their houses. 

“Thanks for the rescue back there,” [Y/N] told Hanna once it was just the two of them. 

“Anytime, [y/n/n],” Hanna grinned, looping her arm around [Y/N]’s, making the latter chuckle. 

The two made their ways towards their homes in comfortable silence, hoping to get some rest before facing the stressful days ahead.

—————

[dark-l-angel]

Jason with a reader that's also a vigilante, how does training look like? Patrolling? Imagine reader being better than him in a specific area

Why not? Sounds like a creative idea to make this as if they started working together lately.

Training & working out

Jason todd x vigilante!reader

Training sessions with Jason Todd were always intense—a flurry of punches, kicks, and strategic maneuvers that left you both exhilarated and exhausted by the end of each session. As vigilantes, you and Jason operated on different wavelengths, each bringing unique skills to the table.

Jason, with his background as the Red Hood, was skilled in hand-to-hand combat and firearms. His training sessions were rigorous, focused on precision and aggression, traits that defined his vigilante persona.

You, on the other hand, excelled in stealth and agility. Your movements were fluid, almost dance-like as you navigated through obstacles and shadows with ease. Jason admired your ability to blend into darkness, to anticipate your opponent's moves before they even made them.

In the dimly lit warehouse that served as your training ground, Jason watched you silently from the sidelines as you practiced your stealth techniques. He had to admit, you were better at it than he was—your steps were lighter, your breathing controlled, every movement purposeful and efficient.

"Nice form," he finally remarked, breaking the silence as you emerged from the shadows.

You flashed him a small smile, a mix of pride and satisfaction at his approval. "Thanks, Jay. Your turn."

He nodded, stepping forward to demonstrate a disarmament technique. You observed closely, noting his fluidity in motion despite the controlled aggression he always exhibited. You mimicked his movements, adjusting your stance slightly as you tried to match his precision.

As the training session progressed, a comfortable rhythm developed between you—a silent understanding born from countless hours spent honing your skills together. Jason found himself drawn to your dedication and determination, the way you pushed yourself to excel in every aspect of vigilante life.

One evening, after a particularly grueling session, you both sat on the rooftop overlooking Gotham City. The city skyline twinkled with distant lights, a stark contrast to the darkness that shrouded the streets below.

"You know," Jason began, his voice quiet yet earnest, "you're really something, you know that?"

You turned to him, eyebrow raised in curiosity. "What do you mean?"

He hesitated for a moment, choosing his words carefully. "I mean... you're not just good at this," he gestured vaguely to the city around you, "you're really good. Better than me in some ways."

You chuckled softly, a hint of disbelief in your voice. "I don't know about that, Jason. You've got your strengths too."

He shook his head, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "No, seriously. Without mentioning your stealth and all of your abilities... everything about you is impressive. I've never seen anyone like you before"

A warmth spread through your chest at his praise, unexpected yet deeply appreciated. You met his gaze, seeing a vulnerability in his eyes that mirrored your own. In that moment, the barriers between mentor and mentee softened, replaced by a shared understanding and respect for each other.

As the night wore on, you patrolled Gotham together, the weight of your shared silence speaking volumes. The bond between you deepened with each shared rooftop, each shadowed alleyway traversed side by side.

In the quiet moments between patrols, you caught glimpses of Jason's softer side—his concern for your well-being, his unwavering loyalty to those he cared about. And as you navigated the complexities of vigilante life together, you realized that perhaps there was more than just mutual respect between you and Jason Todd.

In the heart of Gotham's relentless darkness, amidst the echoes of sirens and the distant wails of the city, you found yourself catching feelings too—a quiet realization that began with shared training sessions and grew into something deeper, something that bloomed amidst the chaos of their shared world.

☆ i hope you like it ☆

[brainddeadd]

the main boys seeing baby devin and matt together for the first time and they can admit it’s obvious his in love the two are and how sweet matt is too her

Realisations

It was supposed to be a low-key evening. Y/N and Matt had slipped out for a quiet dinner, hoping for a break from the usual chaos of the season. They’d found a cozy little spot tucked away downtown, one where Matt could hold her hand across the table and give her those soft, lingering looks he reserved only for her. With the low hum of conversation around them, they felt perfectly hidden, lost in each other’s company.

But little did they know, a few booths down, Jack, Nico, Luke, and Dawson had also picked the same spot for their post-practice dinner. They were mid-conversation when Jack’s gaze drifted over, landing squarely on Y/N. He froze, jaw going slack as he took in the scene unfolding across the room.

“Is that… Y/N?” he whispered, nudging Nico, who turned to look, eyebrows shooting up as he saw their teammate with Matt, a soft smile gracing her lips as she leaned in close, her hand still intertwined with his on the table. Dawson and Luke quickly followed suit, craning their necks to see.

"Well, I'll be damned," Dawson murmured, unable to hide his surprise—or his grin.

The boys watched, trying to keep their reactions low-key, as Matt gently tucked a loose strand of hair behind Y/N's ear. He was looking at her with a softness that none of them had ever seen in him, as if she was the only person in the room, or the world, that mattered. And judging by the way she smiled back at him, eyes sparkling, the feeling was mutual.

“Do you see the way he’s looking at her?” Luke whispered, a mix of surprise and admiration in his tone. “Like, that’s serious.”

“Yeah,” Nico agreed, folding his arms as he took in the scene. “That’s not just a casual thing…he’s head over heels.”

Jack shook his head, both in disbelief and amusement. “When did this happen?”

They all exchanged glances, realizing that they’d somehow missed the fact that their ‘little sister’ was wrapped up in what looked like the start of something deep and lasting. It was strange, seeing Y/N like this. She was always one of them—someone they teased, protected, looked out for like family. But now, watching her with Matt, they could admit that there was something incredibly sweet, even tender, in the way he treated her.

Matt leaned forward, saying something soft that made Y/N laugh, her face lighting up in a way that was rare off the ice. He smiled, eyes lingering on her, a hand resting gently on her arm. There was a quiet confidence in the way he was with her, a gentleness that none of them had seen him show with anyone else.

“Alright,” Dawson murmured, breaking the silence. “I’ll admit, I’ve never seen her like that… and he’s clearly treating her right.”

Jack nodded, half-impressed, half-bewildered. “Honestly, I think he’s in love with her.”

“It’s obvious,” Nico agreed, eyes still on them. "And she looks pretty damn happy."

“Alright, let’s let them be,” Nico finally said, his voice low but laced with a grin. “But I say we give her hell for this later. We’ve been sparing them too much.”

They all chuckled, knowing full well they’d bring it up when Y/N least expected it. But as they walked away, a warm pride settled over them. They were her team, her family, and seeing her like this—with someone who clearly adored her, who treated her with such care—was something they could all admit was worth letting go of a little protective edge.

“She’s got herself a good one,” Jack said quietly, a rare softness in his tone.

Dawson clapped him on the shoulder, nodding. “Yeah, she really does.”

[geotjwrs]

Can I request a platonic Jenna x male reader where r is a writer and like one of his screenplays like gets picked up and Jenna stars in it and they both realise each other are incvled in project and just a sweet look into their friendship?

invisible string

Pairings ; Jenna Ortega x Male!Reader

Warning/s ; none

Y/N had always dreamt of becoming a screenwriter. From the days spent scribbling stories in his worn-out notebooks to the nights staying up late typing away on his laptop, he poured his heart and soul into every word. It was his passion, his escape, and now, finally, it seemed to be paying off. One of his screenplays had been picked up by a major production company. The excitement was overwhelming, but nothing prepared him for the shock of finding out who would be starring in his film: Jenna Ortega.

Jenna and Y/N had met a few years back at a film festival. They had hit it off immediately, bonding over their mutual love for cinema and storytelling. Despite their busy schedules, they had kept in touch, exchanging messages and occasionally catching up over coffee whenever they found themselves in the same city. Their friendship was a comforting constant in Y/N's ever-changing life.

When Y/N received the news, he couldn't believe his luck. He was both thrilled and nervous about the project, especially with Jenna being involved. He knew how talented she was, and having her bring his words to life was an incredible honor.

The first day on set was a whirlwind of activity. Crew members buzzed around, setting up equipment, adjusting lighting, and preparing for the day's shoot. Y/N arrived early, wanting to soak in every moment of this experience. As he walked onto the set, he spotted Jenna talking to the director. She looked radiant, her enthusiasm contagious as she animatedly discussed her character.

"Y/N!" Jenna called out, her face lighting up with a bright smile as she saw him.

"Jenna!" Y/N replied, grinning as he walked over to her.

They hugged tightly, both of them laughing with excitement. "I can't believe you're here!" Jenna exclaimed, her eyes sparkling. "When they told me about the project, I had no idea it was your screenplay. This is amazing!"

"I know, right? It's like a dream come true," Y/N said, shaking his head in disbelief. "I can't wait to see you bring the character to life."

"Well, I promise to do your words justice," Jenna said, her tone sincere. "Your script is incredible, Y/N. It's one of the best I've read in a long time."

"Thank you, Jenna. That means a lot coming from you," Y/N replied, feeling a warm sense of pride.

As the days turned into weeks, Y/N spent a lot of time on set, observing and learning. He was amazed at how Jenna immersed herself in her role, bringing depth and nuance to the character he had created. They often found themselves discussing scenes, bouncing ideas off each other, and refining the dialogue.

Their friendship deepened during this time, built on mutual respect and admiration. They shared countless moments of laughter, inside jokes, and even some late-night brainstorming sessions when inspiration struck. Jenna's dedication and talent inspired Y/N, and he felt grateful to have her as both a friend and a collaborator.

One evening, after a long day of shooting, Y/N and Jenna found themselves sitting on the steps of her trailer, sipping coffee and enjoying the cool breeze. The set was quiet, most of the crew having left for the day.

"You know," Jenna said, breaking the comfortable silence, "I'm really proud of you, Y/N. You've come a long way since we first met."

Y/N smiled, looking down at his coffee cup. "Thanks, Jenna. I couldn't have done it without your support."

Jenna nudged him playfully. "Don't sell yourself short. You've got talent, and you work hard. You deserve all the success that's coming your way."

"Well, it helps to have amazing friends like you," Y/N said, meeting her gaze.

They sat there for a while, enjoying each other's company and the sense of accomplishment that came with seeing their hard work come to fruition.

As the filming progressed, Y/N and Jenna continued to support each other, both on and off set. They celebrated the small victories, like nailing a difficult scene or receiving positive feedback from the director. They also leaned on each other during the tough times, offering encouragement and reassurance.

One particularly challenging day, when everything seemed to be going wrong, Jenna found Y/N sitting alone in a quiet corner of the set, looking stressed.

"Hey," she said softly, sitting down next to him. "You okay?"

Y/N sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Just feeling overwhelmed, I guess. It's a lot of pressure."

Jenna put a comforting hand on his shoulder. "I know it's tough, but you're doing an amazing job. Remember why you started this journey. Your passion and talent brought you here, and you've got a whole team behind you."

Y/N looked at her, feeling a surge of gratitude. "Thanks, Jenna. I needed that."

"Anytime," she replied with a warm smile. "We're in this together, remember?"

As the final days of shooting approached, there was a bittersweet feeling in the air. The cast and crew had become like a family, and it was hard to believe that their time together was coming to an end. On the last day of filming, emotions ran high as they wrapped up the final scene.

After the director called "Cut!" for the last time, there was a moment of silence before the set erupted into cheers and applause. Y/N felt a mix of relief, pride, and sadness as he looked around at the people who had brought his vision to life.

Jenna made her way over to him, her eyes shining with tears. "We did it," she said, pulling him into a tight hug.

"Yeah, we did," Y/N replied, his voice choked with emotion.

As they stood there, surrounded by their friends and colleagues, Y/N realized how much this experience had meant to him. Not just because of the success of his screenplay, but because of the incredible journey he had shared with Jenna. Their friendship had been a source of strength and inspiration, and he knew it would continue to be, no matter where their careers took them next.

In the weeks that followed, Y/N and Jenna kept in touch, their bond stronger than ever. They celebrated the film's success together, attending premieres and interviews, always supporting each other. Despite their busy schedules, they made time for their friendship, knowing how important it was.

One evening, as they sat on a rooftop terrace, looking out over the city lights, Jenna turned to Y/N with a thoughtful expression. "You know, this is just the beginning for you. I can't wait to see what you come up with next."

Y/N smiled, feeling a sense of excitement and possibility. "And I can't wait to see you in your next role. You're going to keep amazing audiences, Jenna."

They clinked their glasses, toasting to the future and to their enduring friendship. As they sat there, talking and laughing, he would always have Jenna by his side.

And that, he realized, was the greatest gift of all.

[vixensbrainrotts]

Healing slowly — Manjiro <Mikey> Sano

Content: undefined fluff

Warnings: none

Vixen‘s two cents: This has been on my mind for a while now. If you enjoy my content, don’t be afraid to let me know and remember that my requests are open if you have an idea (im having a little bit of writers block atm).

Draken has noticed that Mikey has gotten so much better ever since you came around, how much livelier he looks and sounds and how much less he feels he has to visit to make sure Mikey’s alive. Because he has you now, and Draken knows that it’s time for him to take a step back from Mikey and let him learn to love you right.

Draken has started noticing it a while ago. How much brighter Mikey‘s skin looked, how much more genuinely he smiled, how much more enthusiastic he was about most of anything, really, hell, he even smelled better now! It took him by genuine surprise when Mikey started mentioning you, speaking shyly of how the two of you met and how Mikey seems a bit fonder of you than most. Ken thought it was just a temporary crush, nothing too important, nothing too major.

How wrong he was though, seeing that it came to the point that Mikey would come late to his own gang meetings, spend his monthly allowance on things like chocolates, flowers, cards and trinkets to gift you. It was the way that Mikey seemed to suddenly care for his appearance, ditching the overgrown hair and opting for something a little shorter, more wolffish (you mentioned you liked the cut once upon a time, he remembered). It was the way that he would care that his clothes weren’t creased, that his shoes weren’t stained, that his face was in-tact and all such casualties. It’s the way that Mikey started polishing his bike even more obsessively than before, nearly burning a hole into the rag he used with how vigorously he was rubbing it.

The first time Ken met you, he was in disbelief. Mikey, Majiro Sano, that fucking dumbass bagged YOU? How. There was no way. The disbelief led to many a questions about payment and bribery, even considering intimation and threats to be the base of your relationship. But once he talked to you, got to know you, Ken fully understood. You cared for Manjiro, made sure he was on top of his tasks, made sure that he was more aware of his own needs and fulfilled those too. Mikey cared for you too, encouraged you to take breaks, to be aware of your surroundings and making you losen up a little sometimes, making your day-to-day life just a little more exiting.

You two together were like birds of a feather. A perfectly balanced scale, your relationship was tangent to perfection. This unexpected but wonderful revelation allowed Draken to spend some of his new-found free time alone. Completely alone, nobody bothering him type of alone. There was nothing in his way, no second opinion of what he wanted to do, no nagging about the weather, and no plunderingwallet for snacks and othersuch trivial things.

Draken, whilst astounded by your dynamic, was still a little skeptic. Sure you’ve stuck with Mikey for a bit now, but how would you handle the real struggles? Mikey was a piece of work, a real lot of effort, Draken had the first hand experience to back it up. Surely you would be scared off, surely you’d try your best but eventually fall flat at the overwhelming, almost overbearing nature that Mikey surrounded occasionally. But just like in terms of the first impression, Ken was wrong. You stuck with Manjiro through the depressive episodes, through the bursts of aggression, through the phases of silent treatment, and even when he pushed you away completely, claiming that he couldn’t handle being in a relationship anymore.

Whilst the two of you had rough patches, you never broke. You bother were dedicated to each other and resilient to your relationship. It was complete mutualism with you two, no amount of strain could break the bond you two built. Ken found himself admiring your relationship, silently thankful of the security that you gave one another, and of the transformation Manjiro had gone through. He was capable of his own now. Not that he wasn’t before you, but you had encouraged him to target his weaker spots, foddering growth and comprehension of mind, emotions and expression of such.

Ken was eternally thankful of you, and has recognized that he was no longer a vital part of Mikey’s survival. Manjiro had you now.

[yoursinisforgiven]

DESIRE ──

pairing: jonah x reader (bartender) 

cw: smut, afab reader, oral (female receiving), masturbation, mutual masturbation, vaginal fingering, mentions of porn (but not really), body worship, reader is stubborn, reader is slightly intoxicated (not drunk.), reader experiences a menstrual cycle, aftercare.

you are responsible for your own media consumption.

You weren’t a needy person.

At least, you liked to think so. You and Jonah had always balanced on that fine line between closeness and independence—two orbits circling the same sun, occasionally brushing against each other’s gravity but never colliding. If love were a sound, yours wasn’t a loud, constant roar but a gentle hum, like the kind you feel more than hear.

You didn’t need to talk constantly or cling to each other to feel connected. More often than not, you were sprawled out on the bed while Jonah sat at his desk, his face illuminated by the cool glow of his monitor. You’d watch him play games, the kind that seemed endlessly complicated, full of lore and choices you didn’t quite understand. He had told you the name of this one—something grand and medieval-sounding—but you’d forgotten it somewhere between his explanation and the story unfolding on the screen.

“Which door should I pick?” Jonah’s voice broke the stillness, soft but carrying a curious weight.

You propped yourself up on one elbow and glanced at the screen. The dungeon was rendered in crisp, almost tactile detail—stone walls slick with imagined moisture, torches casting restless shadows. Two doors stood before Jonah’s character, each identical except for the words that had just appeared at the bottom of the screen:

Left or right, warrior?

“Hmm,” you murmured, squinting at the image. “What’s behind them?”

“Don’t know,” Jonah said, his fingers hovering over the keys. “That’s the point.”

You stayed quiet for a moment, the question hanging between you both like smoke. There was something oddly profound about the simplicity of it. Two doors. Left or right. One choice leading to a path that would unfold, the other forever a mystery.

“Does it matter?” you finally asked, resting your chin on your hand.

Jonah glanced at you, his lips twitching in a half-smile. “Of course it matters. Every choice matters.”

“Maybe,” you said, sitting up fully now. “But only because we think it does. Once you pick a door, the other one stops existing in any meaningful way. You’ll never know what’s behind it, so does it really matter?”

He tilted his head, considering your words as he leaned back in his chair. “Sounds like a cop-out,” he teased lightly, though his expression suggested he was mulling it over

“The left,” you said finally, breaking the silence.

Jonah turned his head slightly, a mischievous glint already forming in his eyes. “Hmm, just to spite you, I think I’m gonna pick the right.”

You rolled your eyes, though the teasing lilt in his voice made it impossible not to smile. He moved the mouse, the cursor hovering briefly over the left door—almost as if reconsidering—before clicking on the right.

“Fine,” you said, the grin creeping across your face. Without hesitation, you reached for the throw pillow neatly perched at the corner of the bed. With a practiced aim, you launched it squarely at his head.

“Hey! Ow! What was that fo—”

Before he could finish, the screen lit up with sudden movement. The warrior on the monitor strode confidently through the right door, only to be met with a deafening roar. A massive dragon swooped into view, its scaly form shimmering with an unsettling, almost hypnotic, beauty. In seconds, it lunged, jaws snapping shut around Jonah’s unfortunate avatar. The screen faded to black as a dramatic game over message appeared, accompanied by mournful music.

For a moment, the room was still, save for the lingering echo of the dragon’s roar.

Jonah turned slowly to you, his expression caught somewhere between disbelief and grudging admiration.

“Maybe you should’ve listened to me?” you said, your voice light but laced with just enough smugness to drive the point home.

He let out a groan, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, yeah. Don’t let it go to your head.”

“Oh, it’s already there,” you shot back, your laughter bubbling up as you leaned against the pillows.

Jonah shook his head, his lips twitching into a reluctant smile. “Alright, oracle. Next time I’ll let you make the calls.”

You grinned, watching as he reset the game, his fingers moving across the keyboard with ease. The dragon’s defeat replayed in your mind, though your focus drifted to Jonah. It wasn’t about the choice of doors or the fate of his pixelated warrior. It was the way he laughed, the way he took the loss with grace, the way these little moments filled the space between you with something unspoken but undeniable.

 ──

You weren’t a needy person—so why were you acting like this?

Tonight, you’d gotten home earlier than usual. The bar had closed early thanks to the holiday lull, leaving you with an empty space in your schedule that felt heavier than it should have. After wiping down the counters, stacking the chairs, and locking up, you’d let yourself indulge in a few drinks. One turned into two, then three.

The taste of alcohol clung to your tongue, warm and heady, but it wasn’t enough to quiet your thoughts. The weight in your chest wasn’t from the drinks; it was something else entirely. Something more consuming.

Your mind drifted back to the last table you’d cleaned tonight—the one tucked away in the far-right corner. Just thinking about it sent your heart racing, a pulse that seemed to echo in your ears.

You could almost see it again, the ghost of that night replaying itself in your mind like a scene burned into your memory. Jonah’s touch—warm and insistent, the roughness of his hands grounding you as they gripped your hips. His teasing words whispered against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. And his mouth, hot and relentless, trailing kisses that made you forget where you were, forget that there were rules, boundaries, cameras.

You blinked, trying to shake yourself out of it, but the memory was too vivid. You could almost feel the way his hands slid beneath your shirt, his touch igniting a fire beneath your skin. The way his voice had dropped to a husky murmur, teasing and commanding all at once, as he coaxed reactions out of you that you hadn’t even known you could give.

Your breath hitched, and you realized your body was reacting to the memory as if it were happening all over again. Heat coursed through you, pooling low in your belly, and you shifted in your seat, embarrassed by the intensity of it—even though no one else was there to see.

You ran a hand over your face, willing the flush to fade, but it only seemed to intensify. You couldn’t help it; the memory wasn’t just a memory—it was a part of you now, etched into your skin like a tattoo.

“Get a grip,” you muttered to yourself, though your voice sounded far less convincing than you’d hoped.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. Maybe it was the drinks making you sentimental, or maybe it was just the quiet, the stillness that left too much room for thoughts you weren’t ready to face. Either way, you couldn’t shake the heat rushing through you or the ache that settled deep in your chest—and lower still.

You’d barely closed the door behind you when you heard Jonah’s voice drift from his gaming setup, low and smooth, punctuated by bursts of laughter. The sound sent an involuntary shiver through you, and you felt the heat you’d tried to suppress earlier flare up again, insistent and unyielding.

Your eyes fluttered shut for a moment as you pressed your back against the door, willing yourself to calm down. Of course, he was streaming. It was his routine, and you being home early didn’t change that. But knowing he was just a room away, completely unaware of how you were feeling, only made the ache worse.

Slipping off your shoes, you padded quietly to the living room and sank onto the couch. The faint glow of his monitor cast flickering lights into the hallway, and you could hear his voice clearly now—a mix of teasing banter and focused determination as he spoke to his chat and navigated whatever game he was playing.

You tried to focus on anything else. You scrolled through your phone, turned on the TV, even considered pouring another drink to take the edge off. But it was useless. Your mind kept looping back to the bar, to the way Jonah had looked at you that night, his gaze heavy with intent. And now, the sound of his voice, casual and unbothered, only added fuel to the fire building inside you.

Time passed in a slow, agonizing crawl. You shifted on the couch, your body restless and warm. Every now and then, a louder laugh or a particularly sharp comment from Jonah would pierce through your haze, making your stomach flutter and your breath hitch. It was ridiculous, really, how just his presence—even indirect—could do this to you.

Two hours. Two long hours of sitting there, stewing in your own emotions and desire, before his voice took on a different tone. More relaxed, a little softer.

“All right, chat,” Jonah said, his words accompanied by the familiar sound of his headset being adjusted. “I’m calling it for tonight. Gotta refuel.”

You heard the stream end, the music fading into silence, and moments later, Jonah emerged from his setup. He stretched as he walked into the living room, his hair slightly mussed from the headset, and offered you a lazy smile.

“Hey, didn’t know you were back already,” he said, his voice warm and casual. “Bar closed early?”

You nodded, forcing a small smile in return. “Yeah, holiday hours.”

Jonah flopped onto the arm of the couch, leaning toward you with a teasing grin. “Hope you didn’t get too bored waiting for me to finish up.”

You shrugged, trying to play it cool even as your heart raced from his proximity.

He glanced at the clock on the wall before standing again. “I’m starving. Thinking about grabbing some takeout—want anything?”

The question hit you harder than it should have. It wasn’t just about food; it was a reminder of how casual everything was for him right now, while you were sitting here, practically unraveling.

You hesitated, your mind a storm of conflicting thoughts. Part of you wanted to grab his hand, pull him back down, and tell him exactly what you were feeling—how much you wanted him, how much his presence affected you. But the other part, the quieter but more insistent voice, told you not to.

You weren’t needy. You didn’t want to be.

So you shook your head, your voice steady even as your chest ached. “I’m good. Go ahead.”

Jonah raised an eyebrow, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than usual. It was as if he could sense something just beneath the surface, but he didn’t press. He simply nodded, grabbing his keys from the counter.

“All right. I’ll be back in a bit,” he said, giving you a quick smile before heading out the door.

As soon as it clicked shut behind him, you let out a shaky breath, your carefully maintained composure cracking just enough for you to feel the full weight of your emotions. The denial sat heavy in your chest, a knot of longing and frustration that refused to untangle.

 ──

You weren’t needy; you were just needing.

That’s what you told yourself as you padded softly to your and Jonah’s shared bedroom, the quiet of the apartment amplifying every sound—the faint creak of the floorboards, the rustle of fabric as you pulled back the plush blanket. You sank into the familiar embrace of your sheets, the faint scent of Jonah still lingering on the pillow beside you.

Your breath hitched as you unlocked your phone, your fingers moving instinctively to the familiar numbers of your anniversary. The thought of it—of that day, the significance it held, and everything it symbolized—only stirred something deeper within you.

Your thumb hovered over your photo app before pressing into it, scrolling until you reached a specific album. One you’d tucked away for moments like this, though you never admitted it outright. Moments where the ache for him felt too overwhelming to ignore.

As you continued to scroll through the album, a particularly provocative video thumbnail caught your eye. It was a video of Jonah, recorded during for you as a “gift”—you had been working extra hours that week. Your heart raced as you tapped on it, the video filling the screen.

The clip began panned down on Jonah's body, revealing his muscular torso, glistening with a sheen of sweat. He was sprawled out on the plush hotel bed, one hand wrapped around his thick, hard cock, stroking it slowly and teasingly.

 "Miss me, baby?" he purred, his voice a low, seductive rumble. "I miss you too. So fucking much."

Watching the video, you felt your core clench with need, a rush of arousal flooding your sex. Your hand drifted beneath the waistband of your pajama pants, your fingers brushing against the swollen, sensitive flesh of your sex. You were already so wet, your arousal coating your fingers as you began to explore your own needy body.

On the screen, Jonah continued to pleasure himself, his grip tightening around his shaft as he pumped it faster and harder. The obscene sound of his hand moving over his length filled the small room, mingling with his harsh pants and groans of pleasure.

Lost in the throes of your own desire and the memories of Jonah's skilled lovemaking, you let your fingers delve deeper, plunging into the slick heat of your core. You matched his rhythm, fucking yourself with increasing fervor as you watched him bring himself closer to the edge.

Your mind drifted to the way Jonah's hands had felt on your skin, his touch igniting flames of desire that still lingered, even after all this time. As you circled your clit with teasing strokes, you imagined it was his fingers dancing over your most intimate place, his touch stoking the embers of your lust into a raging inferno.

Lost in the throes of your own desire and the memories of Jonah's skilled lovemaking, you let your fingers delve deeper, plunging into the slick heat of your core. Your hips lifted off the bed, pressing into your own touch as you began to fuck yourself with increasing fervor, chasing the pleasure that only you could give yourself.

As the intense sensations coursed through you, you continued to stroke and circle your sensitive clit, drawing out your climax for as long as possible. Your free hand reached up to knead and squeeze your aching breasts, pinching and rolling the stiff peaks between your fingers until they were red and throbbing.

Lost in your own world of pleasure, you failed to hear the soft click of the bedroom door opening, too focused on the delicious sensations consuming your body. It wasn't until you heard a sharp intake of breath that you realized you were no longer alone.

Your eyes flew open, your gaze colliding with Jonah's stunned and aroused stare. He stood in the doorway, his eyes dark and hungry as he took in the erotic sight before him.

For a moment, neither of you moved, frozen in place by the raw, primal energy crackling between your bodies. Then, as if a switch had been flipped, Jonah surged forward, kicking the door shut behind him with a loud bang.

He strode towards the bed, his eyes never leaving yours, a predatory gleam in their depths. You could see the bulge in his jeans growing with each step, his arousal evident and unmistakable.

“Keep going.” Jonah groaned, his voice rough with desire as he quickly closed the distance between you. He sat down on the edge of the bed, his intense gaze never leaving your pleasure-glazed eyes. Jonah's hand went to the button of his jeans, popping it open and lowering the zipper in one swift motion. He shoved his jeans and boxers down just enough to free his large, throbbing erection.

You watched, transfixed, as Jonah wrapped a hand around his impressive length and began to stroke it slowly. His breathing grew heavier, chest rising and falling with each pass of his fist over his aching cock. The obscene sound of his hand moving over his shaft filled the room, mingling with your own needy whimpers and moans.

"Spread your legs wider, baby," Jonah commanded, his voice a low, seductive rumble. 

Obediently, you reached down and gripped your thighs, pulling them apart and exposing your dripping sex to Jonah's hungry gaze. The cool air against your overheated flesh sent a shiver racing up your spine. Jonah licked his lips, his eyes dark with lust as he took in the erotic sight of your glistening pink folds, flushed and swollen with arousal.

"That's it, just like that," he praised, his grip tightening around his throbbing cock as he began to pump it faster, matching the rhythm of your plunging fingers. "Fuck, you look so sexy like this," Jonah groaned, his voice strained with arousal. 

He pumped his thick shaft slowly, his thumb swiping over the leaking tip, spreading the bead of moisture around the swollen head. His eyes remained locked on your body, watching your tits bounce slightly with each thrust of your fingers into your dripping cunt.

“I—” Your voice catches, your throat tightening as you force the words out. “I need you.”

The admission feels heavier than anything else, weighted with vulnerability and unspoken longing. It’s raw, stripped down, and intimate in a way that shakes you. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, but you hold them back, unsure if it’s the words themselves or the gravity of speaking them aloud that leaves you trembling.

With a sharp cry, you shattered, your body convulsing as a powerful orgasm ripped through you. Your sex clenched and fluttered wildly around your fingers, hot liquid gushing out to coat your hand and the sheets beneath you.

Jonah halts his movements and leans in, pushing your thighs further apart. He settled between them, his broad shoulders forcing your legs to spread wider, leaving you utterly exposed and vulnerable to his hungry gaze.

"I’m here. I—I want you to need me just as much as I need you" Jonah murmured, his hot breath ghosting over your sensitive, dripping sex. His eyes glinted with love and unbridled lust.

Before you could respond, he dove in, his mouth latching onto your aching clit. He sucked the sensitive bundle of nerves between his lips, his tongue flicking over it rapidly as he lapped up the essence of your arousal. You cried out, your back arching off the bed as jolts of electricity shot through your body.

"Jonah!" you wailed, tangling your fingers in his hair and holding him tight against your sex. He groaned against your flesh, the vibrations sending shockwaves through your core.

Jonah's hands gripped your ass, kneading the supple flesh as he feasted on your sex like a man starved. His tongue delved between your slick folds, plunging deep into your channel as he drank down your ambrosia. He fucked you with his tongue, thrusting it in and out of your fluttering walls as he savored your unique flavor.

Your hips undulated against his face, grinding your dripping cunt against his mouth as you rode out the aftershocks of your climax. Jonah matched your rhythm, his tongue swirling and stroking your most intimate places with skillful precision.

He could feel your body tensing, your legs beginning to quake and quiver around his head. He knew you were close to another explosive orgasm, and he was determined to push you over the edge.

"Come on, baby," Jonah growled against your sex, his voice a low, seductive rumble. "Give me one more."

Your body trembled and jerked as another intense orgasm crashed over you, your sex clamping down like a vice around Jonah's plunging fingers. Your voice echoing off the walls of the bedroom as you came undone.

Jonah continued to lap and suck at your spasming sex, determined to prolong your pleasure and drink down every last drop of your release. He could feel your essence gushing out, coating his fingers and chin as he worked you through the intense waves of ecstasy.

As your orgasm began to subside, Jonah slowly withdrew his fingers, bringing them up to his mouth. He made a show of licking them clean, his tongue swirling around each digit to savor your tangy essence, his eyes never leaving yours.

Rising from between your thighs, Jonah steps out of the room, leaving you alone for a moment. You try to ignore the sharp pang that flares in your chest, telling yourself he’ll be back soon—but the ache lingers, a whisper of doubt you can’t quite silence.

When he returns, he’s holding a warm, damp cloth. Without a word, he crosses the room and sits on the edge of the bed, his movements gentle but deliberate, a quiet reassurance in his presence. He gently began to clean your sensitive sex, his touch tender and caring as he wiped away the evidence of your lovemaking.

"Shh, just relax baby," Jonah soothed, pressing soft kisses along your inner thighs as he worked his way up. "I've got you. Let me take care of you."

He continued his trail of kisses, his lips brushing over your lower belly, your ribs, until he reached the valley between your breasts. He paused there, looking up at you with a soft smile as his hands cupped the soft swells.

"I love you so fucking much," Jonah murmured, his voice raw with emotion

To punctuate his words, Jonah leaned down and captured your lips in a searing kiss. His mouth moved over yours with skill and passion, his tongue delving deep to stroke along yours. You could taste yourself on him, the musky, slightly bitter flavor of your arousal mingling with his own unique taste.

Jonah’s hands slid up to cradle your face, his fingers weaving gently into your hair as he deepened the kiss. There was a tenderness to the way his lips moved against yours, a silent promise wrapped in every touch. His heartbeat thudded against your own, a rhythm of longing and love that seemed to sync with yours as he held you like you were the most precious thing in the world.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested lightly against yours, his breath warm against your skin. “You’re ovulating,” he murmured, his voice low but tinged with amusement.

“What?” You blinked, momentarily caught off guard.

“I have an app that tracks your cycle,” he said with an almost boyish grin, his eyes sparkling mischievously.

Your jaw dropped. “Wait—you knew? And you still left earlier?”

Jonah chuckled, the sound rich and unapologetic. “Of course, I knew.” He shrugged, his hands slipping down to rest on your hips. “But I like hearing you admit it. It’s cute when you get all flustered.”

You groaned, swatting playfully at his chest. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet, you love me.” He smirked, pressing another kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Admit it, you’d miss my antics if I didn’t keep you on your toes.”

Despite yourself, you couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips. “Maybe a little.”

“Good,” he whispered, pulling you closer. “Because I’d miss you more than anything.”

 

──

author's note: dedicated to @jonahsbf, this was really cute to write.

elias won poll... (it should've been asriel.)