#there are X reasons he looked back that didn't have to do with him being a little bitchass who can't follow clear directions

[mafiadad5]

Rent a boyfriend 20.0 [lmk]

♪ Now playing- 200, MARK LEE

♪ music major!mark lee x f!reader (ft. Jaemin and Chenle)

♪ summary- You’re tired of the teasing—you get it, everyone’s in a relationship. And with the Valentine’s Party around the corner the taunts were getting even more unbearable. You didn’t mean to drag Mark into this…you really didn’t, but then he made an offer you couldn’t refuse: Help him get an A on his project, and in return he’ll be your date to the party—your boyfriend. It’s just a simple deal, no strings attached. No way this could get complicated… right?

♪ genre/warnings- fluff, slight angst, mutual pining, fake dating, misunderstanding, university au, kissing under the influence of alcohol, drinking, y/n’s friend group is kinda mean, mentions of sex.

♪ W/c- 14k+

a/n- hey guys! So wanted to drop a valentines fic.. hope you enjoy!

You sat at the table, surrounded by your friends, the only one who had no one to hold. You didn't mind being single, you honestly didn't, but it was moments like these when everyone paired off, giggling and leaning into each other that made it just a bit unbearable. Somehow there was something worse than the PDA though—the teasing. Anytime someone brought up relationships, all eyes would land on you, and an offhand comment about how single you were would always come up. Today was no different. The group had decided to plan a cute Valentines party, for some reason. 

"But how's that gonna work when not everyone in the group is in a relationship?" Jaemin said with a smirk. Immediately, every head turned toward you. You shrugged, trying to keep your face neutral, and picked up your phone, scrolling, trying to look unbothered.

"Y/n... Can you like- just get cuffed for Valentine's Day or something?" One of your friends teased, laughing as if the idea was ridiculous. You rolled your eyes and kept scrolling on Instagram, trying to ignore it. 

"She would never... Y/n could never get into a relationship." Chenle spoke, his tone light, but it still stung a bit.

Your fingers froze mid scroll. You were so tired of being the target of their jokes. Before you could stop yourself, you blurted out the first thing that came to mind:

"Actually... I do have a boyfriend!"

Everyone's laughter stopped as they stared at you, clearly stunned.

"Oh really?" Jaemin asked, his eyebrow arching skeptically. "What's his name?"

Your heart raced as panic set in your body. You glanced down at your phone, searching for any kind of savior. Your thumb hovered over a random Instagram post, the username catching your eye: onyourm__ark. The name felt a little familiar, that could work.

"Mark." You said, looking up at them with a forced smile. "His name is Mark."

Jaemin tilted his head, his suspicion very apparent. "Mark?"

"Yeah." You replied, shrugging like it was no big deal.

"That's funny." Jaemin said, leaning back in his chair. "Why haven't I heard of this Mark character before?"

You froze again, you didn't really think this through before you spoke. Jaemin wasn't just anyone in the group, he was one of your closest friends. He knew almost everything about your life, and all of a sudden you have a boyfriend?

"I wanted to keep it a secret." You said quickly, scrambling for a believable excuse. "I didn't even know if he liked me back at first."

"Oh? So how'd you two meet?" Jaemin asked, clearly enjoying the way you got nervous from his questioning. It felt less like a conversation and more like an interrogation.

"In English." You answered, "We used to be in the same class, but we kept in touch after."

Jaemin narrowed his eyes, but then to your surprise, he nodded slowly. "You did mention a guy from your English class a while ago... I remember."

He did? You didn't remember saying anything remotely like that, but you weren't about to question it. "See? Told you." You said, forcing a laugh and rolling your eyes.

"Well, I'd love to meet him." Jaemin said, his tone still laced with suspicion. "Why don't you bring Mark to the next hangout?"

Your stomach dropped. "Okay, if that'll shut you up." You said, trying to sound nonchalant, but your hands tightened around your phone as Jaemin leaned back, a sly smile on his face. 

Internally, you were spiraling. You didn't have a boyfriend named Mark—or a boyfriend at all for that matter. What were you thinking? Now, you only had a week to figure out how to fix this mess before your lie caught up with you.

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You sat on your bed, phone in hand, trying to figure out what to do. You could always say that Mark couldn't make it to the hangout or that you had came down with the flu, but you knew your friends would see right through it. If they found out you were lying, you'd never hear the end of it.

Your thumb hovered over your phone screen as an idea struck you... Mark. Your freshman English class, Mark Lee, the guy you'd been paired with for a group project that lasted maybe a week. That was forever ago. You hadn't spoken to him in over a year, and you weren't even friends back then—just acquaintances. It would be so weird to reach out to him now, especially with such a weird request, but then again... what other choice did you have?

Your mind raced as you scrolled to his Instagram page, the username onyourm__ark staring back at you. You hesitated, typing out a message, deleting it, and typing it again. It had to be casual, like you weren't about to ask for the strangest favor of his life. Finally, you settled on something simple.

"Hey Mark, long time no speak. I don't know if you remember me, but we were in English together freshman year."

You hit send, your heart pounding. Seconds turned into minutes, and soon an hour had passed. Maybe this was a stupid idea. No, it was a stupid idea. You were already bracing yourself for the relentless teasing that awaited you when suddenly your phone buzzed.

"Hey Y/n, I remember you. How have you been? 🙂"

You nearly dropped your phone. Relief flooded through you as you scrambled to type back.

"I've been pretty good! What about you?"

His reply came almost instantly.

"I've been good as well. Is there any reason in particular that you're texting me? Lol, not in a rude way btw."

Your stomach flipped. He didn't sound rude, but the question made your request feel ten times more ridiculous. You stared at the screen, second guessing everything, but you were in too deep to back out now.

"Yeah... I'm sorry, but I have to ask you for a HUGE favor 😭🙏. Please hear me out."

"I'm all ears." He replied.

You hesitated again, biting your lip. This was beyond embarrassing, but then you thought about your friend's laughter and the endless teasing you would endure if this didn't work out. You had to at least try.

"So... my friends make fun of me because I'm the only single one in the group, and I got tired of it. I sort of... told them I had a boyfriend. Your post was on my feed, so I accidentally told them it was you. Now they don't believe me and want to meet you..."

You cringed as you hit send, practically feeling the embarrassment radiate off your phone screen.

Moments later, a new message appeared.

"LOL. Y/n this is crazy 😂. So, what? You need me to meet them and act like your boyfriend?"

"Yeah... that would be very, very awesome." You replied, your face burning with embarrassment.

"What do I get out of this? 🧐"

You stared at the message, trying to think of something. You were so desperate, you'd probably agree to anything at this point.

"What do you want...?"

"You have to pay for me at the hangout 🫡”

Ok, that wasn't bad. You could manage that.

"Deal." You replied.

"And you have to write my essay. I remember you're good at stuff like this."

You groaned. Yes you were good, but you hated doing it.

"🥲... Fine." You wrote back.

Before you could relax, another message came through.

"Wait, before I agree, can we at least meet in person first? Just to talk a little and figure things out."

He had a point. You couldn't exactly walk into this without a plan.

"Yes, of course." You responded quickly. 

"Are you free tomorrow... and do I have to pay for you then too?"

"I'm free tomorrow, and no, you don't have to pay for me tomorrow 😂." He replied.

You felt a small wave of relief.

"Ok, let's grab a coffee tomorrow at noon." You typed.

"Sounds good. I'll see you then."

You exhaled, setting your phone down. It wasn't a guarantee, but at least there was a chance this might work. Now, all you had to do was convince your friends.

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The next day, you strolled into the café, your bag slung over one shoulder as you rushed inside. You spotted Mark sitting at a small table by the window, his beanie low over his head as he sipped from a coffee cup. He glanced up and smiled when he saw you, raising a hand in a wave.

"Sorry I'm late!" You said as you dropped into the chair across from him, setting your bag down with a thud. "Traffic."

"No problem, I just got here anyway." He said, giving you a lighthearted grin.

"Thanks for meeting me. I swear this isn't as crazy as it probably sounded over text."

Mark raised an eyebrow. "You told me you accidentally named me as your boyfriend to your entire friend group. That's... kind of crazy."

"Ok fine, maybe it's a little crazy." You admitted, leaning back in your chair. "They've been driving me nuts Mark. Every time we hang out it's like, 'Oh Y/n's still single? Maybe one day you'll find someone.' Ugh, I couldn't take it anymore."

He chuckled softly, shaking his head. "So your solution was to drag me into this?"

"Look, I panicked. Your Instagram post popped up on my feed, and I just blurted out your name, but now they want to meet you, and if I back out, they'll never let me live it down." You said, throwing up your hands.

Mark stared at you for a moment, but then he sighed, setting his coffee cup down. "You really hate losing, huh?"

"More than anything." You said, leaning forward.

He laughed, the sound genuine. "Alright, I get it. So what's the plan? Are we rehearsing some elaborate backstory or something?"

You waved him off. "Nah, that's too much work. We'll just wing it. They don't need the whole story of how we 'fell in love.' You're Mark, my boyfriend. We met in English, we reconnected, end of story."

"Wing it?" He repeated, his brows lifting in slight disbelief.

"Yep." You said confidently, sipping the coffee you ordered on your way in. "Is that okay with you?" 

Mark studied you for a moment, his gaze steady. "You're really something Y/n."

"What!?" You asked, shrugging with a grin on your face.

He shook his head, but there was a small smile tugging at his lips. "You realize this could backfire, right? If they catch on..."

"Yeah, wait. You're right. We may have to come up with a plan." You interrupted, tapping your fingers on the side of your cup.

"Tell me about this group of yours." Mark said, leaning forward with interest.

You hesitated for a moment, thinking of how best to describe them. "Well, there's Jaemin one of my closest friends...he's the one who's been grilling me the most. He's super observant, so we really need to be convincing around him. Then there's Chenle. He's a little less... eccentric than Jaemin, but he's the one who made a comment, so... yeah, he's a problem too."

Mark raised an eyebrow. "Sounds like a fun crowd."

"They're not that bad." You said quickly, though you weren't sure if you believed it yourself. "The rest of them are less skeptical, but they'll still ask a million questions."

Mark nodded. "Okay. How long have we been 'dating' ?"

You paused. "Uh... let's say a month? Long enough to make it seem legit, but not so long that it's weird you're just meeting them now."

"Smart." He said. "And how did we meet?"

"Freshman English obviously." You said.

"Oh...right. What do I do for fun? If they ask, I don't want to say something totally weird."

You thought for a moment. "Well, what do you do for fun?"

Mark laughed. "Play guitar, hang out with friends, binge watch random shows. Pretty standard stuff."

"Ok, stick with that." You said, jotting it down in your phone's notes. "What about me? Do you remember anything about me?"

Mark tilted his head, his expression thoughtful. "You were pretty quiet, right? I remember you always had your notes super organized though and had little drawings. You're good at writing and photography too."

"Wow, thrilling personality." You said dryly, but you couldn't help smiling.

"Hey, I like organized people." Mark said, flashing a grin.

You both laughed, for the first time since this whole mess started, you felt like maybe, just maybe, this could actually work.

Mark leaned back in his chair, his eyes playful. "So, when's the big hangout?"

"Next Saturday." You said. 

Mark paused for a second, tapping his fingers against the edge of the table. "You're sure this is what you want to do?"

You nodded. "Yeah. I just need them off my back for one day. Then I'll tell them we broke up or something, and it'll all blow over."

He let out a long breath, running a hand through his hair beneath the beanie. 

"Alright...I'm in."

"You are?"

"I mean, how many people get to say they were someone's fake boyfriend? It's a good story, but— you're paying, and doing my essay." He spoke, raising his eyebrow. 

"Yeah— yes of course." 

"Then deal." He smiled, reaching his hand across the table. 

A bright smile painted your face as you reached across the table to shake his hand. "Thank you. You're officially the best."

"Don't thank me yet." He said with a laugh. "This could still go horribly wrong."

"Shh, shh." You said, waving him off. "Now, are you ready to charm the pants off my friends next Saturday?"

His eyes went wide as a nervous smile crept on his face. "I don't think that's part of the deal..." He joked.

"Mark." You laughed, grabbing your bag as you stood up. "We'll convince them." 

Mark shook his head, but the smile on his face lingered as he stood up as well. "Let's hope you're right."

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The cafe where your friends had decided to meet was full of chatter. You walked in with Mark by your side, your heart racing, though you'd never admit it. He looked surprisingly calm hands stuffed into his pockets as your arm was linked around his, beanie pulled low over his hair, a casual smile on his face.

"There they are." You muttered under your breath as you spotted your friends gathered at a large table near the back.

Mark glanced at you, his tone teasing. "You ready... babe girl?"

You stopped dead in your tracks, turning to glare at him. "Babe girl? Really?"

He smirked. "What? I thought it sounded cute."

"It sounds ridiculous." You said, but you couldn't stop the laugh that bubbled up. "Corny and ridiculous."

"Guess it's our thing now." He said, a quirky smile on his face.

"Absolutely not." 

As you approached the table, the chatter stopped, and all eyes turned to you. Jaemin leaned back in his chair with a smug grin. "Look who finally decided to show up, and with a plus one!"

"Hi." Mark said with an easy smile, lifting a hand in a small wave. "Nice to meet you all."

"Mark huh?" Chenle said, giving him a suspicious look from head to toe "So you're real."

"Very real." Mark said, his grin never falling.

"Well, don't just stand there. Sit down, we've got questions." Jaemin said, motioning you both to the empty chairs.

Mark glanced at you, eyebrows raised. "Interrogation already?"

"Oh, absolutely." You said, plopping into a seat. "Good luck."

He laughed and took the chair beside you, his knee brushing yours under the table.

"So..." Jaemin began, leaning forward. "How'd you two meet again?"

"English class." You answered quickly.

Mark nodded, picking up without missing a beat. "Yeah, freshman year. She was the only person in the class who didn't make me feel like an idiot during group projects."

You shot him a look, trying not to break character. "That's because you weren't an idiot."

Jaemin squinted, clearly searching for holes in the story. "How long have you been... together?"

"A month." Mark said smoothly.

"Uh huh..." Jaemin said, dragging out the syllables. "So that means you're okay with coming to the couples Valentine's party next month, right?"

Mark blinked, glancing at you. "The what now?"

Jaemin's grin widened, sensing an opportunity. "The party, didn't Y/n tell you? It's just for couples in the group, which is all of us, right? It'll be fun— cookie decorating, gift exchanges, all that good stuff."

You felt your stomach drop. Of course he'd pull something like this.

"Who even wants to spend Valentine's Day with a group of people when you're dating someone? That doesn't even make sense." You turned to Mark, hoping he'd follow your lead. "Right Mark? Wouldn't you only want to spend time with just me on... that... Valentine's Day?"

Mark hesitated for a second before nodding. "Yeah, right. I would want to spend it alone with my girlfriend, not in a group you know? Really though, I appreciate the invitation." He shot you a glance before looking back at Jaemin.

Jaemin, still grinning leaned in. "I mean, the party isn't all day, only a few hours at night. You two can spend it together alone pretty much."

"I mean... well. That's really when I want to be alone with her... at night." Mark said, his ears turning red as the group collectively reacted. Jaemin's eyebrows shot up, his smirk widening and Chenle let out a low whistle.

"We can move the party earlier since you two lovebirds want the night alone." Jaemin teased. "We really want you guys there."

"Jaemin, just drop it." You said, rolling your eyes.

"I was talking to Mark, Y/n." He replied, dismissing you.

Mark's easygoing demeanor stiffened slightly as he shot Jaemin a look. "Don't talk to her like that dude." Then after a quick glance at you he continued. "Look man, I really appreciate it and everything, but she wants to spend Valentine's alone, so we're gonna do that... all day." His said, his voice softening.

"Well damn," Chenle muttered into the awkward silence. "and we thought Y/n accepted the invitation."

Your patience finally snapped. "Okay! We'll go, goodness me." You stood up abruptly, the chair scraping against the floor.

"We will?" Mark asked, blinking at you and scratching the back of his head.

"Yes, we will." You answered quickly, shooting a glare at Jaemin, who looked far too pleased with himself.

"That's great." Jaemin said, his smugness radiating off him.

You exhaled sharply before turning to Mark. "Now babe... Mark, can we please leave?" Your voice dripped with frustration.

Mark bit back a laugh. "Sure thing... babe girl." He sucked in his breath slightly, bracing for your reaction.

You narrowed your eyes, but couldn't stop the small giggle that slipped out. "Ridiculous." You said, shaking your head. 

Mark stood, offering the group a small wave. "It was nice meeting you guys."

"Nice meeting you too Mark." Jaemin said, clearly entertained. "Hope we can all get together before the Valentine's party."

Mark nodded. "Yeah, sure."

"Bye guys." You added, throwing one last glance at Jaemin before turning and walking out, Mark right beside you.

As soon as you stepped outside you let out a deep sigh. "Mark, I'm seriously so sorry. They're typically not like this."

He laughed, hands in his pockets. "Nah it's okay, I swear. I'm just more worried about how we're gonna show up to this Valentine's party."

Your stomach dropped. "Oh fuck Mark. I panicked—I didn't even realize."

He smirked. "Yeah, I noticed."

You groaned, rubbing your temples. "It's fine, I'll just tell them we broke up or something."

Mark nodded. "Yeah, that sounds good to me."

A brief silence passed before he glanced at you. "Now, if you don't mind or anything... do you wanna grab a real lunch?"

You blinked at him before breaking into a smile. "Yeah that sounds good... like our break up hangout." You giggled.

He chuckled. "Yeah, something like that."

You paused. "I'm not paying for you." You looked at him with squinted eyes. 

Mark scoffed. "I guess not." 

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The two of you sat at the table, the world outside fading as you talked and ate, lost in conversation. There was something surprisingly natural about it—like you'd been friends forever.

You swirled your drink absentmindedly before slipping in a question. "So, like... what do you do?"

Mark blinked, then grinned. "Oh... I'm a music major. So... make music, I guess?"

"Oh that's sick. So you just write music for class? That sounds fun... and easy." You teased, raising an eyebrow.

Mark scoffed, shaking his head. "It's not actually. Right now, we're starting a project where we have to tie music and cinematography together. It's due in like a month.

You tilted your head, thinking. "So, February 7th? That's such a long time."

"Mhm, that's not even enough time." He said, nodding seriously.

"You'll be fine, it's easy." You waved him off.

"And it's summer." He shot back.

"What?" You asked, furrowing your brows.

"Oh, I thought we were lying about things." He said with a cheeky smile.

"Mark, please." You giggled, shooting him a playful glare.

Still smirking, he leaned back. "Alright, since my major is so 'easy', what's yours?"

"Digital Art and Media." You replied.

Mark's eyebrows lifted. "That's why it's easy for you, you do photography and digital art."

"I only took one photography class, relax bud. I'm not an expert." You said, rolling your eyes playfully.

"Yeah, whatever. More experience than me." He said, playfully rolling his eyes right back.

"Yeah, yeah."

Time slipped away unnoticed. What was meant to be a quick lunch turned into two hours of laughter, and playful conversation. You hadn't even realized how long you'd been sitting there until you glanced at the time and your stomach sank.

"I'm so sorry Mark, but I have an assignment due that I have to do." You said, frowning.

He gasped dramatically. "Wow, you need better time management."

You scoffed. "Yeah? Well, I guess time passes when you're having fun with someone."

The words left your lips before you could process them. The moment hung between you for a split second too long before Mark's grin widened, his cheeks rounding.

"Yeah... that's true."

You cleared your throat, shaking the moment off. "We should definitely do this again... but, you know, as regular friends." You shot him a bright grin as you stood up.

Mark nodded quickly, standing up beside you. "Yeah, no, yeah... totally." He smiled, but there was something in his expression.

"Well, I had fun. I'll see you later?"

"Yeah, see you later." His gaze lingered as you waved and walked away, feeling lighter than before.

Hours later, you were deep in your assignment, tackling it with as much focus as you could. The only problem? You'd made the grave mistake of leaving your phone off Do Not Disturb.

It buzzed. Once... twice, a few unimportant messages. Then, one caught your eye, a familiar username.

@onyourm__ark

Your fingers hovered over your phone. You needed no distractions, but the message was simple.

"Hey, can I ask you something?"

Curiosity won.

"Yeah, what's up?" You typed back.

His response came almost immediately.

"Do you like... actually need me to go to this Valentine's party thing?"

You bit your lip, considering. "Would you? What would you want in return?"

The three little dots popped up. Then:

"Well... your major is like really really cool... and exactly what I need for my project. So, could you help me with the project over the month? If I get an A, then I'll go with you."

You tapped your fingers against your desk, thinking. 

"Hmmm... that's a good deal actually."

Before Mark could even finish typing a response, you sent another.

"Eh, that's too much work though. Look, I'm currently working on something right now... my classes are hard this semester."

His reply was immediate.

"Oh... I thought it was so 'easy.' 😂"

You groaned, shaking your head. 

"Yeah, when that's your only class. I appreciate the offer, but I can't. I'll just tell them we broke up lol."

"Ok ok... good luck with them."

"I'll manage.🫡"

You put your phone down, determined to get back to work, but your mind kept drifting. You didn't even know what the project fully was, you could at least hear him out... right?

With a sigh, you hesitated before unlocking your phone again, opening your messages with Mark.

"So like... what's the project? What do you have to do?"

This time, the response came instantly. Almost like he had been waiting for you to ask.

"I have to make a song and record a music video for it."

Your eyes flicked over the message. 

"So just videography, and text work?"

"Not even... the song doesn't have any lyrics, so just videography."

You chewed your lip.

"That doesn't sound too bad."

"It sounds like someone's changing their mind👀... I hope."

You exhaled sharply, shaking your head. 

"Perchance."

"Say yes, say yes, say yes."

You sat there, staring at the screen, fingers hovering over the keyboard. You weren't actually considering this, were you?

...Maybe you were.

"Ok, fine."

His response was immediate.

"YESSIR!"

You chuckled, shaking your head.

"Let's meet up sometime next week and get started, if that's okay with you?"

"Yeah, that's perfect."

You locked your phone and leaned back in your chair, exhaling.

This was going to be... interesting.

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It was the next week, and you two finally met up at the park.

"Y/n!" Mark called out, waving you over with a bright grin.

"Mark!" You waved back, jogging slightly to meet him.

The two of you sat on a wooden bench, its surface worn smooth from the weather. The cold seeped through your clothes, but the excitement of finally starting the project kept you warm.

"So, what's the plan for this music video?" You asked, tucking your hands into your pockets.

Mark exhaled, his breath visible in the cool air. "Well, I want it to be naturally focused—kind of like me being out and about. Then I also want to show my process—like me writing and recording the music, you know?" His gaze flickered to you, his cheeks slightly pink from the cold.

You nodded thoughtfully. "Okay, that sounds sweet. Do you have everything you need?"

"Yep! I even brought the camera with me." He reached into his bag and pulled out a silver camcorder, a Spider-Man keychain dangling from the side.

You couldn't help but smile. "Oh, that's cute."

Mark chuckled, spinning the keychain between his fingers. "I haven't used this thing in ages though... let me make sure it's working." He flicked it on, the lens whirring softly as it adjusted. Without warning, he turned it toward you.

"Say hi Y/n." He prompted.

You straightened up, flashing a peace sign at the camera. "Hi hi, hello!"

Mark grinned behind the camera. "We're here with the super duper awesome Y/n."

"In the flesh." You responded, throwing up two rock hand signs.

Mark laughed. "In the flesh?" He turned the camera toward himself, raising an eyebrow.

You smirked. "We have a hater here guys." You motioned for him to hand over the camera, and he did so with an amused expression.

You turned the camera around, focusing on him. "Look at this hater. Super duper hater Mark."

"In the flesh." He said expressionless, before glancing at you to catch your reaction.

You scoffed playfully, rolling your eyes as you turned the camera to frame both of you in the shot. "Alright, and with that... this test video is over." You smiled, locking eyes with Mark for a beat before looking back at the lens.

After stopping the recording, you both huddled together to watch the clip, laughing.

"Is this the type of video you're looking for?" You asked, glancing at him.

"Yeah, basically. This is awesome." His smile was wide and genuine.

"Great." You mirrored his smile, the warmth between you two making the cold a little more bearable.

A gust of wind rustled through the trees, and Mark tucked his hands into his sleeves before glancing at you. "Do you want to grab some lunch or something? It's on me."

You raised an eyebrow. "Free lunch? Why would I pass on that?"

Mark laughed, standing up and stretching before leading the way. The two of you walked to the familiar cafe where you always met, slipping into your usual routine without much thought. After ordering you found yourselves at your regular table, the conversation flowing as effortlessly as ever.

You set your cup down and leaned forward. "Wait, this would be a great shot." You reached for the camera, and Mark passed it to you without hesitation.

You turned it on, panning it toward him as he casually picked up his cup, taking a slow sip.

A giggle escaped you from behind the camera, and Mark's gaze flickered up. He smirked, trying, and failing, not to laugh.

"Wait, wait." He said, holding out his hand. "Let me capture my POV."

You handed the camera back, and he immediately started recording. First, he zoomed in on his cup, then moved to some of the food on the table, narrating dramatically.

"Here we have... a masterpiece." He slowly panned upward, the lens landing on you.

A small smile played on his lips as he held the camera steady. "Working on the project. This is the same day as the test recording, but who cares?"

You made an awkward face at the camera before sticking your tongue out playfully. "Documenting history." You teased.

Mark chuckled, lowering the camera slightly. "I think this might actually turn out great." He admitted, glancing at you.

You met his gaze, something lingering between the two of you.

You agreed softly. "Yeah, I think so too."

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You had been recording with Mark for about two weeks now, always keeping the shoots outdoors, but today was different. Mark said it was time to capture one of the final stages—him recording it. For that, he invited you over to his apartment.

You of course agreed. It was part of the project anyway, but what surprised you was realizing that his apartment was only about a ten minute walk from yours.

Taking advantage of the convenience, you decided to walk there, stopping by a store on the way to grab some supplies for a separate project you needed to work on while Mark was busy. As you waited at the checkout, a small Spider-Man figurine caught your eye. Something about it reminded you of Mark—probably that old keychain hanging from his camera. With a small smile, you grabbed it and added it to your purchase.

Soon, you were standing outside his door, a small brown paper bag in hand. You knocked, shifting on your feet as you waited.

The door swung open, and Mark greeted you with a bright smile. "Hey Y/n!"

"Hey Mark." You smiled back, stepping inside and slipping off your coat and shoes.

His apartment was cozy, a subtle scent of coffee and something faintly citrusy in the air.

"This place is nice." You commented as he led you toward his studio room.

"Aw, it's nothing." He said calmly, but there was a hint of pride in his voice.

You stepped into the music room, immediately noticing how it felt both chaotic and comforting. Wires across the floor, tangled yet somehow purposeful. Instruments leaned against the walls, and scattered notebooks were filled with what you assumed were unfinished lyrics. It wasn't pristine, but it felt real—lived in.

"Sorry for the mess." He said sheepishly, tidying up a few papers.

"No, it's cute. I like it."

He paused at that, looking at you for a moment longer than necessary, a small genuine smile tugged at his lips as he let out a soft giggle. "Thanks..."

You cleared your throat, settling in. "So, you have some finishing touches to do?"

"Yeah." He nodded. "I just need to tweak a few things, then record. You can work on your project while I do that—I'll just set up the camera to capture everything, if that's cool?"

"Of course, do your thing." You assured him.

Mark adjusted the camera on its stand, making sure it had a good angle before grabbing his guitar and plopping down on the couch.

"I hope the noise isn't too distracting." He said, glancing at you.

"No, you're good." You gave him a reassuring smile before pulling out your supplies.

As you sorted through the contents of the bag, you came across the Spider-Man figurine. You hesitated for a second before looking up.

"Oh uh, Mark?"

He immediately looked over, giving you his full attention.

"I got you a little something. I saw it at the store and thought of you." You pulled out the figurine and held it up, waiting for his reaction.

His eyes widened slightly before a grin broke across his face. "Oh my god!" He took it from your hands, examining it like it was the coolest thing in the world. "This is literally my favorite... thank you so much."

You laughed at his enthusiasm. "Yeah, yeah, you're welcome."

Mark immediately ran over to the camera, crouching in front of it with the figurine. "Look at this super cool gift Y/n gave me. Isn't it epic?" He held it up proudly, his smile contagious.

You shook your head, watching him with amusement.

"Everyone say 'Thank you Y/n.'" He continued, turning the camera toward you.

"Thank you Y/n." He said in a lighter voice. 

You rolled your eyes playfully, but smiled. "You're welcome guys."

Mark turned the camera back to himself. "But wait, what is Y/n working on? We've been stuck on me when we have a hardworking creative genius over here."

You lifted the almost finished postcard you had been making. "Well guys, I just have to make some postcards."

"Ooo, pretty." He said in his high pitched voice again.

You smirked. "Wait—me or the postcard?" It was meant to be a lighthearted joke, but Mark answered instantly.

"Both."

You blinked at him, momentarily thrown off, but he just grinned at you like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Clearing your throat, you turned the postcard over in your hands. "You know, why am I even making this? My major is digital design."

"Crazy wonders of the world." Mark said, raising an eyebrow dramatically.

"I know right?" You giggled.

"Wait, hold up the postcard." He said suddenly.

You obliged, holding up the small card that was a sunset over the city skyline.

Mark placed the Spider-Man figurine in front of it, adjusting the camera's angle. "Spider-Man Mark in Y/n's pretty city." He moved the figure as if it were walking.

"Pretty Spider-Man Mark in Y/n's regular city." You corrected teasingly.

"Ah, that's not true. It's not regular, nothing you do is regular."

You turned to him, surprised by the sincerity in his voice. Mark immediately panned the camera toward you, catching your reaction.

"Guys, did you hear that?" You asked, smiling.

"I think they did... uh oh. I've been caught." He said dramatically.

Laughing, you shook your head. "Alright, alright, let's get back to filming."

Mark sighed, setting the figurine aside. "Okay, I'll finish recording my song. Back to boring me."

"No, I should be recording this part." You insisted, spinning around in his desk chair. "That's literally the point of the project."

"It's fine—"

"Nope." You stood up, grabbing the camera and plopping onto the bean bag in front of him. "Alright, let's hear it."

Mark adjusted himself on the couch, strumming a few simple notes at first as you zoomed in slightly.

"We want to hear the song!" You said in a high pitched voice behind the camera.

Mark looked up, straight into the lens. "Guys, you have no say in this."

"Hey! Don't talk to them like that. We all want to hear the song... you must oblige."

He raised an eyebrow. "Oh, all of you?"

"Yes." You nodded, keeping the camera steady.

"Well... I guess that means I have no choice." He sighed, dramatically adjusting his posture. Then his expression softened. "Alright. Here goes."

As he began playing his eyes fluttered shut, lost in the melody. The notes filled the room, smooth and rhythmic, but when he opened his eyes again, they didn't go to the camera— they went straight to you. Suddenly, he stumbled. "Wait—I'm nervous when you're looking at me play... turn the other way."

"What? How am I supposed to turn away? I'm literally filming. If you suck, just say that." You teased.

Mark groaned. "That's not fair."

"Fine, fine, I'll close my eyes." You smirked. "You're lucky I'm talented and can record with my eyes closed."

You heard him chuckle before he started playing again and this time, he didn't stop. The music wrapped around you, soothing you into a quiet rhythm as you swayed slightly.

When you finally opened your eyes you smiled. "Wow... you're good."

He set the guitar down. "Me? Nah."

"You're definitely better than me." You admitted.

"Wait—you play?"

"Barely."

"Give it a try."

"Oh no, no, no—"

"Oh yes, yes, yes."

And before you could argue, he was handing you the guitar and taking the guitar from you, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

You hesitated, staring at the guitar now resting in your lap as you glanced up at Mark, who was grinning.

"Mark, no. I can't." You said, shaking your head.

"Yes, you can." He countered, adjusting the camera to make sure it was still recording. "If you guys want Y/n to play say, 'Play Y/n.'" He turned back to you with a teasing smile.

"Play Y/n." He said in that high pitched voice again.

You groaned, pointing at the camera. "You guys are traitors."

Mark beamed. "You must listen. You must oblige, right?"

You rolled your eyes but couldn't fight your own smile. "Fine, but I'm telling you I suck."

"It's okay, take your time." He reassured, watching you expectantly.

Taking a deep breath, you positioned your fingers awkwardly on the strings, recalling the few chords you knew. You strummed slowly, hesitant. The sound wasn't smooth—it was a little choppy, a little messy, but you pushed through, playing a simple tune you vaguely remembered.

As you focused on the guitar, you felt Mark's gaze lingering. When you glanced up, he was watching you with a small smile.

"Okay, I'm done." You announced quickly, placing the guitar back on your lap like it was some kind of dangerous weapon.

Mark clapped dramatically. "That was good!"

"Mark, do not lie to my face right now."

"I'm serious!" He leaned forward. "Better than some people in my classes, I swear."

"Right..." You scoffed, playfully rolling your eyes.

"I'm not lying! It takes practice." He insisted. "You're the best in my eyes, okay?"

Before you could process his words, he gently took the guitar back from you and placed it across his lap.

"You'll get better, it's all about growth." He continued, casually strumming a few quick chords.

"Oh, now you're just showing off."

He grinned. "No I'm not, stop."

You shook your head, still smiling, before glancing at the clock. It was getting late.

Mark must've noticed too because his fingers slowed on the guitar. "You should probably head home soon, huh?"

You sighed. "Yeah... probably."

A beat of silence passed between you, filled only by the faint buzz of the camera still recording. Neither of you moved right away.

Then Mark stood up abruptly. "Wait, let me walk you home."

You blinked. "Mark, it's literally a ten minute walk."

"So?" He shrugged, grabbing his hoodie off the back of the chair. "It's dark out."

"I'll be fine." You reassured him, standing up and stretching.

"Still, I wanna make sure." He smiled at you.

You held his gaze for a moment before exhaling in defeat. "Fine, but if we get jumped you better be ready to fight for your life."

Mark laughed as he grabbed his keys. "Don't worry, Spider-Man got you."

As you both stepped outside into the cool night air, walking side by side under the streetlights, you found yourself stealing small glances at him.

🎸⋆⭒˚｡⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⭒˚｡⋆ 🎸

The familiar ding of Mark's apartment buzzer echoed as you rocked back and forth on your heels, hands stuffed into the pockets of your hoodie. Moments later, the door swung open revealing Mark in a black hoodie and sweatpants, hair slightly tousled like he'd been running his hands through it.

"Y/n! My favorite editor has arrived." He said with a teasing smirk, stepping aside to let you in.

You rolled your eyes, stepping inside and kicking off your shoes. "Flattery will not make me do extra work Mark."

"Damn...worth a shot."

He led you into his workspace, where his laptop was already open, the editing software pulled up on the screen. A few loose papers and a notebook was scattered across the desk. You settled into the chair, rolling up your sleeves, ready to finish what had been weeks of filming and late night texts about clips and transitions.

As Mark settled onto the couch behind you, tuning his guitar absentmindedly, your eyes drifted to the notebook lying open beside the keyboard. The title at the top caught your attention.

200

Your brow furrowed as you skimmed the first few lines.

"Hey, what's this?" You asked, fingers brushing the edge of the page.

Before you could read any further Mark was suddenly there, reaching over your shoulder and snapping the notebook shut in one motion.

"Nothing—just a project for another class." He said quickly, his voice a little too casual.

You arched a brow, turning in your chair to look at him. "Oh yeah? What class?"

He blinked. "Uh—songwriting."

You smirked. "You're a bad liar."

"I am not lying." He countered, crossing his arms, but the way he avoided your gaze told you otherwise.

You let it slide—for now. "Fine Mr. Songwriter. Let's get back to the actual project before we run out of time."

He exhaled in relief, moving back to his spot on the couch as you clicked through the footage. The two of you worked, laughing over bloopers and trimming clips.

After a while, Mark leaned forward, resting his chin on the back of the chair. "Hey, so... I wanna learn how to add text to videos."

You glanced at him. "Oh?"

"Yeah, like... just in case I ever need to make a music video by myself." He explained, his voice dipping slightly.

You smirked, already sensing where this was going. "You mean in case I'm not around to do it for you?"

He grinned, not even denying it. "Exactly."

You hummed, clicking through the editing software. "Alright, pay attention."

Mark pulled his chair up beside you, leaning in way too close as you navigated the program. You felt the heat of his gaze more than once, but you pretended not to notice—until you did.

"You're not even looking at the screen." You said, turning toward him.

"I am." He defended, but his smirk gave him away.

You huffed, placing your hand on the mouse. "Watch closely."

You leaned in to type and in the process, your knee brushed against his. Instead of moving away, Mark just smirked slightly, shifting even closer.

"So, you click here to add a text layer." You explained, voice steady despite the way your skin tingled. "Then you can choose the font, size, and animation style."

"Mmm, what if I want it to fade in all smooth and cool?"

"Then you'd go to transitions and—"

You clicked the wrong thing.

A bright pink, curly font popped up on the screen, reading: SUPER AWESOME Y/N IS THE BEST.

Mark burst into laughter. "Ohhh, I love that...perfect title."

You groaned trying to fix it, but he grabbed your wrist gently. "Wait, wait. Keep it."

"Mark, no."

"Mark, yes." He teased, his fingers still lingering on your wrist. "It's only fair, you are super awesome."

You shook your head, deleting the text despite his protests.

You both finished the editing, but before you could say you were done for the night, Mark stretched with an exaggerated groan.

"You know what? You should stay for dinner." He said casually.

You blinked. "What?"

"Stay for dinner." He repeated, standing up. "I'll cook."

You raised a suspicious brow. "You cook?"

He scoffed. "First of all, rude. Second, yes."

You crossed your arms, pretending to consider. "Mmm, free food... and potential food poisoning?"

Mark clutched his chest dramatically. "Wow, you wound me."

You laughed, standing up. "Fine, fine. I'll stay, but if I die I'm haunting you."

"Deal." He said, heading to the kitchen. "Now sit back, relax, and prepare to be amazed."

You settled onto a stool by the counter, watching as he pulled out ingredients. To your surprise, he actually seemed to know what he was doing, chopping vegetables with ease, humming under his breath as he worked.

"So, what is your specialty Chef Mark?" You teased, resting your chin in your palm.

He grinned. "Tonight? Stir-fry."

As he cooked, the conversation flowed easily. You talked about music, future plans, dumb childhood stories. At one point, Mark wiped his hands on a towel and reached over to poke your cheek.

"You always do that when you're focused." He pointed out.

"Do what?"

"That little frown." He mimicked, scrunching his brows.

You rolled your eyes, swatting his hand away. "I do not—"

"You do." He countered, turning back to the stove with a smug smile.

Dinner was surprisingly delicious. As you ate, the conversation slowed, settling into something quieter.

"You know." Mark started, twirling his fork. "I'm kinda sad this project's ending."

You glanced up. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." He met your eyes. "It was fun having you around. Working on something together."

You felt warmth spread through your chest. "Yeah... it was."

Mark hesitated before adding, "We should do it again sometime."

You smiled. "We should."

🎸⋆⭒˚｡⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⭒˚｡⋆ 🎸

You and Mark had finally decided to take a break from all the work, choosing a laid back hangout where you didn't have to worry about editing, filming, or anything productive. Not that it ever felt like work, anyway—not with him.

The two of you strolled down the sidewalk, warm coffees in hand. Laughter spilled from your lips as Mark animatedly told you some story, his voice light and his cheeks slightly flushed from the cold.

"Wait, wait... so you're telling me he actually tried to—"

"Y/n?" A familiar voice cut through your laughter, making you pause mid step.

You turned toward the sound and immediately spotted Jaemin approaching, his usual smug grin plastered across his face. His hands were shoved into the pockets of his coat, but his sharp eyes flickered between you and Mark, already scanning for... something.

"Jaemin... Hi!" You greeted, putting on your best casual smile.

Mark lifted his hand in a small wave. "Hey man."

Jaemin's smirk deepened as he reached you both, tilting his head slightly. "Feels like I haven't seen you in forever." He said, his gaze still shifting between you and Mark, clearly analyzing.

"I know right?" You chuckled, shifting on your feet. "I've just been, you know... busy with my boyfriend." You emphasized the word, nudging Mark slightly with your elbow. He played along instantly, nodding in agreement with a small smile.

"Ahh, right." Jaemin said, dragging the words out as if he were testing how it felt on his tongue. His expression remained unreadable, but the skepticism in his eyes was unmistakable. "You guys look... closer than ever."

"Well, yeah." You replied, flashing a polite smile. "That's sorta what happens when you date someone."

Mark let out a quiet chuckle beside you, sipping his coffee.

Jaemin squinted at the two of you, lips pressing together like he was trying to piece something together. The silence stretched just a little too long before he finally let out a small hum.

"Hmm. Yeah, you're right."

"Well." You started, eager to end the interaction before Jaemin could get any ideas. "We're gonna get going—"

"Wait."

Your heart sank just a little.

Jaemin grinned, clearly enjoying the moment. "We miss you." He said, looking directly at you. "Why don't you and Mark stop by this Saturday? Hang out with everyone... you know, like the old times."

That smug expression on his face told you that declining wasn't going to be easy. You opened your mouth to politely decline, but before you could get a word out Mark beat you to it.

"That sounds fun, right babe?" He said smoothly, turning to you with a warm smile that almost looked genuine.

You blinked at him.

"Yeah, totally." You managed, forcing a smile back as you turned to Jaemin. "We'll be there."

Jaemin took a step back, satisfied. "Great! Just don't break up before then or anything."

Mark let out a laugh, shaking his head. "Oh, we're good man."

Jaemin hummed again, still looking just a little too suspicious for your liking. "Kay... see you then."

With that, he finally walked away leaving you and Mark standing there in unison. You both let out a synchronized sigh.

"That was..." You trailed off.

Mark shook his head, smiling slightly. "I can see why you'd be scared to date someone...he's scary."

You laughed. "I'm not scared of him."

Mark raised a playful brow. "You sure? He had you real close to sweating back there."

You rolled your eyes. "I just think it's annoying."

Mark smiled, but then as if something weighed on him, his expression stiffened just a little. He glanced down at his coffee, rolling the cup slightly between his hands. "Seriously though... why don't you date anyone?"

You hesitated for a moment before exhaling through your nose. "I just don't want to." You shrugged. "I feel like relationships don't last. They start great, then fall apart."

Mark's gaze softened. "What makes you feel that way?"

You pressed your lips together for a moment before answering. "Just... a past relationship. It didn't work out, and honestly I don't think it's worth trying again. I'd rather just be by myself."

Mark didn't say anything right away, but you could tell something shifted in his demeanor. His usual playfulness dimmed just a little, like he wanted to say something, but wasn't sure if he should.

Finally, he offered a small smile. "Well... I get it I guess. If you don't try again, you won't ever know though."

"Then I guess I'll never know." You replied simply.

Silence settled between you, not awkward, but thick.

Mark looked down at his phone, biting his lip. "I should probably head out."

"Oh, okay." You said, nodding as you adjusted your coat.

He hesitated for a second before flashing his usual easygoing smile. "I'll see you this weekend, yeah?"

"Yeah... see you then." You said, forcing a small smile back.

🎸⋆⭒˚｡⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⭒˚｡⋆ 🎸

When you arrived at the hangout together, arms casually brushing, laughter slipping easily between you, no one batted an eye. You were affectionate without forcing it, leaning into each other, whispering small things that made no sense to anyone else, it felt effortless.

As the night wore on someone suggested a drinking game—Truth or Dare, with shots.

The group quickly agreed, the buzz of alcohol already making everyone a little looser, a little bolder.

"Drinking Truth or Dare?" Mark asked, raising a curious brow as he turned to you.

"Yeah, we do it all the time." You replied, already a bit tipsy, your tongue a little looser than it should be. "You don't have to if you don't want."

Mark smirked. "No, I want to."

And with that, the game began.

The first round started with a collective shot to get things going. The group quickly fell into a rhythm—questions growing more personal, dares becoming more ridiculous.

Then it was your turn, and your gaze flickered over to Jaemin.

"Jaemin." You said, a slow smirk creeping onto your lips. "Truth or dare?"

He leaned back casually, but cocky. "Truth."

You twirled your shot glass between your fingers as a sinister thought grazed your mind. "Is it true you've been thinking about breaking up with your girlfriend?"

The air tensed. Jaemin's easygoing expression fell for just a second, his jaw clenched.

"Y/n, what the fuck? No." His voice was sharp as he reached for another shot and downed it in one go.

You shrugged, unfazed. "I was just curious. You always made fun of me for being single so... this is ironic, isn't it?"

Jaemin exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. "Okay, I've got a truth for you then Y/n."

You raised a brow, taking a slow sip of your drink. "Fine, hit me."

His eyes darkened just a little, his smirk twisting into something sharper. "Is it true that the reason you took this long to get into a relationship is because of how shitty your ex treated you—that you tolerated for months?"

The table went quiet.

You felt your stomach twist, but you forced yourself to roll your eyes, refusing to let the weight of his words show on your face. "Jaemin, please."

Jaemin shrugged like it was nothing, but the tension between you two was thick. This happened often, your tipsy back and forths, but tonight it was different.

"Okay Y/n. Truth or dare?" Chenle's voice cut through, attempting to redirect the conversation.

"What? I just went." You said, shooting him a look.

"Go again." Chenle pressed, his gaze locked on you.

You sighed, deciding it was better than letting Jaemin's words linger. "Fine, dare."

A slow grin spread across Chenle's face. "Alright, I dare you and Mark to do seven minutes in heaven."

You blinked. "What, are we teenagers? Seven minutes in heaven?"

Mark turned to you, his expression unreadable, but amused.

"You picked dare." Jaemin's voice cut in. "You have to do it."

"Jaemin, hush." Chenle muttered, shooting him a look.

You sighed dramatically before standing. "Fine, whatever. C'mon Mark."

Chenle led you to a small, dimly lit closet, shoving you both inside before closing the door behind you.

The space was tight—so tight that your knees brushed his, your shoulder pressed into his chest. A dim, flickering light illuminated the space, casting soft shadows on Mark's face.

"Wow, this is kinda snug." You murmured, shifting slightly.

Mark let out a breathy chuckle. "Yeah... sorry, my hand kinda hurts. Do you mind if I...?" He gestured vaguely, and you understood immediately.

"Go ahead." You said, letting him wrap his arm around you to ease the angle.

For a moment, there was nothing but silence, the sound of muffled voices outside the only thing filling the space, then Mark spoke.

"You know..." His voice was quieter now, almost hesitant. "You're more than what you've had in the past... no matter what Jaemin says."

You stilled, no one had ever said that to you before. You turned to him, meeting his gaze in the dim light. His expression was softer than usual. Without thinking, you reached forward and pulled him into a hug.

"I appreciate you so much Mark." You whispered, your arms tightening around him.

His breath hitched slightly before he returned the embrace. "I appreciate you too."

When you pulled back, you were still close—so close that your breaths mixed, your faces mere inches apart. Mark looked at you, his gaze flickering down to your lips. Before you could process it, he leaned in.

And you let him.

The kiss started slow, tentative, unsure—before something in both of you snapped. His hands found your waist, pulling you closer, and you melted into him. The kiss deepened, your fingers tangling in his hair, his grip tightening just slightly as if afraid you'd pull away.

You made a soft noise against his lips, and it was all he needed to kiss you harder, more desperately.

He broke the kiss for a second, looking at you with glossy eyes as you both caught your breaths. Before you could lean in, there was a knock on the door.

You both froze, your lips slightly parted, your breaths uneven.

Chenle's voice came through. "Alright, time's up."

You swallowed, pulling away fully. Mark's ears were flushed pink, his chest rising and falling just as fast as yours. Without a word, you reached for the doorknob and stepped out.

As you both took your seats, the air between you had definitely shifted. You avoided looking at Mark, but every time your eyes accidentally met, you couldn't help but smile. It was stupid, but something about it made your whole body feel light. Jaemin, of course was the first to notice.

"What, did you guys fuck or something?" He asked, staring at the two of you.

"Cut it out." Chenle interjected. "If she's calm now, then you need to be— or do we need to send you to the closet?"

You let out a small giggle at that, shaking your head.

Jaemin scoffed but let it go, leaning back in his seat. "Whatever." He said "She knows I love her." He said, quietly.

Something in his tone made you pause for just a second, but before you could even unpack that your eyes flickered back to Mark, and just like that, the rest of the room faded.

🎸⋆⭒˚｡⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⭒˚｡⋆ 🎸

February 7th – The Day the Project Was Due

The moment you woke up, you grabbed your phone and texted Mark.

"It's the day!"

It didn't take long for him to reply.

"Yep."

You smiled, quickly typing out another message.

"Have you turned it in already?"

"Yep."

You paused for a moment, his short responses making your fingers hover over the keyboard. Maybe he was just busy... maybe you were reading too much into it.

"And you told me that everything should be graded by the 12th?"

"Mhm."

Your stomach twisted slightly, this wasn't like him. Usually Mark was more responsive, more animated. Right now, his texts felt distant, dry. You tried to shake the feeling.

"Well... good luck. I'm scared for you 😭."

"Thxs."

That was it... just thxs?

Something felt off, you couldn't quite put your finger on it—maybe it was the lack of emojis, or the way you were imagining his voice flat and indifferent.

You hesitated before typing:

"... Are you okay?"

"Yep, I'm cool."

You frowned.

"You sure?"

"Yep."

There it was again. The same short response.

Your fingers hesitated over the keyboard, but you decided not to push. If something was wrong, he'd tell you.

"Um... okay. Anyways, do you want to meet up for lunch today? I'm reallyyyy craving a sandwich right now."

A moment passed before his reply came in.

"I can't today... sorry."

Your stomach twisted again, but you forced yourself to brush it off.

"Oh... that's fine. I'll talk to you later."

You sat with your phone in your lap, waiting—hoping he'd text first like he usually did, but the hours passed, and there was nothing. No check-ins, no requests to hang out. Something didn't feel right. Just radio silence.

You sent a few more texts over the next few days, but his responses were slow and repetitive.

"Not today, sorry."

"I'm busy, maybe later."

"Sorry, can't."

Days blurred together, and before you knew it, it was February 12th. You grabbed your phone, barely able to contain your anticipation.

"Today's the day... I'm nervous... excited."

Mark's reply came a few minutes later.

"Lol yeah."

You hesitated. His texts still felt off, but you pushed the thought aside.

"Make sure to update me!"

This time he didn't even respond with words. He just liked the message. Your stomach sank slightly, but you told yourself it was fine... maybe he was just stressed.

You waited all day, checking your phone every few minutes, but the message didn't come until late—almost 11 p.m.

"So... I got a B."

You blinked at your screen, rereading the message. A B? After all the work you both put in?

"WHAT?" You typed back, your frustration evident.

"Yep."

You knew he had wanted an A. That was the whole deal, if he got an A, he'd go to the Valentine's Day party with you.

A small pang of disappointment settled in your chest as you hesitantly typed:

"Aw man, does that mean you won't go to the Valentine's party with me?"

A pause.

"Well... A deal's a deal. So no."

You frowned, staring at the screen. You knew it was silly to be upset—after all, this was fake and yet... it still kind of stung.

"Aw :("

"Sorry man."

You sighed.

"Nothing for you to be sorry about. We worked super hard... your professor will get knocked off their feet next time... swear."

"Yeah haha."

The conversation felt like it was ending, but you couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong.

"I hope you're okay?"

A moment passed before he replied.

"I'm fine."

You stared at his response for a moment before liking the message. That was that, The deal was off... no party, no fake date. Just like that, your arrangement was over. And maybe... maybe it was for the best.

Right?

You were half asleep when your phone buzzed again. Groggily, you reached for it, expecting it to be some random notification, but it wasn't.

It was Mark.

"I mean... are you still going to the party?"

Your eyes widened slightly. You sat up, rereading his message just to make sure you weren't dreaming.

Your fingers moved quickly.

"Probably, so I at least won't be alone on Valentine's Day 😂."

A few moments passed before he replied.

"You don't have to tell them we broke up and all that... maybe just say I'm sick or something."

Your eyebrows furrowed slightly.

"Then they're gonna be expecting you to go to future couple things. Might as well tell them we broke it off now."

A pause.

"Ah... yeah, right. Sorry."

You sighed.

"No need to be. This was bound to happen anyways. We can't fake it all our life."

The words felt wrong as you typed them.

"Yeah."

And that was that. The end of the story, at least... that's what you thought. Until the day of Valentine's Day, when your phone buzzed again.

🎸⋆⭒˚｡⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⭒˚｡⋆ 🎸

You stared at the name on your screen. Mark.

A part of you had expected the conversation to end earlier, but here he was, still texting about it.

"Did you already tell your friends we broke up?" He asked.

"Well... yeah." You replied, faster than you intended.

There was a long pause. The three little dots popped up for a second, then disappeared. You swallowed, waiting for his next message.

"Damn it. My teacher just randomly curved my grade. So I'm at an A now."

The abrupt change of topic made you blink, but your fingers moved quickly across the screen.

"Omg, that's amazing. I'm proud of you. I know you wanted an A."

"Thank you, thank you—but what about you?"

"What about me?"

"I have to hold up my end of the bargain."

Before you could ask what he meant, another text came through.

"Is it too late to come to the party with you?"

You froze, rereading the words. Deep down, you were excited—excited to spend another moment with Mark, when lately the people around you felt a little unbearable. You knew you shouldn't be so eager, but still...

"I mean... I guess not. I do want to see the look on Jaemin's face when you walk in anyways. He's been taunting me and I haven't even seen him in person yet. You don't have to come though, I promise."

"A deal's a deal."

A small, reluctant smile tugged at your lips.

"Sounds great."

"Is there a dress code? Do you want to match or something?"

"I mean, that's up to you."

"I told you I was gonna be the best boyfriend they've ever seen... for that, you have to tell me how the best boyfriend is supposed to be."

"Just be you."

He saw it instantly. The typing bubbles appeared, then disappeared. You wondered what he was about to say but changed your mind on. Before he could reply, you sent another message.

"We have to meet up early so we can get each other gifts. "

"Yeah, for sure. I can come pick you up in about three hours, okay?"

"Sounds good to me."

You set your phone down, exhaling. Three hours.

Time slipped by faster than you expected, and before you knew it, there was a knock at your door. When you opened it, Mark stood there with his usual bright grin.

"Long time no see." You greeted, unable to stop the smile spreading across your face.

"Long time no see." HE echoed, his eyes flickering over you before landing on your sweater.

You followed his gaze, then looked at him.

"Oh, we're matching?" You asked, noticing the way his red sweater mirrored yours.

Mark chuckled. "Yeah. Great minds think alike, I guess."

"So, are you ready to go?" You asked, slipping on your shoes and shutting the door behind you.

"Yep." He said, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

The drive to the store was filled with the usual back and forth, music playing softly in the background as Mark tapped his fingers against the steering wheel. Every now and then, you caught him sneaking a glance at you, but he never said anything about it so you didn't either.

"Okay." You said as you walked inside the store together. "We pick out a gift in five minutes, and no peeking at each other's choice until the party."

Mark let out a small laugh. "You think you can find me something good in five minutes?"

"Obviously." You smirked. "But you? I don't know Mark. I feel like you'll panic buy the first thing you see."

"Wow." He placed a hand over his heart. "That's the faith you have in me?"

"Prove me wrong then."

His eyes held yours for a moment, something unreadable flickering in them before he exhaled and nodded. "Alright, five minutes. See you at the door."

You grinned before spinning on your heel, heading straight into the aisles.

Mark found himself standing in front of a shelf filled with different gift options—some fun, some practical, some completely ridiculous. He ran a hand through his hair, glancing over at where you were browsing on the other side of the store. You looked so at ease, so sure of yourself. Mark? Not so much.

It wasn't that he didn't want to get you something—he did. Maybe a little too much. That was the problem. How was he supposed to pick something casual when everything in him wanted to get you something that meant more?

Sighing, he grabbed some crochet flowers off the shelf, inspecting it. It had to be just enough. Not too much, not too little. Just enough, plus, he remembered you saying something about roses in the past.

At exactly five minutes, you both arrived at the door, each holding a gift bag.

"Done?" You asked, tilting your head.

"Done."

You squinted at his choice. "Did you panic buy?"

He scoffed. "No faith. Absolutely no faith in me."

As you both headed back to the car, the air between you felt lighter. The slight hesitation in Mark's eyes was still there, but he was smiling—really smiling—and it made something in your chest warm.

By the time you arrived at the party, the house was already buzzing with music and laughter. Groups of people were gathered in the living room, some sprawled across the couches, others standing with drinks in their hands.

All eyes turned when you and Mark walked in together.

You felt it instantly—the shift in the room, the way conversations paused, the way Jaemin's smirk deepened as he leaned back against the counter.

"Well, well." Jaemin drawled, crossing his arms. "Look who decided to show up together."

You rolled your eyes. "Don't start."

Mark, to your surprise, just smiled, wrapping an arm around your shoulder with ease. "What? We always keep people guessing, right?"

Jaemin raised an eyebrow, clearly amused, but said nothing.

You turned your head slightly, looking at Mark. His hold on you was relaxed, casual—like it was nothing at all. His fingers lightly pressed against your shoulder, and when you glanced up at him, there was something in his expression that made your stomach flip. Maybe tonight was going to be more interesting than you expected.

The night unfolded in a blur of laughter and chatter, the energy in the room buzzing as the party carried on. At first, it was subtle—the way you and Mark naturally gravitated toward each other, always within arm's reach, but then came the couple's games.

Someone had pulled out a deck of "Couple's Challenge" cards, a ridiculous party game daring pairs to complete tasks together.

"You two are playing." One of your friends declared, shoving the deck into your hands.

You barely had time to protest before Mark shrugged. "Might as well." He said, flashing you a playful grin.

Your heart stuttered for a second, but you rolled your eyes. "Fine, ut if we lose I'm blaming you."

The first challenge was simple—"Hand holding for the next three rounds." Mark didn't hesitate. His fingers slid between yours, warm and steady.

"Easy." He murmured, giving your hand the smallest squeeze. You told yourself it was just part of the game, but the way your pulse quickened said otherwise.

The next challenge was worse.

"Whisper something sweet in your partner's ear."

You barely had time to react before Mark leaned in, his breath warm against your skin.

"You look really pretty tonight." He whispered, low enough for only you to hear.

You froze, heat rising to your cheeks as your grip on his hand tightened.

"That's cheating." You muttered.

He only smirked. "You gonna call a ref?"

Before the next round could start, someone announced: "Cookie decorating time!" and everyone quickly moved toward the kitchen, where trays of plain sugar cookies and bowls of colorful icing were laid out.

You and Mark grabbed a spot at the counter, picking up two cookies.

"What's the plan?" You asked, squeezing a tube of red icing.

Mark tapped his chin, thinking. "I'll make yours, and you make mine."

You raised a brow. "So we're setting each other up for failure?"

"That's the spirit." He teased.

You narrowed your eyes at him before getting to work. Five minutes later, Mark burst out laughing. "What is this?" He asked, holding up his cookie—a lopsided mess of icing with a poorly drawn smiley face.

"It's you." You said proudly.

"This looks like a crime scene."

"You're ungrateful."

"Let's see yours then." He slid his cookie toward you, and to your surprise, it was... actually kind of cute. A small heart drawn in icing, a little crooked but undeniably sweet. You blinked at it, warmth creeping up your neck.

"Not bad." You admitted, trying to sound unaffected.

Jaemin, still lounging across the room, clapped his hands together. "Alright." He said, his smirk widening. "Since we're all feeling festive—why don't we open gifts?"

The room filled with murmurs of agreement, but your heart skipped. You turned your head slightly, meeting Mark's gaze. His hesitation was brief, just a flicker, before he nodded.

"Guess it's time." He murmured.

The room was filled with scattered wrapping paper and laughter as gifts were exchanged, the warm glow of the fairy lights adding to the cozy atmosphere. One by one, people unwrapped their presents, each reaction bringing a new wave of excitement.

Finally, Jaemin leaned forward, smirking. "Alright lovebirds, your turn."

"Alright, alright." You said, reaching for the small bag you had picked out earlier. You handed it to him with a teasing smile. "Here you go. Try not to cry."

Mark took the bag, holding it up dramatically. "Ladies and gentlemen, we are gathered here today to witness what is about to be the greatest gift ever given."

Laughter erupted around the room, but you just rolled your eyes. "Oh my God, just open it."

Mark finally stuck his hand in the bag, pulling out a sleek, keychain shaped like his favorite guitar.

His eyes widened slightly before he let out an impressed whistle. "No way." He said, running his fingers over it. "How did you even find this?"

You shrugged, grinning. "I have my ways."

He twirled the keychain between his fingers before nodding in approval. "Alright, I'll admit it—this is actually sick." He turned to the group. "Thanks, really." He murmured, and for a second, his voice was softer, more genuine.

You felt your heartbeat stutter.

"Okay, okay." Jaemin interrupted, smirking. "Now, what did you get for her Mark? Better be good."

Mark grinned, reaching behind him and pulling out a simple brown paper bag. "Alright, I went with something classic."

You took the bag from him, curiosity bubbling in your chest. As you opened it, your breath hitched.

Inside was the bouquet of crochet roses, your favorite flower.

You looked up at him, eyes wide. "Oh my God... you remembered?"

Mark's smile softened. "Of course I did."

A collective "Aww" echoed through the room as you stared down at the roses, warmth spreading through your chest. It was such a simple gift, but it meant more than words could express. Before you could say anything else, Mark clapped his hands together.

"Alright, I actually have one more surprise."

Your brows furrowed. "Wait—what?"

He stood up, brushing his hands off. "I'll be right back."

The group looked around with curiosity as Mark disappeared down the hallway. Moments later he returned, carrying his laptop.

"Uh... can I hook this up to the TV?" He asked, looking toward Jaemin.

Jaemin raised an eyebrow but nodded. "Yeah, go ahead man."

Mark quickly connected the laptop, and after a few seconds, the screen flickered to life. Your stomach flipped when bold white letters appeared on the dark background.

"200, by Mark... for Y/N."

Your breath caught in your throat and then, music started playing.

“First, you crashed into my life and you just broke, my roof and my window, girl, you had me shook—”

Your eyes widened in shock. It was the song you had found in his notebook. The one he had been working on, the one he had never let you hear.

Your heart pounded as the video started and suddenly, you were on screen.

The footage was a collection of moments—the two of you laughing during late night study sessions, joking around between takes for the project, him catching you off guard with his camera and you playfully shoving him away. The edits were smooth, timed perfectly to the beat of the song. You felt mesmerized as you listened to the lyrics.

They were about you.

Every verse, every carefully chosen word—it was all about the moments you had shared, about the way you made him feel, about the way he saw you when you weren't looking.

You barely noticed the people around you reacting. You were completely lost in the song, in the video. When a clip of you making a ridiculous face appeared you let out a soft laugh, covering your mouth. When the video cut to Mark recording you while you weren't looking, glancing at you, your heart clenched.

And then all too soon, the song ended.

The screen faded to black, and for a moment silence filled the room.

Jaemin just shook his head, muttering, "Wow." as everyone broke into collective "Aw's"

You turned to Mark slowly, your eyes shining. "You really did this... for me?"

Mark rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly looking a little sheepish. "Yeah. I mean... yeah."

You could only look at Mark.

And he could only look at you.

🎸⋆⭒˚｡⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⭒˚｡⋆ 🎸

When you arrived at Mark's apartment after the party, it was quiet, the only sound being the faint hum of the heater as you stepped inside.

"You really learned how to edit lyrics for this?" You asked, shaking your head slightly as you set the bouquet down on the counter. "Mark, that was so thoughtful... really."

He glanced at you with a small smile, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Learned from the best... for the best."

His words made your stomach flip, but you ignored the feeling and nudged his shoulder playfully. "You didn't have to do all that for me."

Mark raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing at his lips. "I told you I was gonna be the best boyfriend."

You chuckled, shaking your head. "Well, you got a B, so you really went far and beyond."

For a split second, something flickered across his face—hesitation. His body stiffened slightly, and he averted his gaze, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Well..." He trailed off, voice quieter. "She curved it... so I technically got an A."

You slowed your steps as you both entered his studio, brows furrowing. "Does your teacher provide feedback?" You asked, curiosity creeping in.

Without thinking he replied, "Yeah, of course."

Something about his tone made you pause. "What feedback did you get? I'm just wondering why you got a B in the first place. Not trying to toot my own horn, but the video was pretty nice... and the song—don't get me started, it was beautiful."

Mark let out a nervous chuckle. "Uh, yeah... haha. Sucks."

You narrowed your eyes. "Let me see it. I wanna read it."

Suddenly, he looked really nervous, shifting his weight from foot to foot. "Oh, uh—you wanna see it right now? My phone is dead, so we can't."

You turned your head toward the couch, where his phone was lying face up. Right on cue, the screen lit up with a notification.

Mark froze.

"You just got a notification." You pointed out, looking at him suspiciously.

His laugh was forced. "Oh, that's funny. Haha. Well, it's about to die..."

"Ah okay... but your computer's right there." You said, nodding towards his desk.

He followed your gaze, swallowing hard. His entire body tensed, and you could practically see the internal panic. Before he could come up with another excuse, you sat down in his desk chair and gestured at the laptop. "Just open it."

Mark hesitated. "Oh, I forgot my password."

You slowly turned back to him, deadpan. "Mark... What's wrong with you?"

He didn't respond.

"You're acting really weird, just open the computer."

His hands twitched at his sides before he finally moved forward, his fingers slightly shaky as he clicked onto the website to check grades.

"Log in." You said, watching him carefully.

Mark exhaled slowly, fingers hovering over the keyboard. "Are you sure you wanna see it?" He glanced at you briefly. "I just don't want your feelings to get hurt or anything."

"They're not." You said, glancing up at him.

He let out a dry laugh. "No, but they are."

You stared at him, your confusion growing. "Mark... just open it. I didn't sit here working on this project to not see what went wrong."

He nodded, pressing his lips together before finally typing in his username and password.

Incorrect password.

"Oops." He muttered.

You tilted your head. "Take your time."

He tried again. Incorrect.

And again. Incorrect.

"Mark." You said, your voice firmer now. "Seriously, what the fuck?"

His fingers hovered over the keyboard, but then he suddenly stepped back, raking his hands through his hair in frustration.

You stared at him, concern creeping in. "Mark, what's wrong—"

"I lied." He blurted out.

"What?"

His jaw clenched. "I lied."

A heavy silence settled between you. You shook your head slightly, still trying to piece together what he was saying. "About what?"

He exhaled sharply, his hands still gripping his hair. "I lied about the feedback. I lied about the grade. I've lied about everything."

You felt your heart drop. "What are you talking about?"

His gaze finally met yours hesitantly. "I got a perfect score, okay?"

"Wait... why did you lie to me?" You asked, your voice was quieter now. "Did you not want to go with me or something? You know you could've just said that."

A flicker of panic crossed his face. "No, no—it's not that."

"Then why?" You pressed, your emotions starting to surface.

Mark swallowed hard, his usual easy confidence completely gone. He looked at you, his expression torn, his fingers twitching at his sides.

"Y/n, I can't."

Your chest tightened. "No, you can. You literally can. Are you playing with me right now?"

He quickly shook his head. "No, no—I swear I'm not. Please Y/n... I don't want to ruin anything."

Your lips parted slightly, hurt creeping into your voice. "You kinda already did." You turned to leave, your heart pounding, but before you could step out of the room—

"I like you."

You froze, your fingers curling slightly at your sides, your back still turned to him.

Mark swallowed hard before continuing, his voice softer now. "I've liked you this whole time... but this was all fake. And then you told me you didn't want a relationship, and I just—I didn't want to ruin anything."

Slowly, you turned to face him.

He looked wrecked.

"And then the kiss and everything was so... complicated." He went on, his voice barely above a whisper. "I didn't know what to do, I was scared."

Your heartbeat thundered in your ears.

You exhaled shakily. "Do you know how unfair that is?"

Mark's brows furrowed. "What?"

You swallowed hard, your emotions rising to the surface. "I tried so hard to keep my feelings in check, to remind myself that this wasn't real. I told myself over and over again that I couldn't like you, but you... you were just lying to me the whole time?"

"Y/N—"

"What?" You said, a broken chuckle escaping your lips.

His gaze searched yours, uncertainty flickering across his face. "I—I didn't know you felt that way. You told me..." He trailed off, voice hesitant.

You exhaled sharply, shaking your head. "I know what I told you, and I was so stupid for saying it."

Mark's eyes softened, studying you carefully, taking a step closer

"So... you do want a relationship?" He asked, his voice uncertain.

You hesitated, lips parting slightly. "I don't know." You admitted.

His face dropped slightly, just for a second—but before he could say anything you spoke again.

"Try asking."

Mark blinked, his frown fading as realization washed over him. Slowly, a smile tugged at his lips, cautious at first—then warm. He took another step forward, reaching for your hands, his fingers curling gently around yours. His touch was warm.

"Y/n." He murmured, voice softer now.

"Will you be my girlfriend? For real this time?"

Your heart swelled at the way he said it—so sincere, so hopeful. A slow smile spread across your face as you nodded.

"Yes. I will."

Before you could say anything else, Mark let out a breath of relief, grinning as he pulled you in—his hands slipping around your waist, yours resting on his shoulders, and then he kissed you.

It wasn't rushed or hesitant like before. His lips moved against yours with a mix of relief, excitement, and something deeper. His arms tightened around you, pulling you closer, as if he was afraid to let go now that he finally had you.

You melted into him, fingers threading through his hair, smiling against his lips. When you finally pulled away, Mark rested his forehead against yours, breathless and grinning like an idiot.

"You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that, like, for real." He admitted.

"Well, now you can do it whenever you want."

His eyes gleamed. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Mark hummed, brushing his nose against yours before pressing another soft kiss to your lips.

"Best. Valentines. Ever." He murmured against your mouth.

You laughed, pulling him closer. "Yeah. It really is.

🎸⋆⭒˚｡⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⭒˚｡⋆ 🎸

The group hangout was going great—laughter, drinks, and playful chatter filling the air as everyone lounged around in Jaemin's living room. You were curled up next to Mark on the couch, his arm draped casually over the backrest behind you.

Jaemin squinted at the two of you, tilting his head. "Something feels... different between you two."

You glanced at Mark before turning back to Jaemin with a playful smile. "Well, we just hit our one month anniversary."

Mark's gaze flickered to yours, amusement twinkling in his eyes. He smiled softly, playing along.

Jaemin blinked. "Wait, what?" He leaned forward, looking genuinely confused. "Hasn't it been like... three months since you told me y'all got together?"

You and Mark just stared at each other, expressions blank as the realization sank in. Mark was the first to recover, turning back to Jaemin with the straightest face and shrugged.

"Yeah, whatever." He said smoothly. "Time is an illusion."

Jaemin shook his head, chuckling. "Y'all are so weird. I don't get paid enough to deal with you two."

"You don't get paid at all." Someone added from the other side of the room.

"Exactly."

You let out a laugh, shaking your head as you turned to Mark. He was already looking at you, his eyes warm.

"Time is an illusion?" You teased quietly.

Mark tilted his head, grinning. "Hey, it got us out of that conversation didn't it?"

You rolled your eyes but smiled anyway. "You're ridiculous."

"You like it." He shot back, bumping his knee against yours.

And yeah—you did.

Jaemin's voice snapped you out of your thoughts. "I still think something's weird about you two."

"Maybe you're the weird one." Mark countered smoothly.

Laughter rippled through the group again, the conversation shifting to something else. But you and Mark? You stayed in your little bubble.

Maybe time was an illusion, or maybe for the first time, it was finally moving exactly the way it was supposed to.

── 🎸⋆⭒˚｡⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⭒˚｡⋆ 🎸 ──

[sematarygirls]

⠀    ⠀⠀♯┆marshgirl!reader x rafe ⏤ part i.ㅤ ۪ ୧

ᰋ. ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎“ i asked my father if he believed in ghosts; he told me he would be one someday ,, ‎‎ ‎ ‎ : ‎‎ ‎ ‎IN WHICH . . . rafe bets that he can befriend the weird girl who resides in the marsh.   ─── ⊹ᡣ𐭩₊⋆🌾

THE CYPRUS BRANCHES swayed in the gentle breeze of the early morning, mist still clinging low to the murky water and roots of the trees. The air was thick with the earthy scent of damp soil and natural decomposition of material as well as the sickly sweet smell of crushed wildflowers under your feet.

You moved through the marsh like you were born from it— maybe you were—with quick, precise steps that avoided stray tree roots, sticks, rocks, and the occasional small animal. Your skirt swished at your ankles, wetted with fresh mud as you returned home from your morning scavenge of all the fascinating things nature had to offer.

Your lonely little cabin where you resided with your father was tucked away from the roads and civilization. He often told you that the world was dangerous, and it would eat a girl like you alive, so it was better to stay in the marsh where it was safe.

He'd never quite explained your way of life. You knew you were different, not like the other kids your age, but you didn't understand why, and whenever you dared ask, he would get agitated, asking you who put those thoughts into your head.

Maybe it was paranoia, a fear of what others were capable of, a fear of being out of control. Maybe it was grief, the loss of your mother so achingly deep that all he could do was run away and disappear.

Or maybe he was hiding something from you, from the world. Maybe the real reason for keeping you isolated had nothing to do with keeping you safe but rather, protecting whatever secrets he had buried in the marsh so long ago.

As you approached, you heard the familiar song of your handmade windchimes—made from animal bones, shards of glass, and rusty metals you had collected—and the piercing creaking of the old rocking chair that sat on the porch and moved with the wind. It was comforting. It was the sound of home.

"Daddy?" You called softly, pushing the creaky wooden door open and pausing to take your muddy boots off and set them down outside to keep from tracking mud inside before venturing into the house to retrieve this month's grocery list.

Once a month, on the last day of the month, you were permitted to go into town to stock up on groceries for the coming weeks. It had been a ritual like clockwork since you were thirteen. Though at that age you weren't technically allowed to be driving, your father insisted upon it anyway.

Padding further inside, your feet instinctively avoiding the spots in the floorboards that stuck up or had exposed nail heads, you found your father sitting in his worn, leather chair, knife in hand as he whittled something out of wood. "Back already?" He asked, glancing up at you. His gaze was always sharp and scrutinizing like he expected to catch you in a lie, and his voice was deep and rough, his vocal cords like rocks that had been weathered by a stream.

You nodded, the scent of burning wood from the fireplace mingling in the air with the smell of dried herbs and fresh flowers and infiltrating your senses. Your eyes followed his motions as he scraped the knife against the wood with slow, deliberate strokes, the sound of him humming in acknowledgement reaching your ears.

After a beat of silence, he sighed heavily, looking up at you with that piercing gaze as he set his knife down on the table, a little harsher than intended. "Remember the rules," he said firmly, his tone warning as he reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. "Get what we need and come straight home. No lingering or talking to strangers," he reminded you, like he always did despite you having done this dozens of times.

"Yes, sir," you replied softly with an obedient nod, reaching for the paper in his outstretched hand. He held it firmly for a moment, not letting you take it as he searched your eyes, as if he could pull the truth from your bones. Clearly, he decided you were telling the truth about obeying his strict rules because he loosened his grip, allowing the paper to slip from his fingers.

You slipped the paper into your bag—the same one you'd used to collect your trinkets—and turned on your heels, heading back to the front door. You swiped your dad's keys from the table by the door before closing it behind you, paying no mind to the screeching that would have made anyone else wince.

Slipping on your boots and trudging down the crumbling wooden steps, you noticed a shift of atmosphere; you always did when you were leaving. The wind seemed to blow a little harder, whistling to catch your attention as you started your father's rusty old truck and put it in reverse to make your way toward the road. In response, a nearby crow cawed loudly, causing a few others to follow.

The marsh didn't like when you went into town.

Neither did you.

The drive was always unsettling and left a pit in your stomach as the trees grew few and farther between and more houses came into view, eventually giving way to buildings crowded together and pavement instead of greenery.

You pulled into the parking lot, the truck's engine rattling as you put the car into park. People stared before you even got out of the car; they always did.

Stepping out, you felt the weight of eyes upon you, hushed whispers following you as you walked with your head held high. You didn't mind them. You always figured they were just curious, as you were about them.

Across the street, Rafe, Topper, and Kelce were exiting a high-end clothing store when they caught sight of you. "Holy shit, country cryptic incoming," Topper smirked, nudging Rafe and nodding to your form retreating into the grocery store.

"Bro, I swear she only crawls out of the swamp, like, once a year," Kelce said, following Topper's motion. They kept walking down the street, farther and farther away, but their conversation stayed centered around you.

"What do you think she's buying? Eye of newt? Frog legs?" Topper snickered, finding himself incredibly funny.

"She's gonna hear you two talking shit and hex you," Rafe quipped, smirking as he pushed his sunglasses up his nose. "Yknow, make your dicks shrivel up in your sleep."

"I'm not sure Topper's can get any smaller," Kelce snorted.

Topper shoved Kelce with an indignant scoff. "Shut the fuck up, man, not cool."

Rafe grinned, his gaze flickering back to the doors you'd just disappeared through. It was rare to see you in town, so rare that it became a spectacle. People would wait for your inevitable return and tell tales, most of them bullshit, about what they'd allegedly seen you do or heard you say when they encountered you.

A thought occurred to him that had him smirking. "What do you say we make this a little more interesting?" He proposed, making Topper and Kelce quit their bickering over dick sizes and look over at him with pinched brows.

"What do you mean?" They asked, almost in unison, their curiosity undoubtedly piqued.

"I think we should talk to her, see what her deal is, yknow. I don't think anyone in this town has actually ever heard her say more than, what, three words?" Rafe grinned, like he had just said something revolutionary.

The two boys looked at each other before bursting out laughing. "There's no way she'll talk to us, let alone you."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Rafe scowled, his face growing hot. He didn't appreciate being challenged.

"It means you're the biggest asshole I know," Kelce rolled his eyes, always one to tell it like it was. He wasn't as much a lapdog as Topper was. "You're like the last person she'll want to talk to."

"Girls talk to me all the time," Rafe defended, gritting his teeth at the insult.

"Yeah," Topper snorted. "When they're trying to fuck you. Not when they're, yknow, feral." He bared his teeth and made a clawing motion for emphasis.

Rafe was determined to prove them wrong. Nothing made him more willing to do something than when someone told him he couldn't. "Fine then, let's make a bet."

Kelce raised a brow. "A bet?"

"What kind of bet?" Topper asked.

Rafe’s grin stretched wider, cocky and self-assured. “I bet I can get her to talk to me. Not just talk, but, like… really talk. Get her to like me, maybe even fall for me."

Kelce and Topper exchanged glances, their skepticism evident. "You think you can make her fall for you?" Topper scoffed. "Dude, she's probably never even talked to a guy before."

"Exactly," Rafe smirked, already having decided that this would be a piece of cake to pull off. All he had to do was turn up the Cameron charm, and she'd fall to her knees. "That just makes it easier."

Kelce snorted. "Or it makes it fucking impossible. She lives in a swamp, bro. She probably doesn't even know what flirting is."

"That's the fun part," Rafe shrugged with a cocky grin, adjusting his sunglasses as he glanced toward the grocery store doors again. "She won’t even see it coming."

"Alright," Kelce shrugged, deciding this would be the easiest money he ever made. "You're on. If you can't get her to fall for you in a month, you owe us big time." Topper nodded in agreement.

And just like that, the deal was made. Rafe had one month to woo you into going on a real date with him, out in town where he would be able to prove to Kelce and Topper that he was every bit the man he claimed to be and that no woman was resistant to his charm, all of this completely unbeknownst to you.

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author's notes .ᐟ   this is definitely not my best work. i really like the beginning, but i am terrible at dialogue and being descriptive when people are talking. i hope you enjoyed it anyway !! this will be a series, but i will take misc requests for marshgirl!reader and rafe at any stage of their relationship <33 also i didn't edit this because i'm tired, so if you see any mistakes, please lmk !!

tags .ᐟ   @starkeysprincess / @cometmultiverse / @all4l0vee / @kissesfrmriri / @bradshawed / @rafeslittleangel / @bakugouswaif / @fakedhearts / @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 /

[robertsfloyd]

Military Issued

Bradley was warned he'd be given an Omega if he didn't get his act together. He knows what happens to Omegas with military Alphas - he doesn't want to be the reason an Omega goes through that. But he just can't get his act together.

Alpha!Rooster X Omega!Reader

"I don't want one," Bradley growled out for what felt like the millionth time since he'd stepped foot in Cyclones office.

Nothing about this was right. Being called into the office, Mav standing behind like he had something to do with all of this. Knowing him, he probably did.

"Look, Rooster." Cyclone linked his fingers together and leaned forward in a way that suggested Bradley had no choice in the matter. "You keep flying like you want to kill yourself and you won't give us much of a choice,"

"No."

Every word out of his mouth had been a growl since they'd made the suggestion. No, he wouldn't. He couldn't. He didn't need an Omega.

Maverick sighed and stepped forward. "This is for your own good, Bradley," he said and Bradley glared like a petulant child. Not a man in his thirties. "I can't lose you, too."

An Omega. A military issued one at that. Most Alphas in the navy could only dream of such a thing. Most met an Omega, couldn't bare to part with them and quit their jobs. A military issued Omega stayed with their Alphas on base, only parting for missions and such. It was cruel on the Omegas, but the military didn't care.

His father had been an Alpha. But Nick had met Carole, the prettiest Omega he ever laid eyes on (as he used to say to Mav) and he wanted out. It was Maverick who convinced him to stay, who convinced him to go to Top Gun.

Bradley remembered when his dad died. He didn't remember details, didn't remember receiving the news. But he remembered his mother's screams.

Before they found out what had happened, she was screaming. She was holding her chest and crying out in pain as it felt like her soul was ripped in two. Her alpha ripped away from her.

It was a miracle it didn't kill her.

He didn't remember his fathers funeral, he didn't remember Maverick grabbing his mother to stop her from throwing herself into his fathers grave.

But he did remember the hospital visits. He remembered his mother laying in a hospital bed, in that sterile room, the scent of chemicals burning his nose.

He remembered sitting there alone, the doctor telling him that his mother should be dead, that she was alive for him.

How many omegas went through this? Bradley began to wonder as he got over. How many Alphas were so loyal to their country that it ended up killing their Omega?

He didn't want to be responsible for that.

For a single day, Bradley got himself under control. He stopped flying like he had no reason to come home, started flying semi-sensibly (but you don't become a navy pilot to fly sensibly).

But it only lasted a day. The next day, he was back to his old shit. Back to trying like he wanted to die, back to flying like he wouldn't have cared if he crashed. Back to flying like nobody would miss him.

***

An unmated Omega, you were given two choices. Remain unmated and unsafe, or do what your friends had done and sign up for that programme.

Looking back, you should have done more research into the programme. You didn't know what you were signing up for, who you were giving your information to. You certainly didn't realise it was the military.

An unknown number contacted you. As any smart Omega would, you tried to look up the number before you answered the phone. But you couldn't trace this one. Looking at your friends, you raised your eyebrows.

"Just answer it," your friend said. "If its someone weird, just hang up."

You nodded along and swiped your finger across the screen. "Hello?" You asked, pressing the phone to your ear.

The woman on the phone gave your name in a questioning tone.

"This is she," you answered, scratching at your knee.

"I'm from the US Navy. We saw your profile and we would like to give you the opportunity to be a Military Omega."

Military Omega. Your frowned deepened as you tried to decipher the meaning of those words. Military Omega. You didn't think Omegas were allowed in the Military.

"What is a Military Omega?"

Your friends gasped at you, eyes going wide. You tried to look at them, to see whether you should hear this woman out or hang up now.

"Its a sweet gig," the woman said, dropping that air of professionalism she had around her already. "Military Omegas are given an Alpha to take care of them, somewhere near the Military base where your Alpha is stationed to live and a weekly allowance. Really, what else could an Omega need?"

A Military Alpha. An Alpha that would leave you alone when he was sent away. You would have somewhere to live provided for you, money sent to you just for being a Military Omega. It did sound like a sweet gig, you thought.

"Can I have some time to think about it?"

"You have until the end of the week." She left a number, one you quickly wrote down, and hung up.

You looked at your friends. They stared back at you, waited for you to say something. "Girls," you started, folding your hands in your lap. "What do we know about Military Omegas."

***

Sitting in an office, a fan above your head, you stared at the man across from you. Definitely an Alpha; you could tell that by his size alone.

He was fucking huge.

If you had less of a leash on your thoughts, your mouth would have been watering. Big Alpha man with big Alpha muscles. To top it all off, he had a pretty face, a moustache that should have been ugly but looked so damn good on him.

He looked like he wanted to kill you.

You stared back at him, waiting for something from him. You had introduced yourself, waited for him to do the same. But he was silent, staring.

You opened your mouth, but he finally said soemthing.

"I'm not scenting you."

You swallowed. A big, sexy, Military Alpha, and he didn't want you. Ouch. "Okay," you said, but, really, you didn't know what else to say. You had made the trip all the way to California to become a Military Omega, and your Military Alpha didn't even want you.

This couldn't get any worse.

You looked up as the door opened and another man walked in. Not an Alpha, you noted by his scent, but definitely Military. "Jesus, Rooster," he said and let out a whistle. "If you don't want her, can I have her?"

"Shut up, Hangman," Bradley said through a growl.

'Hangman' laughed to himself as he strode over to you. Just three steps and he'd walked the length of the table between you. It was nothing at all, but enough that you couldn't reach out and touch the Alpha before you. "He's an old grump, isn't he, sugar?" He asked as he held out his hand.

You cracked a smile, not entirely sure if you should be laughing with him. Taking his hand, you shook it. "I'm Jake. I'm no Alpha, but it won't matter when you're with me," he said and winked.

Suddenly, he was pulled back. Bradley hooked his finger around Jakes colour and pulled him away from you. "Out," he said through a growl. "Get out."

Holding up his hands, Jake walked out of the room. He let the door shut behind him and you released a breath. Maybe the scent of angry Alpha would finally dissipate now that Jake was gone.

But then you heard the lock click.

"Wait!" You cried and climbed out of your seat. Rushing over to the door, you tried to pull it open. Nothing. Locked.

"Bagman!" Bradley roared as he stepped up behind you. You removed your hands from the door handle when he grabbed it and began to pull. But it was a military base. Of course it was Alpha proof.

"Shit," he grunted.

You were conscious of just how close he was to you. He hadn't gotten this close to you... ever. It let you see just how pretty his eyes were, how delicate his brown curls were. Jesus, he was so pretty.

He stared at you, his chest heaving. His nostrils flared as he breathed in the scent of you. "Fuck," he grunted. "Shit, you smell..."

Good. You smelled so damn good. His eyes seemed to glow brighter as he looked at you. His hands reached out and grabbed you, pulling you close.

You whimpered as you hit his chest. He pressed his nose against your neck, moustache tickling you slightly. But you didn't laugh. Not while he was scenting you.

Stumbling back, Bradley pulled you with him. He sat back in his chair and pulled you on top of him. You whimpered as he continued to scent you.

Tipping your head forward, you scented him back. Holy fuck, he was intoxicating. Your fingers gripped his shoulders as your eyes fell shut. You could have gotten drunk off of his scent, you realised.

When you tried to pull away, Bradley released a growl. So, you continued to scent him. You returned your head to rest against his shoulder and scent him. Pure Alpha, that's what he was. Pure Alpha and you couldn't get enough of him.

His arms wrapped around you, not letting you go. Not that you wanted him to let you go. In that moment, you couldn't imagine anything worse than him letting you. You rubbed your head against his scent gland, trying to cover yourself in his scent. The scent of your Alpha.

The door opened.

Bradley let out a growl and you released one to match. Although yours was the higher pitched growl of an Omega. "Scenting is going well," somebody said. You didn't care who it was, you just wanted them to leave yourself and your Alpha alone.

Swallowing, they backed up and left the room. "Mine," Bradley growled as he nosed at your scent gland. "Mine."

a/n: i can't believe this is the first time i'm writing for my favourite man! i know i'm an f1 girlie but big men just make me ugh! like, i'm not even into COD but my friend and i have been talking about the cod men bc they're so hot 😭

[edward-munson]

just for tonight | S.H.

Summary: You and Steve can't stand each other. You always jump at each other's throats whenever you are together. You have set a goal during his birthday party, but you didn't think it would work.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x f! reader

Warnings: SMUT (18+ MINORS DNI), p in v (protected sex), oral (m receiving), choking kink, fingering, (sort of) aftercare, a little bit of angst

Word count: 4.6k

-`♡´-

If there's something Steve hates the most besides hating you, it's the fact that Robin insisted you should come to his birthday party. And he insisted it was his birthday, and you would ruin it if you were there. He wasn't wrong, though. You made his life a living hell simply for the fun of it, but he would always make sure he did the same.

And there you were, holding the same scowl on your face as he does. Whenever he had to walk past you in his big apartment, he would try to avoid your gaze, but deep inside he wanted to show you how much he despised your presence. You couldn't give a shit about him, completely ignoring his existence as you were drinking your Piña Colada while talking to Eddie about something random.

At some point, you started to notice how Steve would go back and forth. While you were sitting in the stool of his living room with Robin and Nancy, you would notice he would stand there and huff. Now you try to pretend you're not listening to him as you look straight forward, but your left ear perks up when you listen to what he's saying. He's complaining he has been turned down twice until now. You try to hold back a snort and sip on your drink to avoid that to happen.

Pretty, golden kissed skin, perfect sat hair on his head and muscled Steve Harrington was complaining he was being denied. Twice. You thought your night wasn't going to be good at all, but the sight of him with pouty lips as he talks to his girl friends, it was worth getting out.

You lost count on how many drinks you had, you already smoked weed with Eddie, who drank more beers than he could count as well. Argyle was also in a funny state of drunkenness. You were dancing with both girls too, bumping a few times into each other as the alcohol traveled through your system. You're in a daze as you swing your body to the music, barely keeping your feet steady and Eddie has to hold your waist a few times so you won't fall on your face. You laugh at it all.

You laugh even more when you watch from afar while a girl rips herself from Steve's grip and gives him an apologetic nod, before turning her back to him. He turns his head directly at Robin, who's dancing beside you, and it's enough for him to notice you were watching all of it as well. This time, you snort and cackle. You laugh so hard, there's no reason to hide it. He rolls his eyes and walks towards you, his hands balled into fists as his face holds a scowl again.

"Is it all amusing to you?" His face gets closer to yours, his eyes are kind of blown from the weed he also smoked.

You sipped on your drink, nonchalant, and shrugged. "Well, I just think it's funny how king Steve can't seem to score on his birthday"

Robin tries scolding you with a warning look on her face.

"It's okay, Steve! Someone will like you!" She comforts him with a gentle look. Her hand rubbed his shoulder.

He's actually still shooting daggers at you, mouth closed on a thin line. His chest is kind of puffed because he feels like his body is rigid from his anger.

"You should just stop being such a brat. This is my house. Go find something better to do" He scans you up and down with disdain over his eyes and you just hold your gaze at him.

And you did.

But you never intended to stop looking his way to make sure he wasn't getting a girl. And it's not like there were many options, because it wasn't a big party anyway. You complained to Eddie about the way Steve talked to you, and he laughed it off.

He was being annoying too. He would try at all costs to bump into you whenever he got closer. Steve was trying to get on your nerves just so you could feel what it's like. And when you were left alone for a moment, he would send you this taunting sly smirk. When you were leaving his bathroom, you were caught off guard when his sudden shadow made its presence in the hallway. He passed by you, shoving his shoulder against yours when he made his way to the bedroom.

Back to the living room, when you were all dancing, he made sure he would hit his back against yours, making you stumble forward. It was getting really infuriating. You looked back over your shoulder, just to catch him mouthing a forced "sorry" with another smile. Then something switched inside of you. You weren't getting guys either, but because you didn't want to. So you decided there would be a goal tonight.

You placed both hands over Eddie's shoulders and danced to the music. You swayed your hips to the rhythm, sliding down until you were almost crouched. Your dress rode up a little, showing a little more of your skin. He was flabbergasted to see you dancing like that out of nowhere.

You stood up and kept swinging your hips left and right. Turning on your back to your friend, you couldn't help but notice how Steve's eyes would divert whenever you caught him looking. You smirked. It was working. You then moved to Robin, dancing on your back to her as she placed her hands on your hips, dancing in sync with you. You dropped your head back, leaning against her shoulder, biting your lip.

"Yeah, honey. Whoo!" She gripped your skin through the fabric and grazed your stomach.

You and Robin were always too touchy and sometimes it made people think you had a thing. Steve included. He swallowed the dry lump in his throat, growing impatient as he saw the way she was holding your ribs, fingers touching the curve of your breasts. He tried to focus on his other friends, but it was too hard when you were looking at him that way.

He waved it off, reminding himself why he hated you, why he despised you. He remembered why he didn't invite you even then, you were forced to come because of your friends. But the thought of ripping off the material and sucking on your skin was making him become annoyed.

You were twerking with Robin and Eddie, your ass bouncing to the music. Your hips rolling as your legs are tangled to Eddie's. He doesn't care if you look hot, you're like a sister to him and it's hard for him to actually sexualize you. They knew what you were doing by now. They were catching sight of Steve holding his glass of whisky tightly. Your eyes drifted to him a few times, and your tongue would slip between your fingers in a cocky way. He knew that.

There was no one in the kitchen. You went looking for a beer as the buzz of all the drinks you had was too much now. There were too many empty bottles spread through the sink, along with the bottles of booze. A few snacks were on top of the kitchen island. You were too absorbed into your own thoughts as you ate the food and sipped on your newfound beer. You didn't see when Steve came right behind you.

His frame caged you between the kitchen island, while towering over you. His big hand found your hip and he swung you around, your faces barely touching as your eyes widened. He wasn't scowling, but his brows were furrowed and his lips were pursed.

"What?" You ask in confrontation, his arms leaning against the furniture behind you. "What? You're frustrated no one would fuck you on your birthday?"

Steve didn't answer you, rather, he chuckled with sarcasm. You watched as he shook his head, looking down. When he looked up at you, one of his hands flew up to your face, he was gripping your jawline almost forcefully.

"You know it sounds like you're just jealous, right? It seems to me you wish you were the one I was hitting on".

You laughed at his words, you truly laughed. But you couldn't deny the fact that Steve Harrington was almost God's grace.

"Oh, Stevie. Not even if the world was ending" Your own hand came up to his cheek, where you left a mocking slight slap.

He reacted to that. He truly wished you didn't have to be so bitchy about it. But now it was his time to play your game. His free hand reached for your side, fingers sliding up to your ribs. His thumb stroked your skin through the dress, right under the curve of your breast.

"Are you sure?" He rasped, his lips ghosting over the shell of your ear. His breath hit your skin and it left goosebumps.

The ones you couldn't fucking control. He mused at your reaction. "Yeah. That's what I thought".

Your only plan was to induce him. You didn't think Steve would actually come after you at all. And now you didn't have cards to play against him. And it made him realize he was the one ahead of you this time.

"So now that you have no other options, you come crawling to me?" You spread your hands against his chest, slipping your fingers down his white t-shirt, all while he tightens his fingers around your side.

He has to hold a grunt, because you're so hot and yet adorably annoying. He hates you, yes. But he would never deny fucking you either.

"Now, you wish. Don't pretend you're not enjoying this, pretty girl" His voice is like honey when it reaches your ear.

His fingers are rough on you, but they never hurt you. His expensive cologne is not helping either. And the way his hair falls on his face makes you think you wish you could rake your fingers through them. Your legs almost close in response to the pet name, but he's pushing one of his own legs in between yours. You didn't even notice it.

"Don't be so arrogant. You may be handsome, but you're far from being worth the time".

And you lie. You don't even budge, you don't blink an eye. It makes you realize how good of a liar you are and how bad it would make you look.

But it's not like he doesn't know you well enough to see you're not saying the truth and he laughs again. There's a soft, but still hard look on his face, he pouts at you with a sided smile and tilts his head. You wish you could admit he's not worth it.

"Right. So I won't waste your time" He then leaves your skin, and steps back. You immediately miss his touch. His leg isn't between yours anymore and he gives you another look before going back to the living room.

Steve can't do this anymore. He wished for a long time he would fuck you dumb. Just to hear you say his name. So he slowly retrieves back and turns his footsteps. And he waits, for a moment, but he waits. He's walking away sluggishly from you.

And you watch him walking away. Your heart is pumping faster and your hands are gripping too tight on the edge of the kitchen island. Your knees are wobbly. For a few seconds, you think it's better this way. Maybe you won't work in bed either. Maybe it would be a disaster doing that. But your body aches for him, your stomach burns craving for his touch. You call him out in almost a whisper, but it's enough for him to hear you.

He turns his head first, the corner of his eyes peering at you. "Are you sure?" He barely sees when you just nod, still holding yourself up from all the tension. "Fuck this".

He clings to you in a rush, holding your waist with both hands as he brushes his lips against yours. "Tell me we're not gonna regret this" He breathes out.

"I know I won't" Your arms wrap around his neck, hands finally tangling between his hair.

He needed reassurance, because there was no way he would regret this either. There was a fire growing inside his chest from seeing you this night. Obviously he wished he went to bed with another woman, but there's something about you that pulls him in. He wants to drown in you. His lips finally crashed against yours, for the first seconds it was an intense rush of feelings. You let out a muffled whimper, leaving him desperate to taste more of you.

His tongue slips through your mouth, colliding against yours. He tastes your beer and you taste the bourbon he was having. It's an explosion of lust between you two, finally. Steve lifts one hand and plants it on your neck, his rub stroking your chin. You wouldn't know he was soft after all you've been through. All the bickering, all the mocking. Every time you crossed paths, there was a look of aversion at each other.

You were almost always together. There were times you refused to go out with your friend because he was going too. Or he wouldn't go to someone's house or go out either because you'd be there. It's been like that for almost two years, ever since you saw him making fun of Eddie when he was still a new friend. And you hated that. You started to hate him with a growing avoidance to be near him.

After you started to mistreat him and be ironic most of the time. Until he started to fight back. Eddie was such a sweetheart, he was the one to stop you from fighting. He said it was okay, because then he became friends with Steve. But you never agreed to that and never forgave him either.

Now you were almost turning into a puddle. He kisses like he can't get enough of you. And you battle for dominance with your tongue. You pull the nape of his hair back and he groans. He tugs at you and pushes his hips forward until you feel the bulge straining in his jeans. His thumb slips down your neck as he feels your pulse, and then squeezes your throat lightly. You breathe out against his mouth with a soft moan and he loses it.

"Fuck, you're going to kill me" His voice is hoarse. Steve opens his lids only a few inches just to look at you with lust fulfilling his eyes.

He doesn't waste anymore time as he holds you up and you wrap your legs around his waist. He makes his way to his bedroom, locking the door as he shoves both of you against it. He kisses you again and there's no romance in it. He's impatient and bites your lower lip, pulling it back gently. It's a mix of roughness and softness at the same time. He drops your weight, only to capture your ass with both hands this time. His fingertips graze over the curve of your ass, digging his nails against it.

There's a jolt on your body when he slaps your asscheek. It stings but it doesn't hurt. "You like that, huh?" He chuckles against your mouth and gives your lips a smell peck before slapping you again.

"You're such an arrogant dork" You pull back and use both hands to shove him by his chest until the back of his knees hit his bed.

He watches in awe as you bend down in front of him, small gentle hands undoing his jeans, sliding your fingers against his boxer. You feel the roughness of it, his cock being pressed by the fabric, a damp patch forming around it. You don't need to waste your time with teasing, so you immediately get rid of both at the same time, watching as his hardness springs free. Reddened tip, leaking precum. His length surprised you.

You wrap a hand around his girth, stroking him a few times. You look back at him behind your lashes, his eyes trained at you with such an unreadable expression. He doesn't seem to hate you right now. You see how his chest rises quickly, and you bite your lower lip when you notice how his eyes shut when you stroke him harder. 

Your fingers spread the liquid over his shaft before you finally get to taste him. You lick a stripe from his balls until the tip and put on a show for him. You swirl your tongue over the sensitive spot and open your mouth, sucking on it. Steve throws his head back, leaving a loud growl in reaction. You can't help but hum. You lower your head further down, bobbing it a few times until you're used to his size. You don't think you can deep throat him, but you try your best to get past half of it without gagging. 

His tip hits the back of your throat and he moans. He doesn't care if he's vocal. You use your free hand to rest it over his stomach, fingers grazing his hairs, nails scratching his skin. You use your tongue to lick him through his length, pumping him with your mouth.

He grabs a fistful of your hair, fingers tangling on it. He bucks his hips forward and fucks your mouth. He can't stop whimpering either. You hear your name slipping out of his throat every now and then. You hold his shaft and suck his cock mercilessly, saliva dripping down his skin. You pull back with a pant, looking at him straight in the eyes and he hurriedly pulls you back up. Your mouth is so wet, from the spit, from his precum.

Steve is fast when he swings you around, removing your shoes and throwing them off. He pushes you slowly to the bed so you bend over to him, your ass in the air for him. He plants his palms over your cheeks, stroking them before slapping one and you jolt forward again, leaving a mewl.

"You're such a pretty needy thing, aren't you?" His tone is raspy and it trembles from his sight. Another slap. "Always so pretty. Delicate". Another slap. "It's such a shame we hate each other. Could've had fucked you way before".

You feel his hands lifting the hem of your dress, reaching for your underwear. He rolls it off your legs, getting rid of it before opening your legs apart with one knee. The air gets knocked out of your lungs when he uses his thumb to spread your slit. His finger reaches for your clit and rubs circles around it, making your hips stutter.

"Fuck, Steve" You plead. He collects the wetness of your cunt and uses it as leverage to push into your pussy and you cry out. "Shit".

He's lightheaded, drunk on you. Steve strokes his cock as he pumps his finger inside you a few times. He rubs his thumb up and down, pressing your swollen nub. He hisses whenever you roll your hips against his finger, feeling your slippy skin against his thumb. His cock is almost bursting into a mess and he can't seem to hold it back for too long, but he tries. He picks up a condom from his drawer and rolls the plastic around his shaft.

Still on your fours, you can feel him shifting behind you, positioning himself. His free hand stays on your waist as he uses the other one to rub his dick against your slit. You bite your lip from the obscenities you want to scream.

He pushes his tip first, feeling you clench around him. He takes another second before thrusting against you once, carefully so it won't hurt. You drop your weight forward, whimpering from the sensation.

"Fuck, I'm so big for you" His hips slowly start to hit on your ass. "You okay, pretty?"

You can't formulate an answer so you just nod. Steve could never be this gentle in your head. And yet, there he was, making sure you were good. You heard his own voice proclaiming curses under his breath each time he digs his cock further into your pussy. He starts pounding on you quickly, slapping his skin against yours.

You're both a mess of moans, you can't stand on your elbows and you can't stop rolling your hips against him. He holds your waist with both hands, firmly gripping on your skin.

"Oh God, Steve. That's it. That's so good" You yelp when you feel the tip of his cock hitting you.

His hair is a mess, there's a few strands falling over his eyes as he looks down. He takes his shirt off and throws it away as well, feeling his body on fire. Sweat streamed down his hairy chest, reaching his happy trail.

"You're so fucking good" He praises.

He leans down on you, thrusting harder against your pussy. The new position makes you feel every inch of his cock, his balls slapping against your ass too. Steve carefully wraps one hand around your throat, squeezing it. It's enough for your windpipe to close a bit.

You shut your eyes and your brows crease, voice too strained from pleasure to say anything else. He can only listen to your crying moans.

He licks his lips, moving closer to your ear. "You're such a kinky girl, I see" Steve whispers, his hot breath hitting your skin. You clench around him again and he leaves a groan next to you. "Fuck, do that again".

Now you chuckle, still in a daze. He's still gripping your throat tightly, fingers digging on your neck, straining you. You cage his cock so hard with your pussy, he pushes it all inside of you. He can't move it, and the more you clench around him, the more he feels his pleasure building up.

He pounds hard once, his free hand still holding your waist for support. You throw your head back and roll your eyes. His other hand never leaves your throat. He pushes further again, hips meeting your ass, and you cry. He then decides to pull you up, leaning your back against his chest. You're feeling limp already. His tip hits a different spot inside of you and it makes you roll your hips against him.

Steve rests his head over your shoulder, and he whispers such dirty things for you but you can barely comprehend what he's saying. He's wrapped an arm around you, snapping his hips against you. The other hand slips down your body, cupping one of your breasts. His fingers pinch your hardened nipple, ripping another moan from you.

He loves the way you're falling apart for him, as much as he's glad you're doing the same for him. Even though he would love to see you riding him. He feels your legs wobbling, tension contracting your body. Your muscles are sore and there's a knot forming in your stomach.

He's clinging to you, his sweaty chest is sticking to your back. Now he's not even pounding on you anymore, he's just pushing his cock in a soft motion as he whispers into your ear.

He grazes his teeth between your earlobe and breathes against your skin. You're already clenching so hard, he thinks his cock could snap in half. "Come for me, pretty girl".

Steve spreads wet kisses against your neck, sucking on it as he trails your skin down to your shoulder. You don't want to deal with that right now, you don't want to think how soft he's being to you. There's a coil inside of you and it snaps as you cum on his cock. Your body jolts and trembles over him, legs almost faltering.

You're squirming and clenching around him as he thrusts faster when he feels his orgasm reaching its peak. He usually doesn't cum together with a partner. It's either he waits for them to cum first and he finishes minutes later, or when he's feeling needy he finishes first. But it's hard for something like that to happen.

You're still coming down from your high, he spurts into the condom, feeling his muscles contracting. He never leaves you, he groans from the pleasure over your ear and leaves marks from his fingertips on you.

He gives his final thrust, throwing his head over your shoulder. He's heaving against your back, cock still twitching inside of you. You turn your head to the side where his head is resting and kiss his temple, ripping him from his daydream, catching him off guard.

He painfully pulls back from you, missing your pussy right at the same moment. Steve disappears into his bathroom for a few seconds, walking back and picking up the clothes from the floor. You notice you're completely naked and start wondering when the fuck you got rid of your dress.

You look at Steve. Sweat coating his skin. His hair is wet, as well as his chest and his stomach. His face is flushed and his breathing is still uneven just like yours. He hands you your lace underwear and gets dressed up. You're still peering at him from the corner of your eye, watching the way he tries to fix his greasy sweaty hair with his fingers, only making you feel giddy about it.

But it surprises you when he hands out a comb for you to brush your hair. Your head immediately snapping at him, eyes wide and mouth agape. He clears his throat when he notices your reaction, sitting on his bed close to you.

"I uh– Maybe we should, you know" He gestures with his fingers, but it's unclear to you what he wants.

And you giggle, tilting your head at him. "Are you getting shy on me, Steve Harrington?"

But he waves you off, pretending he doesn't know what you're talking about. It's kind of a strange feeling to be around him without jumping at each other's throats, but at the same time, it's a good thing.

"I meant, we should talk it off. You know, hating each other. I know you never bothered to show how much you hate me because of Eddie. And I know I was a dick" Steve never even tried to apologize to you before, knowing you were never open to it.

"Let's not get through this tonight, we should try to have fun on your birthday. See if you can actually score".

He chuckles when you finish your sentence, knowing there would be no way he would fuck someone else this night. Not even if he wanted to. "So... we're kinda good tonight?"

You look down at his hand that is expectantly waiting for you to shake it. Maybe it wouldn't be a bad idea after all. "Yeah, kinda. Just for tonight".

He shakes your hand as well, flicking his eyes between your hand and your lips. God, he wanted to kiss you again. You both get up from the bed and fix your clothes before leaving the bedroom, but when you're holding the doorknob, you feel his hand wrapping around your wrist carefully.

You look to your side, to the way he's facing you in a different way. His hand slips to yours, interlocking his fingers with yours, and he pulls you closer to him. You just let him. He holds your jawline with his free hand and hovers his lips against yours lips.

"Just... let me do it one more time tonight" And he kisses you, soft tongue colliding against yours again.

There's something conflicting inside of him. Like his feelings are battling against his mind. Because to him, there was no way he was starting to have emotions towards you.

Not now, not ever.

He breaks the kiss, and when he opens his eyes he realizes something. He was fucked.

[moonstonejpg]

ours (k.bakugou x reader)

"your hands are tough, but they are where mine belong in"

sum. bakugou is having a bad week, thankfully his girl is always there to make the bad days a little better

cw: a little angst, fluff at the end!

i hate hate hate paparazzi!! loosely based off of this and the song ours by taylor swift

It had been a rough week for Katsuki.

First, the hero rankings were announced, and he found himself at #15—not even in the top ten. And he swore it didn't bother him, that the rankings were just a stupid popularity contest. But you saw the way his shoulders slightly slumped in disappointment and the way his fists clenched so hard that the half-moon imprints of his nails in his skin stayed for hours after you had smoothed his fingers out.

It broke your heart to see him like that—and then yesterday he got into a silly fight with Izuku, one that was filmed and taken way out of context by thousands of people on the internet. Which in turn prompted the resurgence of people saying he didn't even deserve to be on the list at all, let alone at #15.

bakugou is mentally unstable lol

i worry about his gf tbh, those anger issues are a huuuge red flag

right?! i hope that poor girl gets out of that

she seems so sweet, he’s probably threatening her or something

It was just one hit after another for him.

And now, as he stares out the window at the crowd of paparazzi with a clenched jaw, the only thought in your mind is how this is strike three. All he wanted to do was take you out for a nice dinner to thank you for being so supportive this week, but he couldn't even do that without a swarm of media leeches waiting outside.

"Kats, we don't have to go. We can just stay here." You say quietly, worried eyes set on his tense shoulders.

"No," he growls, "I'm not letting them ruin this too." He positions himself in front of you before taking a few hesitant steps out the front door of your shared apartment building.

His warm hand envelopes your own, fingers threading through before tugging you behind him, half shielding you with his large body. The flash of the cameras and the noise of the crowd makes your vision blur, but Katsuki is moving fast, fingers tightly gripping your own while his gaze is laser focused on the awaiting black car parked on the other side of the street.

Everything is moving so fast, the shouts of the various reporters melting together around you. But you can't hear a word they say, the sound drowning out any specific words, until—

“Why him?”

And you nearly miss the step below as you freeze. The question has you rearing back as if you'd been hit, your eyes dancing towards the sound of the question. You see him right away, a male reporter who is nearly frothing at the mouth for a reaction. The reporter leans forward, eyeing you hungrily as he waits for an answer. And usually, you wouldn't give them any time of day, the daily harassment towards you and every other pro-hero and their significant other almost daily a good enough reason toignore any of their probing questions. But how could you ignore this?

“Why him?” you parrot back, white-hot anger burning through your body at a rapid rate. You don’t think twice before you’re ripping your wrist out of the blonde's hand and taking angry strides towards the reporter. You're nearly toe-to-toe with the man, and while he is a full head taller than you, he shrinks a bit from the look on your face.

Katsuki comes up beside you, gently tugging at your wrist.

“It’s not worth it.” He says lowly, looking down at you with something like sadness tinged in his eyes. And your heart cracks, picking up on the one thing he isn’t saying but you know he’s thinking.

That he’s not worth it.

And you can’t have that, you can't have Katsuki thinking that he isn’t worth any of this, because he is. He is worth everything, and despite being in each other’s lives for years now, the fact that he still doesn’t see that is devastating.  

Your body begins shaking from a mix of anger and adrenaline as you look at the crowd around you. A slow hush falls over the crowd, as if they are waiting with bated breath to see what you have to say.

“Because he is the kindest human I have ever had the pleasure of knowing; kinder than any of you will ever be. And what has he ever done to you to make you so obsessed with twisting every move he makes, every word he utters into something that makes him look like the bad guy? And for a quick buck? You all should be ashamed of yourselves.” After shooting a glare around the crowd, you keep your chin high as you grab a stunned Katsuki’s hand and drag him towards the car.

You gently push him in, keeping a hand smoothed over the back of your dress as you crawl in after him, slamming the door shut with more force than necessary.

The car ride to the restaurant is eerily quiet, and as the adrenaline begins to leak out of your body, your brain catches up to what you did. And yeah—they did need to be told off, but you start to wonder if this is something that will get him into trouble.

You weren’t a hero and you didn’t have a lick of media training, why did you think causing a scene would be a good idea? The thoughts spiral in, and you want to bury your face in your hands as dread slithers its way into your stomach.

When you get inside the building, you are ushered towards the back of the restaurant by the host, presumably to where your table is located. But before you round the corner, Katsuki is tugging you into a dimly lit closet, fingers making quick work of the lock. Even after the door is bolted shut, he stands and faces it, as you just watch the outline of the gentle rise and fall of his shoulders.

“Kats?” You say quietly, a hand hovering over his shoulder. “I’m sorry, I just—”

He shakes his head, a disbelieving laugh pushing its way out of his mouth.  

“No, you—” He shakes his head again, then turns around to face you, his body crowding you up against the wall. His eyes are dark, twinkling with emotions you can’t place. Both of his hands come up to gently cradle your face, and you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

“Have I ever told you that I love you?”

You blink up at him, confused.

“Not only was that the hottest thing I have ever seen, but—well, that was the first time anyone has stuck up for me before.”

“I would do it again—anything for you really. You’re worth it. And I know that’s hard for you to believe, but you are. They can say whatever they want, but I know in my heart that I do not deserve you, and that you ” You say quietly, eyes locked on his. He smiles, eyes shining, before leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your temple.

“Oh, my sweet girl.” He whispers in the dark of the room, thumbs caressing your cheeks.

“I love you Kats.”

“I love you too. Now, how about we ditch this place?” He asks, leaning back to tug at his tie, before bending forward to loop it around your neck. “I think that new ice cream parlor is open. So, sundaes on me?”

You nod, a giggle escaping when he bends down and tugs the ends of the tie, your body falling into him. He lets out a gentle laugh, the sound like a gentle breeze on a hot day. It has your smile stretching across your face, your heart singing in response.

He reaches down to unlock the door, but when he flicks the lock back, nothing happens. Katsuki tries again, but again, nothing happens. It doesn’t budge, not the second time he tries or the fifth, or even the tenth time he tries. On the eleventh try his hand slips from the lock, his eyes colliding with yours.

It’s silent for a few seconds, and then a laugh bursts out of him, followed by another and another. The sound has the grin staying locked in place on your face, relief flowing through you at the change in his mood.

“We—we’re stuck.” He gasps out, hands falling on his knees as he hunches over, deep laughs spilling out of him. It isn’t long before you are on the floor next to him, trying to catch your breath around your own laughter.

[shehungers]

DARK POOL

aquatic monster x reader | 18+ | 2.8k

your granduncle claims that the noises coming from the basement were rats trying to escape drowning in the ocean outside the lighthouse and scavenging for food. more than being surprised by his audacity, you're astonished he hasn't noticed all the missing raw meat, yet...

story warnings; dark content, the creature is imprisoned, explicit sexual details, double penetration, ig the creature is experiencing some sort of rutting season?, some graphic + grotesque details, heavy prose + details, roughly proofread.

reposted from my deleted blog: theoxenfree.

this is an old concept piece for a larger story.

if you enjoyed, please support my work by leaving feedback and reblogging!! 💖

Uncle told you that the rats in Cape Tellis liked to swim and when they were in search of food, they didn't care how long they'd have to paddle through the water to find it. Some would simply drift with the current for days; black-gray fur rotted off, skin peeled off bone, little faces disfigured by sea and salt, but they would keep going until their bodies nudged the rust-red walls of the lighthouse and found the energy to scale upward to a window and squeeze inside.

He mentioned this anytime you had something to say about the ruckus down in the basement—sometimes scratching, sometimes powerful, erratic thuds that you felt pulse through the floorboards, through the rubber soles covering your feet, and into your skin. That place was sealed behind a rusted metal frame and door, deadbolted and locked with a key he always carried on a chain through a belt loop.

It always jangled when he walked because he had a limp so bad that his entire leg always dragged a pace behind him and took a great amount of effort to haul forward. When you had asked of it, as memory dictated a handful of years prior he didn't have such trouble, he first claimed it had been a bad sinus infection that got into his brain and disrupted something neurologically. In another instance where he had stopped for a third time on an evening stroll together, he had said he scuffed with one of Cape Tellis’ formidable rats and the mangy bastard had won and taken a chunk of meat out of him before scuttling back into the walls.

“Just ignore it, it's normal that they're active this time of year,” he was saying while scraping fried eggs out of a pan onto your plate. Meanwhile, you winced to the usual commotion downstairs. “They get real flighty this time of year. The rats do. They get frisky and chase each other all around. I don't know nothin' about them besides being persistent, ugly things, but it may well be their special season.”

You ripped a sharp edge in your toast and prodded the egg yolk until the sunny orb burst, oozing out across your plate before you could scoop it all up in the bread.

“How long does it take for the rats to go away?” you asked with some interest in his answer, if for no other reason to know what sort of yarn he'd spin next. The bread was buttered, the eggs unseasoned, but you ate it all anyway while watching him. “Are they permanent residents or do they come and go? You must be feeding them if they stay here.”

Granduncle took a long time to situate his bad leg under the table, longer to arrange his silverware and the direction of his food. “Oh, they have no interest in leaving, I don't think. If they really wanted to, I imagine they would've jumped back into the water and swam somewhere else.”

Each time the noises rose up between the wood slats under your feet during breakfast, granduncle told you not to worry about it, but you quieted every sound in your head to better hear rattling metal, reverberations of some sort—like having a man’s deep, anguished moan pressed right against your ribs. You weren't sure what you were looking for when you listened, only that you knew they were rats.

Granduncle looked at you, his appetite pushed away towards the center of the table with his plate. “Let's go for a walk, yes? The rain won't come back for a few hours.”

When you did walk after a meal, granduncle would often have to lie down with his dead leg propped up on a short stack of pillows for a long while. It became something of a habit of yours to exert him too much after dinner, forcing him to keep up with your youthfulness—your merry prances and unburdened soul.

For what it was worth, he did the best he could to never be a hindrance. He didn't seem to fully understand his own limitations either, making it quite a simple thing to steal the key from his belt loop while he slept—deep and silent, so much so that you needed to drop a tissue over his face from make sure he was still breathing—and unfasten the lock to descend a set of slick, stone stairs.

There wasn’t much at the bottom: a space half-flooded from seasonal rains raising the sea-level, old pieces of ship equipment hanging like ornamentation, an old folding chair that had yet to rust despite damp air, and a large hole in the ground that was dark like the throat of a nightmare envisioned in the most precious hours of night.

You held a plate of raw meat, freshly thawed from the freezer, outstretched with a flickering lantern in your other hand. Anywhere else, you'd have just brung a flashlight—but, he didn't like the bright lights, had ripped the last one out of your hands and smashed it against the wall. Oil lanterns were better tolerated, but he still seemed to cower from the gentle flickers.

So, you placed the meat on the seat of the folding chair and walked closer to the hole, wading a hand through seawater until touching braids of cold metal, chains pulled taut as though weighted down by an anchor. You gave the closest one a tug, always with the same caution as a child gripping his mother's clothes in uncertain times, and backed away.

He never made noise when he surfaced, always frightfully quiet, only indicated by a trail of bubbles that followed after where he roamed underwater. The first thing to emerge was a dorsal fin flared proudly from the middle of his head until midway in the deepest curve of his back. His eyes were on you, abysmal black things with a luster you likened to a landbound fish, and skin and scales that moved stiffly with his facial movements.

“You,” said the creature, toneless and in a voice far too raspy and deep to have an equal match amongst human men. “You have come. You are here.”

Months ago, he hadn't been capable of simple speech such as this. The noises he made were incompatible to anything you had ever heard—perhaps mere vocalizations he utilized underwater, possibly something long gone and archaic—but he had started mimicking you when you'd speak, and eventually you started slowing down, giving him the time to feel how the sounds vibrated in his own throat.

“I brought you food, again.” You gestured towards the seat with raw meat with your lantern, prompting his passing glance of interest before he was back on you. “Not hungry? He usually doesn’t feed you that well. I haven't been down here in a week or so, so I figured you'd be ready to scarf it down.”

“No.”

He came closer and the size of him grew, a towering figure with strong, broad-shoulders and a chest built to withstand the friction of the sea he used to own. His face, although hidden in darkness and flickering shadow cast from your lantern, gleamed as the light struck his iridescent scales. The shape of his lips were human-like yet taut, helping to comfortably fit his sharp teeth inside his mouth.

You'd wondered at times what exactly he was, what your granduncle believed him to be and feared so much to hide him away, chained to a wall. You fantasized that he could be the lost prince of some underwater civilization, or the offspring of several thousands of years of evolution between humans and something else.

He never seemed to understand you when you asked him what he was.

“Come,” his reach was limited by the chains that bound his limbs, keeping him shy of touching your body. “Come to me.”

With the lantern set aside, a distance you hoped wouldn't turn him petulant, you walked in his arms and the shackles and made home there as he surrounded you. His embrace was not the sort you could escape, nor was the kiss he pressed against your mouth.

There were parts of him you were too scared to touch, where his scales were like serrated teeth and he had much less control to retract at will like the dorsal find along his back. His lips were smooth and cold, however, a safe place for you to be on his body along with the hard flesh on his chest.

He pushed himself into your touch as your fingertips traced the shape of his torso, rose with the sprawl of his breasts and shoulders, molded into the ridges of his lower abdomen that you felt pulse and tense the further downward you roamed.

The sheath around his groin had swelled significantly and seemed to twitch when you smoothed your hand across it, kneading it gently to see what would come of doing so. You'd seen this only once before several months ago, a time where you'd been more frightened of him and fled from the basement for weeks when he'd acted more aggressive than usual.

It was one of the many things he had taken notice of that were perceived negatively—with fear and distance and shutting him away in this deep dark until you found the courage to feed him again, because your uncle was petrified along with being restricted in his ability to navigate the stairs with his lame leg.

So, he had learned to behave at the worst of times to keep food supplied, for you to stay wrapped up in him like this and so curious to challenge the extent of his self-restraint.

His kiss had grown full-bodied and restless and gone elsewhere on your body to a great expanse of skin. His face nuzzled into the fabric hiding your warmth from him, teeth tearing and fraying the threads that kept your clothes together until you stopped him.

“Stop—wait, wait, wait.” You walked back out of his arms once he was able to recognize the words. He reached for you despite the clattering bonds around his wrist, but you took your time to shuck the clothes from your body and fold them.

Once he had you back, he led you to the edge of the pool of endless depths and sank down inside of it. Your toes touched the very edge of darkness, stirring a rabble of butterflies in your gut that did not dissipate even once he resurfaced.

“Sit.” He gestured right at where you stood. “Sit down.”

The idea of having any part of your body submerged in the black water left you with little desire in continuing this, but you obeyed and slowly lowered your rear to the rim of the pool, legs speckled by gooseflesh as the cold water gripped up to the inside of your thighs.

“Yes, good.” He was close enough to push your thighs wide apart and stick his tongue inside of you. You took in a great sucking breath, startled from the suddenness of it and the long, articulate appendage massaging a part of you in a way no one ever had before.

You leaned back on your arms when they weakened and shook from the sensations, eyes flicking towards the drab ceiling, wondering just how far under the living quarters of the lighthouse you actually were and whether granduncle would hear any lewd sounds that were beginning to hum in your throat.

“Keep going.” He said when you moaned, tongue retracted from your body to mimic the ministrations you made with your hand and fingers while you stroked yourself. “Keep doing it.”

He nudged your hand away to put his mouth over that stimulated spot instead, sucking and licking along you with such fervor that you dissolved into hard pants and whimpers, tempted to close your thighs around his head and push him away as the tight warmth inside of you flushed out with a kaleidoscopic burst of color and cool air following the trail of something slowly oozing out of you.

It took a second orgasm and chanting turned to cries to get him off of you. That brief respite ended when he took you by the waist and dragged you into the pool with him. By that point, you were too far spent to have anything but unshakeable indifference to the depths and the cold.

His kiss was as it had been before, rough and restless, forceful in a way that left you malleable and melting against him. Even when he had your front wedged between the rim of the pool and his chest, you couldn't bring yourself to react much.

You felt his thighs mold to the back of yours before the slim tip of his cock pushed into you, the girth of it thickening considerably at the base. The friction of the water wasn't an obstacle for him to fuck into you with greedy thrusts that threw your hips forward, knocking skin and bone against the wall of the pool.

“Oh, oh, oh, oh—” the ridges of his cock were an unusual feeling, catching your walls in spots, spreading you wider when he'd withdraw part way and plunge back inside. “Oh, shit—feels good. Harder. Harder. Harder!”

There was truly never any way to know how much he understood when you said it, something called into question when his thrusts slowed to a stop, but he stayed hard inside of you. For a moment, the water settled along with your heavy breaths and blood gushing through your ears.

Things slowly came back into focus—the dancing lantern light, the room temperature meat, the wicked water in which you were immersed to the waist while the rest of you was braced by him.

He shifted behind you, adjusting his thighs so yours went even wider. Before you could ask the things you wanted to, a new sensation stole your breath—the swollen head of a second cock, different in shape and size from the first, pushed into you and lay flush atop the other.

“Don't—don’t move.” You were struggling to do the same thing with such an enormous stretch you'd never had to accommodate before. Tension built in your throat, whether a sob or a scream or your own anxiety, and stayed there to cinch your voice into silence.

He soothed you with lips and teeth all over your flesh; the back of your neck, the cartilage of your ears and the underside of your jawbone. His large hands left the shelf of your hips and felt along your front side, nipples, chest, stomach, and groin where he tried to recreate the same pleasure on you now as you had done for yourself earlier.

“Good?” He nested his cocks deeper when he heard you moan. The pain of it was beginning to subside, but the strangeness of it remained. “Is it good?”

“Just—just don't hurt me.”

His hands were back on your hips to keep you seated on his thighs while he thrust into you. It wasn't as easy for him to move as it was before, perhaps realizing the limitations of a human companion, but continued in snappy pulses that made the water lap at the skin on your back and turned your thoughts into senseless, garbled things.

Soon enough, you were riding a sloppy, savage rhythm to which you had no control of whatsoever as he chased his end. In moments where he seemed to regress into a natural state, almost animalistic in the way he rutted into you and buried his cocks, one would slip out and go forgotten for a time. The length of it glided against your groin, a smooth motion underwater that prodded your sore spots before he was able to fit it back into place with the other.

Amid your luscious sounds were those of his own; labored, air-sucking rasps that rumbled from places more than just his throat. They were probably never meant to be heard above the surface of water, just as he didn't belong fucking a human while being chained to a wall.

You thought about that fact while the last thrusts he took seated his cocks so deep that you ached, hard surges of warmth flooding your insides in a way unexpectedly delightful. He clung to you with his arms and shackles even well after he had emptied himself in your body and retracted both cocks into their sheath.

After a while, he hoisted you out of the water and followed you to retrieve your clothes. He stopped short of the chains pulling in the wall, watching while you wiped away the remnants of him oozing down the backs of your thighs and redressed.

“Don't go.” He kissed you and let his cold lips linger over yours. “Stay here.”

You returned the affection as endlessly as he gave it, only thinking that sunrise would soon come to pull you apart.

a/n; not even gonna lie, when I did a brief reread of this to apply warnings at the top, I burst out laughing at some parts. oh, past me, what were you thinking?

if y'all wanna see this rewritten and updated to better fit my current style, please let me know!

[tortillamastersblog]

First Date | Sam Carpenter

Pairing: Sam Carpenter x reader

Warnings: foul language, a shit ton of fluff, and smut (if you squint)

Summary: After recovering and moving to New York to start your new life, you finally take Sam on a first date. . .

Masterlist

_______________________________________________

"How do I look?" | ask, fixing my collar nervously in front of the mirror.

"For the hundredth time, you look great!" Liam exclaims, and I glance at my phone to see him nodding encouragingly on my screen.

I sigh and run my fingers through my hair once again before dropping my arms and turning away from the mirror.

"I feel like I'm going to throw up," | admit, picking up my phone while Liam laughs.

"You're ridiculous. You're not going to throw up. Why are you so nervous anyway? You've been living with Sam for almost three months now."

I shrug on my jacket and crouch down to slip on my shoes. "I don't know! It's just... this is our first real date and I want to impress her." I look at my phone to see Liam's face softening.

"I get that," he says gently, "but there really is no need to be nervous. This is Sam we're talking about.

She loves you so much, she'll be impressed no matter what you do, or where you take her."

"I guess you're right." | take a deep breath and grab my keys.

Sam and I moved in together after I got out of the hospital. At first, I went to live with her and Tara in their old apartment, but since then I got a new job at Liam's company and the apartment that comes with it. 

Tara moved into an apartment of her own with Anika and Mindy.

They live close to campus, while Sam and I live on the upper west side. It's the same building Liam lives in, but he's currently on a business trip in Dallas, hence why he's on the phone with me for moral support rather than being here in person.

Sam is at Tara's, getting ready for our date since Tara, Mindy, and Anika insisted it would be cute if I didn't see Sam all dressed up until I went over to theirs to pick her up.

"Of course I'm right," Liam teased lightheartedly.

"Now go and have fun! I'll talk to you tomorrow." I snort, but smile. "Yeah, yeah. Talk to you tomorrow.

“Bye!"

"Bye!"

I hang up and I take another look at myself in the mirror before squaring my shoulders and leaving the apartment.

I lock the door behind me and take the elevator at the end of the hallway down to the parking garage. It's just as fancy as the rest of the building and it spares me the trouble of finding a parking spot out on the street which is always a nightmare.

The bouquet of red roses I got earlier sits on the passenger seat of the car when I get in and I make sure it’s secure before starting the car and making my way across the city.

It's a surprisingly short drive because for some reason there is barely any traffic. There's also a parking spot right in front of Tara's apartment building which makes my heart skip a beat because I thought l'd have more time to prepare myself for seeing Sam.

I have no idea what she's going to wear, but Tara texted me a couple of minutes ago, telling me I'm going to faint when I see her.

I grab the flowers and hop out of the car, tapping my foot nervously on the elevator ride up to the apartment. I love Sam, and I know she loves me, but after all is said and done, this is still our first date and I want it to go well. 

“Oh hey! You’re right on time!” Anika greets me at the door and even goes so far as to pull me in for a hug. We aren’t exactly close, but ever since I saved her life she’s been extra nice to me. 

“Hey, Anika.” I smile and shift on my feet nervously.

“Babe? Is that Y/N?” Mindy calls out from somewhere in the apartment and Anika shouts back a yes, which makes Mindy appear a moment later with a smirk on her face.

“Hi, Y/N.” She pulls me into a careful hug, making sure not to ruin the flowers. “You look dashing.”

I feel myself blush and avert my eyes momentarily, clearing my throat. “Uh– Thanks, Mindy.”

When I look back up, Mindy’s smirk has turned into a soft smile and she and Anika share a knowing look before ushering me into the apartment and closing the door behind me. 

“Tara and Sam will be right out,” Anika explains, and not even a second later, Tara comes bouncing around the corner.  

“Y/N!” she exclaims happily, however unlike Mindy and Anika she doesn’t close the distance between us to hug me. She simply stops by the corner and smiles brightly, her eyes darting between me and the hallway to her left, which is shielded from my view. 

And then I hear it. The telltale sound of high heels on the hardwood floor.

Sam.

I hold my breath and wait patiently for her to appear,and when she does, I really do feel like fainting. In a regular shirt, she’s already stunning, but right now she’s simply breathtaking. She’s wearing a simple black, one shoulder dress that has a slit running up the length of her thigh and a pair of matching black ankle strap heels. The front of her hair has been tied back, so it’s out of her face while the rest of it flows down her back in soft waves. To tie back the entire look, she’s applied some makeup to highlight her dark eyes, her lipstick a soft red so as to not distract from her eyes.

“Hey,” she says softly with a shy smile on her face.

“H-Hi,” I stutter, unable to take my eyes off her. We’ve not even left the apartment yet and she’s already got me swooning over her. 

Tara, Mindy, and Anika watch us staring at each other, amusement on all of their faces before Mindy clears her throat, prompting me to finally move.

I step further into the apartment and hold out my hand, my knees almost buckling when Sam takes it with a dimpled smile. I notice her nails are painted the same shade of red as her lipstick, and it makes me marvel at just how much thought and effort she’s put into her appearance tonight.

“You look–” Good? Great? Beautiful? No. None of those words describe the way she looks right now. I bite the inside of my cheek, and squeeze her hand before finally settling on, “-- absolutely breathtaking.”

“Thank you.” Sam looks away shyly before meeting my eyes again, this time with a faint blush on her cheeks. “You look amazing, too.”

I snort because I wouldn’t even dare to compare our looks tonight, but I don’t disagree with her. Instead, I bring the bouquet of roses between us and say, “These are for you.”

Her eyes light up and she glances at the roses before looking back at me. “For me?” she asks quietly which makes me chuckle softly and nod. “Thank you.”

She takes them, her cheeks now redder than before and intertwines our fingers. 

“You’re welcome.” I want to kiss her, but I don’t want to smudge her lipstick, so I opt for giving her a kiss on the cheek. “Ready to go?”

Damn. She even smells great. Is that sandalwood? 

Sam nods and I squeeze her hand before turning back around to find Tara, Mindy, and Anika still watching us.

Tara and Anika both look like they’re going to melt, and despite Mindy trying to play it cool, I can also see affection dancing in her eyes. 

“You two are so cute, I love it.”  Anika sighs and takes Mindy’s hand, intertwining their fingers. “Aren’t they cute?” she asks and Mindy just shrugs.

“I guess,” she admits when Anika shoots her a disapproving look which makes all of us chuckle.

“They’re cute and hot,” Tara teases with a smirk. “I mean, honestly guys, you’re like the power couple of all power couples!” 

Sam laughs bashfully and tightens her hold on my hand while I groan. “Sproouuut!”

“What?! It’s true,” Tara insists before her smirk turns into a genuine smile. “I’m so happy for you guys. You deserve this. Enjoy your night.”

My cheeks are still warm, but I smile gratefully and dip my chin in acknowledgement. “Thank you.”

Mindy and Anika wish us a great night too and then we’re off. 

It’s a little cold outside since it’s the beginning of March, so before we exit the building, I stop and take off my jacket, draping it around Sam’s shoulders before leading her the rest of the way to the car.

I make sure to open the door for her, which earns me another shy smile. It makes me feel accomplished and I quickly get into the driver’s seat to start our drive to the restaurant.

So far, so good, I think. 

“Where are you taking me?” Sam asks after some time when I come to a stop at a red light. 

I glance at her before looking back at the road and shrug casually. “It’s a surprise.”

“What? Still?” she whines playfully and out of the corner of my eye I can see her pout. 

I chuckle softly and reach over to squeeze her thigh quickly.  “Mhmm.”

The light turns green and I’m quick to take my hand back to put it back on the gear stick.

Sam huffs, but doesn’t push it. She places her hand on my thigh instead, and takes my phone with her other hand to change the music . 

Her warm touch makes my stomach do flips and for the rest of the drive I rest my hand on top of hers every chance I get.

“Alright, this is it,” I say when I finally pull up next to the high rise the restaurant is in. 

Sam’s jaw drops and she takes in the glass facade of the building with wide eyes. “Are you serious?” she asks and I just smile, getting out of the car and handing my keys to the approaching valet who’s dressed in a sleek black tux.

Then, I round the front of the car and open Sam’s door, offering her a hand when she gets out, which she gratefully accepts. 

“Y/N… What is this? What are we doing here? Is this a joke?” she asks, which makes me laugh softly. She goes to take the roses with her, but I stop her with a tug on her hand. They’d just get in the way in the restaurant, and it’s not like they’re going to wilt if they’re without water for another two hours or so.

“It’s not a joke, Sammy. We’re having dinner here. Well, not here, but in the restaurant on the sixty-eight floor,” I explain, watching her take in the building one more time before her eyes land back on me.

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

I pulled a couple of strings to get a reservation tonight, but for her, I’d do anything. Yes, the food will probably be overpriced, and the other customers will probably be snobby and stuck up, but it will all be worth it for the view and the experience. 

“T-this is too much.” She hesitates when I go to lead her into the building, so I turn back around with an encouraging smile, letting go of her hand to wrap my arms around her waist.

She steps closer and I place a kiss on her forehead, making her close her eyes momentarily. “It’s not too much, Sam. I love you, and you deserve the world, so please let me treat you tonight.”

Sam looks at me with uncertainty shining in her eyes, so I place another kiss on her forehead, this time between her eyebrows. 

“Please?” I whisper and after another moment's consideration she nods. “Thank you.”

“No, thank you,” she says, cupping my cheeks. She leans up to kiss me, still having to do so despite her heels, but I pull back which makes her frown.

“Your lipstick,” I try to explain, but she rolls her eyes and kisses me softly. 

After more than four months of being together, kissing her still sends shockwaves through my body. My cheeks feel like they're on fire where her hands are touching them and my lips tingle when she pulls back, mumbling, “I don’t care,” before pecking my lips once more and pulling away completely.

I stare at her like a love sick fool and smile sheepishly. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” she replies easily and after making sure her lipstick isn’t all too smudged, we finally make our way into the building and up to the restaurant.

I keep catching Sam glancing at me over her menu, so after the fifth or so time I put mine down and smile at her quizzically. “What?”

She looks around the dimly lit restaurant as if she’s afraid of someone overhearing her before leaning forward in her seat and saying, “This is weird, isn’t it? Why am I so nervous? We live together for God’s sake, and we’ve had dinner before. Not like this, obviously, but still. I mean, how come there are no prices on the menu? Is that normal? Is that how fancy restaurants like this trick you into ordering something super expensive or–?”

I laugh softly and place my hand over hers on the table, effectively cutting her off. “It is a little weird because we’ve never done this before and I’m nervous, too, but let’s not let the fact that we’re on our first official date be the reason why we have a bad time.” I smile  and bring her hand up to my lips, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. “Also, no, the restaurant isn’t trying to trick you into getting something super expensive. You just don’t have the prices on your menu because the waiter gave you what they call a ladies menu.” I grab my own menu and turn it around to show her that I have one with all the prices on it. “It’s weird, I know, and it’s a pretty outdated concept, but it is what it is and I want you to get whatever you want without feeling guilty about the cost, so maybe it’s a good thing.”

Sam presses her lips into a thin line because she still feels bad that I’m willing to spoil her all the time, so I send her a reassuring smile and wiggle my eyebrows suggestively. 

“Come on, live a little, Sammy. What else am I supposed to spend all my inheritance on except you and Tara?”

That makes her crack a smile and after a while we’re ready to order.

While Sam gets the Coq au vin, I order the mushroom risotto, and when the server asks us if we want wine with our food, I decline politely.

A glass of white wine would pair great with my risotto, but Sam can’t drink because of her meds, so I’m not drinking either.

“So,” I say as soon as the server is gone again. “How was your day?”

Sam turns her attention from the brightly lit city outside to me and raises an eyebrow as if asking if I really want to hear about her day when there’s so much more we could be talking about.

I nod encouragingly and take a sip of my water, my entire attention fixed on her despite the stunning view of the city around us.

This is a first date, yes, and people normally don’t talk about their day on a first date, but we’ve known each other forever and I’m simply here to enjoy her company and spoil her.

“Well. . .” Sam goes on to tell me about her relatively stress-free morning at the cafe she works at as a barista before diving into the photography lecture she had this afternoon.

Ever since I got my new job and we moved in together, I’ve managed to convince her not to work full time any more and find something she actually enjoys doing. At first, it took a while for her to figure out what she liked after being in survival mode for so long, but then she discovered her love for photography which is how she ended up enrolling in a couple of community college classes. 

She tells me about a couple of lighting techniques I’ve never heard of and goes on to explain the differences between digital and film cameras.

It’s fascinating, really, how much there is to know about photography, and I keep asking follow up questions which makes Sam’s eyes light up. 

I love listening to her talk, especially about things she’s excited about, but after twenty minutes of non-stop rambling, she asks me to tell her about my day.

“Well,” I start the same way she did while she takes a sip of water, “I went to work until four and then I went to the gym before heading home and getting ready.”

I add some details about a particularly interesting meeting I had before telling her about  a guy who tripped over some dumbbells in the gym, which makes her laugh.

Conversation flows easily after that until we finally get our food which, as expected, tastes absolutely amazing despite its insane price. We share some bites here and there, letting the other try each dish before our table gets cleared and our server hands us some dessert menus.

We’re both more than full, but after some back and forth we decide to order some chocolate souffle to share because neither of us can resist its calling.

In the end, it tastes even better than expected and I tell the server to give our compliments to the chef when he comes back to pick up the empty plate. 

After that, Sam excuses herself to go to the bathroom, and I’m quick to pay the check before she gets back.

“Ready to go?” I ask when she returns to the table which makes her smile and nod.

“Yes, let’s go home.”

I grab my jacket off the back of her chair and help her put it on again before grabbing her hand and leading her out of the restaurant.

Back on the street, the valet has already pulled my car around, so I tip him generously and help Sam into the car before getting in myself and driving off.

“Thank you for tonight,” Sam says after a moment of silence. “I had a lot of fun, and the food was terrific.”

I can’t look at her because I have to focus on the road, but I do smile and dip my chin to acknowledge that I heard her, adding, “You’re very welcome. I’m glad you liked it.”

Letting out a sigh of contentment, Sam places a hand on my thigh and lets silence wash over us while I continue driving us home.

It’s peaceful, and I feel all warm inside, knowing that she enjoyed the night as much as I have, but then her hand on my thigh starts moving upwards which makes my heart skip a beat. 

For a moment I think it might have been unintentional, but then she moves it even higher, and when I risk a glance at her I find her already looking at me with dark eyes.

“Sam. . .” I swallow thickly and shift in my seat, almost letting out a gasp when she starts tracing circles on the inside of my thigh with her thumb.

“Yes?” she asks, feigning innocence.

“D–Don’t do that,” I stutter. “You’re distracting me.”

“I’m not doing anything,” she says calmly and I grit my teeth when her hand moves up even further.

Since getting together we’ve had our fair share of kisses and make out sessions, but we never went further than that. In the beginning it was because of my back and then because we never really had any time for it with me figuring out my new job and Sam readjusting to her new life and finally doing something she likes. Tara being over constantly doesn’t help either, but tonight nothing is holding us back and Sam seems to know that.

I pull into the underground parking garage of our building in record time a couple of minutes later before turning off the car and leaning over the center console to capture Sam’s lips in a searing kiss.

She immediately reciprocates it and wraps her arms around my neck, pulling me closer and deepening the kiss.

She tastes like the souffle we shared and I can’t help but shiver at the sound of a soft moan slipping past her lips when I trap her lower lip between my teeth.

The position we’re in isn’t comfortable by any means, but we don’t pull apart until we’re both panting, desperate for air.

“Shit,” Sam curses under her breath and when she looks at me I see nothing but desire in her half-lidded eyes.

“Should we take this upstairs?” I ask which makes Sam nod adamantly.

I jump out of the car and hurry to the other side of it to open Sam’s door and help her out.

“Thank you,” she says, still breathless, and before I know it her lips are on mine again as we stumble toward the elevator.

It’s hot and messy, but I can’t get enough of her and when we finally make it to our apartment we waste no time kicking off our shoes and making our way to the bedroom. 

As soon as the door slams shut behind us, Sam pushes me against it, her hands in my hair at the back of my neck to pull me infinitely closer.

My hands are around her waist, grasping at the fabric of her dress while our lips move against each other in a passionate kiss.

Sooner rather than later, much to my dismay, we’re both forced to break apart once again to catch our breath. 

Sam doesn’t seem bothered by it though because her lips find their way to my neck while her hands move down my body until they settle on my hips where her fingers play with the buckle of my belt.

It’s clear what she wants, but I don’t want to go on until she actually says it, so, reluctantly, I pull back so she’s forced to look up at me.

“Wha– Are you okay?” she pants, her lust filled eyes momentarily clouded with concern.

I chuckle breathlessly and tighten my grip around her waist to prevent her from stepping out of our embrace.

“I’m fine,” I assure her, pecking her lips. “But I need to know you’re okay with where this is heading.”

“I’m okay, I want this,” she whispers. She tugs on my belt and stands on her tiptoes to whisper the next part into my ear. “So would you please take my dress off and fuck me already?”

A strangled sound slips past my lips and I pull my head back so fast, I’m surprised I don’t get whiplash because of it. “You– You want me to. . . What?”

Sam smiles mischievously and bites her lower lip, looking up at me through her lashes. “You heard me,” she mumbles, “Fuck me.”

Goddamn.

I swallow harshly, hearing my heart pounding in my ears, but within the next second it’s as if a switch has been flipped in me.

I bend down and lift her up by the back of her legs, making her squeal in surprise before my lips are back on hers.

The position we’re in makes her dress ride up, but she doesn’t seem to care as she wraps her arms around my neck and starts grinding against my stomach.

“Fuck,’” I gasp when she bites my bottom lip and carry her to bed, making her laugh briefly when I unceremoniously dump her onto it so I can get to work on taking off my clothes while she watches.  

Once I’ve discarded all of them, I join her on the bed, making quick work of her dress while she runs her hands over my shoulders and nibbles on my earlobe. 

“I love you,” I whisper a couple of minutes later when she arches her back and moans against my lips.

“I. . . love you, too,” she sobs, her eyes screwed shut while her nails dig into my back and I’m quick to kiss her again to swallow her next moans and whimpers.

The next morning I wake up without Sam by my side, but when I sit up I smile at the smell of pancakes wafting into the bedroom. 

_______________________________________________

And they lived happily ever after!

Hi, everyone! I'm not back for good yet, but I just had to write this because it's been stuck in my head ever since finishing Back To You.

Also, a huge thank you to everyone who was part of creating the Back To You Playlist ❤️ I love you all and words cannot describe how honored I feel.

Tag list: @bella423 @artrizzler19 @btay3115 @canyonyodeler @quadofthec @pussyydestroyer @rqizzu @pithod @morganismspam23 @idontliketoread2137

* not proofread yet ‘cause I’m lazyyyyy

[mannythemunchkin]

HERMES' SAGA

SUMMARY: Modern day Greece has left the gods with not much to do, so when a intriguing mortal arrives at the shores of Ithaca, Hermes couldn't help but have a little fun, but after she leaves, he can't stop thinking about her. He follows her to her homeland, and so, his saga begins.

WORD COUNT: 1.9K

TAGS: Fluff, Hermes being Hermes, a little ooc, Hermes being a little obsessed, modern day au, oc x Hermes, not beta read we die like the crew.

A/N: I have become a smidge obsessed with Epic The Musical, and Hermes has changed my brain chemistry, SO HERE WE ARE! This fic is so self-indulgent, but I needed it out of my brain, and I hope you'll love it as much as I loved plotting and writing it! ♡ special shout out to @kquil for motivating me to actually finish and post this! Love you MWAH!♡♡

ART BY XIMENA NATZEL

What on earth was he doing here… literally, why was Hermes, messenger of the Greek Gods, God of Mischief, Thieves, Merchants etc sitting in a café in a city in Sweden, sipping some sweet concoction of coffee, cream and sugar, while staring out the window. Hermes frowned as he looked at all the people passing by, both outside and inside, no one noticing him since he had glamoured himself to stay hidden from the eyes of mortals. The God leaned back in his seat, a leather couch that he had deigned a good enough spot for him to plan how he should approach the reason why he had left his home on Olympus.

Saga.

A mortal woman who had arrived at the coast of Ithaca about five months ago, her presence having caught Hermes’ attention almost instantly. Normally the gods didn't care for mortal tourists in Greece, yet as soon as this little human had arrived, Hermes couldn't help himself from investigating, because this little human had divine essence in her veins. It was barely a drop, having been diluted over the centuries, but it was there. And it was foreign. How could he, the local trickster and messenger deity, not want to investigate such a rare occurrence.

So he had. Some might have considered that a mistake, because Hermes became utterly and completely infatuated with her. What he had intended to only be a little fun had turned into a full-blown obsession almost. He had spent all three weeks of her stay guiding her around the island, showing her all of the places no one knew about, telling her the true events of Greece's legends and myths, and just spending time with her almost every day.

So once Saga had announced she was moving on to the next country for her travels, he had followed her, telling himself that he was the God of Travelers, and he hadn't guided many of those in the past centuries, so why not this little intriguing mortal. Hermes followed her for weeks, not interfering or revealing himself, just watching in case something happened. Which nothing did, of course. And when Saga had returned to her homeland, he had made sure she was okay before returning to Olympus, only to have the little Swedish mortal stuck in his head for the next few months, much to his own and the rest of the pantheon's dismay.

And now he was here, in this little, quaint café in Saga's city. Hermes had made sure it wasn't a place she came often. He needed time to plan the perfect “meet cute”, theatrics were everything obviously, so he had spent about two weeks in her city, memorizing her schedule, noted all of the places she went and which she loved the most, and the café wasn't anywhere near where she usually ventured. Hermes took another sip of his coffee and hummed thoughtfully as he considered his options, his silvery eyes scanning the patrons in the café in slight boredom, until his gaze fell on a certain platinum blonde head of hair, and he almost dropped his coffee.

Saga turned around, her own coffee in hand, and her eyes landed on him, and they widened in surprise. No, wait, that couldn't be. Hermes looked around himself, but there was no one but him on this side of the café, so it was definitely him she was looking at. Which shouldn't be possible, he had hidden himself from the eyes of mortals, not wanting to be bothered, so when Saga shot him a bright smile and began walking over, Hermes quickly removed his glamour in a panic.

“Kostas! What are you doing here?” Saga plopped herself into the couch opposite Hermes, her smile radiant and sweet, her emerald eyes shimmering with joy. Hermes returned her smile with a playful one of his own, barely managing to mask his bewilderment of how Saga had been able to see through his glamour.

“Why, Saga darling! What a delightful surprise to see your gorgeous face here.” He greeted her with his signature toothy grin, and he leaned forward, propping his elbow on the table between them to rest his chin in his hand. Saga shrugged off her coat, dumping it on the seat next to her before replying. “Well, it's not as much of a surprise since I live in this city, but you on the other hand, Kostas, you are so far from home! Why on earth are you in Sweden?”

Why on earth indeed, little mortal… Hermes thought to himself as he shrugged at her question with a small sound of indifference. “Ithaca was getting too small, too boring. Needed to experience something new, so I thought why not the homeland of my favorite little tourist?” He replied with a wink, causing Saga to laugh, the sound like music to Hermes’ and he smiled wider. “But tell me, my sweet Saga, why are you here? You never mentioned this quaint little place back on Ithaca.” Hermes narrowed his eyes playfully to mask the real purpose of his question. He was so certain that she had never been here before, maybe before they had met, but it wasn't a spot she frequented, and Hermes would know, he had practically stalked his little mortal for weeks.

Saga just chuckled and shook her head as she took out her phone, the screen lighting up when she put it on the table, and Hermes’ eye twitched. Her lockscreen was art of none other than Zeus from some musical about Odysseus’ journey from Troy and back home to Ithaca, a legend that Hermes himself had taken part of. Hermes pretended to feign offense, his arms crossing over his chest as he huffed in disbelief.

“Still obsessed with that silly play I see.” He grumbled, his tone a little more offended than intended, and Saga raised an eyebrow before laughing at Hermes’ seemingly silly behavior. “I know he's not your favorite, Kos. Let me show you my homescreen.” Hermes harrumphed in protest, but still glanced at her screen as she unlocked it and held it up for him to see, and he had to do a double take. A wide, satisfied grin spread on his lips. Saga's homescreen was art of none other than himself, not that it was completely accurate, but the winged helmet donned on top of the character's mussed hair was impossible not to recognize.

“Oh my, I see your tastes have improved, sweetheart! He's such a handsome fellow, isn't he.” Hermes grinned while nodding approvingly at her. Saga rolled her eyes at him, but couldn't help but chuckle at Hermes’ instant mood change. She turned off her screen and placed it back on the table, before leaning back in her seat, bringing her coffee to her lips and taking a sip. “I felt bad about how I talked about him while on Ithaca, so I decided to give him a chance. He has begun growing on me a little, I admit.”

Hermes’ entire face lit up, he simply couldn't help it, and he leaned closer, folding his hands under his chin as he smirked. “Sweet Saga, darling, dare I assume that you changed your screen to Hermes because you missed me?” He teased her with a sweet voice, his silvery eyes shining with delight and mischief. His eyebrows rose and he tilted his head, his smirk widening when a bashful smile tugged at Saga's lips.

“Well, yes. You made my time on Ithaca unforgettable, Kostas. I couldn't have asked for a better guide, and you were so sweet and kind. So yeah, I've missed you.”

Oh, oh how Hermes wished she'd talk about him like that, not as the human, Kostas, he was parading around as, but as Hermes. His real self. But that would probably never happen, simply because no mortal could look upon the true form of a God, and also because no mortal would ever believe that the ancient gods were real.

Hermes felt his grin falter, but only for a split second, and he waved her off with a small playful scoff. “It was nothing, sweetheart. I couldn't just let such a sweet looking tourist wander around on her own.”

Saga rolled her eyes at Hermes' dismissive, yet playful attitude. She put her now empty coffee cup on the table, and took out her phone again. After tapping around on the screen, she held it out towards Hermes, who quirked an eyebrow and gave her a questioning look. “What do you want me to do with that?”

“Your number. I'll be your guide while you're here.”

Well fuck. Hermes glanced between Saga and the phone, unsure of what to do. He knew what phones were, obviously, but he had a distaste for them. They could leave him without a job, after all, but luckily none of the Gods back in Greece had had any interest in that specific technology, so he remained their messenger. He didn't own one, and he wasn't sure he would know how to operate the thing even if he did.

“Ah, well… I don't have a phone, darling.”

His response resulted in Saga giving him an incredulous look, finding it hard to believe that a young man like him didn't own a phone in this day and age. She retracted her hand, and sighed. “Well, how am I going to get in contact with you then? Back in Greece you always just kinda showed up, so we didn't need to be able to call or text.”

His little mortal was right, annoyingly so. Hermes hadn't thought this part of his plan through. Yet. But only because he wasn't given the time to since, apparently, Saga's divine heritage made her able to see through his invisibility spell, much to Hermes’ dismay. Leaning back in his seat, Hermes crossed his arms over his chest, and let out a sigh. Back on Ithaca he had just appeared when the moment felt right, and Saga didn't think much of it because, well, she thought he lived on the island. With a dramatic roll of his eyes and light click of his tongue, Hermes reluctantly replied.

“Fine, I'll acquire… a phone.” He grumbled, his eyes slightly narrowed in irritation, but when Saga's expression practically lit up at his words, all annoyance he felt evaporated, and he couldn't help but flash her a cheeky half-smile. “But! Only if you help me get one, sweet Saga.”

"Oh, absolutely!” Saga hastily grabbed her coat and almost bounced out of their booth as she swiftly put it on. Turning to him, she held out an expectant hand while smiling brightly at Hermes, who chuckled at her with a small shake of his head, but took her hand in his nonetheless, and got up. His little mortal all but dragged Hermes out of the café, her mouth working overtime as she rattled on and on about different phone models and accessories he could get once he had chosen one.

As Saga dragged him through the streets, Hermes couldn't help but smile almost fondly at her back, not that he'd ever show her that side of him. The fond smile quickly disappeared when Saga looked over her shoulder with a wide smile, and Hermes gave her his signature cheeky grin, showing off his tooth gap.

“Keep going. I'm in your capable hands, darling.” Urging her on to keep talking and leading the way, Hermes winked playfully at her. Saga laughed sweetly, the sound tickling Hermes’ brain just right, almost making him stop in his tracks. He knew little about love and being in love, but whatever Saga's wonderful laughs had just done to his body… it felt a lot like how most mortals, even some of his fellow gods, would describe it.

And it felt dangerous.

[jirishnesensei]

Mirio Togata x Reader | Isekai AU [18+]

Warming up to you ch4. Forgiven

⊱ Pairings - mirio 3rd year student x reader

⊱ About - Boku No Hero Academia was your favourite anime. You watched it every week when a new episode came out, but what if you were transported into the world? Having no clue how you got there and you're being accused of being a part of the League Of Villians. Suffice to say, it's not the best way to start the show.

⊱ Warnings/tags - 18+ (eventually), fluff(for the most part), angst, smut, fem reader, romance, pining, SLOW BURN, swearing, friends to lovers, death, jealousy, she falls first he falls harder, mirio is mean (with reason), first everything, sassy mirio, fangirl reader, unrequited love

⊱ status - ongoing

⊱ chapters - 4/x

⊱ word count - 2.7k

"You do understand how difficult that is to believe, right?"

"I know, I know. I wouldn't even believe me but it's the truth! It's a whole fandom like I can tell you every person's name that you bring through that door. Their quirks, their life-" You tried to explain, but the look on Sir Nighteyes face is telling you that if you don't give him something substantial right now you're going to be walking out of that said door. He sighed as he rested on his palm.

"Okay, tell me where the Shie Hassaikai hideout is." You swallow what felt like your heart.

"I-I know it's in a normal looking house that has a huge under ground base, that part I didn't really pay much attention to...but I know what happens when you go-" You stopped mid sentence, realizing that if this conversation goes any further, Sir Nighteye will know that he dies. Luckily for you, he didn't catch onto your unease.

"I don't think you're a part of the League Of Villians," He says, leaning back in his chair. This made your heart leap with relief. "but I don't believe that you can help us with the investigation." Then your heart sunk to your feet. You didn't know why the rejection effected you so much... maybe because you could tell them everything they needed to know once they got there, maybe even because you could save Sir Nighteye and prevent Mirio from ever losing his...losing his... What does he lose again?

"Wait, I remember something!" You stood up from your chair in revelation as a whole new slew of memories suddenly unlocked in your brain, keeping your balance on the table with one hand.

"Drugs! That's what Shie Hassaikai is focusing on right now." you started. Peaking Sir Nighteyes interest. "They're making a drug that destroys your quirk completely! Amajiki Tamaki gets hit by one when he goes out on patrol with Hero Fat Gum and Red riot!"

Sir Nighteye looks at you over his glasses suspicously. "That's a very big accusation to make."

You shook your head at his response. "It's not an accusation. It happens. Luckily the bullet that is used on him is only a proto-type so he only loses his power for a few hours. But that's what they are using Eri for!" You speak with more flare in your tone.

Sir Nighteye pauses for a second, probably concluding something in his head before he stood up from his chair. "They are going on patrol tomorrow. If this happens... then I might consider you an ally in this investigation."

You can't help but smile unaturally wide before the pro hero infront of you. You were very close to nearly jumping right onto the man, but decided against it. "Thank You."

Sir Nighteye then suddenly made a slight disgusted face when he sniffed.

"What is that smell?" His tone becomes pale. Your cheeks instantly burn pink at what he was implying and you started to back away from him with embarrassment.

"Oh my god, I am so sorry! I haven't showered ever since I got here, It's so disgusting of me!" You apologised profusely. You absolutely hate the idea of not showering. You felt just as dirty as you smelt. Sir Nighteye held his nose as he tried to shoo you off.

"You can wear Bubble girls spare clothes. Turn left when you reach the end of the corridor and you'll see a shower room."

"Eh? A shower room? You have a shower in this place!?" You echoed as Sir Nighteye pushed you out of his office and out into the hallway before slamming the door shut in your face.

Rude.

You followed his directions and walked down the corridor then turned left, just like Sir Nighteye instructed and much to your surprise, there really was a shower room there!

You took your time as you showered. Leisurely scrubbing off all the dirt you could possibly scrub with a floral scented soap while the water was stinging hot, releasing vast amounts of steam that was probably condensing on nearby surfaces.

You still couldn't fully grasp what was happening. Was this happening as the anime was playing in your world? Or is this place an entirely different world all together? With how huge the universe is... it could be plausible... but so could the idea of you just dying in your car and your deepest desires came true. Although you were positive that your deepest desire was to be reincarnated as a hippo.

Which puts you back to square one of having absolutley no clue as to how you ended up here.

You suppose so long as they don't dump you on the streets you were okay with whatever happens and with you knowing nearly exactly what happens when they get to the hideout? You could prevent near to no casualties. The idea made you very happy. When Sir Nighteye died, you were horribly sad for the next week. Now actually being given the chance to save him? Even if this was a dream, you'd take it any day over the dull life you had back at home.

You dried yourself off and went to the change rooms. A pair of casual clothes are folded neatly in the chair infront of you with some essentials such as lotion, deodorant etc.

You also took your time with changing and once you were done you left the shower room and walked back to Sir Nighteyes office. Refreshed and clean but before you could knock you heard people talking and could only make out a few words such as 'Quirk destroying' and 'Tamaki'.

You assumed it was Sir Nighteye warning Fat Gum of what you had told him. You were positive it was happening. Which made you even more excited with the idea of helping them with the investigation and you weren't worried about Tamaki since he wins his fight regardless of whether you told them about the drug or not.

You decided to leave Sir Nighteye to speak to Fat Gum and walked around the building instead. It was insanely huge. You had peeked at the elevator and saw the building goes up an entire 25 floors! You stopped at the end of one corridor and nearly squealed when you saw the same Soda machine that Mirio had taken a drink out of when he was waiting for Midoriya to finish his fight with Sir Nighteye. It was the little things that really blew your mind. After admiring the little monument you decided to go back to check if Sir Nighteye was done and luckily he was. You knocked on the door and was given the okay to walk in.

"Hey, I'm done." you cringe at yourself. You don't know why you said that, it was obvious you were done.

"I informed Fat Gum of the incident you claim will happen tomorrow on their patrol. You better hope for your sake that you're right." He warned. You stood firm in your spot and saluted.

"Don't worry, I know my anime."

For the rest of the day Sir Nighteye made you help him with his paperwork, which you thought was his assistants job, but you weren't in the best position to complain. After a while of boring small talk and serious paper cuts, it was nearing 3 in the afternoon.

You heard a knock on the door and Sir Nighteyes clinical 'come in' answers after. You wondered if you'll ever get the priviledge of seeing him differently. Even if it's just a smile. That sounds really nice. The door opens and your heart, without your consent, tightens at the sight of Mirio.

"You called for me Sir?" He asked, glancing your way for just a second before looking back at Sir Nighteye, who was still nose deep in his papers.

"I doubt she is with the league of villains," He explains first and foremost. To which you could visibly see Mirio stiffen towards.

"but I still don't trust her 100% so she will be staying with you till further notice since you are the only one that I trust with the matter." 

"You can count on me Sir!" Mirio voices his diligence to following out whatever order he is given by his mentor. You still remain seated for god knows what reason, perhaps it was how radiant he had looked while answering, until Sir Nighteye glares at you, making you yelp out of your seat.

"There's an envelope there with money in it. Use it wisely." Sir Nighteye instructed. Mirio thanked him and took the envelope on the counter beside the door before leaving with you right behind him.

As soon as you closed the door to Sir Nighteyes office you stood in place, waiting for Mirio to notice, which he does a few steps ahead then he raises a brow at you.

You told yourself you were going to cash in on that hug.

You outstretch your arms with a light smile on your face. Clearly indicating what you were asking for. Mirio's body went rigid for just a second and based off of how he's been acting since you've met him, you honestly expected some wratched pat on the back, but he sighed gently and walked over to you. At this proximity and not being overloaded with pain and confusion, you notice how big he is and for a second you think he might squeeze the life out of you, but instead, he presses his palm against the small of your back and pulls you softly against his chest, cheek resting on his collarbone.

"I'm sorry for misjudging you." He says softly over your hair and you can't control the strands on your arms that rise and your hands that curl into fists on your sides. Once again, you are dumbfounded by how real he felt. Sure, everything looked like an anime, but that didn't matter at all. You could feel his steady heartbeat against your temple and the warmth of his body settling against your own. The fabric against your skin and the random breath of air he would take in.

Your self-control felt dire and non-existent because of it so without thinking you raised yourself onto your tippy-toes and nuzzled your head into the crook of his neck, gripping the soft polyester in your hands. He goes rigid and blushes instantly. But you didn't want to let go for the life of you. His back felt so strong underneath your palms and the scent of his freshly washed clothes consumed you, but you knew you had to let go or so help you, you might never get a hug again.

When you do, you look up at him with one of those wide anime grins, "You're forgiven."

Mirio rolled his eyes and you could tell he was trying to act nonchalant about your hug. He made his way to the stairs again. You following right behind with a bit of a skip to your step. Wishing that whatever landed you here, kept you here.

"Sir gave quite a bit of money so we should get your shopping done now." Mirio gestured towards the envelope as you walked to the mall. You were in awe at the sight of it. This was where the entire U.A class came to do their shopping before their camping trip! As eager as you were to dive in, the setting sun just behind the large building makes you look over at Mirio to ask, "Isn't it a bit too late to do shopping right now?"

He raises a questioning eyebrow at you. "You can go without clothes for another day if you'd like."

You shook your head no. Not even realizing that you still didn't have clothes yet. Or anything for that matter.

Once you were inside the busy mall, you did a full 360 in awe. Mirio looked at you like you were someone that had never seen the outside world before, which made a pang of guilt hit him suddenly. Your situation was kind of like Eri-chans. Except you were more understanding of it considering your age. He shook his head, not wanting to dwell on the thought. Sir still didn't trust you 100% so he couldn't let his guard down. Not yet anyways.

You took Mirio's wrist and began to drag him through the mall without his consent, or maybe some of his consent because you doubt you're the one physically dragging him anywhere. You search eagerly for the spot where the entire U.A class stood.

"What are you looking for?" He watches you funnily. You finally stood still, gaping at the large area before you. You turn around to look at him while pointing a finger at the spot that seemed very ordinary to him.

"Oh my god this is where Class 1A stood!! That's so cool!-" you left Mirio's side and sat down on the bench Midoriya and Shigaraki sat down on while swaying like a child in excitement. Mirio walked up to you with a hand on his hip. Definitely judging you from where he stood.

"Are you done now? I still have homework to complete."

You narrowed your eyes at him. "Where's your sense of fun? The my hero fandom would be really disappointed in you."

His eye twitched and you're more fascinated by that than what he has to say. "Then it looks like you don't really know me as well as you think you do. My only concern is making sure you don't get into any trouble. Sir put you under my care because he doesn't trust you yet."

"I get that, I do. But you can whip my ass any day, any time and I don't think I'd even see it coming so what are you stressing for? He put you in charge because of that, right?" 

He's silent for a moment. You watch his chest rise and fall as he takes a breath and for a moment you expect him to apologize and break out in a wide grin, but once again you're thwarted by the way Mirio acts.

"He also put me in charge because he knows I won't get manipulated by your plans or false pretence." 

You blink in disbelief. "False prete-? And what plans! I can't even plan what to eat for dinner. I'm just a crazy fan that's somehow in their favourite anime."

Mirio stares at you blankly. Unphased and unbothered. "You've got the crazy part right." Your jaw drops. "And you haven't been right about anything so far. Now you're either lying or you've gotta be the worst best fan I've ever seen." 

You jutted your chin out and crossed your arms stubbornly. "I beg to differ. Put me infront of every Class 1A student and I can tell you something about them that I shouldn't even know." You dared and Mirio could tell you were being serious, sighing while pinching the bridge of his nose to probably gain some semblance of control. Honestly you weren't sure whether to be proud or offended that you could piss someone like Mirio off.

"That reminds me, Aizawa-sensei wants you to come to U.A tomorrow." he says after a bit.

You gasp, raising to your feet. "Really!?" Were you actually going to be given the chance to meet Class 1A!?

"Really. Now let's get going, it's gonna get dark soon." Mirio doesn't let you answer before he starts to walk away and you can't help the frown that forms on your lips. He still seemed pretty skeptic of you. You wonder if that will ever change. You suppose until then you're just gonna have to show him that you're not threat. 

"Mirio!" You catch up to him, gleaming again as you look around. "You need to point me to the nearest Keychain store. I'm buying me a souvenir!"

⊱ Next chapter coming soon!

⊱ I want to see prev chap!

Taglist - @the-faceless-bride @distinguishedoafbiscuitopera @lostsomewhereinthegarden @baileebrown

Dividers by - enchanthings-a and cafekitsune

[luwritesstuff]

Heya! Can I get an Eddie Diaz x fem!reader?

911 is my newest obsession and I love his character :)

So sorry for the delay! real life is kicking my ass lately 😮‍💨 but i hope you love this!!

Moving Too Fast?

Eddie Diaz x fem!reader

wc: 1.1k

notes: afab!reader, no use of y/n. fluff, fluff, and more fluff :)

The first time Eddie said it, you thought it was a joke. You were on a call and complaining about having to drive all the way across town to get more clothes to stay with your boyfriend. It was a complaint you aired out often, you lived only a few miles from Eddie, but with LA traffic, the drive regularly took you over 20 minutes. Eddie shrugged his shoulders, “Why don't you just bring all of your clothes next time?” He'd said it so nonchalantly that you were sure he had been joking. Your patient began coding before you could ask and the topic didn't come up again until a few days later.

The two of you were alone in the loft of the firehouse on dish duty when it came up again. Which was really Eddie loading dishes into the dishwasher while you sat on the counter and watched, occasionally stealing a kiss. “Come over later?” He asked, shutting the door to the dishwasher and finally coming to stand between your legs.

You hummed and let your arms sling over his shoulders, “Can't. It's laundry day, and you know I have to be there so Mrs. Everly doesn't take my clothes out of the washer.” You weren't thrilled to be in your 30’s and still using a shared laundry space, but your apartment was rent controlled and really, you'd never had a reason to move. Until Eddie spoke again.

“You know, if you lived with me, you wouldn't have to fight anyone for a washing machine. I even have a dryer, too,” Eddie was so casual, again, and you had to take a minute to look at each other to tell if he was being serious. “I mean it,” he answered before you could ask, “Move in with me. I'm closer to work, too.”

And okay, he made some good points. You'd save so much on gas and his place really was nicer, but, “What about Chris? It's his home, too. And-” Before you could finish, the alarm was pulling you out of your conversation and down to the engines. The two of you shared a look that the conversation wasn't over, even if the rest of the day was back to back calls and you barely had a chance to catch your breath. Let alone make a major decision about the future of your relationship.

Later came when you were leaving the locker rooms and Eddie caught you before you could sneak out to the parking lot without him. “I already talked to Christopher about it weeks ago. What else is scaring you?” He was by your side instantly and reaching for your free hand.

You sighed and gave his hand a squeeze, “I'm not scared, Eddie. It's just a big decision, okay? And it's not one that I thought I'd be making today and it's just-” You stopped to stand in front of him, “It's a lot. I love you, and yes, eventually we should move in together, but-”

“It's a lot,” Eddie finished your sentence and leaned down to catch you off guard with a quick kiss, “I know. You don't have to answer right now. Just promise me you'll think about it at least?” He asked. And you weren't a monster, so obviously you nodded and leaned up to steal another kiss. After a promise to see each other the next day, you went your separate ways.

It wasn't really a conscious decision to show up on Eddie’s doorstep later that evening. But you were on your way down the half-broken steps to the laundry room and suddenly you felt ridiculous. Why were you about to fight an old woman over a washing machine just to stay in an apartment that was falling apart and in one of the most inconvenient parts of the city? Before you could talk yourself out of it, you decided that no, you weren't going to do that.

Which is how you ended up standing in front of Eddie with your laundry basket in your hands and a duffel bag slung over your shoulder. “You're not allowed to get tired of me. Or judge how many sweatshirts I have,” was all you said, letting the grin on Eddie’s face mirror your own.

“Deal,” he said and reached out to take the basket from your hands in favor of pulling you inside. “You're really sure about this? I wasn't trying to pressure you earlier, it just felt like something we should start talking about,” he added and you felt your heart ache fondly. Eddie’s need to check in only made you feel more secure in your decision.

“I wouldn't have just sat in that traffic if I wasn't sure, trust me,” you hummed and dropped your duffel in favor of reaching up to cup your hands around the back of Eddie’s neck. “You and Buck are gonna have to figure out how to get my dresser in your room, though. I'm not mixing my neatly folded clothes with your mess of crumpled up shirts.”

“I think you mean our room,” was all Eddie said before effectively ending the conversation with a firm kiss. “I love you,” he mumbled against your skin and dragged you down the hall to your room.

Later, when your clothes were drying and Eddie had gotten the rest of your stuff from your car, you were laying on his chest while he ran his fingers over your scalp. “Hey,” he spoke softly and sat up on his elbow to look down at you, “what you said earlier, about me getting tired of you. You don't really think that, do you?”

You shrugged and felt unable to make up some excuse with the way his brown eyes were staring into you. “I know you wouldn't, honestly. But you know about the last time I lived with someone I was dating and there's a reason I've lived alone ever since, you know? I know that this is the right decision for us, but I can't help worrying that it's gonna ruin this amazing thing we have going on.”

“That's not gonna happen, baby. You're it for me and I wouldn't have asked you to do this if I thought for even a second that it wouldn't work,” Eddie’s voice was reassuring as always and you couldn't help but agree. “Besides, even if we have second thoughts, Chris is never letting you leave. He's excited to finally have someone that cooks living here,” he teased. You rolled your eyes and pulled him down into a kiss, “You're right, I can't abandon him here with your disastrous cooking.”

“I love you,” Eddie promised.

You believed him, “I love you, too.”

[jsooly]

idk why but i feel like reader was SO happy when tuk was born simply because someone was shorter than her

get my girl on stilts

ur so right anon 🙂‍↕️ this is so silly LMAO wait—

human!reader x sibling!sullys

the seven years before tuk came along, you swore you developed chronic neck pain from looking up at everyone all the time. jake was two inches shy of 9ft, neytiri following close behind, and even lo'ak, the youngest, was comfortably over 7ft.

it got to a point where you just didn't bother to look them in the eye anymore. not when they stood, anyway. sometime along the line, the kids started to crouch when they were around you. it started subtly. bending at the waist to match your eight. and you didn't think anything when they squatted around you—they did that all the time.

it was their rapid growth stage. they shot up from below you to being just over you, and suddenly they were acting as if they were as gigantic as your parents.

it clicked in your brain when you were out and about, taking a stroll through the forest and supervising your troublesome brothers and sister. you paused, propping your foot atop a rock to adjust the wraps around your feet.

they circled around you, bending at the knees in a squat while chatting among themselves. you paused, giving them suspicious looks before you began walking once more.

you stopped near a tree, shielding your eyes from the sun to get a better view of the foliage above. you remembered that you were low on fruits back home and—

you turned when you felt breathing over your shoulder. lo'ak was right behind you, neteyam and kiri just behind. they were low to the ground, a pattern you were just becoming aware of.

"...what are you doing." you said flatly.

"do you need a lift?" lo'ak offered his arms, nodding up to the tree as if it were a perfectly reasonable offer.

you scrunched your face, offense souring your expression like a lemon. "you're kidding me."

"i mean, it's a pretty tall tree." he mumbled, shrugging unconvincingly.

you let out a slow breath, flicking your gaze past him to neteyam and kiri. "and what about you?"

"we're standing here with you?" neteyam answered with a quizzical tone, thinking the answer was obvious.

"you're not standing. you duck down every time i stop walking. this better not be a prank."

"how else will you hear what we say from way up here?" lo'ak retorted, rising to his full height again.

you gave him an incredulous look, taking a pause in the conversation that set off danger bells in your siblings' heads.

"...because you have so much height on me." you said sarcastically.

the intent of your words flew over lo'aks head, missing the sarcasm completely. he smiled proudly, puffing out his chest. "yeah. yeah, i do."

"lo'ak, you're barely a foot taller than i am. i fear you are the last person that should be talking."

his ears shot up at the jab, pointing an accusatory finger in your face. "hey! i grew over the summer—"

"wanna go shoulder to shoulder?" you shot back.

his mouth hung open, his brain processing his response. he pulled back his finger. "no." he said slowly.

"don't stoop anymore," you instructed the obvious to them. when they all squatted around you, they looked like kids cornering a pet. "my ears work just fine." you glared at lo'ak.

"good, cuz that was getting tiring." kiri sighed when she finally pushed herself upright, her legs burning from the unintentional workout. neteyam stood up as well, stretching his arms over his head.

"unbelievable." you grumbled, rolling your eyes as you continued your trek through the forest.

—

all of this to say that you were really happy when tuk was born. she had at least a decade before she surpassed you and you intended to treasure every second of it.

you were more than happy to rub it in the other kids' faces when they suddenly complained that you spent an increasing amount of time with the newest addition to the family.

"it's not gonna last long." lo'ak grumbled beside you. you pushed him away playfully. wait until he finds out about the stilts humans regularly use.

[amethystarachnid]

I didn’t see a list of characters you wouldn’t write for so I wanted to request a fic with Peter quill or Johnny storm, Ik it’s kinda random lol but it’s just something different since I haven’t seen them much.

ONLY PHYSICAL

⤷ JOHNNY STORM

ᯓ★ Pairing: Johnny Storm x fem!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: romance, spicy, some drama but also some fluff

ᯓ★ Requests status: open

ᯓ★ Summary: you hate Johnny Storm, hate his smirk and his jokes, that's what you keep telling yourself. But one night, as you're both drunk, you end up sleeping together...Which then leads to a particular arrangement between you two...What will happen after that?

ᯓ★ Word count: 9.3k

ᯓ★ TW(s): spicy, lots of spicy scenes but nothing too explicit

ᯓ★ Omg, Johnny my love, one of the first marvel character I loved <3 Also, since the ask didn't specify anything I wrote it using my ideas and it's been too long since I saw the fantastic 4 so some things may be inaccurate or wrong, sorry <3

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ MARVEL Holiday Special

ᯓ★ MARVEL Multiverse - choose an AU, pair it with your favorite character and make a request!

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

It’s almost laughable how much you can’t stand Johnny Storm.

From the moment you join the team—a reluctant addition after Reed practically begs for your expertise in energy manipulation—Johnny makes it his mission to get under your skin. And he succeeds. Infuriatingly so. He doesn’t even try to hide it, flashing his smirk every time he catches you glaring at him, tossing out sarcastic remarks with the ease of someone who knows just how attractive he is.

“You know,” he drawls one afternoon, leaning against the doorframe of the lab where you’re trying to finish a recalibration of Sue’s invisibility suit, “I think I finally figured it out.”

You don’t bother looking up, tightening the screw on the prototype as you mutter, “I don’t have time for this, Storm.”

“No, no, hear me out,” he insists, stepping inside without invitation. His voice drips with mock seriousness, the kind that instantly makes your shoulders tense. “You’re into me.”

You actually laugh at that, short and sharp, finally turning to face him. He’s grinning like he’s just said the most brilliant thing in the world, his white teeth practically gleaming. His blond hair is tousled in a way that you suspect takes effort to look effortless, and he’s wearing that fitted T-shirt that always seems to cling a little too perfectly to his chest.

“In your dreams,” you snap, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Oh, definitely,” he replies without missing a beat, his smirk deepening. “But don’t worry, you make frequent appearances. Very flattering ones, I might add.”

You roll your eyes so hard you’re surprised they don’t pop out of your skull. “How do you even fit through doorways with an ego that big?”

“I manage,” he says with a wink, strolling closer to your workstation. You step in front of it, blocking his access, but he doesn’t stop, leaning in just enough to invade your space. His cologne is annoyingly pleasant, a mix of something warm and spicy that makes your nose betray you by liking it. “Come on, you’re telling me you don’t feel this… tension?”

“The only tension I feel is homicidal,” you deadpan.

“Hot,” he says, as if that’s a compliment, tilting his head to look at you like he’s assessing just how much he can push you before you snap. It’s a game to him, and you hate how good he is at it.

“Do you actually have a reason for being here,” you ask, “or are you just here to annoy me?”

“Who says it can’t be both?” He leans back against the counter, resting his elbows on it as he watches you with infuriatingly amused eyes. “But if you must know, Reed wants to see us in the conference room. Something about a mission briefing.”

“And he sent you to get me?” you ask, raising an eyebrow. “Was no one else available?”

“Oh, he sent Ben first,” Johnny says, grinning. “But I told him I’d handle it. Figured you’d appreciate the company.”

“Right,” you mutter, grabbing your tools and tossing them into your kit. “Let’s get this over with.”

As you brush past him, he falls into step beside you, his presence like an annoying shadow that won’t go away. The elevator ride to the conference room is painfully silent, though you can feel him watching you the entire time. It takes every ounce of willpower not to snap at him, not to give him the satisfaction of knowing just how much he irritates you.

When the doors open, you stride out ahead of him, eager to put some distance between you. But Johnny, being Johnny, catches up effortlessly, his long strides matching yours.

“You know,” he says, his voice low enough that only you can hear, “I think this whole ‘hating me’ thing is just a cover.”

“For what?” you ask, not bothering to hide the exasperation in your tone.

“For how badly you want me,” he replies, his grin practically criminal. “It’s okay. You don’t have to fight it.”

You stop in your tracks, turning to face him with a glare that could cut through steel. He stops too, clearly relishing the reaction, his hands shoved casually into his pockets.

“Johnny,” you say, your voice icy, “if I wanted you, you’d know it. Because I’d be dead. From shame.”

For a split second, there’s a flicker of something in his expression—surprise, maybe—but then it’s gone, replaced by that insufferable grin again. “Ouch,” he says, clutching his chest like you’ve wounded him. “I didn’t realize you cared so much.”

“I don’t,” you snap, turning on your heel and storming into the conference room.

Of course, Johnny follows, but he doesn’t say anything more. Not until you’re all seated around the table, Reed diving into a detailed explanation of the energy anomalies that have been popping up in the city. You’re trying to focus, taking notes on your tablet, but you can feel Johnny’s gaze on you again. It’s like a physical weight, burning against your skin, and it takes everything in you not to whip around and tell him to knock it off.

When the meeting finally ends, you practically bolt for the door, but Johnny catches up to you again, falling into step beside you like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“Hey,” he says, his tone softer now, less teasing. It’s almost disarming, and you glance at him warily.

“What?”

“You okay?” he asks, and for a moment, you think he might actually be serious.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” you reply, narrowing your eyes.

He shrugs, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Just checking. You seemed… tense.”

You stop walking, turning to face him with a frown. “Are you messing with me again?”

He holds up his hands in mock surrender, but there’s something almost genuine in his expression now. “Not this time. Scout’s honor.”

“You were never a scout,” you point out.

“Details,” he says with a shrug, and just like that, the moment is gone, replaced by his usual smirk. “But seriously, if you ever need to blow off some steam…” He lets the sentence hang in the air, his tone laced with innuendo, and you groan.

“You’re impossible,” you mutter, walking away before he can say anything else.

But as you make your way back to the lab, you can’t shake the feeling that there’s more to Johnny than the cocky exterior he projects. Not that you’d ever admit it out loud. Because if there’s one thing you know for certain, it’s that Johnny Storm is the last person you’d ever want to… feel anything for. Right?

The mission is straightforward in theory but chaotic in execution—par for the course when Johnny Storm is involved. A rogue tech company has been messing with unstable energy sources, creating erratic power surges across the city. Reed’s plan is for Ben and Johnny to infiltrate the lab while Sue provides cover and you, stationed at HQ with a direct link to the team, guide them through it.

“Johnny, focus,” you snap into the earpiece as he sprints ahead of Ben for the fifth time. “You’re going to trip an alarm.”

“Relax, sweetheart,” he replies, his voice annoyingly breezy. “I’ve got this.”

You grit your teeth, fingers flying across the keyboard as you monitor their progress. “I’m not your sweetheart. And if you ‘got this,’ you wouldn’t need me to tell you that there’s a motion sensor three feet ahead of you.”

Johnny pauses just in time, glancing around until he spots the small device in the corner. “See? Teamwork makes the dream work.”

“Just shut up and follow Ben,” you mutter.

“I think she likes me,” Johnny says, undoubtedly grinning. You can hear the smirk in his tone, and it makes your blood boil.

“Johnny,” Sue’s voice cuts in, sharp and no-nonsense. “Stop antagonizing her and get back on task.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Johnny replies, sounding far too pleased with himself.

Despite his antics, the mission goes smoothly. Ben tears through the reinforced doors like they’re made of cardboard, Johnny disables the main console with a burst of fire, and Sue uses her force fields to contain the energy surges until Reed’s stabilization device is activated. By the time they’re back at HQ, everything is under control.

“Well done, team,” Reed says, smiling as he powers down the main systems. “That could’ve been much worse.”

“Yeah, thanks to me,” Johnny says, striding into the room like he’s just saved the world single-handedly. He winks at you as he passes. “Don’t worry, I’ll let you buy me a drink as a thank-you.”

You snort. “In your dreams, Storm.”

“Every night,” he shoots back without missing a beat.

Later, when the adrenaline wears off, someone suggests a celebration. It’s unclear who, but you suspect Johnny has something to do with it because before you know it, the common area is transformed into a makeshift party space. Reed grumbles about the amount of alcohol, but Sue waves him off, promising to keep an eye on things.

You don’t intend to drink much—just enough to relax after the chaos of the day—but Johnny, of course, has other plans.

“You’re way too sober,” he declares, plopping onto the couch beside you with a beer in hand. “Come on, live a little.”

“I’m fine,” you reply, taking a small sip of your drink.

“Nope,” he says, grabbing a shot glass and pouring you something that smells like regret. “One shot. For me. As a thank-you for not letting me die out there.”

“Pretty sure I deserve the thanks,” you retort, but you take the shot anyway, if only to shut him up.

It’s a mistake. The burn of the alcohol hits you hard, and Johnny’s triumphant grin only fuels your annoyance. But then another shot follows, and another, until you lose count. Somewhere along the way, the tension between you and Johnny shifts. The teasing is still there, but it’s less biting, more playful. You’re laughing at his ridiculous jokes, and he’s leaning closer, his knee brushing against yours.

“You know,” he says, his voice lower than usual, “you’re kind of fun when you loosen up.”

“Don’t get used to it,” you reply, though your tone lacks its usual sharpness.

The party starts to wind down, with Ben carrying a passed-out Reed to his room and Sue calling it a night. You and Johnny, however, remain on the couch, the space between you shrinking with each passing minute. The alcohol buzz makes you bold, and before you realize what you’re doing, you’re leaning toward him.

“Did you just...” He blinks at you, his expression somewhere between surprised and amused. “Are you flirting with me?”

“Maybe,” you say, emboldened by the warmth in your veins. “What are you gonna do about it?”

His grin turns downright wicked. “Oh, I can think of a few things.”

And then he’s kissing you. It’s sudden and electric, his lips capturing yours with a heat that leaves you breathless. You respond instinctively, your hands tangling in his hair as he deepens the kiss. It’s messy and uncoordinated at first, both of you too drunk to be graceful, but the intensity makes up for it. His hands find your waist, pulling you closer until you’re practically in his lap.

“You’ve been driving me crazy, you know that?” he mutters against your lips, his voice husky.

“Right back at you,” you reply, tugging his shirt up over his head.

Somehow, you end up in his room, the walk there a blur of stolen kisses and clumsy touches. By the time you reach the bed, you’re both breathless, your clothes scattered across the floor. Johnny is surprisingly gentle, his hands exploring your skin like he’s committing every inch of you to memory. But there’s still that cocky edge to him, the teasing smirk that never quite leaves his face.

“God, you’re gorgeous,” he murmurs, his lips trailing down your neck. “Why didn’t we do this sooner?”

“Because you’re insufferable,” you manage to say, though the words lack conviction when his mouth finds the sensitive spot just below your ear.

“Mm, and yet here we are,” he replies, his grin evident against your skin.

The rest of the night is a blur of heat and intensity, a tangle of limbs and whispered confessions you’ll barely remember in the morning. All you know is that, for once, you don’t hate Johnny Storm. At least not entirely.

You wake slowly, your senses hazy and dulled by what must have been way too much alcohol last night. Your head throbs faintly, and the warm, soft cocoon of blankets threatens to lull you back into unconsciousness. For a brief moment, everything feels peaceful.

And then you realize there’s an arm draped across your stomach.

Your eyes snap open, and the first thing you notice is that you’re not in your own bed. The second thing is that someone’s pressed against you, their face nuzzled into your chest. You blink rapidly, trying to process the situation, but your sluggish brain takes its sweet time piecing things together.

The arm is muscular, the weight of it familiar in a way that makes your cheeks flush. And then there’s the golden blond hair brushing against your collarbone, the faint scent of cologne mixed with... smoke?

Oh. Oh, no.

Johnny Storm is sprawled across you, completely naked, his legs tangled with yours beneath the sheets.

Your breath hitches, and you freeze, trying not to move or make a sound. But the realization hits you like a freight train: You slept with Johnny Storm. You slept with Johnny freaking Storm.

Panic rises in your chest as fragmented memories of the night before come flooding back. The party, the drinks, the teasing banter that had somehow turned into a kiss... and then more. A lot more. Your face burns as you remember the feel of his hands on your skin, the way he’d looked at you like you were the only thing in the world that mattered.

You’re mortified.

“Oh my God,” you whisper, your voice barely audible.

Unfortunately, it’s just loud enough to wake him.

Johnny stirs against you, letting out a sleepy groan as he shifts slightly. His arm tightens around you, and he murmurs something unintelligible before finally lifting his head to look at you through half-lidded eyes. His expression is groggy at first, but then a slow, lazy grin spreads across his face as realization dawns.

“Well, good morning,” he says, his voice husky with sleep.

You stare at him, your mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. “I—what—why are you—”

He raises an eyebrow, clearly amused by your flustered state. “You’re gonna have to use words, sweetheart.”

“Johnny!” you hiss, yanking the blanket up to your chest as if that’ll somehow fix this. “What the hell happened?!”

He chuckles, completely unbothered by the situation—or his nakedness, for that matter. Propping himself up on one elbow, he watches you with an infuriatingly smug expression. “You really don’t remember?”

Your face feels like it’s on fire. “I remember... bits,” you admit reluctantly, avoiding his gaze.

“Well, let me fill in the gaps,” he says, leaning closer. His grin is downright sinful now, and you want to smack it off his face. “You couldn’t keep your hands off me. Not that I blame you, of course. I mean, look at me.”

“Stop talking,” you snap, shoving him away and scooting to the edge of the bed. Your heart is pounding, and you feel like you might actually die of embarrassment.

Johnny doesn’t seem fazed in the slightest, lying back against the pillows with his hands behind his head. The sheets pool around his hips, and you make a point of looking anywhere but at him.

“Come on,” he says, his tone teasing. “It’s not the end of the world. We had fun, didn’t we?”

“That’s not the point!” you say, running a hand through your hair in frustration. “This shouldn’t have happened. It was a mistake.”

The word wipes the grin off his face, and for a moment, he looks almost... disappointed. But then he shrugs, his usual cocky demeanor slipping back into place. “If you say so.”

You scramble to find your clothes, pulling them on as quickly as possible. Your shirt is wrinkled beyond saving, and you can’t find one of your socks, but you don’t care. You just need to get out of here before anyone sees you leaving Johnny’s room.

“I think we should forget this ever happened,” you say firmly, not looking at him as you tug your shoes on.

“Forget?” he echoes, sitting up. “Really?”

“Yes,” you say, finally meeting his gaze. “It’s better for both of us if we just... pretend it didn’t happen.”

He studies you for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then he nods, though there’s a flicker of something—disappointment? Annoyance?—in his eyes. “Fine. If that’s what you want.”

“It is,” you say, though the knot in your stomach suggests otherwise.

Grabbing your things, you head for the door, pausing only to glance back at him one last time. He’s still sitting there, the sheets draped loosely around his waist, watching you with an intensity that makes your breath catch. But you shake it off and leave, determined to put as much distance between you and this mess as possible.

The hallway is blessedly empty, and you make a beeline for your room, praying no one saw you. You don’t know how you’re going to face the team today—or Johnny, for that matter—but one thing is certain: you need a very, very strong cup of coffee.

You make it to the kitchen without running into anyone, thank God. The lingering buzz of alcohol in your system combined with the weight of what just happened makes your head feel like it’s caught in a vise. All you want is coffee—a steaming, bitter cup of something strong enough to drown out the memories of last night.

You pour yourself a mug, gripping it like a lifeline as you lean against the counter. The warmth seeps into your palms, grounding you.

But no matter how much caffeine you consume, you can’t shake the overwhelming wrongness of this morning. You slept with Johnny Storm. Johnny Storm. The most arrogant, insufferable, smug—

“Morning,” Sue’s cheerful voice interrupts your spiraling thoughts.

You nearly choke on your coffee as she walks in, looking fresh and chipper as ever. “Morning,” you manage, clearing your throat and trying not to sound guilty.

She eyes you curiously as she grabs a granola bar from the counter. “You look... tired. Did you stay up late?”

The memory of Johnny’s mouth on yours, his hands roaming your body, flashes through your mind, and you nearly drop your mug. “Uh, yeah,” you say, forcing a tight smile. “Couldn’t sleep.”

Sue frowns, concerned. “Are you okay? You look kind of... flushed.”

You take a long sip of coffee to buy yourself some time. “I’m fine,” you say quickly. “Just... had a lot on my mind.”

Her concern doesn’t waver, but thankfully, she doesn’t press the issue. “Well, let me know if you need anything,” she says, her tone warm.

You nod, grateful for the out. “Thanks, Sue. I’m good.”

She flashes you a smile and heads off, leaving you alone with your thoughts once again. You let out a shaky breath, your shoulders slumping.

This is going to be hell.

The rest of the morning passes in a blur. You manage to avoid Johnny, though the tension gnawing at your gut doesn’t let up. When lunchtime rolls around, you reluctantly join the team in the common area, knowing it’ll look suspicious if you keep hiding.

Johnny’s already there when you walk in, lounging on the couch like he doesn’t have a care in the world. He’s laughing at something Ben said, his usual cocky grin firmly in place. For a brief, insane moment, you wonder if he’s already forgotten about this morning.

But then his gaze flicks to you, and for the briefest second, something unreadable passes over his face. It’s gone as quickly as it came, replaced by his usual teasing smirk.

“Hey, there’s Sleeping Beauty,” he calls out, leaning back with his arms draped over the couch. “Rough night?”

Your stomach twists, but you force yourself to act normal. “No rougher than yours, I’m sure,” you reply, taking a seat as far from him as possible.

He raises an eyebrow, clearly amused by your attempt at a poker face. “Oh, I don’t know. I think I slept pretty well.”

You glare at him, your jaw tightening. You’re this close to throwing something at his stupid, smug face, but Sue and Reed are right there, oblivious to the subtext.

Johnny doesn’t push further, but you catch him stealing glances at you throughout lunch. It’s maddening—he’s acting like nothing happened, like you didn’t wake up with him draped over you this morning. And somehow, that makes it worse.

The next few days follow the same infuriating pattern. Johnny keeps up his usual antics, teasing and flirting like always, but there’s no hint that he’s holding anything over your head. If anything, he seems to be going out of his way to act normal.

You, on the other hand, are a mess. Every time he smirks at you, every time he makes a stupid comment or throws a casual wink in your direction, you’re reminded of how his lips felt on yours, how his skin felt beneath your hands.

It’s impossible to focus.

It’s especially bad when you’re around Sue. Every time she talks to you, the guilt gnaws at your insides like a living thing. She’s so kind, so thoughtful, and here you are, harboring the world’s most awkward secret about her brother.

“You’ve been distracted lately,” she says one afternoon while the two of you are reviewing some mission protocols.

You freeze, your pen hovering over the paper in front of you. “What? No, I’m fine.”

Sue gives you a skeptical look. “Really? Because you’ve been zoning out all week.”

“I’m just tired,” you say quickly, forcing a smile.

She doesn’t look convinced, but she lets it go.

Johnny, of course, doesn’t make things any easier. If anything, he seems to enjoy your discomfort. He keeps teasing you in front of the others, his remarks innocuous enough that no one else picks up on them, but laced with just enough subtext to make your cheeks burn.

“Y/N, you’re blushing,” he says one day during a training session, his grin infuriatingly smug. “What, can’t handle the heat?”

You grit your teeth, resisting the urge to throw something at him. “I’m fine,” you snap.

“Oh, I know you are,” he replies, his tone dripping with innuendo.

Sue smacks him on the arm. “Johnny, leave her alone.”

“What?” he says innocently, holding up his hands. “I’m just being supportive.”

Your hands curl into fists, but you force yourself to take a deep breath. If he can act like nothing happened, then so can you.

At least, that’s what you tell yourself.

But the truth is, you’re not sure how much longer you can keep this up. Every time Johnny looks at you, every time he makes a stupid joke or flashes that infuriating grin, you’re reminded of what happened—and of the fact that, no matter how hard you try, you can’t seem to forget.

It’s nearly midnight, and the quiet hum of the compound settles over you like a blanket. Everyone else is in their rooms, the lights dimmed, the hallways silent. You’re in your own room, pacing back and forth, chewing on your bottom lip as your thoughts race.

For days, the tension has been unbearable. Every teasing glance, every cocky smirk, every stolen look from Johnny is like a fire lit under your skin. And it’s not just him—your body betrays you every time you see him. It’s as if something deep and primal has been unleashed, and no matter how much you try to push it down, it refuses to be ignored.

It’s not just physical, either. Not entirely. The frustration you feel isn’t just because of the way Johnny looks at you—it’s because of the way you look at him, the way he gets to you like no one else. You’ve always clashed, your personalities like fire and ice, but somehow, that spark has turned into something neither of you seems able to control.

You’re sick of it. Sick of pretending it didn’t happen, sick of the way your pulse quickens when he’s around, sick of the way he acts like it doesn’t affect him when it so clearly does.

You can’t keep doing this.

The idea strikes you so suddenly it almost makes you stop pacing. It’s reckless, impulsive, probably insane—but it’s the only way you can see out of this mess.

You grab a hoodie, throwing it on over your pajamas, and quietly open your door. The hallways are dark, the compound silent except for the faint hum of the ventilation system. You tiptoe down the corridor, your heart pounding in your chest.

Johnny’s room is at the far end of the hall. You pause outside his door, your hand hovering over the handle.

This is a terrible idea, a voice in your head whispers.

But the tension inside you, the frustration that’s been building for days, drowns it out. You knock lightly, barely loud enough to be heard.

For a moment, there’s no response. Then you hear footsteps, and the door swings open to reveal Johnny, shirtless and disheveled, his blond hair sticking up in every direction. He blinks at you, clearly surprised.

“Y/N?” he says, his voice husky with sleep. “What are you doing here?”

You glance over your shoulder, making sure no one else is around, before stepping into his room and shutting the door behind you.

“Uh, come on in, I guess,” he says, his brow furrowed in confusion.

You turn to face him, your stomach twisting with nerves. “I need to talk to you.”

He raises an eyebrow, leaning casually against the wall. “This late? Couldn’t wait until morning?”

“No,” you say, your voice firmer than you expect. “I... I can’t do this anymore.”

His expression shifts slightly, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his face. ���Do what?”

“This,” you say, gesturing between the two of you. “The pretending. The acting like nothing happened. I can’t—I can’t focus, I can’t think straight. Every time I see you, I—” You cut yourself off, taking a deep breath.

Johnny’s watching you intently now, all traces of his usual cocky demeanor gone. “You what?” he prompts, his voice softer.

You swallow hard. “I can’t stop thinking about it. About you. And I know you can’t either.”

His lips part slightly, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows. “What makes you so sure?”

“Because you look at me like...” You trail off, shaking your head. “Like you want me just as much as I want you.”

There’s a beat of silence, heavy and charged. Then Johnny takes a step closer, his eyes locked on yours. “So what are you saying?”

“I’m saying...” You hesitate, your heart pounding. “We’re clearly bad at ignoring this. So maybe we stop trying.”

He blinks, clearly caught off guard. “Are you... proposing what I think you’re proposing?”

“Yes,” you say quickly, before you lose your nerve. “But just... as a way to get this out of our systems. No strings, no complications. Just... physical.”

Johnny’s mouth quirks into a half-smile, but there’s something serious in his gaze. “You want to be frenemies with benefits?”

You nod, your cheeks burning. “Exactly.”

He stares at you for a long moment, his eyes searching yours. Then his lips curve into that familiar cocky grin, the one that’s equal parts infuriating and irresistible. “Well, I’m not one to say no to a good idea.”

You exhale a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. “Good. So we’re on the same page.”

“Crystal clear,” he says, stepping closer until there’s barely an inch between you. “And, uh... are we starting this now?”

Your pulse quickens at the heat in his gaze, the way his voice drops just slightly. “Yes,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

He doesn’t waste any time. One second he’s standing there, and the next his lips are on yours, claiming your mouth with a hunger that makes your knees weak. You kiss him back just as fiercely, your hands tangling in his hair as he presses you against the wall.

There’s no hesitation this time, no awkward fumbling or second-guessing. His hands slide under your hoodie, pulling it off in one smooth motion before his lips trail down your neck. You shiver, your body arching into him as his hands explore your skin with a reverence that makes your breath catch.

“God, you’re perfect,” he murmurs against your collarbone, his voice low and rough.

You tug at his sweatpants, your hands roaming over the planes of his chest as he lifts you off the ground and carries you to the bed.

It’s fast and frenzied at first, the pent-up tension between you spilling over in a way that’s almost overwhelming. But then Johnny slows down, his movements deliberate and almost tender as he takes his time with you.

“You sure about this?” he asks, his voice barely more than a whisper as his forehead rests against yours.

“Yes,” you breathe, your hands gripping his shoulders. “Don’t stop.”

And he doesn’t.

It’s been two weeks since that night, two weeks of sneaking around, stolen moments, and whispered promises to “keep this strictly physical.” You tell yourself it’s working, that the arrangement is simple, no-strings-attached. But Johnny Storm is nothing if not difficult—especially when it comes to playing by the rules.

From the moment you agreed to this, Johnny made it his mission to test your self-control. It’s not just that he’s insatiable—though, God help you, he is. It’s the way he looks at you across the room, the way his hand brushes against yours when no one else is looking, the way he finds excuses to get you alone.

It’s maddening.

“Johnny,” you hiss one afternoon as he corners you in the hallway, his hands sliding around your waist. “Someone could see us.”

“Relax,” he says, grinning as he presses a kiss to your neck. “They’re all in the lab. We’ve got at least ten minutes.”

“That’s not the point,” you say, trying—and failing—to push him away. “We’re supposed to be discreet.”

“I am being discreet,” he says, nipping at your earlobe.

You let out an exasperated sigh, but your resolve weakens when his lips find yours, hot and demanding. You kiss him back, your hands fisting in his shirt as he backs you against the wall.

“Johnny—”

“Five minutes,” he murmurs against your lips. “That’s all I need.”

He’s impossible. But the worst part is, you don’t really want him to stop.

You manage to pull yourself together just in time, slipping out of the hallway and pretending nothing happened when you join the others in the common area. Sue glances up from her tablet as you walk in, smiling brightly.

“Hey, Y/N. You look... flushed,” she says, tilting her head.

“I just... went for a run,” you lie, avoiding Johnny’s amused smirk from across the room.

Sue nods, seemingly satisfied with your answer, and goes back to her work. You shoot Johnny a warning glare, but he just winks at you, completely unapologetic.

This is your life now—trying to keep a straight face while Johnny flirts with you like it’s a sport, all while pretending to everyone else that nothing’s going on.

It’s exhausting.

But somehow, you make it work. You keep your secret, sneaking into his room late at night and slipping back to yours before anyone wakes up. You convince yourself that it’s fine, that you’re in control.

Until she shows up.

It happens one afternoon during a team briefing. You’re sitting at the table, half-listening to Reed drone on about mission logistics, when you notice her. A stunning redhead in a sleek leather jacket, leaning casually against the doorway with a confidence that makes your stomach twist.

Johnny notices her, too.

“Amelia,” he says, his grin widening as he gets up to greet her.

“Johnny,” she replies, her voice smooth as silk.

They hug, and you feel something sharp lodge itself in your chest. She’s gorgeous, the kind of woman who looks like she belongs in a movie, and the way Johnny looks at her—like they have history—makes your stomach churn.

You force yourself to look away, focusing on the papers in front of you as Sue introduces Amelia to the team. Apparently, she’s a freelance operative Reed hired to help with the next mission.

Great.

Johnny spends the rest of the briefing sitting next to her, laughing at her jokes and leaning in just a little too close. You tell yourself it doesn’t matter, that you don’t care. This is what you signed up for, after all—no strings, no jealousy, no feelings.

But when Amelia laughs at something Johnny says, her hand resting briefly on his arm, you feel a surge of something hot and bitter rise in your chest.

You’re jealous.

The realization hits you like a freight train, and you hate it. You hate that you care, that you’re sitting here stewing over Johnny Storm like some lovesick teenager.

After the briefing, you make a beeline for your room, needing to put some distance between yourself and whatever’s happening downstairs.

Johnny catches up to you later that night, slipping into your room like he always does.

“You okay?” he asks, his brow furrowed as he sits on the edge of your bed. “You seemed... off today.”

“I’m fine,” you say, avoiding his gaze.

He doesn’t look convinced. “You sure? Because you’ve been weird since Amelia showed up.”

At the mention of her name, your stomach tightens. “I said I’m fine,” you snap, sharper than you intended.

Johnny raises an eyebrow, leaning back slightly. “Whoa. Where’s that coming from?”

“Nowhere,” you say quickly, shaking your head. “I’m just tired.”

He studies you for a moment, his expression unreadable. “Alright,” he says finally. “If you say so.”

But as he leans in to kiss you, you can’t help but pull away.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, his voice soft.

“Nothing,” you lie, forcing a smile. “I’m just... not in the mood tonight.”

Johnny looks surprised, but he doesn’t push. “Okay,” he says, standing up. “I’ll leave you alone, then.”

He hesitates for a moment, like he wants to say something else, but then he nods and slips out of the room.

As soon as he’s gone, you bury your face in your hands, your heart aching in a way you don’t understand.

You signed up for this. You knew what you were getting into.

So why does it hurt so much to see him with someone else?

The days that follow are torture. Johnny spends more and more time with Amelia, laughing and joking with her in a way that feels too familiar. You do your best to act normal, but it’s impossible to ignore the way your chest tightens every time you see them together.

And Johnny notices.

He corners you in the hallway one night, his expression serious. “Alright, what’s going on with you?”

“Nothing,” you say, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Don’t give me that,” he says, stepping closer. “You’ve been acting weird all week. Did I do something?”

You shake your head, avoiding his gaze. “It’s nothing, Johnny. Just drop it.”

He doesn’t move, his eyes searching yours. “Is this about Amelia?”

Your stomach twists, but you force yourself to keep a neutral expression. “Why would it be about her?”

“I don’t know,” he says, his voice laced with frustration. “You tell me.”

You don’t answer, your silence stretching between you like a chasm.

Johnny sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Look, if something’s bothering you, just say it. I’m not a mind reader.”

You bite your lip, the words on the tip of your tongue, but you can’t bring yourself to say them.

Instead, you shake your head. “It’s nothing. Forget it.”

Johnny stares at you for a long moment, his jaw tight. Then he nods, stepping back. “Fine. Have it your way.”

He turns and walks away, leaving you standing there with your heart in your throat.

You tell yourself it’s better this way, that keeping your feelings to yourself is the right thing to do.

But as the days go on, you can’t help but wonder how much longer you can keep lying to yourself—and to him.

You’re pacing your room, your mind spinning, your chest tight with a cocktail of frustration and jealousy. The events of the day replay in your head like a broken record.

Amelia had been all over Johnny again—laughing at his jokes, leaning into his personal space, finding every excuse to touch his arm or shoulder. And Johnny, the infuriating, cocky idiot, seemed to revel in it.

You tell yourself it doesn’t matter. You remind yourself of the rules, of the arrangement you agreed to. No strings. No feelings. But those reminders crumble under the weight of the knot in your stomach, the jealousy burning through you like wildfire.

By the time night falls, you’re at your breaking point. You can’t think straight, can’t focus on anything except the need to release all this tension, to let go of the frustration clawing at your chest.

Without giving yourself time to second-guess, you grab your hoodie and storm out of your room, your feet carrying you down the hall before your brain can catch up. You don’t bother knocking when you reach Johnny’s door—you push it open and step inside, your heart pounding in your chest.

Johnny looks up from his bed, where he’s lounging with his phone in hand. He’s shirtless, of course, because why wouldn’t he be? He always seems to know how to test your self-control.

“Y/N?” he says, his brow furrowing in confusion. “What’s going on?”

You close the door behind you, leaning back against it as you meet his gaze. “I need to blow off some steam,” you say, your voice sharper than you intended.

Johnny raises an eyebrow, sitting up slightly. “Is that so?”

“Yes,” you snap, crossing your arms over your chest. “And you’re going to help me.”

For a moment, he just stares at you, clearly taken aback. Then a slow, knowing smile spreads across his face. “Well, I’m not one to say no to a lady in need.”

You roll your eyes, pushing off the door and crossing the room to stand in front of him. “Less talking, more doing,” you mutter, grabbing the back of his neck and pulling him into a kiss.

Johnny doesn’t need any more encouragement. His hands find your hips, pulling you into his lap as he kisses you back with a hunger that sends a shiver down your spine.

“Someone’s feisty tonight,” he murmurs against your lips, his hands sliding under your hoodie.

“Shut up,” you say, pulling it off and tossing it to the side.

His grin widens, but he does as he’s told, his hands roaming over your skin as you straddle him. You kiss him fiercely, your fingers tangling in his hair as you press your body against his.

When he tries to flip you onto your back, you stop him, pushing him back down onto the bed.

“Not this time,” you say, your voice low and firm.

Johnny looks up at you, his eyes darkening with surprise and something else—something hotter, deeper. “Yes, ma’am,” he says, his lips quirking into a small smirk.

You roll your eyes again, but you can’t deny the rush of satisfaction at the way he looks at you, the way he lets you take control.

And for the first time, you do. You take your time, exploring every inch of him with your hands and lips, savoring the way he responds to your touch. Johnny, for all his usual bravado, seems to love it—his hands gripping your thighs, his breaths coming in short, ragged gasps as you take him apart.

“Damn,” he murmurs, his voice rough. “Didn’t know you had it in you.”

“Shut up,” you say again, but there’s no heat in your words.

When it’s over, you collapse onto his chest, both of you breathing heavily. Johnny wraps his arms around you, his fingers tracing lazy circles on your back as you both come down from the high.

For a moment, neither of you speaks. Then Johnny breaks the silence. “I think I like you on top,” he says, his voice teasing.

You groan, burying your face in his neck. “You’re impossible.”

“You love it,” he says, his lips brushing against your temple.

You don’t respond, but you can’t help the small smile that tugs at your lips.

After a few minutes, Johnny shifts beneath you. “Come on,” he says, sitting up and pulling you with him. “Let’s take a bath.”

“A bath?” you repeat, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah,” he says, standing up and stretching. “You know, to relax. Blow off the rest of that steam.”

You shake your head, but you follow him into the bathroom, your curiosity piqued.

Johnny starts the water, adding some soap that creates a light layer of bubbles. The bathroom is warm and steamy, the faint scent of lavender filling the air.

“Fancy,” you say, leaning against the counter as you watch him.

“Only the best,” he says with a wink, stepping into the tub and holding out a hand to you.

You hesitate for a moment, but then you take his hand and let him pull you in. The water is hot, the perfect contrast to the cool air of the room, and you sink into it with a sigh.

Johnny pulls you into his lap, his arms wrapping around you as you rest your head against his chest.

“This is nice,” you admit, your voice soft.

“Told you,” he says, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

You close your eyes, letting yourself relax in his arms. For a moment, everything else fades away—the jealousy, the frustration, the complicated mess of feelings you’ve been trying to ignore.

When the water starts to cool, you both get out and dry off, slipping back into bed together. Johnny pulls you close, his body warm and solid against yours as he drapes an arm over your waist.

“You staying the night?” he asks, his voice low and drowsy.

“Yeah,” you say, surprising yourself with how easily the word comes out.

“Good,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your shoulder.

As you drift off to sleep, you can’t help but wonder how long you can keep pretending this is just a casual arrangement. Because when Johnny holds you like this, when he looks at you with something soft and unguarded in his eyes, it feels like so much more.

It’s early morning, the sun barely peeking through the edges of the curtains as you make your way to Johnny’s room. You’d spent the night tossing and turning in your own bed, your thoughts constantly drifting back to him, to the way his hands felt on your skin, to the sound of his voice murmuring your name.

You’re not sure why you’re up this early or why you feel the need to see him now, but the pull toward him is irresistible.

As you turn the corner and approach his door, you freeze.

Amelia is stepping out of Johnny’s room, her hair slightly tousled, her jacket slung over one shoulder. She doesn’t see you right away, but when she does, her eyes widen slightly, and an awkward, almost guilty expression crosses her face.

“Morning,” she says, her voice light but strained.

You don’t respond, your gaze darting past her to the door she just closed.

“I, uh, should get going,” she says, brushing past you quickly and disappearing down the hallway.

You stand there for a moment, your mind racing. Your chest feels tight, your stomach churning with a mix of anger and something far more painful.

Before you can talk yourself out of it, you push open Johnny’s door and step inside.

He’s sitting on the edge of his bed, shirtless and still half-asleep, his hair a mess of golden strands. When he sees you, he blinks in surprise.

“Y/N? What are you doing up so early?”

“What was she doing here?” you demand, your voice sharper than you intended.

Johnny frowns, clearly confused. “Who?”

“Amelia,” you snap, crossing your arms over your chest. “I just saw her leaving your room.”

Realization dawns on his face, and instead of explaining himself, he has the audacity to smirk. “Jealous, are we?”

“Don’t,” you say, your voice trembling. “Don’t make this a joke.”

The smile fades from his lips, and he stands, his expression softening as he steps closer to you. “Y/N, it’s not what you think—”

“Oh, so she just happened to wander into your room at the crack of dawn?” you interrupt, your anger masking the hurt that’s clawing at your chest. “We’re supposed to be just physical, remember? So I guess it doesn’t matter who else you’re screwing.”

“Hey,” Johnny says firmly, his hands resting lightly on your shoulders. “That’s not what’s happening here. Just... let me explain, okay?”

You glare at him but don’t pull away, your chest heaving as you try to keep your emotions in check.

“She came to my room because she wanted to talk to me before she left,” he says, his voice calm and steady. “The mission ended yesterday, and she’s heading out of town. She wanted to... confess her feelings or something.”

You swallow hard, your throat tight. “And? What did you say?”

Johnny looks at you, his eyes searching yours, and for the first time, you see something raw and unguarded in his expression. “I told her I wasn’t interested,” he says softly. “I told her there’s someone else.”

Your heart clenches painfully at his words, and you shake your head, stepping back. “Don’t do this,” you whisper, your voice cracking.

“Do what?” he asks, his brow furrowing.

“Don’t lie to me,” you say, your hands balling into fists at your sides. “Don’t say there’s someone else just to make me feel better.”

“I’m not lying,” he says, his voice firm.

You shake your head again, tears stinging your eyes. “Then who is it, Johnny? Who’s so special that you’d turn down Amelia?”

He takes a step closer, his hand reaching out to tilt your chin up so you’re forced to meet his gaze. “It’s you,” he says simply.

The words hit you like a punch to the gut, and you blink up at him, your heart racing. “Me?”

“Yeah,” he says, a small, almost sheepish smile tugging at his lips. “It’s always been you. I just... I didn’t know how to say it. I didn’t want to scare you off.”

You stare at him, your mind reeling. “Johnny...”

“I know this wasn’t supposed to be anything serious,” he continues, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “But I can’t help it, Y/N. I’m crazy about you.”

Your resolve crumbles, and a tear slips down your cheek. “You’re such an idiot,” you say, your voice shaky.

He chuckles softly, his hands cupping your face. “I know. But you like me anyway.”

You laugh weakly, the sound half-choked by a sob, and before you can think twice, you throw your arms around his neck, pulling him into a kiss.

This kiss is different—softer, slower, free of the urgency and heat that usually defines your moments together. It’s tender and meaningful, a silent confession of everything you’ve both been too scared to say.

When you finally pull back, your foreheads resting together, you can’t help but tease him. “So... does this mean you’re my boyfriend now?”

Johnny grins, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Guess it does.”

“Good,” you say, poking his chest. “Because that means no more flirting with other women.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he says, his tone sincere.

You smile, your heart feeling lighter than it has in weeks. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“Yeah,” he says, pulling you closer. “But I’m yours.”

The words send a shiver down your spine, and before you know it, his lips are on yours again, this time with more passion, more intensity. He backs you toward the bed, his hands exploring your body with a reverence that makes your breath hitch.

For the first time, there’s no rush, no frantic need to prove something. Every touch, every kiss feels deliberate, like he’s trying to memorize every inch of you.

When he lays you down on the bed, his gaze is so full of love and adoration that it nearly takes your breath away.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs, his lips trailing down your neck.

“Johnny,” you whisper, your fingers threading through his hair.

“I’m yours,” he says again, his voice rough with emotion. “Only yours.”

The words send a surge of warmth through you, and you pull him closer, your bodies moving together in perfect harmony.

It’s different this time—not just physical, but emotional, intimate in a way that leaves you both vulnerable.

When it’s over, you lie tangled together, your head resting on his chest as his fingers trace lazy patterns on your back.

“Hey, Y/N,” he says softly, his voice laced with exhaustion and contentment.

“Yeah?”

“I love you,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

Your heart swells, and you tilt your head up to look at him. “I love you too,” you say, a small smile tugging at your lips.

Johnny grins, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Told you you’d fall for me eventually.”

You laugh, smacking his chest lightly. “Shut up, Storm.”

He pulls you closer, his arms wrapping around you as he presses another kiss to your lips.

It starts with Susan. Of course, it’s Susan.

You and Johnny had managed to keep your relationship quiet for a few days, sneaking kisses in the hallway, exchanging soft touches when no one was looking, and giving each other the occasional longing glance that lingered a bit too long. But when you’re both together as much as you are with the team, there’s only so much you can hide.

Susan is perceptive to the point of being almost psychic when it comes to her brother. That morning, as you and Johnny are sitting together at the breakfast table, laughing at something stupid he just said, her eyes narrow slightly.

“You two,” she says suddenly, pointing her spoon at both of you, “are acting... different.”

Johnny freezes mid-bite, his eyes widening like a deer caught in headlights. You, on the other hand, nearly choke on your coffee.

“Different?” you say, trying to play it cool. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“You do realize I’ve known Johnny my entire life, right?” Susan says, crossing her arms. “He’s never looked at anyone the way he’s looking at you right now.”

Johnny smirks, leaning back in his chair. “Can you blame me? Look at her.”

You glare at him, smacking his arm lightly. “You’re not helping.”

Susan’s mouth falls open slightly, her eyes flicking between the two of you. “Wait. Are you... are you two... together?”

Johnny grins, his hand finding yours under the table. “Yup.”

“Johnny!” you hiss, smacking him again.

“What? She was going to figure it out eventually,” he says with a shrug.

Susan looks stunned for a moment, then her expression softens into something warm and almost maternal. “I knew it,” she says, a smile spreading across her face.

“You knew it?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

“Of course I did,” she says, rolling her eyes. “Do you have any idea how obvious you two have been? The way you bickered all the time, the way you couldn’t keep your eyes off each other when you thought no one was looking...”

Johnny snickers. “Guess we weren’t as sneaky as we thought.”

“You were terrible at being sneaky,” Susan says, shaking her head. “But... I’m happy for you. Really. You deserve to be happy.”

Her words catch you off guard, and you feel a lump forming in your throat. “Thanks, Susan,” you say softly.

She smiles, then looks at Johnny with a mock-serious expression. “But if you screw this up, Johnny, I swear—”

“Relax, Sis,” Johnny says, holding up his hands. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Susan nods, satisfied, then turns her attention back to her breakfast.

But, of course, the moment doesn’t end there.

As if on cue, Ben stomps into the kitchen, followed closely by Reed, who’s balancing a mug of coffee in one hand and a clipboard in the other.

“Morning,” Ben grunts, reaching for a plate of pancakes.

“Morning,” you and Johnny say in unison, maybe a little too cheerfully.

Ben pauses, his rocky brow furrowing as he looks at the two of you. “What’s with you two?”

“Nothing,” you say quickly.

“Uh-huh,” Ben says, clearly unconvinced. He looks over at Susan, who’s struggling to hide a smile. “What’s going on?”

Susan shrugs, but there’s a mischievous glint in her eye. “Ask them.”

Ben turns his gaze back to you and Johnny, his eyes narrowing. “Spill it.”

Johnny sighs dramatically, throwing an arm around your shoulders. “Fine. Y/N and I are together. Happy?”

Ben stares at you both for a moment, then bursts out laughing.

“What’s so funny?” you ask, feeling your cheeks heat up.

“I knew it!” Ben says, slapping his knee. “I told you, Reed! You owe me twenty bucks!”

Reed looks up from his clipboard, his expression thoughtful. “Technically, the bet was whether they’d get together before the end of the month, and it’s only the twentieth, so yes, I suppose I do owe you.”

“You bet on us?” you ask, your jaw dropping.

“Of course we did,” Ben says, grinning. “You two have been dancing around each other for months. It was only a matter of time.”

“Unbelievable,” you mutter, burying your face in your hands.

Johnny, on the other hand, looks delighted. “Wait, how much money are we talking here?”

“Don’t even think about it,” you say, elbowing him in the ribs.

Reed clears his throat, clearly trying to shift the conversation back to something less embarrassing. “For what it’s worth, I think it’s a good match,” he says, adjusting his glasses.

You blink at him, surprised. “You do?”

“Yes,” he says simply. “You balance each other out. Johnny needs someone who can challenge him, and you need someone who can... bring out your fun side.”

Johnny smirks, clearly pleased with himself. “Hear that? I’m good for you.”

“Don’t let it go to your head,” you mutter, but you can’t help the small smile that tugs at your lips.

The rest of breakfast is filled with teasing and laughter, and by the end of it, you feel lighter than you have in days.

Later, as you’re walking back to your room, Johnny catches up with you, slipping his hand into yours.

“Well, that went better than I expected,” he says, grinning.

“You mean the part where they all knew already?” you say, raising an eyebrow.

Johnny laughs, pulling you closer. “Guess we’re not as good at hiding things as we thought.”

You roll your eyes, but you can’t help the smile that spreads across your face. “You’re lucky I love you, Storm.”

“Damn right I am,” he says, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your lips.

As you walk down the hallway together, hand in hand, you can’t help but feel like everything is finally falling into place.

For better or worse, this is your family now. And with Johnny by your side, you know you can handle anything that comes your way.

[zandicksz]

webttore x reader smut? :D i don't really have a plot in mind I just wanna have sex with him... also afab reader pls!!!

webttore my love

CW: messy sex, on the table, drool and saliva mentioned, somewhat subby webttore, getting caught (by original), segment is called Epsilon, somewhat established relationship, pet names (honey, darling), mentions of webttore being biomechanical,

the mechanical hum of all sorts of machinery echoed throughout the main parts of the laboratory, bouncing off of the steel walls while other iterations of Dottore worked, doing their assigned tasks for today, it was a mundane practice but one that they had all grown accustomed to over the multiple centuries they've spent 'rotting' or as the original likes to call it, 'working', it really makes for a dull work environment.

not when you're around of course.

ever since you came along productivity and morale has been quite high, tensions have been lowered and segments are less likely to bicker and argue over meaningless things about who's beaker is who's. with someone to seperate them of course, you.

earlier today, a segment, Epsilon, had gotten into a spat with the original, you don't remember what exactly but he was almost disassembled, so the most reasonable thing you thought to do was to just time him out, put him in an isolation room.

said isolation room was just one of the barren sleeping quarters the original had, a simple bed and a single light with a wooden table against the opposite wall of the bed, it was..normal, atleast.

"what a ridiculous statement!" the segment growls, "I don't get how hard it is for him to understand sometimes! it's simply that—" he began rambling on as you sat next to him on the bed, being his personal therapist for the moment as you did for all the segments in a bitter mood.

"honey.." you were half awake, your peaceful slumber was awoken by the earlier spat between Epsilon and your darling, the original. "all of you have different perspectives, yes? that's why all of you are different, because none of you see things from the same way. that's why Zandik disagreed with you, because he sees things another way from yours.." you tried to hold back a yawn but, eventually rested your head on his lap and let it out.

"come here, I have..work in the morning and I really need some sleep, okay? just..lay down beside me."

how it turned from gentle kissing on the bed, slowly sliding each other's clothes off, and eventually reaching the table, you don't know.

"Epsilon wait!" you cried out, it's been your nth orgasm and it's getting messy at this point, you can feel the mix of your fluids and his dripping all over the floor as you're bent over the desk, the chair laying haphazardly on the floor after you two had knocked it down trying to reach the table.

"nnh- just..just stay still- fuck!" he groans, he didn't pant or breathe like a regular human but his whimpers still left his lips, that's one of the things you loved about him.

not that you could think about it much, of course. his thrusts were rough and the gloved hands on your waist squeezed so hard you could already sense the trouble you'll be in with the original.

he kept his messy, messy rhythm as he was simply just chasing his own pleasure, going over to press his chest to your back and slot his face into the crook of your neck, gently licking a streak onto your face while he moaned into your ear, none his high pitched whimpers and moans were left unheard by you.

he leaned over a bit more, putting a leg on the table as he wrapped his arms around your body, one his hands going to fondle your breasts while the other helplessly and amaturely played with your clit, his whines picking up in pitch as he tried to make you cum before him, moaning into your ear while his thrusts got even sloppier and rougher.

this surely couldn't be good for his internal core, you could feel the heat it was generating inside his chest and how he looked like he was overheating but he didn't really seem to notice, not noticing the cooling liquid in his body that acted like blood was slowly starting to warm, not noticing how much he was pushing his limits just for you.

his mouth was hanging open, moaning and crying about how good it feels while he squeezed your breast, his whole body pinning you down onto the table while he got somewhat faster, one of his legs up gave him better access to your body, allowing him to hit every, single, one of your precious little pleasure points inside of you, the head of his sensitive silicone cock throbbed and ached as it just kept pushing against your womb over, and over again. the table rocked

as the table rocked underneath his thrusts, he grut his teeth before crying out, "nngh! hah- fuck! w- cumming! cumming I'm gonna cum!" he cries out into your ear, putting his whole body weight on you as he releases something way warmer than usual, his length aching as he stayed inside of you, groaning with an almost drunk expression, you panted underneath him, your eyes half lidded as you tried to recover from your plentiful orgasms.

you reached up a hand to gently cup his face, your breath slowing down as he practically was almost limp on top of you, causing you to overheat as well, how strange that you can still feel that sensation in a place as cold as snezhnaya with no clothes on.

"Darling please get up." you sigh,"no." he pouts, squirming his hips to reach even deeper inside of you, he doesn't experience this everyday, so of course he'll savor it.

your eyes were beginning to shut, the exhaustion from earlier catching up to you as you rested flatly against the table, letting them close for just a moment. the serenity in the room was soothing, it was quiet, cold and you were in the arms of an iteration of the man you love most.

the silence was broken as the door suddenly slid open with a hiss. "I assume you've taught Epsilon his less—" he looked up from the clipboard he was holding, his mask on but you could still see the scowl starting to form on his face. this wasn't good, for either of you.

"..oops."

[ecstxsyy]

LOVE ME. | D. WINCHESTER ❦

Dean strives to please.

18+ mdni!

dean winchester x fem!hunter reader

warnings: oral (f! receiving), fingering, squirting.

requests for v-day event are still open !!

cupid’s candy hearts masterlist

───── ⋆ ⋅ ꨄ︎ ⋅⋆ ─────

DEAN WINCHESTER was the opposite of a romantic, he hated almost anything to do with it, except you of course. You were the only reason he celebrated Valentine’s Day, he knew how much you adored the holiday and frankly, Dean would do anything for you.

He booked an expensive restaurant, courtesy of whoever’s name was on the credit card he scammed his way into. After dinner, Dean took you back to the motel to watch some cheesy chick flicks. Sam complained, but your love for love trumped his complaints.

Your body was curled perfectly into Dean’s, his arm wrapped around your shoulder to hold you tight. Dean held you like someone was going to take you from him, and with his track record, someone would probably try. You loved the way he held you, it made you feel safe in a world that was everything but that.

That was until Dean started getting handsy like he usually does anytime you try to get him to watch a movie that isn’t full of action and fights. His hand slid down your thigh as it normally does, but when it trailed back up your thigh, Dean slid it slowly into the inner part of your leg. You gave him a warning look and he stopped his fingers just shy of your clothed cunt before returning his hand to his stomach.

“I’m gonna go get some snacks from the vending machine, I'll be right back,” Sam announced, grabbing his wallet and slipping on some shoes. Dean took this as an opportunity to grab the keys to the Impala and toss them to his younger brother.

“How about you go look for some leads on cases, give us a bit of time to ourselves,” Dean suggested with a wink as Sam caught the keys mid-air. Sam simply nodded, understanding the message Dean was trying to send him.

Once Sam left, Dean wasted no time crawling on top of you and capturing your lips in a kiss. You didn't hesitate and let your lips move in sync with his, your tongues smoothing over each other. The kiss deepened, Dean’s hands finding their way to the hem of your shirt to slip over your head. The rest of your clothes followed shortly, his soon after.

Dean’s fingers were quick to find your clit, rubbing slow soft circles against it. The little moans that fell from your mouth were music to Dean’s ears, he hung onto every sound he forced out of you. He began to plant small kisses across your bare chest, trailing them down your body.

Dean slowly kissed his way down your frame, continuing until he was placed between your thighs. Dean loves eating pussy, he’d do it forever if he didn't have to always go save someone. He adored the way you tasted, your juices were sweet nectar on his tongue. His mouth quickly took the place of his nimble fingers whilst his fingers found their way to your aching hole, you wanted nothing more than for his thick fingers to fill you up, and he intended to give you just that.

Dean started off slow, his index finger pushing past your ring of muscles and into the soft warmth of your pussy. A smirk found its way to his face when you let out a sigh of delight, your cunt already feeling full with just one of his fingers inside of you. His pace was slow at first, he got you all worked up before pushing his middle finger into your heat. The stretch hurt so good, but Dean’s slow pace was long gone being replaced by the rapid thrusts of his long, thick fingers.

Your legs instinctively closed around his head, moans clawing their way out of your throat. You loved to make him work for your sounds, but tonight you couldn't help it. Dean was usually fast, as he was right now, but this speed had a different feeling to it. Usually, he loved the roughness of sex you had, the way the two of you clashed so passionately. But, today you weren't just fucking, he was making love to you so sweetly.

His tongue stroked your clit in slow motions, it was the complete opposite of his fingers. You felt like your body was on fire, the pleasure consuming every single one of your senses. You swore you felt as if you were floating, the only thing grounding you being the feel of Dean’s warm skin.

“You taste so good, baby,” Dean mumbled into your cunt, he sounded so pussy drunk it made a fiery red color bloom across your cheeks.

Your moans echoed throughout the small motel room, you were sure whoever your unfortunate neighbors were could definitely hear you, but that didn't stop Dean. If anything, it made him want to continue on even more. He loved the idea of everyone knowing who you belong to, even if he’d never say it out loud, (because you’d probably shoot him) he loved claiming you.

Dean curled his fingers up slightly, the tips of his fingers pressing into your g-spot. This pulled a loud moan from your lips, your impending orgasm nearing quickly. Dean knew this and decided to suck your clit into his mouth, the suction sent tingles through your entire body. The shock of it sent you toppling over the edge, your orgasm tearing through you.

You tried to verbalize your thoughts or anything really, but nothing would come out. Your mouth hung open, the ghost of a scream lingering as your eyes rolled back into your head. But, this didn't stop Dean. His fingers quickened as he sucked harder on your clit, this sent another orgasm crashing through your body.

Your legs trembled as the evidence of your orgasm sprayed across the sheets and the lower half of Dean’s face, a smirk finding its way to his lips. The sounds that came from your pussy were lewd, the sloshing noises were unmissable.

“Did I just-”

“Squirt?” Dean cut you off, a smug grin plastered on his face.

“Shut up,�� you giggled, jokingly pushing him in between your legs.

“You know you love me,” Dean teased, placing a kiss on your temple as he got up to go run the two of you a shower.

You loved that man too much.

───── ⋆ ⋅ ꨄ︎ ⋅⋆ ─────

[softgh0stbites]

𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒ Something Pink, Something Borrowed

A Vincent Valentine Week Prompt! Day 1 Pink/Glass/Kiss

Rating: SFW Pairing: Vincent x Reader Synopsis: What does Vincent get the girl who cherishes everything? He wants to make her feel special, offer an apology for all she has to put up and at the same time appeal to her affections. Though he doesn't want to stumble over his words, maybe there's another way? Maybe the language of flowers isn't so bad after all. Notes: Just a cute and sweet drabble I cooked while being in a car for 3 hours. What flowers do you like? And have you ever been gifted flowers? Anyway, enjoy~ Music I listened to: Fade into you by Mazzy Star and Angel by River Styx [Unhealthy obsession with this song for them lowkey]

˚❀　.　˚　　✦　　✿　.　˚　. 　 ˚　✿.　˚❀　.　˚　　✦　　✿　.　˚　. 　 

The day was bright and warm—spring had snuck up on everyone like a gentle embrace. The center of Kalm was alive with movement, people bustling about, getting their homes in order for the new season. Pastel fabrics swayed in the breeze, and the rhythmic sound of footsteps against cobblestone filled the air. There was idle chatter, children’s laughter, a distant bark as a dog chased after giggling kids with sticky candy-covered fingers.

And despite the warmth of it all, Vincent felt completely out of place.

He rarely ventured into town when it was this crowded, much less left the security of his upper-floor room at the inn. The happiness in the air made something inside him squirm like it was pressing him toward an inevitable interaction he wasn’t prepared for. As he wove through the crowds, he made a conscious effort to look unapproachable, his usual armor against unwanted conversation. He wasn’t here for idle pleasantries anyway. He was looking for something specific, a place he had seen once when you arrived but had given no thought to until last night when overhearing your conversation.

Vincent wasn’t usually one to eavesdrop on conversations, but your voice had been involved, and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy hearing you speak.

-----

You had been helping Aerith carry drinks back to your table at the pub, both of you engrossed in conversation. Tifa had gone with Cloud to get supplies, Cid was busy with learning new navigation equipment, and cait sith- not really sure what he was up to. Vincent had straightened slightly from his usual slouched position in the corner of the establishment, trying not to make his attentiveness too obvious as he lazily draped his arm over the back of the bench. He was only here because he didn't trust sleezy drunkards not to try to follow you two back so despite your insistence that they would be okay, he came along anyway. His eyes followed you, but you hadn’t noticed yet. Good.

"Do you have a favorite flower?" Aerith asked, her face lighting up with a bright, eager smile, clearly thrilled to finally have someone to talk to about it.

"I’ll be honest, I don’t know enough to pick one. But I used to read about flower language all the time!" You admitted, a faint blush dusting your cheeks as you scratched behind your ear. "Kind of silly, I know."

Vincent’s brow furrowed slightly. Flower language. He had never given much thought to it before, never had a reason to but the way you spoke about it, there was a quiet sincerity there. Did you see meaning in those kinds of things?

Aerith gasped, clapping her hands together. "Of course not! Flowers have been an important part of history. It’s not silly at all! The language they hold—" she leaned forward, propping her chin on her hands, "—even back then, people used flowers to say the things they couldn’t put into words. And I think we both know a few guys who aren’t the best at talking."

She playfully nudged your ribs just as you were taking a sip, making you choke slightly as a few drops dribbled from your mouth. You wiped it away with the back of your hand, grimacing softly.

"Yeah, Cloud is pretty quiet unless you prod him too much, huh?"

Aerith gave you a knowing look. "Oh, don’t think I haven’t noticed your little telepathic connection with Vincent." She took a swig of her drink, eyes twinkling mischievously. "You’re practically attached at the hip! You sure stare like you want to be."

Vincent stiffened. Telepathic connection? His clawed fingers curled slightly against the wood of the bench. That was an exaggeration. Surely.

Your hands flew to your face, groaning in mortification. "It’s that obvious?"

"Mmmhmmm," Aerith hummed, grinning. "But that’s okay. I think it just means you find comfort in each other, right? He’s around the group a lot more when you’re there." She pointed out matter of factly.

Vincent exhaled through his nose, gaze flicking toward the wall. He wasn’t aware he had been that obvious, maybe he should tone it down and give the both of you some space. It didn't bother him per say, just complicated the moments you two were able to hide away in the corners and sneak intimate moments. Particularly that old storage closet on the HighWind, it had become his favorite place to linger by, seeing as most of the time you pulled him in there it ended with the both of you breathless, your clothes disheveled and his hair out of place.

"Really? I never noticed…" You shyly toyed with a loose strand of hair, gaze flickering across the room until it settled briefly on Vincent.

His eyes snapped away instantly, fixing very intently on the faded menu beside him on the wall.

"He makes me feel really safe," you admitted quietly. "Even though his gaze is… intense sometimes. I don’t think he means to be. At least, not usually?"

He barely kept himself from shifting in his seat. Safe. The word rang in his ears, foreign yet something else. The way you said i made it sound like a miraculous compliment. He may have felt a little grateful for his superhuman hearing after all.

"Well…sometimes I want to know how he feels," You hesitated, continuing but lowering your voice. "It makes me think about love languages. What do you think guys like that want?"

Vincent’s opposite hand twitched slightly where they rested against his knee. Oh, this would be interesting.

Aerith pursed her lips in exaggerated thought. "Hmmm. Touch." She dramatized it by saying it breathily with a teasing look.

You went rigid, face heating. "Ahhh… maybe," you mumbled. "But I was thinking more along the lines of gifts, quality time, words of affirmation…"

Vincent slouched even further into the bench, his legs spreading wider as a couple of ladies happened to glance at the empty spot beside him. One look with his glowering eye was enough to have them turn around and perish the thought of approaching.

Love languages? He supposed he had heard of it before, but the idea of applying it to himself felt somewhat foolish. A man like him, who had spent decades trying to erase himself, thinking about something as trivial as love languages? He supposed he did have a soft spot for the classics of all things.

Aerith sighed dramatically. "That’s a tough one. I don’t know him well enough to say, but—" Her gaze lowered to the hands wrapped around her mug, her expression softening. "There used to be someone I loved. He would always drop by unexpectedly, like he always had the time to do so." She smiled wistfully.

Vincent studied her expression carefully. He knew that look. It was the same way someone smiled when trying to mask old wounds.

"Ah! That’s cute, spill more." You linked your arm with hers, trying to comfort her a little.

Aerith chuckled, lifting a hand to toy with the ribbon in her hair. "That’s how I got this. He gave it to me as a gift, and I never could let it go… even when he disappeared."

Your eyes seemed concerned, you reached up, rubbing her shoulder comfortingly. She beamed at you, as if to say she was okay talking about it. It didn’t quite reach her eyes.

"It’s okay, I’m mostly over it. And anyway," she paused to take another swig, "We were talking about you. So, what is it that you think he likes?"

Vincent was still staring at the menu vaguely, eyes reading the faded lettering there. Raspberry sorbet. He had never had it before, but he had been reading the word over and over long enough that he could almost taste it. Sweet.

"He seems like a more traditional person, I guess… maybe at one time he would've liked dates?"

His breath stuttered, his hand coming up to his face, gazing at his empty leather glove. At one time. That was true, wasn’t it? At one time, he had been a man who could have entertained the thought of simple joys like dates. But those years were long past and the world had moved past simple walks on the beach hand in hand, probably. Picnics on Sundays with watermelon in the summer, rolled up button down shirts and bare feet in the grass. He remembered thinking he would court a woman someday, bring her lavish gifts from his corporate job, be home on time for dinner, but even then his bodyguard work never allowed him those luxuries. That life was entirely foreign now and not something he was sure of.

"So no Golden Saucer raves, check." Aerith made a swishing motion in the air as if marking off an invisible list.

"What about you though, what would you want?" She asked as you were still concentrating on what Vincent could possibly like.

"I think flowers is a good place to start, I'm a bit of a hopeless romantic," Your signature lop sided sunshine grin in place made Vincent's lips smile under his cowl. He could do hopeless and romantic, it wasn't too far off from his own views really.

-----

Vincent let out a silent exhale, pulling himself back to the present as he picked up his pace through the streets of Kalm. He didn’t know why your words lingered in his mind, but they did. You had considered him—his past, his nature, his preferences. In a way it felt good to be noticed by you.

You’d taken a leap of faith with him, putting yourself in a vulnerable position and gave him something he didn’t know how to ask for. The least he could do was acknowledge it, even return the gesture. He wasn’t good at these things, but he could at least try for your sake. His steps carried him toward the center of town, but instead of the busy marketplace, he turned into a quieter alleyway where a wooden sign swayed in the breeze, adorned with a cascade of trailing ivy.

Mira’s Floral Boutique

He hesitated. Standing outside a flower shop felt more daunting than hunting Sephiroth himself. He exhaled sharply, shaking his head as if to clear the absurdity of his thoughts. Why was this so difficult?

His fingers flexed at his sides, his body caught in an awkward limbo between entering and leaving before anyone from the group saw him lingering here.

Then, before he could overthink it, he stepped inside.

The chime of a bell overhead rang far too loudly in the small shop. He grimaced as the sound echoed, announcing his presence before he even had a chance to collect himself.

The space was quaint, filled with the soft scent of earth and blooms. Clay pots were stacked near the door, ferns and ivy hung from wooden beams, their long vines brushing against his head as he moved. He ducked slightly, feeling out of place—like some great beast trying to navigate a dollhouse.

His crimson gaze scanned the shop, looking for something—though he wasn’t quite sure what.

A rustling from the back caught his attention as a small, elderly woman shuffled out from behind a shelf stacked with yellow carnations. She looked old enough to have seen several lifetimes, her wrinkled hands covered in dirt from tending to the flowers. She squinted up at him, eyeing his dark attire with curiosity before waving him down.

"Ah, there you are! Can't see ya with those legs," she chuckled, shaking her head. “I’m assuming you’re here for the flower deal?”

Vincent swallowed. He hadn’t thought that far ahead. Was there a deal? He could just nod and pretend. God, no, that wouldn’t work. He exhaled slowly, shifting uncomfortably.

“Uh…”

Great start.

The woman’s expression twitched with amusement.

"You're not used to this, are you, young man?" she teased.

“…No.”

She let out a knowing laugh, motioning for him to follow her toward the back of the shop, where buckets upon buckets of fresh flowers lined the walls. He had never seen so many colors in one place. The sheer variety made his mind stall. How was he supposed to know what you like when there were this many options? Roses, gardenias, some kind of bleeding flower- oh, bleeding heart. Nice.

"Alright then," she said, dusting her hands off on her apron. “Are these for someone special?"

Vincent hesitated tearing his gaze away from the stressful choices he was about to make, his grip tightening slightly at his sides.

“…Mm.” A hum of agreement, she could think that if she wanted. Make it out to be whatever.

A rolled-up piece of wrapping paper lightly thwacked against his arm. He blinked, mildly stunned, as the woman squinted up at him.

“She’s either special, or she’s not, young man.” She scolded and shook her head. “Now, tell me about her.”

Vincent stiffened. His first instinct was to shut down the conversation entirely, but she was already walking toward the flowers waiting for his answer. He wasn't used to speaking about someone else to some random stranger, but something about the old woman seemed earnest. It wasn't like she was going to run down the road gossiping about this strange, lanky man who walked into her store with his gun still attached- He hoped.

He swallowed, choosing his words carefully as he didn't know exactly how to explain you.

"She’s… steady.”

The shopkeeper hummed, plucking a stem from one of the buckets absent-mindedly, it seemed like she did this a lot.

“She doesn’t push, but she doesn’t waver either,” he continued, voice low. "She’s perceptive, she listens." He tilted his head, one hand steady on his hip as he put serious consideration into it.

The woman smiled knowingly. "That’s rare," she mused. "Most people only listen to reply."

Vincent’s gaze drifted over the petals of a flower near him, the way they curled delicately at the edges. His voice was quieter when he spoke again, not really sure why he was suddenly becoming an open book to the florist about you.

"She makes space for people, even when they don’t know how to ask for it."

The shopkeeper nodded approvingly. “You talk about her like she’s something worth protecting.”

He tensed at that, but didn’t refute it.

With a satisfied hum and a tap of her fingers on the counter, she started plucking flowers from various buckets. Her steps shuffled through the shop, the wood creaking beneath her feet in protest. “Alright, I have just the thing.”

She selected a pink camellia, its soft petals full and vibrant. “Admiration and deep respect,” she explained, handing it to him first to let him smell.

Vincent studied it in his palm. That was a good start. She waited for him to bring it to his nose, he nodded his head in approval. It smelled sweet, soft.

Next, she added a few sprigs of blue salvia, their tiny blossoms delicate but striking against the soft pastel pink of the camellia. “This one means I think of you.” She shot him a glance. “Seems appropriate, considering you’ve been standing here looking like a man lost in thought.”

His jaw ticked slightly, but he said nothing. His eyes fixing her with an unamused stare.

Then came bellflowers, their lavender hue complementing the bouquet. “Gratitude,” she explained. “For the quiet kind of devotion, for the things left unsaid.”

Vincent’s fingers curled slightly around the stems as he collected them one by one.

Finally, she plucked a few delicate statice flowers, their clusters of violet petals weightless in her hands. “This one,” she said softly, “is for remembrance. For missing someone, even when they’re still near.”

A sharp pang pressed against his ribs, a sense of understanding settling deep in his chest. Though he wouldn't let it show as he shrunk further behind the red of his cowl.

The woman said nothing more as she wrapped the bouquet with a simple ribbon, tucking the stems into a soft white parchment before pressing it into his hands.

“There,” she said. “That should do it.”

Vincent looked down at the bouquet, the colors blending together in muted beauty. The weight of it felt different. More intentional than anything he had carried in a long time. It was like all his words were staring back at him in the face, yet the only people hearing it was in this room.

“…She’ll like these?” he asked, voice quieter than before a bit uncertain if his silly idea was truly just that, ridiculous.

The shopkeeper smiled knowingly. “If she’s anything like the way you just described her, she won’t just like them. She’ll understand them.”

Vincent nodded once, slowly, before pulling out the gil to pay. He tucked the bouquet carefully into the crook of his arm before turning toward the door. He could hear the shopkeeper call out to him once more about extra gil he was leaving behind, but his just raised his hand in acknowledgement. He figured since he was being so generous today a little extra spending wouldn't hurt his agony image.

The warm breeze met him as he stepped outside, ruffling his cloak and carrying the scent of fresh blooms with him. The bouquet felt heavier in his grasp than it should have. For the first time in a long while, he was bringing something to someone instead of pushing them away.

His skin tingled, his mind a restless current of thoughts—how you would react, what you would say, and, perhaps more troubling, what you might tell the others. Would you tease him? Would the group pry? Had he been too boring? Too traditional? Too old?

His long strides slowed, deliberately wasting time as the afternoon sun dipped behind passing clouds.

Was he being too traditional?

What even was dating like in this time? Generations had passed—what if the rules had changed? He had discarded his ideas of fun the moment he became a Turk, and after the experiment… did he even understand people anymore? What if he had gotten you all wrong?

A familiar voice broke through the haze of his thoughts.

"Ah, Vincent! I’ve been looking for you. I heard it’s going to rain soon, so I brought an umbrella! I've been looking all over, Yuffie said-"

Like the chime of the bell in the flower shop, your voice pulled him back, parting the murmur of the town around him. His gaze dropped first to the scuffed sneakers stepping into his path before flicking up to meet yours.

Instinct took over. His arm shifted, subtly tucking the bouquet beneath the folds of his cloak as if it would disappear behind the curtain of scarlet.

---------

Your eyes missed nothing. He was lost in his head before you even approached, you could tell by the way he was studying the ground below, the way his strides faltered.

You opened your mouth to ask, but before the words could form, a single drop of rain struck the tip of your nose. You blinked in surprise before laughing softly, rubbing at the spot with your sleeve. The sky had been clear earlier, but you supposed the clouds had been creeping in while you weren’t paying attention.

Still, your focus drifted back to him—Vincent, standing there stiffly, shoulders tense as if he were bracing for something. You knew him well enough to recognize when he was uncomfortable. The shifting crowds, the open space—he didn’t like being seen like this.

So you did the first thing that came naturally. You reached for his hand.

For a second, it almost felt like he didn’t want you to. His fingers remained rigid, unmoving, and you braced yourself for the possibility that he might pull away. But then, slowly, his hand relented, letting you take it.

You didn’t say anything, only gave a light tug, guiding him away from the bustling street. He followed without protest, his long stride easily matching yours as you led him toward the bridge by the water wheel. The hum of the town grew softer as you stepped beneath its arch, the sound of rushing water covering the world beyond.

It was quiet here. Private, sort of. The way he preferred things.

Still, he hadn’t said a word.

Your eyes flicked toward him, watching as he remained unnaturally stiff. His arm was still pinned to his side, his cloak folded awkwardly beneath it like he was hiding something.

"Hey, you okay?"

Your fingers squeezed his gently, a small tug to get his attention, but he was already leaning against the wooden railing that kept people from falling into the water, unmoving. You let go of the umbrella, it becoming cradled by the blades of grass.

You frowned, scanning him for injuries, fingers adjusting his cloak that wasnt pinned to his side.

"Are you hurt?"

He shook his head. "No, It's nothing."

His voice was slightly strained. And—was that pink on the tops of his cheeks? You weren’t sure if you’d ever seen him look quite like this.

Your lips quirked, curiosity sparking. What could possibly fluster Vincent Valentine? He looked like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar, as if he was in some kind of trouble.

"Does it have to do with whatever you’re hiding then?"

You leaned in, pressing his hand to your waist, tilting your head up to meet his eyes with a knowing hum. You were teasing, but only a little. Mostly, you just wanted to see what he would do.

His crimson gaze flickered to yours, unimpressed. A long-suffering sigh followed.

"You miss nothing, do you?"

"Sorry," you grinned. "Someone taught me how to be extremely observant."

He huffed—whether in amusement or exasperation, you weren’t sure but after a beat of hesitation, he finally moved.

"Fine."

With careful precision, Vincent unpinned his arm from his side, shifting his cloak away to reveal what he’d been hiding all this time.

A bouquet.

The rain started to fall down harder, the sound of it pelting the water snapped you out of your haze.

Soft pink camellias, delicate sprigs of blue salvia, the gentle violet of bellflowers and statice—all tied neatly together with a simple ribbon.

Your breath caught, eyes widening just slightly. You had expected something a lot more practical like maybe he bought himself a new weapon or at most a saucy magazine- although the idea of it would make you giggle. The idea of the Vincent Valentine viewing half naked articles of women with his skeptical gaze was hilarious.

Vincent said nothing, only held the bouquet out toward you, his expression unreadable but his body language screamed cautious. Like he wasn’t sure what you’d think about this gift.

You took your time viewing his outstreatched hand wrapped in the flowers, the delicate arrangement of soft pink camellias, sprigs of blue salvia, and violet bellflowers carefully tied together. It wasn’t just a bundle of flowers—it was intentional. Thoughtful. Him. It made you smile thinking of him having trouble picking out any of these, possibly having to ask for help. That alone made your heart flutter, he went out of his way to do something for you even if it made him nervous.

For a moment, you just stared, your fingers hovering over the petals like they might vanish if you touched them.

"Vincent…" Your voice was barely above a whisper.

His expression was unreadable, but his grip on the bouquet was firm, as if bracing himself. He wanted you to say something more, anything to ease him, maybe change his mind about tossing them entirely. He looked somewhat adorable with something so fragile in his grip, this tall man wearing dark leather with layers of belts and a warning sign practically hanging from his neck that said, 'Danger'

You exhaled softly, finally reaching forward, your fingertips brushing against the pink paper wrapping before you took it from his grasp, cradling it like something precious before you brought them to your nose. The pinks, violets, and lavender colors all seemed to compliment you as well, almost like a miracle. The petals ghosted your lips as you tried to commit the smell to memory, you're certain you would be sneezing later. Your eyes caught the movement of a little bell charm hanging from the end of the ribbon, it's glass reflection glimmering.

"They're beautiful."

The tension in his shoulders eased just slightly.

You traced the edge of one of the camellia petals, your heart warming at the meaning behind them. Admiration. Respect. Then the salvia—I think of you. And the bellflowers—Gratitude. Even the statice, nestled among them—Remembrance. You swallowed, blinking back the sudden sting in your eyes. He might not have said the words out loud, but he had. In his own way. Your fingers curled around the stems, holding them close. He thought about this. He thought about you.

Warmth bloomed in your chest.

Stepping closer, you tilted your chin up to meet his gaze, the corners of your lips curling into something soft. His crimson eyes searched yours, still cautious, still waiting.

You didn’t make him wait long.

Rising onto your toes, you pressed a feather-light kiss against his cheek, just above his jaw before sliding to the corner of his mouth. You pressed a little more firmly, but still gentle. It wasn’t rushed, nor fleeting. Just soft. Intentional. The way he deserved.

When you pulled back, you lingered in his space, just close enough to feel the warmth of him beneath his cloak.

His breath had hitched—so subtle that most wouldn’t have noticed, but you did. The way his fingers twitched at his sides, the way his jaw tensed ever so slightly.

"Thank you, Vincent," you murmured, your voice warm, sincere, "You did so much for me today,"

A beat of silence stretched between you.

Then, slowly, his gaze softened. He exhaled through his nose, tilting his head just enough that a few strands of his dark hair fell across his face. It looked like your gentleness had brought him back down to you.

"Hm."

That was all he said. But then, just as you started to pull back, his fingers ghosted over yours—the metal of his gauntlet cold, his other hand warm. Before you could react, he grasped your hand, his grip steady but careful not to wrench you out of place. In one smooth motion, he pulled you closer, guiding you against his side beneath the cover of his cloak. It wasn’t forceful, nor awkward.

Your breath stilled for half a second, heart drumming against your ribs as his warmth bled into you.

You glanced up at him, but he didn’t look down—not at first. His eyes remained forward, as if this was nothing of note, as if it was just practical—a way to shield you from the cold, the wind, the world outside of this moment. It reminded you of that moment on the hill, where you had finally mustered the courage to get close to him.

But then, after a pause, he spoke, voice quiet.

"You're welcome."

And though it was just two simple words, you felt them float down deep in your chest.

Because for a man who had spent years keeping others at arm’s length, this—his warmth, his presence, the way his hand curled ever so slightly around yours—was something far more than words could ever convey.

And you squeezed his hand in return, letting him know you understood.

Your eyes widened though as realization struck.

"You totally eavesdropped on me and Aerith yesterday, I knew it!"

Horror flashed across your face as you stared up at him, clutching the bouquet to your chest. How else would he have known about the flowers?

Vincent let out a long-suffering sigh, and though he didn’t say a word, you could practically hear him rolling his eyes.

How diva of him.

"You were loud," he countered, voice flat, as if that was a perfectly reasonable excuse.

"Loud?!" you gawked. "It was a normal conversation—oh my god, were you lurking again?!"

He huffed through his nose. Not a denial.

Before you could press him further, he shifted, his hands lightly guiding you until your back was pressed against his chest. The bouquet was still nestled safely in your arms, but now, Vincent’s cloak draped over your shoulders, encasing you in a warm cocoon of crimson fabric.

Then, to your absolute surprise, he rested his chin on your head.

Your mouth opened—then closed. Opened again. A fish out of water.

Did Vincent Valentine just cuddle you? Voluntarily, out in the open?

"You’re lucky this is cute, because you'll still owe me an explanation later." You murmured, feeling a bit shy suddenly.

"Sure,"

You huffed, shaking your head with a small smile, but you didn’t pull away. Instead, you adjusted your hold on the bouquet, inhaling the soft, lingering scent of the flowers.

"You know," you mused, "this does make us look like a very romantic couple. People are probably passing by and looking at us, thinking, ‘Wow, what a devoted lover, buying his partner flowers and wrapping them up in his cloak.’"

You expected him to reject your notion that you were a couple in the first place, not knowing if he wanted to label what you had between you anyway.

Instead, he scoffed, "Then stop talking, you'll make them look more."

You grinned. "But it’s cute—"

"Stop talking."

"I bet Aerith would—"

His hand gently covered your mouth.

You laughed against his palm, feeling the softest shake of his head above you. Even if he wouldn’t admit it, you knew the truth, that Vincent Valentine had absolutely eavesdropped on you.

And judging by the warmth of his embrace, the brush of his lips on the top of your head, he didn’t regret it one bit.

[chuluoyi]

𝐁𝐎𝐘𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃 𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓 𝐃𝐎𝐎𝐑

- xavier x reader

a new friendly colleague has joined your team, but your boyfriend is convinced he is up to no good... and that's why xavier is determined to show it that you are his

genre/warnings: 18+ suggestive content—minors do not interact!—jealousy, fluff explicit smut: slightly rough sex, fingering, doggy style, based on xavier's card misty silhouette

note: skxmskcjsf bye don't look at me. this fanart and xavier's card messed me up :') this banner is so unhealthy for me i swear </3

Xavier knew he wasn’t the most patient person.

But even patience, he thought, has limits. And he had been patient and reasonable for a week, to be precise.

It all started ever since that damned new recruit entered his team. He didn't know why, but he kept coming to you for everything—directions, advice, even trivial nonsense like lunch recommendations. It was almost as if on purpose.

This afternoon was no different. Xavier had been looking forward to having lunch with you—just the two of you. You’d promised him, after all.

And yet—

“There was this one time I got trapped inside the N109 Zone—”

“N109 Zone!?”

“Yes!”

“Really?! What did you do then?”

“Hmm, so at first, I was in total panic, but then—”

For the past 15 minutes, your lunch break had been taken over by recounting your tales of valor as a hunter to the new recruit. Nearby, Xavier sat in brooding silence, scathingly sparing him a glance. The slight frown on his face said it all—blatant disinterest and a touch of irritation.

And you too... why are you engaging him so enthusiastically?

Then again, given his age, Xavier knew he had to be mature about this. He tried, really. If it had been someone like Jeremiah, he might have let it slide.

But there was just something about this new recruit—Sean, was it?—that rubbed him the wrong way.

“Whoa, you're so cool, Miss Y/N!” Sean exclaimed, his eyes sparkling with admiration. “Not only are you pretty and talented, but you're also incredibly skilled! What do you even lack, eh?”

“Really, it's not that much,” you giggled, brushing him off. The way you got sheepish only made Xavier’s annoyance flare even further.

“Let me guess— a boyfriend!”

So that’s what it was. Now Xavier understood what about Sean that set him off. The entire time you’d been talking, he had been giving you those googly eyes.

He didn't like it one bit. He looked ridiculous while doing it.

Despite being silent as a mouse all the way, before he could stop himself, he blurted, “She has a boyfriend already.”

You turned to him in surprise, clearly not expecting him to announce it so bluntly.

“Oh...? Xavier, you know who her boyfriend is...?” Sean turned to him with curiosity.

He noticed it. How his expression fell ever so slightly upon he told him that you were already taken. Xavier huffed and stuffed his mouth with his ramen.

“Yeah. Her boyfriend lives next door.”

Technically, he lived upstairs, but the detail didn’t matter. He just needed to make his point known.

And somehow, for the rest of the day, the new recruit finally seemed to develop some sense—at least enough to stop hovering around you so frequently. Particularly when Xavier was nearby.

“Xavier... why did you tell him that?”

You fell into step beside your quiet boyfriend as the two of you headed home that evening, tilting your head as you replayed the events of the afternoon.

Xavier gave you a brief glance before looking straight ahead again, ignoring your question.

You observed him. There it was again—that gray cloud hovering over him. It always seemed to appear when he was in a bad mood.

Puckering your lips, you pressed further. “We haven’t even told anybody else about our relationship... And what you did there—you’re literally telling him we’re dating.”

“So what?” he shot back, his tone sharper than usual. “Are you afraid people might find out we are? Or—”

Xavier abruptly stopped in his tracks, turning to face you. His usually vibrant blue eyes darkened, piercing into yours with a sharp gleam. “Are you afraid he will find out?”

There was something in his gaze that held you captive—that made your silly heart skip a beat.

“N-no...” you looked away, swallowing the heat that were about to take over your face. Why does Xavier look kind of... hot like that...?

Your cheeks warmed regardless, but you had to appease him. “Like I told you before, I just thought it’d be easier if this stays our little secret. It’s less of a bother if they don’t know…”

Reaching for his hand, you gave it a reassuring squeeze and flashed him a soft smile. “Besides, why would I be afraid if he knows? My boyfriend is cool, handsome, and the best hunter there is.”

You watched as Xavier's expression softened, the tension melting away. A faint blush crept up his cheeks too, and the gray cloud that had loomed over him finally disappeared. He squeezed your hand in return, looking away as if to hide the way he got bashful.

Adorable. For all his brooding, your boyfriend was surprisingly easy to soothe.

For the rest of the walk back to your apartment, you two remained hand-in-hand, the tension of the afternoon slipping away with each step.

. . .

You were staying over at Xavier's place tonight. After a relaxing bath and a hearty dinner, the two of you found yourselves standing side by side in the kitchen, doing the dishes together.

It was mundane things like this that Xavier considered his favorite routine to do with you. Just as you handed him the last plate to dry, you spoke up, your voice breaking the quiet hum of contentment—

“Xavier, can I ask you something?”

“Hmm?”

“I was just thinking... Sean seems nice and friendly, but from what I’ve seen, you seem kind of... unwelcoming— almost hostile even towards him.”

At your words, a frown etched itself onto Xavier’s forehead as he turned to face you fully. You seemed so oblivious, standing there with a look of genuine curiosity.

“Do you really not know?” he questioned you incredulously.

You blinked. “Know what?”

Damn it. Xavier sighed and put down the dish he was holding, but the words faltered on his tongue as a sour expression crossed his face. “No matter,” he muttered under his breath.

He took a deliberate step closer, his movements slow and heavy, and you instinctively backed away—

“So,” he said, his voice low, his blue eyes boring into yours as he took one hot step forward after another, “while Sean is nice and friendly, I’m hostile and unwelcoming, huh?”

—only to find yourself pressed against the window, unable to retreat further.

He stood in front of you now, his arms caging you in, creating a barrier that sealed off any chance of escape.

Uh-oh. Apparently, you had flipped that switch—

The air between you grew thick, and you could feel your pulse quicken under the weight of his gaze. “That’s not what I'm getting at—”

“He’s been eyeing you all day, following you around... getting lunches with you—”

In that moment, your phone erupted to life, its ringtone cutting through the tension. It sat on the small table near the windowsill, and Xavier gave it a quick glance, his expression darkening upon seeing Sean's name flash on the screen.

“Oh?” His voice dropped lower, a dangerous glint flickering in his eyes. “He’s now calling you at nights too?”

“No!” you quickly refuted, your words tumbling out almost too fast. “Xavier, don’t get the wrong idea—”

He tilted your jaw to face him, holding your spooked gaze. “Then what idea am I supposed to be getting when he’s so blatantly pursuing you and you don't even do anything about it?”

The plot twist is... you know. Of course you knew it when a guy was trying to make a move on you, you just pretended not to notice it because it was easier that way. You didn’t know which devil had planted this rotten idea in your head that made you want to push Xavier to the edge, just to see how he'd react when he held nothing back—

The call tonight was a coincidence though, but definitely fueled your lover's ire even more. It was a dangerous game, but now that you’d crossed this line, you couldn't go back any longer.

Your lips curled into a bewitching smile then, and your boyfriend was almost mystified. "So, what will you do to me?"

Xavier looked at you with slightly widened eyes, not expecting your boldness at all. But then he grimaced, as at the same time, the irritation in his veins suddenly flared up—

With a swift, fluid motion, he turned you that you faced the window, his right arm wrapping around your waist from behind as he pressed his body against yours—his hardness pressing, almost poking you.

“You’re so clueless,” he growled into your ear before going after your neck, sucking hard and fast. His hips began to grind against you, pressing harder with each movement. “Too damn clueless...!”

His fingers that gripped your belly moved then, slipping inside your frisky nightgown to finger you— and you lost all your wits in that instant. “Ah-h—!”

Two of his fingers pumped in and out of you, dragging them almost rashly, and it took everything in you to stay upright. "X-Xavier!"

“Mmph,” he breathed against the skin of your neck, his other arm pressing you against him tighter, simultaneously squeezing your breasts. "You asked for it."

Your thighs were trembling in no time, and your breaths came in shaky moans. Your boyfriend was not exactly gentle, but this is probably the first time in a while that he was being rough without reservations. While you wanted to protest, it felt too good—

He turned your face towards him then, crashing his lips on yours.

It almost felt like you were punished, but you couldn't do anything about it. The tension in your lower belly was steadily building, ready to snap at any moment, and the way his fingers relentlessly hitting that one unforgivable spot was starting to made you dizzy.

"Ah—ngh!" You finally shuddered when you reached your climax. It was freeing when you felt yourself burst on his fingers, the release smearing your thighs.

And right then your knees buckled—

But Xavier immediately got a secure hold over you, lifting your body effortlessly into his arms, one hand supporting your knees, the other cradling your back. Through your teary eyes, you met his gaze once more. His expression was unreadable, a dark haze of disapproval clouding his features.

“I’m not done yet.”

He brought you over to his bed, gently lying you down despite the roughness of his voice. He parted your legs, getting himself between them—

Ring! Ring!

The shrill sound of your phone pierced the coolness of the room, and you almost jolted.

But your lover... the sound was like a spell to him, only intensifying his irritation as his features twisted with frustration, and you knew that he was about to take it on you.

As if changing his mind, Xavier suddenly flipped you over that you laid on your stomach and straddled you from behind. He quickly turned your head to face him and claimed your lips in a deep, urgent kiss.

“Mm, hmmp—!” The ringtone of your phone blared in the background, a jarring sound that wasn't pleasant at the slightest. It wasn’t until it finally stopped that he pulled away from the kiss.

You were gasping for breath, your chest heaving, and a stray tear slipped from your eyes. Xavier stared at you, and gently wiped it away with his thumb.

Flushed, sweaty, tearful... you looked so enchanting in his eyes in that moment. He almost felt bad that he had manhandled you this roughly.

Almost.

His hands gripped your waist, and he paused, his gaze locked with yours, silently seeking your approval— or more like, commanding you to give it to him.

In response, you arched your back— a silent affirmation, bracing yourself.

From then on, he was no longer holding back. He tugged your panties down and let his throbbing member out of his pants. It was laughable how insatiable he was— both of you were still clothed, save for his unbuttoned shirt, but he was already this aroused and hard.

He nudged forward, his tip breaching your entrance. The feeling of that familiar stretch left you keeling, babbles and whimpers falling from your lips as he slowly eased into you.

It was hard to take him in fully, and you were a mess of breathy gasps the moment you did. But you were in for the main ride when he started ramming into you, pushing in and out of you in a merciless pace.

"Ah... Xavier!" you panted between thrusts, feeling how it started to be too much for you the more he went on. "Ahh, hrah!"

Behind you, Xavier groaned in reply, his lips sucking your shoulder as his hips quickened, striving to bring you to the peak faster. One of his large hands dug into the skin of your stomach, urging your back to arch more, while the other clasped yours, fingers entwined in the sheets.

He watched intently as your face twisted and contorted in ecstasy, a surge of pride swelling within him, greater than he thought possible.

It was mind-blowing, slightly forceful, and your senses were all heightened. The harsh pace drew cries from your lips, your tears falling to the sheets, yet the pleasure also catapulted you into the stars—

The sinful delight of having him so deep within you.

The sinful rapture of being thrusted over and over.

“Ahhh!” And then, all at once, it was as if heaven and hell collided in a cataclysmic burst. Everything inside you shattered as you cried out—a scream morphing into a high-pitched gasp—as the two of you reached the climax together. Your body trembled uncontrollably, your walls clasped around him impossibly tight as Xavier filled you with everything that he had in one shot.

You collapsed against the sheets like a ragdoll, the pressure finally easing from your sore spine.

“Hello? Yes, it’s Xavier...”

The morning after. You stirred awake, your mind still foggy with sleep, as muffled voices filtered in from outside the bedroom.

“I have to take an urgent leave today...”

You were still utterly drained, your body heavy and unwilling to move. Instinctively, your hand reached out to your side, searching for your lover, but the spot was empty.

“Yes. Y/N too. She isn’t well today... We will be back tomorrow...”

You let out a soft, tired whine, your voice plaintive, as you lay sprawled across the bed, wishing for his warmth to return. Honestly, everything was still sore, and you were this close to tears again.

The door then opened with a creak not long after, and you let out a whimper, squeezing your eyes shut.

“Are you awake...?” Xavier's voice was soft, almost hesitant, as he stepped closer to the bed.

You blinked up at him, your vision still blurry. He was already dressed, his crisp appearance in stark contrast to your disheveled state. In his hand, he held a small plastic bag.

“What’s that...?” you mumbled, your voice hoarse as you struggled to prop yourself up, curiosity flickering through your tired gaze.

“Don’t get up too quickly,” Xavier murmured, his hands steady as he caught you mid-movement. He guided you back down and tucked the blankets snugly around you, his touch gentle yet firm. “Just rest for now.”

A low hum of contentment escaped you as you leaned into his touch. Your bleary eyes focused solely on him, and despite himself, Xavier found a smile tugging at his lips.

“I just went to the drugstore downstairs to get you some painkillers,” he explained, lifting the small plastic bag slightly. “Take them after you’ve had some breakfast later.”

He then fixed you a bashful grimace, looking down. “Sorry for... uh, last night... I think I’ve pushed you too far.”

His fingers reached out, brushing gently against your cheek. The same fingers that had driven you to the brink of madness the night before now so tender against your skin. “You were crying,” he murmured, guilt lacing his voice. “I feel bad.”

“Mm-hm, so that’s what happens when you don’t hold back at all,” you snickered softly, the corners of your mouth curving despite the lingering ache in your body.

Xavier shifted his gaze away, his confidence faltering. “Will you... hate me for it?”

It was hard to contain your smile from breaking out into a grin. Your boyfriend, a ferocious wolf in a sheep’s clothing, had no need for this shy charade when he had railed you that hard last night.

“No, but you’re going to have to make it up to me. I can’t even walk now.”

Xavier blinked before he patted your head. “Yeah, I’ll fulfill any of your wishes,” he sighed in relief, a hint of amusement creeping into his voice. “So, what is it?”

You paused for a moment, then with a mischievous glint in your eye, you said, “Take me to the bathroom? I want to have a shower first.”

And, of course, he obliged. With a effortless motion, Xavier scooped you up into a princess carry, holding you close. His arms cradled you with care, and you rested against his chest, the warmth of his embrace offering a sense of security.

Just like that, you spent the rest of the day as lovers, sleeping in with careless abandon, unburdened by your duties.

Epilogue

Later in the afternoon, you were once again deep in a sleep as Xavier cuddled you close, when suddenly the doorbell of his apartment rang incessantly.

Frowning, Xavier carefully eased himself out of bed, making sure not to disturb your slumber. He moved quietly towards the door, and when he saw the intercom, his frown worsened.

Sean, the newbie, was at his doorstep. He had half a mind to ignore him, but after a beat, he decided to open the door.

“What do you want?” his voice sharp with annoyance.

“Oh, Xavier!” The guy was stunned for a moment as his eyes lingered on Xavier’s chiseled abs, exposed through the his unbuttoned shirt. “O-oh, so... I’ve been trying to ring the doorbell to Y/N's apartment to give her a fruit basket to wish her a fast recovery, but she’s not answering—” he hastily explained, gesturing toward the basket in his hand. “Can you reach her—?”

Xavier felt like popping a vein at how meddlesome this guy was. Was this guy an idiot? Didn’t he realize by now that he was your next-door boyfriend?

Nevermind. The hard way it is.

“She’s with me.”

“H-huh?”

He shot him a pointed look. “Don't think you’ll have a chance with her, newbie.”

And with that, he shut the door in his face.