#there's been a bit too much fluff around these parts
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Every New Year
➪the one where you and drew share your fourth new years kiss, and it quickly becomes something more heated.
Warnings: fluff, smut, unprotected sex, dirty talk, oral (f receiving), multiple orgasms, swearing, alcohol consumption, pda if you squint a bit. | Can be read as a part 2 to this fic.
Word Count: 1.8k
Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡ | Happy New Year !
It was New Years Eve, and you and Drew had been invited to a mutual friends’ New Years party. It was almost time for the new year to come, and Drew was stumbling a bit from how much he had to drink tonight as he looked around for you.
He hadn’t seen you in at least half an hour, and it was getting closer and closer to the countdown. You’d been Drew’s New Year kiss for the last three years, he’d be damned if he missed out on the fourth one just because he couldn’t find you.
But then when he turned the corner and entered the living room of the penthouse the party was being hosted in, he saw you tucked away in the corner, a lazy, tipsy smile on your face as you swayed a bit to the music that was blasting through the speakers.
You looked so pretty, Drew felt his throat tighten up a bit as he maneuvered his way through the crowded space to get to you. Your dress fit you just right and showed off all the curves he knew off by heart, and he bit his lip as he approached you.
“Hey, baby,” he said, his deep voice clearly heard over the music and cheers. “I was looking for you.” he added, wrapping one arm around your waist as he finished off his drink.
“Well, you found me. Here I am,” you murmured, looking up at him with a smile on your face as the party goers grew more rowdy. You leaned up and nuzzled your face against his neck, inhaling his familiar and addicting scent as you let out a content sigh. “I can’t believe how fast this year went by. Feels like I can’t keep up with it. But I’m glad I have you with me through it all…you keep me grounded.”
Drew smiled down at you, running his hand up and down your back as he held you close. “Me too, babe. Every year with you gets better and better,” he said back, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of your head.
The countdown began shortly after that, and he pulled you even tighter against him, his fingers bunching up your dress a bit as he looked down at you. The noise of the party faded until all that was left was the faint chant of numbers, and when it became midnight, Drew leaned down and kissed you deeply.
When he pulled away, he was grinning down at you. “Happy New Year, pretty girl,”
“Happy New Year, baby,” you say back, smiling at him as you wrapped your arms around his neck. You leaned up on the tips of your toes and kissed him again, tasting the faint remnants of alcohol that was lingering on his lip and tongue. “I love you.”
Drew groaned softly into the kiss, his arms tightening around you. “I love you too, baby,” he murmured, his hands sliding down to grip your waist and pull you hard against his body. His fingertips dug gently into your skin before he leaned further down and gave your ass a firm squeeze, his other hand tangling in your hair. “You know what I want to do to ring in the new year?”
You hummed, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip as you leaned in closer to him, matching his intense gaze with one of your own. “Tell me,”
Drew smirked, peppering soft kisses along your neck. “I want to take you home, get you naked, and fuck you hard. Maybe I’ll even eat you out before, just for fun,”
And that was how you found yourself under him on the bed half an hour later, and his hands all over your body once he stripped you from your dress. “Fuck, I want to start every new year like this,” you mumbled, tipping your head back on the bed as you pulled at his shirt.
He smirked against your neck, his tongue poking out to run along your collarbone before he sat back and pulled off his t-shirt. “Every fucking year,” he agreed, unzipping his jeans and pushing the restricting fabric down his legs so he’s only left wearing his boxers that were a lot more tighter now than they were when he first put them on.
His hands reached around your back and unclasped your bra, and he tugged the lacy material away from your chest, his eyes darkening as his hands ran over your exposed breasts.
“Fuck, baby, you’re so beautiful,” he muttered before he leaned down and captured one of your nipples between his teeth, flicking his tongue over the hardening peak greedily.
Your hands flew to his hair, your fingers tangling in the strands as you leaned into his touch. “Drew,” you gasped, wrapping your legs tighter around his waist as you writhed under him. “I need you. I need you so bad.”
He pulled away from your chest, his eyes dark with desire as he braced one hand flat on the bed beside your head. “Need me where, baby? Here?” he rasped, running the tips of his fingers along your collarbone before his palm covered one of your breasts. “Or…here?”
You were whimpering as you tried pressing your thighs together to create friction, but his hips were in the way. “Drew…”
“Or maybe…here?” he continued, his hand sliding down your body until his fingers dipped under the waistline of your soaked panties. His lips curved upwards when he felt the wetness of your folds coat his hand, “Mm, I think you need me right here.”
Drew hooked his fingers in the fabric and slowly pulled it down your legs, tossing it aside to reveal your glistening core. You were now completely bare to his greedy eyes, and he let out a groan as he settled his head between your thighs, his fingertips grazing your clit.
“You’re so fucking wet for me,” he muttered, glancing up at you as you writhed above him. “I need to taste this sweet pussy, baby.” he added, then he was leaning in and tasting you all over. His tongue poked out and spread your folds, a deep groan leaving the back of his throat as he savored your taste.
His big hands were holding onto your thighs, keeping you spread open as he devoured you like a man starved. His teeth grazed your clit, making your body twitch a bit as you pulled at his hair. “Drew,” you whined, bringing your legs up and draping them over his shoulders. You subtly bucked against his face, pushing your soaked core closer to his skilled mouth. “So good…”
Drew moaned against your pussy, the vibrations adding to your pleasure as he licked you all over. “That’s it, baby, ride my face,” he encouraged, his hands moving up to grip your waist as he guided your hips into a slow roll. His nose bumped against your clit with every lap of his tongue, making your moans grow louder in volume as you ground your body against him.
He sucked harshly on your clit, and you let out a loud cry as your body trembled, your high washing over you in one big, warm wave. Drew lapped and licked at your pulsing pussy, tasting everything you offered until your body finally stilled. He lifted his head from between your thighs, his chin and lips glistening with your arousal.
“You’re so gorgeous. So perfectly fucked out,” he groaned, pressing a soft kiss to your inner thigh. After he placed another gentle kiss to your sensitive clit, he sat back on his knees and pushed down his boxers, freeing his hard cock. He gripped your knees, pushing them wider apart as he ran his tip along your wet folds, making your body jolt from the sensitivity.
Then he moved forward and buried himself inside you, stretching you deliciously around his cock. You let out a sharp gasp, your back arching as your hands reached up and grabbed onto his wrists. “Fuck,” you moaned, your eyes wide as you gazed up at him. One of your hands moved to press flat against his abs, and you could feel them tense and flex under your fingertips. “God, Drew…”
His grip on your knees tightened as he began to move, pulling out until just the tip remained before he drove back in. “Fuck, you feel so good. So tight and wet for me,” he groaned as the sound of your bodies coming together filled the room. He released one of your knees and reached down to rub your clit, feeling the puffy bundle of nerves throb against his fingers. “Come on, baby, I know you can take it.”
Your eyes fell shut, your back arching even more as your whole body trembled. His words went right through you, and you clenched around him tightly. “Fuck,” you cried, your chest heaving with heavy breaths and pants. “Feels so good, Drew.”
“Yeah, babe, squeeze me just like that,” he groaned, his voice strained a bit before he leaned down and kissed you deeply. His tongue brushed against yours as he continued to fuck into you, and the clash of teeth and sharing of saliva only fueled both yours and his desire. His other hand groped one of your tits, his thumb and index fingers pinching and pulling at your nipple as he let out harsh pants against your lips. “Fuck, I’m close.”
You whined and clung onto his shoulders, your eyes squeezing shut as you felt yourself get close again as well. “Me too,”
And a few more thrusts was all it took before you came hard, your pussy clamping down tightly around him as you let out cries of his name. Drew buried his face against your neck as he came too, filling you up and marking you as his from the inside out while he grunted against your skin.
After a few seconds, he lifted his head and looked down at you with a lazy smirk on his face, his eyes dark and hooded as he leaned in and pressed a much softer kiss to your lips. “Love you,” he mumbled, wincing slightly when he pulled out. A trail of white followed and dripped down your thigh, and Drew gathered some on his fingers before bringing them up to your mouth.
You smiled up at him, a thin layer of sweat on your body as you leaned in and wrapped your lips around his fingers, taking the digits into your mouth with a soft groan. “Mm,” you moaned, cleaning his fingers of his cum as you held eye contact with him. “Tastes so good, baby.”
Drew hummed, leaning down to kiss you again once he pulled his fingers from your mouth. “You’re the sweetest thing,” he mumbled, his nose bumping against yours before he kissed you again and rolled onto his back, taking your still shaking body with him as he went.
#drew starkey#drew starkey smut#drew starkey x reader#drew starkey imagine#drew starkey x you#drew starkey x y/n#drew starkey fluff#drew starkey x female reader#rafe fic#rafe x reader smut#rafe x reader#rafe imagine#rafe smut#rafe cameron#rafe obx#rafe fanfiction#rafe outer banks#rafe fluff#outerbanks rafe#outer banks x reader#outer banks imagine#outer banks smut#rafe cameron outer banks#obx x reader#obx fanfiction#obx fic#obx#happy new year#happy 2025
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POV: You spend time with a guy "behind their back." (Part 2/4)
(reader is NOT cheating!!)
ft. Jealousy, fluff,
Sylus
Your phone buzzed, interrupting your conversation with your friend.
"And then, it started charging up it's attack-"
"Ugh, sorry. Somebody's spamming me." you mumbled, rolling your eyes, reaching to turn your phone over on the table, screen face down so you wouldn't have to look at the relentless messages.
"As I was saying-"
You tried to continue, only to hear your notifications blow up even faster, the buzzing incessant. You were convinced that if you didn't reply, your phone would combust in the middle of the café.
"Sorry. I've got to check this," you sighed, picking up your phone, lazily going to see who was the contact spamming you relentlessly.
"Sweetie who is that." "Is he bothering you?" "sweetie?" "Are you hurt? is he threatening you." "Y/N." "If u dont reply im coming over" "Why did you turn ur phone around." "Kitten who is he?"
Scrolling through the barrage of texts, your brows furrowed, immediately becoming suspicious. Sylus? How did...
You looked up, gazing intently at any pipes on the ceiling or dark corners a certain mechanical spy could be hiding. Knowing Sylus, and what to look for, it made finding the problematic Mephisto a lot easier. Your frown deepened, as the bird noticed you glaring at it. As if sensing your glare, the robot flapped its wings, cawing loudly. A customer walked into the café at that moment, and the bird cawed a final time, making it's presence known, returning your glare before taking the chance to fly out the open door before the owner chased it out. Poor man who walked in had to duck the diving 'bird' as it soared into whatever shadows outside.
After witnessing that 'spectacle', you turned your attention back to the phone in your hands, immediately tapping your thumbs on the screen, sending a reply to the spammer.
"Sylus? Why are you suddenly spying on me- in Linkon??" "I saw Mephisto. How long have you been watching me?" "No! Don't come!! I'm fine!"
You started to panic, heart sinking, frantically texting back so Sylus didn't appear and do something drastic-
"It's a bit too late for that, kitten. look up."
'What-?" You didn't get to snap out of the baffled daze before you felt a hand on your shoulder, and a rather threatening, unmistakable presence towering over you. You froze up, embarrassed that he was having this fit in front of your friend.
You glanced up at the Onychinus's big boss, your gaze following his— which was locked dangerously onto the man sitting opposite you.
"Sweetie, let's go." He snapped his eyes back onto you, his voice laced with not-so-subtle possessiveness and suppressed irritation, not leaving much room for argument. Sylus was obviously in one of his 'fits'.
Sighing, you shook your head in exasperation, getting up. You quickly apologised to your friend, shooting him a "sorry about him" glance. Sylus didn't wait for your pleasantries to be exchanged. In his eyes, getting you away from the other man was something to be done immediately.
Once outside the café, pulled by the hand, you confronted Sylus for his abrupt interruption of your peaceful lunch. "Seriously? You couldn't have waited for my answer? I replied in less than 5 minutes..."
"You turned the phone over." He asserted, like it was some important evidence. He crossed his arms over his chest, raising an eyebrow, not a hint of any teasing smirk on his face. This was serious, you noted mentally. In your head, it wasn't a big deal– he'd seen you flip the phone over multiple times when notifications became too annoying– but if he actually felt that this situation was significant...
"I did. Still, you know it's nothing- I do it all the time."
"Not to me. You always answer."
That.. was true. You never did ignore his messages.
"But you turned me away. For him." He continued, and you could swear you've never seen him so serious. Never.. not since your first meeting. "I thought something happened. Mephisto doesn't record audio." his voice was low, however, it couldn't hide the trace of vulnerability. Like he was trying to pretend he was this concerned because he thought you were unsafe with an unarmed man, rather than just afraid of losing you.
"Nothing happened, I'm fine, Sylus." you murmured, putting your hand over his, uncrossing his arms for him. You gently squeezed his hand, not really wanting to let him off the hook yet. "He's my friend. Just a friend,"
"Friend or not. He can't have what's mine.'
Your cheeks flushed, not expecting him to express or even acknowledge his own feelings so openly. You didn't look up at him, and he was glad for that- so he could hide his red ears.
"Overprotective, much?"
His solemn eyes raised, missing their usual glimmer of mirth, meeting yours, tilting his head, and a piece of his hair bobbed against his forehead.
“Call it what you want, sweetie. I'll always be here to watch over you.”
Despite yourself, you couldn’t help but smile. As infuriating as Sylus could be, his unwavering devotion had a way of making you feel safe—even when he went overboard.
“Fine, fine,” you gave in with a sigh. “But next time, just call me instead of sending your creepy bird, or yourself.”
Sylus’ smirk came back faintly, more like a relieved smile. “No promises.”
"I'm proud of you, though, kitten. You spotted Mephisto faster than I thought you would. How'd you learn that?"
"Yeah.. because all pipes have glowing red eyes.." you said, sarcasm slipping out.
"...Wait. Did you say next time?" His gaze grew more intense, eyeing you down.
"No next time. I'll snap his neck." He hissed, gripping your hand tighter in his.
"You keep those sharp eyes on me, sweetie. Where they belong."
-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈ *:・゚✧*:・゚✧༶
Hope you enjoyed!! Pls leave a note if u liked yay
Next :
╰┈➤ Zayne/Xavier (Part 3/4) [coming soon]
Previously :
╰┈➤ Rafayel (Part 1/4)
A/N: I don't know if this is too long lmao
Tags: @cordidy @liz9898
#lads#love and deepspace#x reader#female reader#sylus#lads sylus#love and deepspace sylus#jealousy#fluff#fanfic#sylus x reader#sylus x mc#i believe in insecure sylus#you spend time with a guy behind their back
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Let It Happen (LH43) 3/3
Pairing: Luke Hughes x Fem!Reader
WC: 17k
>PART ONE< / >PART TWO<
I'll spare you from everything, if you would still have me, I'll be waiting all my life
General Warnings: pining and longing and fluff galore!!! I think maybe sexual references but who remembers atp. angst (slut shaming, mentions of past relationships and I can't think of a better way to say daddy issues we've all been there)
A/N: we did it, Joe!!!! desktop tumblr really didn't want this to happen!!! I can't believe I finished this!! thank you guys so much for reading, and liking, and messaging me and reblogging and all the commentary, and all the love!!! I appreciate it so much!!
if there is a crossover of readers of on your side and readers of this fic (first of all ily) there is a little oys easter egg in here!! did I think through the logistics of this being set in the same universe? no. did I have fun anyway? yes. I fell in love with writing Luke in that fic so it was only right for me to add it in here!!
Happy New Year to everyone, thank you for reading my work!! 2024 was the year I finally plucked up the courage to write all my random thoughts down and the fact that it spiralled into this blows my mind a bit, but I'm grateful to be here!!
You can distinctly remember the first time you had properly taken notice of Luke Hughes, and it wasn’t back in the restaurant at the club like he probably thinks.
It had been early November, in your freshman year.
Ellie had finally convinced you to join her at one of the games at Yost, and you were bundled up in a coat two sizes too big, the only thing you had remotely close to team colours, and the only thing likely to keep you warm enough to tolerate a whole game and warm-ups.
You were watching the boys skate around, and he had caught your eye in an instant.
“Who’s that one?” You had asked, pointing down to where number 43 was reaching out awkwardly to sweep up pucks with his stick. You could see the soft brown curls peaking out the back of his helmet from all the way in the stands, and his height made it unmistakable to realise that you recognised him.
He had come up to you at a Halloween party the week before, and if you hadn’t been so preoccupied by the fact that your only-just-ex boyfriend at the time was in the same room, his tongue down another girl’s throat, you might have been endeared by the boy in the dog costume.
Friendly smile, boyishly handsome features and warm eyes that under any other circumstances might have made your heart skip a beat. It wasn’t the first time you had seen him - you vaguely remembered the gift basket, and you knew he was in a couple of your classes, but you had never really spared him more than a fleeting glance before that party.
As soon as he had noticed your teary eyes upon approach, his demeanour had changed in an instant, and where anyone else might have backed off, might have been uncomfortable or deterred, done a u-turn and given up on his mission to approach, his expression had softened - worried and caring in a way that made your throat go dry, and you had to dash off to the nearest bathroom to splash your tears away.
“That’s Luke,” Ellie had told you, “Luke Hughes, Jack’s brother.”
“Oh,” You had pouted, disappointed. Jack had made it painfully obvious that he wasn’t your biggest fan the first time you had met him, and if you’re honest, you were hardly a great admirer of his, either.
Ellie had noticed your expression, had nudged you with her elbow until you took your eyes off of the figure on the ice, and had narrowed her eyes right at you. “Why?”
“He’s in a couple of my classes, is all,” you shrugged, eyes travelling back and finding him in an instant.
“Luke’s cool. You’d eat him alive, though, probably get bored within a week.”
“I wasn’t thinking about him like that,” you frowned, watching him skate around the ice with the grace and enthusiasm of a clumsy puppy dog. Cute. “Just curious.”
“He’s waaaay too nice for you,” she scoffed, and you had tried to swallow down the pang of offence you had felt, knowing she had very little of your past to compare him to. The two of you had only been roommates for a couple of months at that point, and she had only ever seen you interested in your ex. “He’s also kind of a like a little brother to me. Dorky and annoying, but I’m very protective of him.”
You had bit your tongue at how patronising that had sounded, knowing Ellie was one of the youngest people of your freshman class - a July baby - and Luke might even have been older than her.
“Like I said, just curious.”
You had noticed Luke a lot more after that, though.
A quiet, recurring presence.
A seat behind you in business comms, a figure against the wall in the corner of the room at different parties, on posters that lined the walls and the perimeter of Yost Arena, in articles you edited for extra credit in the Michigan Daily.
You had even made small efforts to get him to talk to you - never being the type to make the first move, yourself - started talking to his friends, some of the guys on the hockey team, had made sure his name was on the list for your sorority parties, you’d even dropped your pen once in class, and he’d just handed it back over with a soft smile, never uttering a word.
You wouldn’t call it a crush, but it was somewhere around the borderline of that - especially looking back after the summer you shared with him.
And you think, in retrospect, that if he’d have ever made a move, would have spoken to you even just once after the incident at the Halloween party, you probably would have developed one.
You hate to admit it, now, but he had been right all those weeks ago in the restaurant.
He’s kind of inevitable like that.
By the time he disappeared in your sophomore year that little spark of something had mostly fizzled out, but it didn’t entirely stop you unintentionally keeping tabs. Stats that cropped up on the sports channels, articles in the paper, posts on your instagram feed.
And you don’t know what you would call it, the way he kind of stuck with you, but when you’d seen him in that booth in the beginning of summer - when he’d spoken to you in full sentences, had met your eye and held contact in a way that sucked you in like a vacuum - you kind of felt that spark reignite.
The boy you almost, kind of, could have known, once upon a time, finally making the effort to get to know you.
And Luke Hughes is persistent. You have a detached admiration for just how much. He pushes, and he presses, and he perseveres until all your resolve is gone - resolve you’ve spent years mastering, with quick wit and snark protecting your heart from anyone who dares to take aim for it.
But that detachment is waining.
Especially as you lay on your front on your childhood bed, the NHL awards playing on the TV in your room back at your mom’s house, and you try to busy your hands with the crotchet kit you had picked up from the mall before you came home for a couple of days.
Your admiration is blooming and blossoming in the depths of your stomach into something intricate and uncontrollable.
And it has nothing to do with his name, his career, the award he is nominated for.
It’s just him.
Larger than life on your TV screen, but it still doesn’t capture him in his entirety, and you think for the first time that you miss him. You miss movies in his bed, you miss watching him from the passenger seat of his BMW, the sun shining from the window beside him, illuminating his profile until you burn from the glare. You miss his stupid jokes and his teasing smiles, and you miss the warmth in your cheeks when he looks your way.
And it’s only been like 2 days.
You miss Luke Hughes.
You kind of think you missed him before he even left.
You might have even missed him before you knew him, but that would be crazy, right?
Maybe he makes you crazy.
Maybe you need this week to recuperate, to attempt to build those walls back up before they’re damaged beyond repair.
Luke hadn’t given much thought to missing you before he and his brothers left for Vegas. He’d been so caught up, internally, about his and Quinn’s nominations, that he had thought it would continue to distract him the whole time they had been out there, but boy was he wrong.
All he remembers about his trip is thinking of you, and when the boys got back, and you had been visiting your mom for the weekend, all he could do was think of you more.
He thought of you when they sat at the table for dinner, and your place across from his was empty. He thought of you when he watched movies alone, thought of texting you some sort of commentary as he worked his way through the list of rom-coms you had given him, but you hadn’t texted him yet, so he gave up quickly on that idea.
He thought of you in bed, thought of the last time the two of you had been in there, together, and if he’s honest, he thinks of that almost all the time. Of messy kisses, wandering hands, and connection so deep he doesn’t think it will ever fizzle out.
And when he finally sees you again, he thinks he might have to get Quinn to source some sort of defibrillator for the house, because he swears his heart stops beating.
You poke your head into his bedroom, a shy smile on your face, and your bag is still on your shoulder, which means he had been your first stop, before you’d even gone to drop your things in yours and Ellie’s room.
He sees you in the reflection of his mirror, and turns immediately, clumsy fingers releasing the tie he’s been struggling to get right for a couple minutes, and steps toward you before he can even begin to tell himself not to seem so eager.
“You’re back!” He grins, and when your face lights up in return, he can hardly find it in himself to care anymore how down bad he comes across.
“Yeah,” you breathe, stepping into the room, discarding your bag by the door and shuffling toward him. “You didn’t have get all dolled up for my return.”
You reach to take both sides of the tie into your hands, and he feels himself go warm all over at the mere proximity of you after so long apart.
“It’s my cousin’s wedding,” he tells you as you start to knot the tie, knuckles brushing slightly across his chest until he’s holding his breath, lungs expanding so that he feels your touch a little more. “They’re having their reception at the club, later, you should come down.”
“You’re asking me to your cousin’s wedding?”
“Not like that,” he chuckles nervously as he looks down at you, eyes focused on the task at hand. “Just, haven’t seen you in a week, wouldn’t want to leave you here alone, it could be fun.”
Not to mention the fact he’s been watching the door for the past two days while he’s been home, waiting for you to get back and hoping it would be before the event, and he could figure out some way to ask you.
“You can’t just invite a random person to your cousin’s wedding reception, Luke.”
“She said I could!” He reasons, frowning when you raise a brow at him. “Not a random person, she said I could bring a friend.” He grasps gently at your hands as they straighten the fabric, halting your movements. “We’re friends, right?”
“If you say so.”
That wasn’t a no, he thinks, courage building within him in such a way that he starts to buzz with it. That would definitely have been a flat out no, before.
“You’d be doing me a favour.” He bargains, still holding your hands against his chest. “Quinn and Jack are bringing Josh and Turcs, I’d be like a fifth wheel,”
“So what you’re telling me is that you have no other friends?”
“Sure, if that’s what tugs at your heartstrings.” He has plenty of friends he could ask. Eddy, Duker, Luca - they’re all in town. None of them would look as pretty in a dress as you would, though. He wants to say there’s no chance of any of them kissing him after a few cocktails, but that would probably be a lie. “C’mon, they’re not gonna be checking IDs at the bar,” he wiggles his eyebrows in an attempt to convince you, “The free bar.”
“I don’t have anything to wear to a wedding,”
“What about that blue dress you wore to the formal last year?”
He remembers his throat going dry at just a picture - frosty baby blue silk against glowing skin, hair falling past your shoulders, the prettiest smile he’s ever seen in every photo.
And that is where misplaced courage gets him, he thinks. Letting slip that he has been creeping on your Instagram like some deranged stalker, because where else would he have seen you in that dress? He’d been in Jersey, by then. Scrolling down his timeline and swiping at every photo dump in what he didn’t even realise at the time was an obvious attempt to catch a glimpse of you.
Idiot.
“That was Ellie’s dress. I think she gave it to the Goodwill or something.” You frown, barely even picking up on his slip - unaware to the point that his heart rate can level back out to normalcy.
“You’ve got time to go shopping, you could get another,” he shrugs, reaching into the pocket of his pants. “Here, take my card.”
“Gee, thanks, Daddy Warbucks,” you push at his hand when he attempts to give it to you.
“I’m not adopting you. I’m more like Richard Gere in Pretty Woman.”
“Are you implying I’m a prostitute?”
“No,” he scoffs, only because, unintentionally, he totally was, and now he can’t get the picture out of his head - you in thigh high boots, legs for days stood out of the blue skirt, and the white top with the cutouts, soft summer skin he’s been missing the touch of peaking through - and he starts to wonder if that would be too much too soon to ask of you; to dress up for him like that. Maybe for halloween, if the two of you have progressed past whatever this is, by then. Keep dreaming, Hughes, he can already hear you saying. “More like a sugar baby.”
“I don’t need your money.”
“I’m trying to do something nice for you.”
“You don’t have to buy me things for me to like you.” You pout, and his own lips curl up at your defensiveness - so eager to prove yourself to him over something he isn’t even actually pressing.
“Because you like me already?” He can’t help himself, a small voice in the back of his mind telling him to push, push, push at your buttons until you practically malfunction - craving you in whatever disoriented state it was that he had seen you in last, pliant and willing and crumbling so nicely for him to scoop up and piece back together.
He shouldn’t want that - want to have to hold you in place, that is, not really - but he does. He wants to be the one that gets you like that. The only one.
“What time’s the reception?”
That should also have been a flat out no.
Interesting.
You give in so easily, then, to the point where Luke gets giddy, letting you know when and where he wants you - always and anywhere, if he’s honest - and you roll your eyes as you agree, but you stay right in front of him long after you’ve finished with his tie, and he’s so tempted to kiss you that he’s buzzing with excitement.
He sneaks a kiss to the corner of your mouth - quick enough that you don’t push him away, or make any sort of comment about it, and darts down the stairs at Quinn’s calls for him, leaving you to figure out whatever it is you need to do to be ready for later.
And he thanks his lucky stars that later comes before he has the chance to really dwell on it. His day passes in a blur, the ceremony over in a flash, family photos taken before he even realises he doesn’t need to force a cheesy smile, and only brief moments spared over the course of the early afternoon to think about the things he’s lacking.
As he sits in the church between his brothers, he realises that he wants to be sitting with an arm slung around you and a hand in your lap - your fingers swirling absentminded shapes into his palm as the two of you watch the ceremony side by side. Wants to look down at you staring up the aisle in bewilderment, a soft flush to your cheeks, a dopey grin on your face and a far-off look in your eyes. Wants to mutter stupid jokes in your ear and watch you twist your lips to bite back a giveaway smile.
As he rides over to the club in the back of Quinn’s car, sandwiched between Alex and Josh with his brothers up front, he thinks he’d kill to have you in his lap - as illegal as that may be, but it’s only 5 minutes, and he’d make sure you were safe with an arm curled around your waist.
And when he’s waiting in the reception hall at the club, the late afternoon ticking into early evening, hearing speeches about falling in love and finding your person, he wants you in the seat beside him. Wants to rest his arm on the back of your chair, play with loose strands of your hair or stroke soft fingertips against your warm skin, and press gentle kisses into your temple.
It’s alarming how quick these thoughts consume him - his college years spent pining, his summer spent basking in whatever attention you choose to give him - and he can’t help but let himself be carried away with the hope of it all, that maybe he is wearing you down enough to give in to such thoughts.
Especially when he sees you walking in, and he swears the world has started moving in slow motion like a scene fresh out of one of those rom-coms you keep trying to subject him to.
His legs stretch without any instruction from his brain, pushing himself up onto his feet until he can make his way over and meet you halfway.
Your eyes light up and your hand lifts in a nervous wave as you start heading straight for him, the action causing the thin spaghetti strap of your dress to fall down your shoulder.
“Hey,” he breathes out, in what feels like relief, mouth breaking out into a dreamy grin until you’re right in front of him.
“Sorry I’m a little late, it took me forever to find a dress, and then my hair wouldn’t go right, and then the Uber took every back road known to man despite me literally telling him,” Luke reaches to readjust the fallen strap as you talk, fingers trailing ever so slightly against the soft skin of your shoulder, “That I knew a quicker way, and then we ended up at those lights over on Palmer for like 10 minutes, I think I was in that car so long I’m all crinkly.”
His eyes drop slowly down your figure, the silky fabric clinging to your curves in all the right spots, the soft yellow a perfect match to the tie around his neck. “You’re beautiful,” he reassures you with ease, cheeks flushing ever so slightly when your eyes meet his - but he’s used to that, by now, the way his head goes hot when you look at him. “I was gonna get a drink, do you want one?”
He extends his hand out to you in invitation before you even nod in response, and when your fingers slide between his, the heat that is swirling around his head and face starts to spread down, past his neck, into his chest, settling there as the two of you make your way over to the bar.
This last week without you has been hell.
Sat in his hotel room in Vegas, checking his phone for any sort of update - a text, an instagram post, a story - and wondering if that night before he had left had been playing on your mind the same way it had on his.
Soft, slow kisses pressed into reciprocated lips, hands memorising every inch of each other’s bodies, desperate but intentional movements into one another. It was hardly his first time, but God, had it felt like it. It was definitely the first time he had ever felt anything that deep for another person - felt so connected, so attached.
And, despite the lingering insecurity that he thinks he might always feel when it comes to you, he knew you felt the same.
You had told him in the simplest terms - you wanted him - but you had shown him so much more. Eyes stuck on his as he moved against you, foreheads pressed together, lips seeking his at every given opportunity, nails scratching at the broad expanse of his shoulders when he had taken the lead and flipped the two of you over.
Gasps and moans, pleading and pining, begging and singing for him as you came undone for the first, second and third time.
He doesn’t know how you can possibly even try to carry on pretending you don’t feel even an ounce of the infatuation he does.
Not when you look at him the way you do, eyes sparkling and wanting. Not when he had spent the past week pressing his fingertips into the bruises you had kissed again into the lowest part his stomach like that had become your spot, hoping he could aggravate them enough to linger until you could make some more.
Not when, even though the two of you have been stood at the bar now for a good few minutes, you haven’t made any efforts to take your fingers from where his are playing with them between the two of you.
“You never answered my question, earlier,” he hums as the two of you wait for your drinks.
“You talk so much, Hughes, you’re gonna have to remind me which question that was.”
“Did you miss me?” His head tilts with curiosity as he watches the hesitation cross your features, lashes fluttering as you look up at him with your lips pressed together to keep them from spluttering out the truth. “I missed you.” He admits, in the hopes that expressing his candour might elicit the same in you.
“I’m surprised you found the time, you looked very occupied on your brothers’ stories.” Bingo.
“You been keeping tabs on me?” The smirk that accompanies the question is instinctual, and he manages to catch the slight shift in your demeanour before you can retreat, closing his fingers around your hand before you can pull it away.
“No,” you scoff, and when you pull insistently for him to release your hand, the strap of your dress falls loose down your arm again, Luke’s eyes following before he fixes it for you once more. “Just stumbled across some pictures, I guess,”
“Yeah, you just tripped and fell into stalking me?”
“Don’t act like you weren’t doing the same, I saw those little 3 dots come up so often I was starting to think you were typing up the entirety of War and Peace.”
Which means you’d been lingering in your message thread with him, too. Gotcha.
“You know, the world won’t end if you just admit you missed me.”
“Fine.” It slips out before you know what you’re saying, eyes widening like a deer in the headlights as you realise you’ve already given in. “I missed you.”
He smiles, but doesn’t press, and it’s a smile that lingers as the two of you just look at each other, his eyes drifting down to watch your lips twist and press together, biting back whatever insult or chirp you’re just dying to throw his way to cover up. He waits for it to come, but loves that it doesn’t, and loves even more that you’re holding onto the moment as much as he is.
“Do you wanna dance?” Luke asks a while later, once the two of you have gulped down a couple of drinks, have sat with the others for a little, and he’s watched you watch the dance floor with a yearning gaze.
Your eyes meet his after he poses the question, a confidence in his demeanour that has you crumbling immediately.
You nod, allowing him to guide you over to where a few other couples are swaying on the dance floor, and you let him guide you into his arms, one hand in his and the other resting on his shoulder.
It should be awkward, you think, remembering back on all the times you’ve tried this before. School dances and proms, clumsily shuffling and trying to avoid being stomped on by your partner’s feet - but the two of you move with ease, and you’d like to think it’s because his body knows yours by now.
“This is so weird,” you mutter, eyes cast down to watch his feet move in his fancy Oxford shoes, a soft flush to your cheeks.
“What do you mean?” He asks, nerves heightening as he stiffens like he’s waiting for you to let him go - to step away and cut this short like it doesn’t make you feel the same way.
“Slow dancing is for old folk like war veterans and millennials.” Your lips twist as your eyes meet his, and his lips turn up into a slow smile, a deep, melodic chuckle following closely behind.
“If you’d rather bump’n'grind on me, I get it,” he smirks.
“You’re such an idiot,” you scoff back, twitching to shake the hair from your shoulder, assuming that’s what is causing the shivers currently shooting down your spine, and not the large, possessive hand resting in the dip of your waist.
“Y’know, I’ve realised something about you lately,” he starts, voice low as he leans in, angling into your exposed neck and stopping his lips within mere inches of your ear, “You have a tell.”
“A tell?” You turn, brow raised as your gaze meets his, faces close enough that you can feel the soft pants of his breath on your skin.
“For when you’re enjoying yourself more than you think you should be,” he hums, his eyes fluttering a little as they drop to watch your mouth, the swipe of your tongue wetting your lower lip. “You call me an idiot,” his hand on your waist squeezes ever so slightly, your back arching a little into his touch, “Or stupid,” he uses his other hand, the one clutching at yours, to pull you closer, “Or dumb, or a dork.”
You can feel your heart thudding at the call-out, beating in time to the music, in time to the way your bodies sway together, creating it’s own rhythm for the two of you to dance to.
“Maybe you’re just a stupid, dumb, dorky idiot.” You squeak out, immediately hating the way the words taste in your mouth, your face souring and eyes narrowing in deliberation. There’s no way that was at all convincing, and the smirk that tugs up his lips is all you need to know he sees right through you.
“Maybe,” he humours you, anyway. “And yet, you can’t get enough of me.”
“A smug dorky idiot.” You correct yourself, cutting out stupid and dumb, the sharpness of those words cutting at your tongue like a knife.
The pointlessness of such discussion almost waters down the exhilaration you feel at being this close to him, in public, nonetheless, where literally anyone else could call you out on your growing tolerance of Luke, could connect the dots regarding all the time the two of you have been spending together and wave the evidence of your growing affection like a chequered flag for all to see.
This definitely feels like you’re crossing the finish line.
And, of course, it’s Jack who does the honours, primed all night to find some way to get between you and Luke upon your arrival, stumbling up to the two of you at the end of the song you’re swaying to and laying a heavy palm on your shoulder.
“Isn’t this cosy?”
“Fuck off, Jack,” Luke scowls before you get the chance, a pointed glare directed towards his brother, the palming grip at your waist growing faint as you try to wedge a little distance between the two of you, fighting a losing battle with your instinct to run and hide.
“I need to talk to your girlfriend.”
“I’m not his-,”
“She’s not my-,”
The two of you speak simultaneously, and despite the fact that you were saying the exact same thing, him saying it kind of dampens your mood, putting a good couple of steps between you and Luke with your arms crossing over your chest as you look toward his brother.
“Whatever. Can I borrow her for a couple minutes?”
“I’m not property, Jack, you can ask me directly.”
“Please can we talk? Alone?”
“Let’s go outside,” you huff, storming off before he has the chance to say anything else and making it all the way outside before he speaks again.
“Sorry for interrupting, you and Luke looked kind of cute-,”
“What do you want?”
“I’m sorry I said you were messing him around, and that you were toxic.”
You frown at him, watching as he diverts his gaze to the ground, nervously shuffling on his feet and fingers fidgeting with the cuffs on his shirt.
“I’m sorry for all the things I said and did at that party, I didn’t mean them, I was just drunk and upset. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”
You chew nervously on the inside of your cheeks as he talks, arms wrapped around yourself to shield from the brisk night air, and you watch as Jack starts to unravel before your very eyes.
For as long as you’ve known Ellie, for as long as you’ve known him, you’ve never seen him as anything less than cool, calm and collected - it’s kind of the main thing that grinds your gears about him if your honest, the fact that he never seems real. Like he’s putting on some sort of persona to seem like he has all his shit together, when you know he doesn’t.
“I really like Ellie, you know,” he sighs, and you scoff, because of course you know that. “And I was blaming you for putting this wedge between us when it’s really me that’s been fucking up.” You know that, too. “I’ve been thinking about her this past week, and I really wanna pull myself together and finally do something about it. Stop being such an idiot.”
You bite your tongue from questioning the reality of that. He’ll always be an idiot, you think, but that’s best left unspoken. It’s not even personal to him, that’s just part of being a man.
“She likes you too,” You tell him instead, despite the fact that it goes against all sorts of girl code to do so. You’re doing them both a favour, and the universe should really just let you off, you feel. “I don’t know why either of you have wasted so much time when you’ve both felt the same way all along.”
“You really think she’d say yes if I asked her out?”
“I do,” you shrug, “And it doesn’t need to be done on some romantic boat trip or some crazy elaborate scheme, you should just ask her when she gets back next week. Like as soon as she comes through the door, it will save us all a headache.”
“You sound like Luke.”
“Yeah, well, he’s rubbing off on me, I guess.”
“I don’t need to hear what the two of you get up to when you’re alone, that’s my little brother.”
You reach over and shove at his arm, and for the first time ever, when your eyes meet his, neither of them are narrowed. He’s smiling, and you’re smiling too, and it feels a little like a weight has been lifted from your chest, fresh air filling your lungs.
“Let’s go back inside, Luke’s probably thinking we’ve killed each other.”
“I’m just gonna take a second, it’s kinda stuffy in there.”
Jack nods, before making his way back to the reception, and you make your way over to the fountain, heels working through the gravel until you take a seat on the side.
It’s a couple of minutes before you hear footsteps, and before you see the fancy oxfords come into your view, eyes roaming up the long, lean body of the boy who has your brain running marathons.
When your eyes meet, his gaze is warm, and it feels like he can see right through you. Like he’s looking into the depths of your mind, holding a big cheesy sign as he waits at the finish line for your thoughts to come to an end.
He sits wordlessly beside you, his knees knocking against yours, and waits for you to speak - although the silence doesn’t feel awkward, or forced. He waits, patiently and understandingly, and you feel like he’s giving you the time to figure out what you want to say.
It feels monumental, this moment, like you’re teetering on the edge of something real and honest for the first time in a while.
“The other week, when we,” your voice feels heavy, thick at the back of your throat, “You know,”
“I was strictly advised to forget about it, so no, I don’t know,” he teases, and you’re kind of thankful that he’s trying to ease the tension you’re building for yourself. “But if you wanna jog my memory.” You shove lightly at his shoulder. “I’m kidding. What about it?”
“I’ve never really done that before?”
“What, snuck a guy up to his room in the middle of a house party and rocked his world?”
“Yeah, I guess so.” You scoff, smiling to yourself, despite the weight of all that you’re about to admit to him. “I’ve only ever slept with one other guy, and he wasn’t very nice about it after, so I just,” you frown, “Don’t really do it.”
“You don’t-,” he frowns too, you can see it from your peripheral, eyes till on the hands fidgeting in your lap, “But I thought-,” You look over and meet his eyes, brows furrowed and lips parted in confusion. “What?”
“The first guy, Jamie,” you start, twisting to face him, knees knocking once more. “We started talking in the summer before my freshman year, got to know each other ‘cause he lived one town over from me and he’d come into work all the time, and then when I started college he was a sophomore, and he was the first guy to ever take, like, a serious interest in me. And we had a lot in common, he was on the soccer team, we grew up in the same area, we got on really well, it was the first time I ever really felt connected to anyone like that. But I’d never done anything before, so I wanted to take things slow,”
Jamie Reeves. Captain of the University of Michigan Soccer Team until he tore his ACL at the end of his last year, ruining all dreams of playing in the MLS, like it was entirely achievable for a player of his caliber anyway. You had been infatuated by him, though. The kind of infatuation that a younger you might have doodled little hearts around his name in all your notebooks.
And then he turned out to be a complete leech.
“Please don’t tell me he rushed you into it.” Luke straightens his posture, reaching to place his hand over yours in your lap, the touch immediately comforting, and his concern even more so.
“No. Not exactly.” You sigh, hating how dramatic you feel about the whole thing. “We went on dates, and things were going really well, so I figured I trusted him enough to be my first, then after we had sex he just went really off. He wouldn’t take me out anymore, wasn’t putting any effort in. And then people started asking me all these questions about him, and what we did, and I realised he was going around telling everyone all the details, like I was just some conquest he could tick off to the boys on the team.” You remember how ashamed you had felt, eyes on you in every corridor, whispers about you in every class. You couldn’t leave your dorm without someone muttering some obscene comment about you, and you just felt awful. “Every time one of them saw me they’d make all these dumb comments, and I just felt dirty all the time, like I’d done something wrong. Then I went to a party at Pike, the one at Halloween,” The party that Luke had approached you for the first time since you met, and you had stormed off in tears - not due to him at all, but due to the fact you had just seen Jamie sticking his tongue down someone else’s throat, mere days after you had seen him last. “And he was all over one of the girls on the field hockey team, didn’t even look my way again after that, not that I really wanted him to.”
“You haven’t been with anyone since?”
You shake your head. “Doesn’t stop people saying I have, though. I tried dating a couple times, but it always ended up the same way, rumours being spread about me sleeping around and being easy. And it’s so dumb, ‘cause it’s like I trusted one guy, and somehow it keeps backfiring on me.” You pay no mind, for the first time in a long time, to the crack in your voice as you say it, no longer afraid of showing any hint of vulnerability. Not to Luke. You need to get this out - get it out of the way, once and for all, so you can move past it. Move on, even, with someone you hope won’t treat you the same.
“Does that mean you trusted me?”
You try not to think too hard about all the times the two of you have shared any level of intimacy - the physical touch mostly initiated by you, and it’s hardly ever on a whim. You think a lot about Luke, if you’re honest. About how he’s honest, and he sticks by his word when he promises not to tell anyone anything. How he always tries to make you laugh or smile, even if it’s something stupid. He isn’t afraid to embarrass himself with you, isn’t afraid to give you power, to let you take the lead. And even though sometimes he jokes otherwise, the times you hang out, he has no ulterior motives. He likes talking to you, likes watching movies with you, likes meeting your eye in a crowded room and giving you one of those smiles that have started to make your heart stutter with something unidentifiable.
“I guess so.” Your shoulder lifts in a nonchalant shrug, your words anything, but. “I don’t know, I’ve been thinking about it since and I can’t explain why it happened but I feel like you and me are-,”
Connected? Compatible?
You know what he would say you are. You don’t know if you’re there, yet.There are so many things the two of you have become over the past few weeks, so many things you’ve wanted to be for longer than you even realised, so many things you’re afraid to say.
“I feel like out of everyone, you’d have no reason to lie to me. Or about me.”
“I wouldn’t. I didn’t know all that stuff,” he frowns, and it seems like his mind only just makes sense of all the times you threatened him after the fact, making sure he wouldn’t tell anyone that the two of you kissed, or hung out alone in an intimate space and maybe potentially enjoyed yourselves. He had thought you were ashamed of it - but all this time, you’ve been protective. Of yourself, of the trust you were building in him. “Why don’t you tell people, that those guys are all lying?”
“No one would believe me,” you shrug, eyes cast down to where his hand still rests on yours, and his touch prevents you from picking nervously at the skin around your nails.
“I do,” He assures you, “And I promise the next time I hear anyone say any of that stuff about you, I’ll beat their face in.”
“Yeah, you’d drop gloves for me?”
“Look at you with your hockey talk.” He coos, lifting a hand to caress your cheek, where you had barely noticed a tear trailing down until he wipes it away with his thumb, a proud smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah. I would. We’re partners, remember? I’ve got your back.” He extends his pinkie out to you, and you curl yours around it until he’s tugging it toward him, leaning down to press his lips to your knuckle, his kiss like a promise as his green eyes meet yours.
It doesn’t gross you out, this time. If you’re honest with yourself, it hadn’t the first time he did it, either. It was cute, in an entirely dorky and childish and almost nostalgic way.
And you’re compelled to do the same, leaning and touching your pouted lips to his pinky, eyes fluttering closed as you kiss his skin, the rush of blood to your head somehow louder than the steady stream of the fountain beside you.
“Listen,” he starts, lowering his hand but keeping your pinkies interlocked, resting them between you both on the stone. “If whatever this is that we’re doing makes you uncomfortable, or brings all that stuff back, I can back off a little.”
Something akin to disappointment floods through your system, your heart rate picking up in a panicked staccato, but you try to stay cool - still, for whatever reason, holding your cards close to your chest.
“I can make sure my brothers don’t make any more stupid comments about us, they’re doing it to annoy me, not you. And I can,” he takes a deep breath, eyes flickering between yours as if to gauge your desires before he has to reluctantly pander to them. “I can stop, too.”
You nod, because it’s all you can do to shake away the tears threatening to flood your lash line at just the thought of him giving up on you.
It’s the lump in your throat that blocks the words coming out to tell him as much, and your lips twist in discomfort as you take in the way he’s looking at you - gaze filled with dwindling patience and waining resilience. There’s only so far you can continue to push him, you can see that now, and if you’d have told the version of yourself that first sat down with him all those weeks ago - the version of yourself that refuted any chance of ever warming up to him, that saw him as nothing more than an annoyance, a disturbance to your tips for the day - that the thought of him stopping whatever you have would make you feel like this?
That cold-hearted bitch would have laughed in your face.
“Hey, lovebirds!” There’s a shout from across the courtyard, and Quinn appears in the distance with hands cupped around his mouth. The intrusion has you retracting your hand, and you can see the way Luke reacts in your peripheral, a resigned nod given instinctually before he looks over to his brother. “I’m driving home if you two want a ride!”
Luke doesn’t look back at you before pushing himself up, but he offers a hand to help you stand, and the two of you walk in silence to meet Quinn by the exit.
The car ride back to the house is silent, too, save for the soft hum of the radio that filters through the car. Josh sits up front with Quinn, head lulling against the window as he falls asleep worryingly quick, and you’re squished in the middle between Luke and Alex, Jack having stayed back with their parents. It’s hard not to press your legs against Luke’s - his are so gangly and long that they take up more than their fair share of room, and it’s much less awkward despite the circumstances to be touching him than touching Turcs. You feel a lot less tense when you’re touching, anyway.
And when Quinn pulls up, Luke still helps you out of the car - ever the gentleman, even in the face of apparent rejection.
Quinn and Alex work at lugging an overly inebriated Josh up to his room, leaving Luke to guide you through the house, and the silence starts to become unbearable as he whispers a quick and quiet goodnight, leaving you at the door to yours and Ellie’s room as he makes his way down the hall.
“Hey, Luke,” you call out in a whisper toward him as he retreats, his tall frame turning, a gleam of what you interpret as hope flashing across his green eyes.
“Yeah?” He hums back, voice low as not to disturb anyone else, gaze meeting yours, locking in place with an almost audible click.
“I don’t want you to stop.”
You’re worried for a second you’ll have to expand, that maybe his slightly intoxicated memory doesn’t stretch as far back as to remember the conversation the two of you had had out by the fountain.
Elaborating on it would be embarrassing to say the least - because what, exactly, are you supposed to say?
I don’t want you to stop flirting with me.
I don’t want you to stop kissing me when no one else is around.
I don’t want you to stop being the only person I can talk to.
I don’t want you to stop bulldozing into my very secure and sturdy walls, thank you very much. They’re starting to tumble down in what could be a very calamitous fashion.
Worried you might have to expose a little more of yourself than you had originally anticipated, you chew at the corner of your lip, waiting.
But then he smiles - in that easy way that makes your bones feel like jelly, your knees weakening to the point that you lean against the still-closed door of your room. In the way that has that loudmouth voice you’re trying too often to suppress within you screaming, God, he’s so cute!
“I know,” he smirks, the bastard, liquid courage running deep through his veins, “Inevitable, remember?”
You scoff, almost instinctively rolling your eyes despite the endeared warmth that floods your belly. “You’re an idiot.”
“I know,” he says again, “You coming?”
And all you can do is nod, biting back a fully-fledged smile before you’re rushing over and slotting yourself under his outstretched arm.
You definitely enjoy him more than you should.
Living with boys for the first time in your life has taught you a lot over the weeks you’ve been staying at the lake house.
The first is that they’re weirdly messy - in ways that shouldn’t bother you, but they do. It isn’t clothes left around, or dirty plates - but it’s hand soap crusted around the spout by the faucet, shoes kicked off and discarded at random points throughout the house, and they, for some bizarre reason, never put the lid back right on anything.
The second is that they’re loud - and that should have been anticipated. Guys are notoriously obnoxious. But it isn’t just their voices that carry. It’s footsteps up the stairs, stomping in the dead of the night when one of them needs a drink. It’s chewing their food, or slurping their coffee, or scraping the feet of their chairs against the floor when they’re sat at the dining table. It’s tapping their hands on their knees in haphazard rhythm whenever there might be an ounce of peace that they, without a doubt, misunderstand for awkward silence.
And the third is that they probably couldn’t organise a fire in a match factory. And that goes for a lot of things - the kitchen cupboards, their laundry loads, and, most importantly, one of the many parties they love to throw.
It wouldn’t bother you so much - they usually work out in the end - but this time, it’s Ellie’s birthday, and the way they leave everything until the last minute is about to give you an aneurysm or something.
There’s no food, no drinks, no cake, no decorations, and the party is tonight.
And Jack, who’s grand idea it had been to throw her a party in the first place, seems to have kidnapped her - disappearing and leaving you to try and figure out what’s going on.
Cole is the one who finds you in the kitchen, spiralling out, frantically trying to put together some kind of list so that one of the guys can go to the store and pick up the bare minimum to throw a party together - and he manages to calm you down - gathers the rest of the guys and helps come up with a plan, sharing out different categories. Quinn and Josh are down to get drinks, Cole and Alex are down to get food, and you and Luke are down for decorations.
And then within the next five minutes, you’re back up in your room, transferring things from one of your bags into a tote, so you can carry more stuff back to the car without having to bring back a load of plastic, and Luke is sat on your bed, leaning back onto his hands as he watches you, green eyes still tickling your skin with their tangible watch.
“I know we’re on a time crunch, but could we make another pit-stop at the mall? I still need to find a present for this baby shower.”
“Oh, actually, I made you something.”
“You made me something?” You can feel him watching you as you dig through the bag you’d brought back with you from being home.
“Yeah, I was bored, when you guys were gone, I forgot to give it to you when you got back, got kinda distracted by the whole wedding thing,” you tell him, reaching blindly to try and find the little figure. “I went by that art supply store and picked up one of those kits,” You finally find it, pulling out the little crotchet animal that may or may not have been your fourth attempt. The first had a stubby neck, the second had uneven legs, and you don’t think the third one’s face was anywhere near appropriate to be gifting to a child. This one isn’t perfect, but you’d honestly reached your limit with it. “Don’t make it a thing, it was like therapy while I was back home to be honest.”
“Oh that’s adorable.” He pouts, accepting it from you and immediately turning it back, bobbing it’s head as if to greet you. “Why a giraffe?”
“Long neck,” you smile, reaching out to pat it. “Reminded me of you.”
“Ha ha,” he rolls his eyes, but the laughter feels real enough. “She’ll love it.”
“She?” It slips out by instinct before you can check yourself, eyes widening as his meet yours again, his lips twitching in the corners. “Thought you said it was for your captain,”
“It is.” He smirks, “Men can’t carry babies last time I checked.”
You nod, because of course men can’t carry babies. Of course the shower is for the mother of the baby - who you vaguely remember Jack and Luke talking about - someone who works with them back in Jersey. Someone they’re both close to, clearly, if Luke’s stressing this much about a gift.
“Wait, are you jealous?”
“No.” You scoff, frowning purposefully, lips turning down in forced denial.
“You’re jealous.”
“Am not.”
“You want to take this back now, huh?” He holds the giraffe in a way that it bends, adorably, like he’s trying to taunt you with it, and it’s wonky eyes do little to distract from the charm he gives it.
“Nope.” You shrug, “You can give it to whatever girl you want, doesn’t bother me at all.”
“Of course not,” he stands, stepping toward you slowly, “You couldn’t care less what I do away from this house, right?”
“Right.” You gulp, looking into soft green eyes, your legs starting to wobble at the knees, strength and integrity waining as the seconds pass. You really don’t know why you’re still keeping this game up. Ever since that night of the wedding, you’ve been sneaking off into Luke’s room as soon as Ellie falls asleep. You fall asleep by his side, and he wakes you when he gets up early, so you can sneak back without Ellie realising you’ve even gone.
You’ve kissed him every day, sometimes tender, sometimes torrid - over the centre console of his car when he drops you off at work, in his bed before you drift off to sleep, in the kitchen when you sneak off under the ruse of refilling your drink. He can tell the difference between the flavours of lip balms you wear, comments on it like he has a little ranking system filed away somewhere in the back of his mind. You both whisper your secrets in the dark of the night, and you had promised him that you would try to open yourself up more to him.
“I thought we were past this,” he hums, stepping closer, voice low in a way that buzzes through your bones. “Thought we were being honest with each other, now.”
“Honest?” You ask, voice weak, neck craning now to look up at him, eyes boring into your own as he advances on you.
His hand reaches to cup your jaw, to tilt your head just that bit further, and presses his lips straight to yours instead of elaborating any further.
He’s tentative, at first. Gentle, even. Fingertips ghosting along the side of your neck, pulling you closer, less with any physical force and more so with pure magnetic attraction, your skin humming - buzzing, even, to be touched by him in any which way.
Your chin tilts as your mouths slot together in a soft, slow kiss, and when his lips touch yours, everything else fits perfectly into place. The fingers of his left hand press firmly into the flesh of your hip, now, using a slight force to manoeuvre you how it suits him - as close as he can physically get you - and those on his right reach around enough to slightly curve towards the back of your neck, applying just enough pressure so that your chin angles upward to deepen the kiss, his tongue pressing a pleading invitation into your bottom lip.
An invitation you immediately grant him, your hands finding their place on his body with ease, one flat against the warm expanse of his chest and the other matching his, soft fingertips grazing the skin of his neck until they tangle in the slight overgrowth of curls at the nape.
Everything feels so fluid, so effortless, and yet, so new - like this is the first time you have kissed, an eruption of fresh feelings bursting through you. There’s still a familiarity that lingers - one of ease, where it’s like your bodies have each other mapped out, already. You know every cell of him and he of you, and it’s evident in the way the moment escalates.
Your bodies naturally gravitate towards the nearest surface, his fingers reaching out behind your hip to soften the blow of him pushing you into the dresser, your back arching, feet moving in sync as not to tangle and trip, or stumble and break the kiss.
But there’s nothing else clumsy about it.
He lifts you with ease, the cold surface only a slight shock to the system, and it brings you to the perfect height where he can seamlessly move his kisses from your lips, past your jaw, down your neck and into the crevice of your collarbones, leaving a trail of the sticky residue of your lip balm.
Strong hands cup your thighs, parting your legs until he can stand between them, and your fingers bury themselves into his curls, pushing into him however you can.
When his fingers graze the inside of your thigh, his lips part from the hot skin of your clavicle, and his head tilts slightly until his darkened green eyes meet yours.
“Please,” you breathe out before he can even ask, beyond caring for whatever particles of pride you’ve been desperately trying to cling to when you watch his lips curve slowly into the most panty-dropping smirk you think you’ve ever seen.
“Please what?”
Your lips part as if by instinct, a biting remark fizzling out on the tip of your tongue as your mind works for some kind of comeback, for some semblance of resistance to whatever this version of him is, but there’s nothing. Just a frantic plea for him to do anything to you. Whatever he wants.
Your hips shuffle forward as if led by a mind of their own, trying to force his hand up, only for him to follow the movement of your thigh.
“Touch me,” you find yourself pouting, spikes of heat flashing through you at the way you can see the thoughts crossing his mind, of all the ways in which he can torture you - putty in the palm of what you thought were safe hands.
“Tell me you were jealous,” he prompts, leaning forward to press a teasing kiss to your lips, “Tell me that the thought of me even talking to another girl makes your skin crawl.”
Don’t let him get cocky, a voice prevails in the back of your mind, despite the accuracy of his words. Tell him he’d have to have an ounce of game for you to be remotely worried, tell him the only thing that makes your skin crawl is his incessant need to mouth off all the time. Tell him, tell him, tell him!
“I was jealous,” you breathe out instead, chasing the victorious smirk that stretches across his lips in the hopes you can kiss it away.
Jealous of a girl you’ve never met, in a relationship with another man, pregnant with his child, not remotely interested in Luke.
A girl who gets to see him all the time, who knows him probably in ways you might never, who he cares enough about to want to gift her something meaningful. Who he casually texts and smiles at his phone as he’s doing so, who he and Jack talk affectionately about in ways they’ll never talk about you.
You’ve officially lost it.
“And if you don’t touch me in the next 3 seconds,” you carry on, scrambling to claw back one single iota of your dignity, your hands gripping at his broad shoulders, “I won’t let you touch me again.”
Luke laughs. Practically snorts at you, eyes crinkling in the corners in pure amusement. Your dignity is long gone.
“1,” you start, your voice shakier than you’d ever like it to be, and his hands move to either side of your hips, clutching at the edge of the dresser.
“2,” you didn’t think you could sound worse than before, definitely longer than a second ago, but you’re quickly proven wrong as you watch him leverage that grip to push himself upright, creating a distance between the two of you that drains all the heat from your body.
“3.” he finishes, taking a step back and watching you with unadulterated hunger in his eyes, daring you to follow through with your threat - and the smug idiot knows you won’t.
He knows it’s coming, even anticipates the way in which you pounce on him, arms ready to catch you when you throw yourself down onto the ground in front of him, landing with a quick thud that jolts you straight into him. Hands at either side of his face pull him down, and he does half of the work in bending his back so it isn’t as clumsy.
You tangle yourself up in him, legs twisting between each other until you’re stumbling toward the bed, and it’s as soon as you get your fingers back into his hair, as soon as his hands are pushing your top up, grazing at the warm skin of your back, that you hear a call of your name.
You falter back from him just as the door swings open, managing to create a reasonable amount of distance as Ellie swaggers in, voice still raised as she asks, “Have you seen my-,” It’s Luke that she sees first, eyes zeroing in on his flushed face with pin-point accuracy, her brows furrowing as she takes him in, heaving chest and messy hair and all. “Lip gloss?”
Lip gloss? Is she joking?
“You came all the way back up here for lip gloss?” You ask, still slightly breathless and brain fogged, and feeling very much like you’ve just put all your chips on the table and watched them get swept away in seconds.
You watch as Ellie’s eyes dart to Luke’s mouth, watch him grow conscious of the balmy coating smeared across his lips, and you feel your heart stop in it’s place, your chest squeezing in anticipation of a thump thump thump that doesn’t come.
“No,” she mutters, diverting her attention back to you with a sobering shake of her head. “Balm,” she corrects, “The kind with SPF, I think I’m burning, I didn’t realise me and Jack were gonna be gone all morning.”
“Uhm, yeah,” you breathe, reaching up to tuck your hair behind your ears in the hopes it helps cool your head down, some. “I have some in my bag.”
Your tote is on the dresser you had just been placed on yourself, and you use the opportunity to dig through it to will the burning sensation in your ears away, levelling out your breathing as you root around for a tube of lip balm you know is in there somewhere.
“Could you check for my car keys, too? I was thinking we could drop by the mall for lunch. Catch up” She adds, with a forced wiggle of her brows, clearly what she had actually come up here for, and you fish those out too, throwing them across to her. “Quinn’s looking for you before you go, Luke, something about a list.”
“I should go check what he wants,” Luke mumbles, putting another few steps of distance between you before he offers an awkward wave, and departs the room with heavy feet that you hear stomp all the way down the hall, the last thing you see of him being a skinny, lopsided crochet giraffe poking out of his back pocket.
Apparently Jack’s plans of keeping some element of surprise for the party had gone out of the window as soon as he had got her alone - and you’re kind of grateful for the fact.
Keeping secrets from Ellie is stressful - you of all people would know, you’ve somehow managed to keep a pretty big one from her all summer - and she usually has a way of figuring things out on her own.
You probably would have folded to her - just the two of you out together, sipping smoothies in the food court at the mall - if he hadn’t already filled her in one the plans for the night.
It makes up a little for his lack of effort, earlier - especially now that your hands are clear of it. You don’t know how much you trust the guys to put something together while you and Ellie are looking for an outfit for her, but you have no choice but to leave them to it. Jack had reassured you he had everything under control, and despite the absurdity of that statement, it’s nice for that panic you had been feeling earlier to have been flushed away.
“I think tonight’s the night,” Ellie sighs dreamily, elbow resting on the table and her chin in the palm of her hand, “We had this really deep conversation while we were out walking, and he pretty much told me he has feelings for me, he was really nervous, it was kind of cute.”
“I’ll take your word for the cute thing,” you chuckle, sipping at your smoothie and smiling at how happy she looks. It’s nice to hear, her having hope about the situation for once, instead of dread or fear.
“He said you two spoke at his cousin’s wedding,”
“It was nothing,” you shrug, “He didn’t need any interference from me to realise he likes you, El, he just needed a nudge.”
“I can hardly call you out on interfering,” her lips twist, nervously, “I’ve kind of been doing the same.”
“What do you mean?”
“Why do you think I’ve been hanging out with Cole so much all summer?”
“Cole?” You frown, leaning back into your chair, “You’ve lost me.”
When you’d last spoken to Ellie about Cole, she had told you they just got along, and there was nothing more to it - and you had no reason to believe otherwise. When you and Luke had been in the midst of your own interference, and you had been playing third wheel to their hangouts, they had been getting along. Almost like siblings. Cole never flashed her those flirty winks or toothy grins that he gave everyone else.
“He’s into you.” She says, finger swiping in the ring left behind from her smoothie cup on the table, “And I was kind of giving him advice on how to approach you. I figured you wouldn’t mind, ‘cause he’s like your normal type, and you seemed like you liked him-,”
“I’m sorry, you think I like Cole?”
You’re taken aback. You don’t remember giving any sort of indication you were ever into Cole Caufield.
Maybe you could have been, before this summer - would have probably fallen victim to his cheeky smiles or his teasing banter. He’s probably closer to your usual type, if you even have one. Confident, with a presence that sort of demands attention. But you realise, now, your attention should be earned - in more than just a flash of cute teeth and boyish features.
In dumb jokes told just to bring you out of a bad mood, and a car with the AC dialled up waiting for you after a shift on a hot day. In hands that offer you help before you ever have to ask, and eyes that see so far beyond what version of yourself you try to put out there.
You could have liked Cole, in another world, or another life, if another boy wasn’t around.
“I did until I walked in on you kissing Luke, earlier.”
You blink slowly at her, mouth agape as she stares blankly back.
What the fuck?
“I wasn’t kissing Luke,” you scoff, denial making your face twist in funny ways that you can even feel look deranged. “We were talking.”
“Into each other’s open mouths?” She snickers, “Unless he’s been digging around in our stuff when we’re not around, I can’t think of any other reason he’d have left the room with Summer Fridays Vanilla Beige smeared all over his lips.”
“It was Brown Sugar, actually.” You correct her, guiltily, hoping the words you mutter next through pouted lips don’t quite make it to her ears. “He says it’s sweeter.”
“Oh my God.” She guffaws, mouth agape and eyes wide in realisation. “How long has this been going on?”
“Nothing’s going on,” you deny, although you can feel heat creeping up your neck, already. “We just get along-,”
“We get along, and you don’t welcome me home with an open mouth.”
“Ellie-,”
“Listen, he’s not just some guy that you can mess around with, he’s way deeper into you than you probably realise, and-,”
“I like him, okay?” you blurt out, voice just loud enough to be heard over her rambling but not enough to carry anywhere else, and the silence that follows is almost deafening - prolonged in a way that you can’t even remember if you said anything, or not.
But the way Ellie is looking at you tells you enough.
Why is everyone so caught up on you breaking his heart?
As if you aren’t putting the entirety of yours on the line.
“Luke?” She asks, like the two of you haven’t just been talking about him. “You like Luke Hughes?”
“Yeah,” you sigh, leaning onto your elbows and pressing the palms of your hands to your face, eyes scrunching tight to try clear up some mind space to make sense of what it is you’re admitting to.
It makes sense already, to you. Verbalising it is the problem.
He’s charming, he’s funny, he makes you laugh, most times unintentionally but that doesn’t make your feelings dwindle in the slightest.
He’s weirdly passionate about that one horse movie and won’t shut up trying to get you to watch it with him, but it’s endearing in a way that you want to kiss him to shut him up. Or maybe even watch it, God forbid.
He literally never stops eating, but it’s like his body is in tune to yours now, and he always makes double if he feels like you might be hungry so you don’t ever have to ask, which is weirdly sweet.
When you lay beside him in the middle of the night, you don’t feel pressured to do anything other than talk.
And when you do, he listens to you - retains information and checks up in a way that makes you feel seen, makes you feel a way you haven’t in a really long time. He doesn’t talk over you, or dismiss your feelings, or try to change the topic when things go a little too deep or get a little heavy. He shares the load, asks questions that make you think and process things in a new way, and he isn’t patronising when he does so. He doesn’t say things that sound like they’re straight out of a Psych 101 textbook like your feelings are valid or what makes you think that?
And he compares your wildly different worlds in a way that doesn’t feel like a competition. His troubles aren’t worse than yours, his life isn’t harder.
You’re equals.
You’ve never felt like anyone’s equal, not even Ellie.
It’s like with all the other parts of your life that make you hurt, make you feel small and insignificant - they fade away when you’re with Luke.
His corner of your world is bright - despite the seemingly inexhaustible snark-meter constantly ticking between you two - it’s easy, doesn’t weigh down on you or make your chest feel tight, not in that way, at least.
You’ve been introduced to a whole new influx of feelings in your chest by Luke.
You can give in to the ugly side of yourself that wants to bite at him until there’s nothing left, to push whenever he gets a little too close, and you don’t have to worry that you’ll scare him off or push too far, ‘cause he’ll just pull you with him and bite back - only, it doesn’t hurt like when anyone else does it. Somehow, you think he savours the parts that other people might spit out - chews and swallows and rubs at his belly in satisfaction like you’re the best meal he’s ever had.
Despite all the other things that have shattered your heart, Luke Hughes makes it feel whole, again.
And it should make you feel sick - lovey-dovey stuff like that usually does, your walls shooting straight up at the first sign of affection from anybody, metaphorical sneakers on and carrying your legs as far and as fast as they can run - but this doesn’t.
You don’t want to run from Luke, not really.
“I thought you said he was dorky and annoying.”
You’re pretty sure she had been the one to say that, at some point, but you don’t remember arguing the fact, so you don’t bring it up.
“He is.” You pout. He’s also apparently inevitable. “He kinda crept up on me, I guess.”
Ellie is quiet for a minute as she watches you, eyes narrowing as she takes you in - shoulders slumped, lips pouted, defeated.
“Why not just tell him, then? Why hide it?” She asks, leaning onto the table too until your faces are level when you peak up at her, “You know he likes you back, right? He’s got the biggest crush on you, it’s borderline problematic.”
“I don’t know, I don’t really understand why he likes me.”
“Does it matter?”
It does. You don’t want to keep running, but you can’t really help it. There’s something ingrained deep within you that is trying to shelter yourself from all the ways in which succumbing to these feelings will inevitably hurt you.
“Luke’s way smarter than me, and he’s way more successful, he’s kind and he’s generous, he comes from a great family, has this great house, we have literally nothing in common, and he doesn’t see that now because he just thinks he’s attracted to me, and he likes that I don’t just fold to him because he’s some superstar, but the second that’s gone,” you sigh, trying to swallow down the hurt in your voice, blink away the onslaught of tears, “He’ll just get bored of me like everybody else does, and then he’ll be gone. And I’ll just be some girl he broke up with and left behind, and that’s all I’ll ever be.”
Ellie frowns, a strained mutter of your name called as her hand falls to yours in an attempt to comfort you. “You’ll never know if you don’t try, babe.”
“No, I know.”
It’s all you’ve ever known.
Men who start off treating you like some prized possession - cherishing you, making you feel valued and loved - and the second the shine wears off, the second something even newer, even brighter, even sparklier, crosses their path, they’re gone.
And you’re left behind wondering what it is about you that keeps driving them to leave.
It happened with your dad, with his new wife and their perfect kids - the boys he always wanted, who he never had to force himself to like. The dream family he abandoned you to pursue. It happened with Jamie, with all the girls he saw after you, with the way he never even looked your way again, even after all the secrets you shared, and the promises he made. With all those other boys who never saw you as anything more than a fabricated story to spread for a few brownie points with their buddies in the locker room.
It will happen again.
These feelings you have for Luke - the comfort he gives, the contentment, the ease in conversation, the warmth he bathes you in until your skin prunes and he seeps in through the cracks - they’re better kept to yourself. It’s easier that way, to keep this whole heart under lock and key, not giving anyone a chance to break parts off and keep it for themselves.
It’s almost perfect the way it is.
Safe, even from the clutches of the boy who pieced it back together, brick by laborious brick.
“There isn’t long left of the summer, anyway,” you go for a nonchalant shrug, but your shoulders feel heavy, and it turns out more like an arduous huff. “I doubt he’s shy of female attention back in Jersey, he’ll forget I ever existed before he even knows it.”
“You should talk to him,” Ellie suggests, “At least let him know where you stand, even if it’s to tell him things can’t go further.”
The thought of it is too daunting. Looking into those gleaming green eyes and laying your heart on the line.
You can pretend all you want to Ellie, to yourself, even, that you wouldn’t want more, but you don’t think you could keep up the show with him.
“He deserves at least that.”
And damn it, she’s right.
Maybe he even deserves a proper chance.
Luke never thought he’d regret kissing you for any reason, but he’s wishing he had practiced some restraint up in your room, earlier.
If he hadn’t advanced on you, had let you pack your bag and got you out of the house before Ellie and Jack got back, he could have followed through on his plan of action for the day.
A plan he’d been hyping himself up for, all week - getting you on your own, talking things out, maybe even asking you out. Properly. Not just dinner at the mall, but a real date. Planned, perfected. A fancy dinner, or a trip to the movies. A picnic blanket laid out somewhere with a nice view, and an abundance of your favourite snacks.
He wants to kiss you without having to hide it, anymore.
He wants to walk with you tucked under his arm. Wants to have you in his lap when there’s too many people over at the house, and the group are struggling for space on the couches in the den.
He also sort of wants peace of mind, but what’s that compared to not having to sneak around, anymore.
He’d made his mind up in the morning, waking up beside you at 5am, rousing you from your sleep with soft mutterings of your name, and lips pressed to your cheek until he could feel you smile.
“Hi,” your voice had been croaky, and your movements slow, shuffling against him as your skin became illuminated by the soft glow of the rising sun slipping through the gap in the curtains. Your legs had been tangled with his under the sheets, and you did little to untangle them, and he was tempted to lock his so that you couldn’t.
“Hey,” he mumbled, lips still moving against your skin, nipping at your cheek, your jaw, your throat, and your fingers rose until they clutched at the back of his hair, curls wrapping around them as you held him in place.
“What time is it?”
“Around five,” his own hands landed on your waist, slipping under the hem of your tank, and trying to savour the warmth of your skin, your body hot from being against his all night. “Figured you’d need to be a little earlier today with it being Ellie’s birthday and all.”
“Thank you,” you used your soft grip on his curls to tug, until his face left the crook of your neck, and you blinked softly, smiled sweetly, and he felt his heart beat at twice the normal speed. You leant up and kiss him, straight on the lips, and he smiled against you just as you pulled away.
He felt cold all over as soon as you detached yourself, and he rolled onto his side to watch as you stood, arms raised to stretch and lifting the bottom of your tank top to rise up your belly.
He felt robbed. Like he deserved longer with you, and it had been as you crawled back over your side of his bed, and had kissed him once more before leaving, that he had decided he needed to do something about it.
His original plan had been to steal you away at some point in the night, everyone else too distracted by the party to notice or care, but being teamed up with you to go get decorations seemed like it would work too.
Until Jack came back and fucked his plans up.
Jack said that he would go get the food with Turcs, that he had already paid for a cake, and he had to show his ID when he picked it up. He said Ellie shouldn’t have to do anything, and that you would be the best person for her to do nothing with, which left Luke picking up decorations with Cole.
It wasn’t that he minded Cole’s company, but Cole isn’t you.
He probably could have tucked Cole under his arm as they walked side by side through target and picked up a bunch of of banners and streamers, given the logistics of their height difference, but it wouldn’t have been as cute.
He has managed to get a lot of unexpected information though. And of course, his only thought is that he can’t wait to share it with you.
Cole tells Luke how he and Ellie have only been hanging out all summer to make Jack jealous.
He bites his tongue to refrain from telling him that sort of trick doesn’t work on his brother, but Cole seems too pleased with himself for Luke to rain on his parade, and he finds it kind of funny that everyone’s been working to get the two of them to wake up to their feelings, not just you and him.
Cole might have even ended up putting more effort into it than you and Luke did, acting as a go-between for Jack and Ellie, and raising the stakes for both of them to make a move.
“And what do you get out of any of that?” Luke chuckles as he works at taking the banners out of their plastic wrapping, Cole taking the plastic and putting it straight into the trash.
The smile drops as soon as Cole says your name, though, and Luke’s hands stop in place. “Ellie’s been giving me insider info. I’m primed and ready to make a move.”
“Wait, I’m sorry,” Luke frowns, “You like her? Since when?”
He tries not to let the panic stirring in his chest reflect on his features, but it’s hard.
Cole and Ellie had been hanging out for a long time, now. He can’t have been into you that whole time, right? Not without saying anything to anyone else - Cole is kind of mouthy, like that. Word would have got back around to Luke if Cole’s liked you for months.
“Since I met her. She’s a really cool girl, really funny.” Cole scoffs, hand reaching out for more trash. “And she’s, like, one of the hottest girls I’ve ever seen, you know?”
Of course Luke knows. He’s seen the most beautiful sides to you - soaked head to toe from a garden hose, eyes crinkled from laughter, or the aftermath, curled up on a couch with just-dry hair and heart opening up to him for the very first time. In an orange baseball cap and a Mets jersey, twirling as you exit one of the fitting rooms you had found in the mall, a big cute grin on your face as you allow yourself to dorky with Luke, and only with Luke. Sat out on the fountain at the club, skin bathed in the glistening moonlight and your heart thumping in the palm of his tender hands. Laid beside him in the early hours of the morning, soft snores falling from between your lips and hair splayed out against his pillow.
But he can’t exactly say that to Cole - who has apparently been working to pursue you this entire time without Luke ever catching on.
“Ellie says I’m her type, so I don’t know why I’m stressing about asking her out-,”
“Out like on a date? Like you want to date her?”
Luke knows he sounds like an idiot without Cole giving him the weirded-out look he gives, but he’s starting to lose out to the dread that is flooding the pit of his stomach. He stumbles to follow Cole out of the kitchen and into the living room, where they had set up a step ladder before to hang the decorations.
“You really think I’d be trying so hard if I didn’t?” Cole scoffs, “Catch up, Luke, I’m trying to end my summer with a girlfriend-,”
“She’s hardly girlfriend material.”
The words taste sour in the mouth that moves before his brain has time to think - sour enough that he has to try not to grimace, wishing he could suck them back in and swallow them back down like they never came out.
“What do you mean?” Cole asks, his features dropping into a frown. “I thought you two were getting along.”
“We are,” he agrees, despite it seeming like an understatement, but words are starting to pour out before he can filter them, and he can already feel himself getting carried away. “And she’s a nice enough person, don’t get me wrong, but I just don’t think it would work out with her like that.”
“You think she’d be hard work?”
He knows you are. But he likes you that way. He doesn’t want anyone else to worm their way into your good graces like he has.
“Yeah,” he huffs, “She’s always out, and always flirting with guys at the club, you’ve seen it.” He knows he’s pulled that out of his ass, but what else is he supposed to say?
“I think she’s just fishing for tips, Lukey,” Cole chuckles, and Luke’s cheeks flush with humiliation at the pet name. He feels small, like he’s just something that Caufield can steam roll straight over without much protest. “Can’t blame her, some of those guys have deep pockets.”
“I’ve just heard stuff, you know.”
“Like what?”
Jesus Christ, Cole, he thinks, wishing he’d just take his word for it and get over you, already. As if it would ever be that easy. He doesn’t particularly enjoy saying these things out loud - using the words you had so carefully confided in him against you - but there’s a panicked desperation creeping up within him, becoming possible to ignore, and it’s cancelling out all other rational thoughts in his brain.
The second you find out Cole Caufield is interested, you’ll no longer have any need for Luke.
Luke, who your every conversation with starts or ends with some sort of bickering argument, who annoys you to no end, who riles you up like it’s what he was put on this very Earth to do.
Cole is charming, he’s always had an ease when it comes to talking to girls that Luke never quite found in himself, and he’ll win you over in no time - and that’s if you aren’t interested, already.
But Luke is building up to that.
He’s been building up to it all summer.
Even before then, without entirely knowing it.
The two of you have something, even if you refuse to admit it. You wouldn’t have kissed him all those times, otherwise, wouldn’t have come to his bed in the middle of the storm those weeks ago, and almost every night since he came back from Vegas, wouldn’t have slept with him before he left, wouldn’t have begged him to give in to you - not if you weren’t interested in him.
You’ve shared parts of yourself he knows no one’s ever seen, and he can’t let that be for nothing.
But now the rug is being pulled out from under him, and all he can do to cling on to the edges with an idiotic possessiveness that curls his upper lip and brings his heart to a screeching stop.
“Like how she’s with a different guy every week at Michigan. Apparently she gets around.”
“Oh,” Cole frowns, and Luke watches as his face turns, his own fists clenching at the urge to take it all back, to defend her and call Cole out on his immediate shift despite it being his own fault.
He’s made his bed, now. He has to lie in it.
“Ellie didn’t mention all that stuff.”
“She’s hardly gonna call her friend easy.” Luke scoffs, and he thinks the way the words are spat out of his mouth is some sort of reflection of the way his lips don’t want to say them. Like they’re disgusted that his brain would even conceptualise them enough to be spoken. “Especially when you were doing her a favour with the whole Jack thing.”
“I don’t know man, I think you’ve got the wrong idea of her.”
Luke rolls his eyes as Cole makes his way back toward the step ladder, banner in hand, jaw tensing as he scrambles to think of something to stop this.
“She’s not the kind of girl you date,” he manages to call out, despite the tremor in his voice, every fibre of his being fighting the words from being spoken. “And there’s like a month left before we all leave for camp, so if you were to start anything, it would just be for the summer, anyway.”
“Jack and Ellie have started something with just a month left.”
“That’s not the same thing, they’ve been into each other for years, they text and call all the time, nothing’s really changing for them except for a label, you really think you’re gonna keep that up after just a couple months of knowing her?”
He reaches out for the other end of the banner and holds it as Cole positions his side, lip tugged between his teeth and a frown on his face as he mulls Luke’s words over.
“You’ll be in Montreal, and she’ll be here, and you’ll be focusing on hockey, and training, and you won’t have time to keep up something serious with a girl you barely know.”
He tries not to think about how it’s the same distance to Jersey - an almost 2 hour flight - and how he’d be doing the exact same thing, swept up into the season before he knows it and potentially doing nothing but letting you down.
“And you know what she’s like, she’d find something to argue about with a monk, for God’s sake,” he scoffs, brows furrowed so hard he can feel the tension in his forehead, “All you’d get from her is an earache. She’s not worth it.”
Cole turns to narrow his eyes at Luke, but something else over the top of his head catches his attention, instead, and the surprised muttering of your name turns Luke’s blood to ice.
Frozen in place, eyes wide, heart thudding in his ears, he waits with bated breath for something to happen - for Cole to break into a shit-eating grin, and tell him he’s just fucking around. For the ground to swallow him up. For anyone - literally anybody else - to respond.
But your voice carries straight over to him. Travels through his ears, ricochets around the cavern of his skull, shoots down his spine and makes his legs go numb.
“We uhm,” your tone is shaky, and Luke, for the first time, maybe, ever, hates the way you sound. “We were just checking if you needed a hand with the decorations.”
He turns slowly, and it’s Ellie’s eyes he meets first. Pointed, narrowed, betrayed, even, she glares at him like he’s just kicked a wounded animal right in front of her.
“You can’t decorate your own party,” Cole laughs from behind Luke, as Luke’s attention drifts slowly your way.
His eyes meet yours, and he can see the watery glaze over them from across the room. Can see your throat working to gulp down your hurt as your lips twist.
Ellie says something in response, and he vaguely hears Cole speak too, but all that he can focus on is the blood rushing around his head, a whooshing and whirring that makes him feel like his ears are about to pop, or his brain is about to explode. His lips part to speak, to say something, anything, to explain what you had clearly overheard, but your gaze drops to the floor, and he sees your walls build back up right before his eyes, brick by brick, cementing themselves back in place.
He’s such an idiot.
He’s such a monumental asshole.
The last time he had seen tears in your eyes had been sat by the fountain at the club - he had wiped them away, and had promised you he had your back, and you had just caught him having anything but with Cole. And all that after you had told him why you had ever been hesitant to let anyone in the first place.
He doesn’t think he’s ever messed up like this.
He steps forward, unsteady on his feet, and you step back, still not able to look him in the eye again, before turning on your heel and making your way upstairs.
Luke hears the stomp of your feet as you go, watches Ellie go after you, wishing it could be him, and stands, motionless, until he feels a firm pat on his back.
“Don’t worry, man,” Cole says, “She’s cool, she’ll be over it after a couple of drinks.”
Luke doesn’t even think he says anything coherent when he responds, a grunt or a grumble - it can’t have been words, because he can’t even form them in his brain.
“I’m gonna ask her out tonight, anyway,” Cole chuckles, “So what you said won’t even mean anything.”
Great.
He’s just fucked things up with one of the greatest people in his life, the girl of his dreams, and it doesn’t even mean anything.
Not the kind of girl you date.
Not worth it.
All that from the boy who supposedly had your back not that long ago. The first guy in a long time, maybe even ever, to make you feel secure, and safe, and like you could trust someone again.
Luke thinks you’re an earache.
He thinks you’re argumentative, and only worthy of a brief, summer fling - that keeping up anything with you when he goes home would be a waste of the time and energy he should be dedicating to hockey.
And he’s probably right, you think.
It’s only what you’ve been telling yourself in the back of your mind all summer. Self-deprecating thoughts about how he’s far too good for you, and you’re only interesting when he can’t have you, and he’ll get tired of you before you can even realise he’s already drifted off.
Ellie had told you all the way back in your freshman year that the two of you weren’t a good fit. Jack had been telling Luke the same all summer. And you had only just managed to convince yourself otherwise on the drive back to the lake house from the mall.
You can hardly blame him for being two steps ahead.
You think that’s why you can’t bring yourself to cry - the sting of tears prickling persistently but never pushing through, eyes watering so much you can’t even put on mascara without the fear of it trickling down your face and ruining the rest of your makeup.
You’d tried crying, before. Had ran up to your room and had sat on the other side of your bed, hidden from the door and knees pressed to your chest. Your breath had stuttered, and your lips had trembled, but the tears wouldn’t fall, try as you might to have made them.
And when Ellie had found you, had sat beside you with an arm stretched over your shoulders, you had tried, then, too.
And it would be your luck that as soon as you press the inky substance into your lashes that they would finally fall, so you’ve been sat trying to wish them away for the past ten minutes - the tube clutched in a death grip in your hands as you sit at the makeshift vanity you and Ellie had set up all those weeks ago when you had moved in, taking deep breaths and willing the hurt to go away.
It’s where Luke finds you after knocking with no response - you barely remember hearing it - shuffling wordlessly into the room and perching himself down behind you on the edge of the bed.
You see him in the mirror, your eyes darting away before his can meet them in the reflection, and you stiffen your shoulders, bracing yourself for the blow.
“I didn’t mean any of what you heard.”
You breathe out a humourless chuckle, bitterness settling into the pit of your stomach and your lips trembling with resistance.
“I mean it, I don’t think those things about you, I promise, I-,”
“It doesn’t even matter,” you cut him off with a roll your eyes, pushing the mascara tube toward the mirror and figuring you’re just gonna go without.
“I was panicking, and it just came out like word vomit, and I feel really sick about it, and really stupid, and I wish I could take it all back-,”
“I said it doesn’t matter.” You meet his eyes this time, trying not to fall for just how distraught he looks behind you in the mirror.
“Of course it matters,” he frowns, and you look away as soon as he pushes himself up, knowing he’s coming for you. “I need you to know that I would never have said those things-,”
“You said them, Luke,” you scoff, “What do you mean you would never have said them, you literally did.”
“I know-,”
“It doesn’t matter-,”
“Can you stop saying that!” He frowns, appearing at the side of you, hands gripping your shoulders to get you to face him. “I’m trying to explain this to you, I’m trying to fix things, and you’re-,”
“What, giving you an earache?”
All those weeks ago, the backs of your legs sticking to the bench in the booth in the restaurant, leaning over the table and sparring back and forth with him, you had convinced yourself that he liked it.
That the glint in his eye was indication of as much, the twitch at the corner of his lips, the way he would bite back without a second to think about it, and had matched your every effort to get one over on him.
You had thought the two of you had something real. Something you had never found with anyone else. Quick wit, and similar senses of humour, shared boundaries, a mutual level of respect.
You had thought his persistence had been something that would stick.
And clearly, you thought wrong.
He whispers out an utterance of your name that hurts like fingers wrapped around your throat - clenching and squeezing until you go hot in the head.
“I keep saying it doesn’t matter because it doesn’t, Luke. You were right, we wouldn’t have been able to keep this up past the summer, anyway.”
Luke’s brows furrow your way, eyes darting between yours as his lips part to speak, but nothing comes out.
“You’re going back to Jersey soon, I’m going back to school, it was fun while it lasted but things have run their course.”
“You don’t believe that.”
“We both do.” You shrug, wearing your feigned indifference like armour, just like you know so well to do. “You don’t say the things you said on a whim, Luke, some part of you has to believe that they’re true.”
“I don’t-,”
“I’m giving you a chance to cut things off with no hard feelings-,”
“No hard feelings?” His disbelief cuts through you a little, the hurt in his eyes and the scrunch of his features, too, but if you give in, now, you’re setting yourself up for a world of hurt.
You had barely just built up the courage to give your heart to him, in whatever shape he had scrunched and squeezed it into before, and he had already managed to bruise it. Giving in will only result in it breaking.
“I have feelings. I have feelings for you. And I know you have feelings for me, too, you can’t pretend you don’t-,”
“It doesn’t-,”
“It matters.” You don’t think you’ve ever heard him sound like this - so sure, so serious, so raw - and when he takes a hold of your face, hands cupping your jaw, tender but firm, and forces you to look at him, you see the same in his features. “Cole is into you. And he said he was gonna ask you out, and I panicked trying to convince him not to. I should have had faith that you would have turned him down. And I should have been honest, and I should have told him that I’m into you. More than into you, I think I-,”
“I wouldn’t have turned him down.”
You lie with such ease that it makes your heart ache more than the truth, but it’s the only thing you can do to protect it.
If you let Luke carry on, you’ll let him back in.
You can’t let him back in.
Not with the tears that now well his eyes, or the way his face drops like you’ve just struck him in the gut - pained and powerless.
“What?”
Your hands shake in your lap so much you have to clench them shut, knuckles turning white as Luke’s touch slips from your skin.
“If he asked me out, I would have said yes.”
Luke runs a hand through his hair, blinking repeatedly before he tears his gaze away from yours, and you feel like you can see his walls building - a sight that should flood you with relief, but doesn’t.
“So, what, everything we’ve been through together, all the things we’ve done, all the things we’ve said, you’re just gonna throw it all away like none of it matters?”
You can hear the hurt - can feel it even, clawing at your skin as if it’s trying to find a way to dig past the barriers you’ve put in place.
But you have to do this.
“I guess not.”
Luke was always going to hurt you. Was going to burrow himself through whatever cracks you left bare to him, weasel his way into your heart and tear it from the inside out. And maybe you were always going to do the same to him.
“Alright then,” he mutters, robotic and distant, with his eyes stuck on the floor.
He stands from where he had been crouched beside you, backing away before turning completely, and he walks away in long strides, the door to your bedroom closing with a soft click behind him.
The tear that falls when he’s gone does so slowly. You feel it trail all the way down your cheek from the corner of your eye, until it drops, almost audibly, from your jaw and onto your lap.
And then the rest follow, uncontrollable and unrelenting.
Inevitable, just like he had said.
A/N: so...... please don't hate me I wrote the ending first lmao!! I imagine this will cause riots in the streets tbh but please let me know what you think hahahah this whole story has become my baby!! she's problematic but she's mine!!!!
#luke hughes#luke hughes x reader#luke hughes imagine#nhl imagine#nhl fanfiction#luke hughes fluff#*writing#luke hughes one shot#luke hughes fanfiction
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remus lupin x fem!reader, fluff/comfort mostly ♡
-remus thinks he doesn't deserve anything nice. he can't be more wrong.
cw; this is super sickly sweet and romantic read at your own discretion, sleepy remus, friends to lovers (?), pining and yearning, touch starved!remus, kinda touch starved!reader, kissing, so much so so much kissing, remus smokes, he also apologises a lot, a bit suggestive at the end but nothing smutty
wc; 1.7k
loved by you
"remus?"
you lean slightly to see remus' face only to find him fast asleep on your side of the bed. his lips are parted, soft cheek melting against your pillow, and he looks peaceful. he looks like he's finally getting some rest and you could never disturb him when he needs it the most.
you know it's not polite to stare, and you never could if remus was awake. he's in all your wishes and every dream, a precious boy who has love for everyone other than himself. his long fingers are squeezing the blanket only a little, palm filled with the fluffy fabric.
there's an ache that grows. you want to kiss remus. the urge is sweet and impossible to follow, you want to press yourself on his lovely skin and get a glimpse of him. what would it be like to love him? love him like nothing can stop you. kiss him anywhere you want. read him books and poems, ask for his opinion, seek his hands under all the tables. all the casuality that comes with love, you want it.
remus is not your boyfriend.
you sit down properly on your bed. he always says he likes your apartment better than his. he looks like he belongs here. under your blanket and surrounded by your scent all over the bed. he lets himself be okay every time he's in your room.
you watch him. his small frown, tiny pout, but he looks pretty. he always looks pretty. too bad he's only a friend and nothing more.
he turns to his side in his sleep. you don't move.
remus stretches his legs, small sounds of back cracks follow, and he relaxes. his body looks for yours, he comes closer.
you think nothing of it. it only means he's exhausted. he is just a human with a tired body that he has to drag everywhere, it's normal that he seeks comfort. he trusts you, you know. it's okay if he wants to be closer.
when he extends his arm to wrap it around your waist, you freeze.
remus looks like a little boy when he pouts, not getting what he wants, he tries to pull you close with an almost useless arm. he murmurs something you can't hear properly.
you let him get you in his bubble. how can you not when he's obviously needy of it? connection and touch. remus craves it like he's been starved for so long. you're no better.
he puts his head on your chest. you're holding him in your arms in a second. his hair tickles your skin. he makes a tiny sound, it's full of yearning, the kind that makes you want to tangle your legs with his and never let him walk away.
"it's okay." you whisper. your hand goes up to cup his cheek. he nearly melts. "i'm here."
you'll always be here, if that's what he wants.
he tightens his arms around you. you drag your hand to the back of his neck, nails scratching his scalp, you play with him. he's sleeping so deep, you'd do anything for him to get a few hours of this.
"you are loved, so loved." you can't help yourself. you kiss right below his ear. it's too much for a friend. "just need you to know how precious you are, remus."
he doesn't hear your whispers. maybe this is better. he'd probably tell you to stop. stop complimenting. stop telling him that he's something he doesn't think he is. stop being so sweet on him. he doesn't deserve it, he'd say.
you want to fight all his demons.
instead, you pull him even closer, make sure he's comfortable where he is. the pillow is soft under his head, and you are incredibly warm and inviting. can he feel the gentle pressure of your fingers in his hair? you don't know, but you keep playing with him. taking your time, you count every eyelash and every tiny spot on his face.
an hour passes with your loving and remus' gentle breaths. he's still sleeping like a baby.
your fingers feel a bit numb. you try to relax them, focus on remus. you probably won't be able to appreciate his beauty for a long time after he wakes up. he'll thank you and leave, maybe he'll offer to make you a cup of coffee to let you know he's grateful. you don't really need that, but he'll feel obligated to do something in return.
he stirs awake after another fifteen minutes.
"hey." you whisper, gently coaxing him out of his sleep. "everything's okay."
the thin line between his eyebrows disappear after he realizes where he is, who he is with.
"i didn't mean to fall asleep." he says, his voice is rough and delicious. "i was- waiting for you."
"i know." you tell him. he still has his arms around you. "it's okay, you needed to sleep."
"yeah." he says, mind blurry with a comforting haze. his body is responsive to every bit of affection, he can't separate himself from you.
in that moment, something in the air shifts.
remus looks at you with longing. as if he knows this won't last. as if it pains him to leave your arms. he takes a greedy breath, inhaling your perfume and carving you to his mind. he'll remember this forever.
you don't know what this is, this weird feeling that makes you lean to his face softly. it can be madness. it can be love, a type of love that is so deep, you have to keep reminding yourself of your surroundings constantly.
"remus?" you have to say his name. you have to be sure.
"yes." he says. that's not a question. he accepts it. he wants it.
you fix his hair, hold his face with gentle hands as you get into his personal space even more. your lips are soft against his, hesitant, unsure and still.
remus lifts his chin to kiss you. the kiss is liquified, you feel it in your veins. he opens his mouth, slowly building something between you. you welcome the kiss with your entire being. you've been wanting it for so long, it doesn't even feel real.
he sighs into the kiss. you are pulled to his chest, his arms holding you as if you'll escape. remus is selfish, he kept himself under control for far too long, he has everything now and he wants more. more of you, more of this kiss, more of sleep in your bed.
"dove-" he sounds sweet under you. you don't break the kiss, the grey of the evening clouds fill your room, and you kiss remus.
"please, remus." you whisper between two short breaths. please, don't think you don't deserve this. you deserve everything. all the best of things.
this time remus knows he has to believe you.
you kiss his chin. the curve of his jawline fits snugly between your lips, he closes his eyes. is this how it's gonna be from now on? he lets you love him the way you want, do anything you want to him.
"we could have this before." you say as you brush your lips on his neck. his heart beats faster under your palm. you kiss the softest skin right there and he tilts his head back.
"i'm sorry." he apologises. it's a genuine apology. sorry for not seeing himself worthy of affection. sorry for making you wait. sorry for being so lost in his head.
"it's okay." you tell him once more this evening. "we still have time."
remus relaxes visibly. his fingers are wrapped around yours. you kiss his collarbone under the fabric of his shirt and he makes a little sound for you. nothing can be compared to this. to be loved by you.
"can i- can i make you a cup of coffee?" he offers. your eyes meet, you press your lips on his before nodding.
knowing he won't leave this time, you sit on your messy bed. remus' warmth lingers. you smile, lovesick and giddy, you need some fresh air.
only in your tank top and sleeping shorts now, you try to relieve your flushed body by opening the window. it's almost five in the evening, the grey clouds greet you with a soft breeze. you sit by the window as you wait for remus.
he comes back with two cups of coffee in his hands. his jeans hang low on his waist, his eyes are so clear. he puts the coffee cups on the tiny table you have. taking a sip from his cup, he reaches for his pocket to get a cigarette.
"you played with my heart rhytm there, you know?" he smirks. it's a boyish smirk and you are charmed forever. "gotta calm myself down."
"with coffee and cigarettes?" you get closer. he takes a long drag.
"we all have our ways."
you sit on his lap, he holds you away from the smoke and close to his chest. fitting like two puzzle pieces, you wait for your coffee to get a little cold to take a sip.
when remus finishes his smoking, he holds your waist with both hands. he looks at your face, he stares, every detail he gets to love freely from now on. your lips curl up nicely for him. he presses you to himself, your lips collide with his neck.
this time, though, he has a different plan. he cups the back of your head gently and gives you a kiss on the chin. you tilt your neck back, he puts his lips on your pulse point. the wind strokes your bare skin. remus licks a thin line on your collarbone before kissing it entirely.
"so soft." he whispers. "i can't believe you're mine."
he brushed his lips on your chest. your legs clench on either side of his thighs. "i've been yours for a very long time." you manage to say.
"i know." he knows alright. "i'm sorry for being a coward."
countless kisses on your skin to atone his sins. your core is pressed tight against him, you feel like you're melting. the fabrics are thin, he's so close. you watch the clouds through a pair of hazy eyes.
"let me have this for now." he pleads. he's almost collapsing, stimulated and he wants to enjoy it, to get lost in those longing minutes. he can't have everything in the same hour.
"just this?" you ask, breathless. remus puts his face on your chest as you pull him in for a hug.
"just this."
for now, it's enough.
#remus lupin#remus lupin x reader#remus lupin x fem!reader#remus lupin x you#remus x you#remus x reader#remus x fem!reader#remus lupin fic#remus lupin fanfic#remus lupin fanfiction#remus lupin imagine#marauders#marauders era#the marauders#marauders imagine#the marauders imagine
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LOVE UR WORK!
I was wondering if you could write a fluff about the prema team makes a video of all the drivers doing dares and kimi’s dare is to kiss who ever walks in the room next and its the reader!
He gets all flustered and his ears turn red but he kisses u 😍
Ask Me Again (Andrea Kimi Antonelli X Prema! Reader)
Fandom: RPF/Formula 1
Requested: Clearly (I had too much fun with this lol) (Also, happy New Year yall!)
Warnings: None
POV: Second Person (You/your)
W.C. 1337
Summary: As part of Kimi and Ollie's final Prema media day, they may have pushed the boundaries a bit, but Kimi wins.
As always, my requests are OPEN
MASTERLIST // HITLIST
~~(^Pinterest)
“Shit, I’m so sorry I’m late! I woke up late, my sister’s goldfish died, and I couldn’t find my keys. Then, there was so much traffic, and I almost got rear-ended. It’s just been a hectic morning, and I’m so sorry. I know that’s no excuse, but I’m here now!” You said as soon as you walked into the studio where you were meant to assist in filming your first video with Prema. Of course, everything had to go wrong on the one day you needed to make a good impression on the team.
You rushed around the room, dropping your bag to the side and going up to the nearest crew when you noticed that everyone was quiet. Everyone was looking at you, not saying a word. Heck, you weren’t even sure if they were breathing. All you know is that you were very confused.
~30 minutes earlier~
“Alright, here’s the plan, boys,” Angelina started as soon as Ollie and Kimi sat down for their final media shoot for Prema. “It’s truth or dare, but we let you guys include some of the dares. I hope you two stayed PG with it.”
“I may have pushed it a little, but I’m just gonna hope I don’t get one of the dares I put,” Ollie chuckled as he put his hands up.
“I hate you sometimes,” Kimi groaned as he leaned back on the couch before looking over at Angelina. “Is it too late to back out?”
“Technically, no because the new camera operator isn't here yet, but we’re getting started anyway. If they show up, they show up, but we’ve got a tight schedule to uphold,” She explained before going behind the cameras and gesturing to start recording. “You boys ready?”
“I guess?” Kimi replied, but it sounded more like a question while Ollie just nodded enthusiastically.
“Today, for your last Prema video, you two will be playing truth or dare. Whoever refuses to answer a question or do a dare first will be penalized. Ollie, you’ll choose first since you’re older.”
“Dang, that’s age-ist of you to say,” Ollie joked lightly as he inspected the two piles of cards. “Let’s start easy and go with truth.”
“Wimp,” Kimi scoffed as he grabbed the top card. “What did you love most about Prema?”
“Probably, the different challenges we did,” Ollie chuckled as he looked straight at the camera. “Your turn.”
“Truth, I guess,” Kimi shrugged.
“Who is your dream teammate? And I’m adding this: you can’t say me or George!” Ollie read off before throwing the card down.
“I think I’d have to say Lewis,” Kimi said pretty quickly.
“Everyone wants to be teammates with Lewis,” Ollie sighed, “Come on! Pick someone random!”
“Fine,” Kimi rolled his eyes, “I think It would be fun to be teammates with Kimi Raikkonen or Pierre Gasly.”
“Now, we’re getting somewhere,” Ollie clapped as they rapid-fired truths back and forth. They unspokenly decided it would be better to get all of the truths out of the way before getting into the dares. “Alright, Kimi, here’s your dare. You have to kiss the next person who comes in the room! I’m so glad I didn’t get that one.”
“You’re kidding me,” Kimi groaned as he hid his face in his hands, laughing. “Knowing my luck, I’ll have to kiss Rene!”
“That’s why I’m glad it’s not me,” Ollie teased. “We’ll have to wait for the next person, so hit me with the next one.”
“You have to post the oldest selfie on your Instagram story,” Kimi smirked, knowing exactly which selfie it was. Ollie had shown it to him once on a drunk night out, but it was highly embarrassing. Ollie immediately grew red as he remembered the picture as well. “Ah, not so funny now, is it?”
“What if we cancel the two out?” Ollie chuckled nervously. “We could both redraw and do those instead.”
“Depends on the other options,” Kimi said as he picked up the next card, “Your redraw is to have the team call your dad and say you got in a bad accident.”
“Absolutely not,” Ollie responded immediately with a sigh, “I can’t give him a heart attack like that.”
“So I guess you need to post a picture,” Kimi pressed. “You have to leave it up for the full 24 hours too.”
“No one reposts it, or I’m coming for you-” Ollie started lecturing before the sound of the door opening caught his attention. Then, his attention snapped to Kimi as an unfamiliar person came into view. Ollie started jabbing Kimi in his ribs as Kimi’s face grew red, knowing what was going to happen. Ollie then whispered, “I already posted it, so it's your turn.”
“Shit, I’m so sorry I’m late! I woke up late, my sister’s goldfish died, and I couldn’t find my keys. Then, there was so much traffic, and I almost got rear-ended. It’s just been a hectic morning, and I’m so sorry. I know that’s no excuse, but I’m here now!” You ranted as you tried to get acquainted with everything quickly when you suddenly froze, looking around at everyone staring at you. “Uh, what’s going on?”
“What’s your name?” Ollie spoke up first. Kimi was still partially hiding behind Ollie, red as ever, but he knew he would have to fulfill his dare before the team clocked him on it.
Without waiting for your answer to Ollie, you were too distracted looking around at the team to have heard the question anyway, Kimi stood up and walked up to you. He stopped in front of you briefly before cupping your face and whispering, “Mi dispiace (I’m sorry),” and planting his lips on yours.
It took you a second to realize what was happening, but by the time you did, he was already pulling away. He only pulled back enough to meet your eyes, his breath fanning across your lips. You opened and closed your mouth a few times, struggling to find the words for what you were thinking.
“I’m Kimi,” He whispered, answering one of your questions. “I’m one of the drivers, but this is our last media day before we both go to Formula 1. I was dared to kiss the next person who walked in, and that was you.”
“That’s…” You trailed off before hearing another voice.
“No offense, but how is that fair?” The person behind Kimi said. “I have to post an incredibly embarrassing selfie, and you get to kiss a hottie? That’s not fair.”
“Ollie, you wrote the dare, so shut up,” Kimi scoffed, “Plus, you wanted me to kiss Rene!”
“I didn’t want you to kiss Rene. I hoped you would kiss Rene,” The other guy - Ollie - clarified, “There’s a difference.”
“Okay, boys,” You interrupted, gently removing Kimi’s hands from your face and taking a step back. “Let me introduce myself. Hi, I’m Y/n, the new camera operator. Now, I’m sure we’re running on a timeframe,” you said as you looked over to Angelina, who interviewed you and nodded your way. “Let’s get back to work. The faster we get this done, the sooner you guys can be freed.”
“Before we get back to the dares,” Kimi brought up as he walked back in front of the cameras again and sat next to Ollie on the couch, “Can I maybe get your number after this?”
“Get some, Kimi!” Ollie cheered, pushing against Kimi’s arm and hyping him up.
You looked over at Angelina again, who was laughing and shaking her head in disbelief. You made eye contact with her. Then she leaned closer to you and whispered, “If you want to, you can, but after we finish filming. He’s still one of our drivers now, so it’s against company policy. Since this is the last thing for them, they won’t be under contact anymore.”
“Ask me again after filming,” You replied with a wink, causing Kimi’s eyes to go wide and his face to blush once again. “Now, let’s wrap this up!”
~~~~~
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✨His true fate - Part 34/?✨
Summary: Jensen hasn't been happy for years. But it seems almost impossible for him to escape. After another nasty argument between him and his wife, he decides to visit his ´former´ best friend for his birthday. Back in Austin, an encounter awaits him that will turn his life completely upside down.
Pairing: Jensen x Reader
Warnings: Language, age gap, Fluff, Angst
Word Count: 8937
A/N: English isn’t my first language, so please be lenient. 💙✨
The harsh blare of Jensen’s alarm shattered the cozy stillness of the morning. You stirred against his chest, groaning softly as you reached out to silence the offending noise, but Jensen beat you to it, fumbling blindly to swipe it off. As the room fell silent again, you blinked up at him, your cheek still pressed against his chest.
He looked exhausted, his green eyes heavy-lidded and rimmed with shadows that made him seem at least five years older. His stubble was slightly more pronounced in the dim morning light, and his usual easy smile was nowhere to be found, replaced instead by a weary sigh as he ran a hand down his face.
“You look like you fought a war last night”, you teased gently, your voice still thick with sleep.
Jensen chuckled, the sound low and raspy as he tilted his head back against the cushions. “I feel like I did”, he admitted, his hand moving absently to rub your back. “Should’ve gone to bed earlier. But someone insisted on testing every inch of this couch”.
You smirked, shifting slightly to look up at him. “Pretty sure that someone was you”.
He gave a half-hearted shrug, his lips twitching into a faint grin. “Details”.
You pressed a soft kiss to his chest, your hand moving to trace lazy circles over his ribs. “You don’t have to go”, you murmured, your voice gentle. “You’re running on fumes. Stay and rest”.
Jensen shook his head, his fingers brushing through your hair as he looked down at you with a soft expression. “Can’t. I need to get back for the kids”. His voice was resolute, but the tiredness in it betrayed how much he wanted to stay.
You sighed, leaning up to rest your chin on his chest. “Just promise me you’ll take it easy when you get there. No running around or doing ten things at once. You’re not a superhero, you know”.
He grinned faintly at that, his hand sliding to cradle your face. “Not a superhero, huh?”, he murmured, his thumb brushing over your cheek. “You’re the first person who’s dared to say that to me”.
“Well, someone has to keep you grounded”, you teased, leaning into his touch.
Jensen’s grin turned mischievous as he leaned closer, his tired eyes sparkling just a little. “I seem to remember someone enjoying the Soldier Boy roleplay a little too much a few weeks ago”.
You froze for a second, the heat rising to your cheeks instantly. “Oh my god, Jensen!”, you muttered, covering your face with your hands. “We are not talking about that right now”.
“Oh, we absolutely are”, he replied, his chuckle deep and smug as he gently pulled your hands away from your face. “The way you looked at me in that uniform? You weren’t thinking about me being grounded, that’s for sure”.
You groaned, burying your face into his chest to avoid his knowing smirk. “I can’t believe you’re bringing this up”, you mumbled against his skin, though the smile tugging at your lips betrayed how much you were trying not to laugh.
“Manhandling you, tossing you around a bit—it’s what heroes do, right? I mean, I even stayed in character. You were very into it”.
You lifted your head, glaring playfully at him despite your still-flushed cheeks. “Okay, fine, yes—I liked it”, you admitted, throwing your hands up in defeat. “But that’s on you, not me. You looked too good in that uniform. It was distracting”.
Jensen’s laughter rumbled through his chest as he kissed the top of your head. “I’ll take that as a compliment”, he said, his tone smug but warm.
You smirked, feeling a wave of boldness rush through you as you placed your hands on Jensen’s chest and pushed him gently back against the mattress. He fell back with a mock look of surprise, his grin never faltering. Swinging your leg over, you straddled his stomach, settling on him with a triumphant smile as you leaned down slightly.
“So”, you began, your voice soft and teasing, “do you think I’ll ever get Soldier Boy back?”. You tilted your head, feigning shyness but grinning wickedly, fully aware of how you had him exactly where you wanted him.
Jensen’s eyes darkened instantly, his smirk shifting into something more mischievous. Without missing a beat, he let out a low, gravelly voice, slipping effortlessly into character. “Oh, sweetheart”, he drawled, his hands sliding up to grip your hips firmly. “You don’t get Soldier Boy. Soldier Boy gets you”.
Before you could react, his hand came down sharply on your ass with a loud smack, making you gasp in surprise. The sting was immediate, but the playful gleam in his eyes and the smirk tugging at his lips sent a shiver of excitement through you.
“Guess you forgot who’s in charge here”, he said, his tone dripping with filthy arrogance as his other hand gripped your waist tightly, pulling you slightly closer, before turning the two of you. “Better start showing some respect, doll, or I might have to remind you”.
Your cheeks burned with a mix of embarrassment and arousal, and you couldn’t stop the giggle that bubbled out of you. "Fuck, sober this is something else". Your voice was barely audible, and yet it betrayed the whirlwind of emotions rushing through you—nervousness, excitement, and arousal blending together in a way that made your heart race.
Jensen’s grin deepened, the mischievous gleam in his eyes growing even more intense. “Oh, doll”, he said, staying fully in character, his deep voice dripping with Soldier Boy’s signature arrogance. “You’ve got no idea what you’ve just gotten yourself into”.
He leaned down, his face mere inches from yours, his lips curling into a wicked smirk. “You’re blushing”, he drawled, his tone laced with amusement. “Guess someone likes a little discipline”.
You couldn’t help but laugh softly, trying to cover your face, but Jensen wouldn’t let you hide. He caught your wrists gently but firmly, pinning them above your head as he loomed over you, still embodying the cocky, commanding presence of Soldier Boy.
“Ah-ah”, he tsked, his voice dropping even lower. “None of that. You don’t get to hide from me”.
You were practically squirming beneath him now, your breath quickening as he held you in place. “Jensen”, you mumbled, your voice caught between teasing and pleading.
“Jensen?”, he repeated, his grin turning smug. “Sweetheart, that’s not the name you’re supposed to be calling me”.
Your face grew impossibly redder as you avoided his gaze, mumbling, “Oh my god, you’re really leaning into this”.
“As if I wouldn’t”, he shot back, his free hand sliding down to your hip, holding you steady. “What kind of actor would I be if I didn’t fully commit?”.
You bit your lip, trying to stifle a smile as you looked up at him, unable to deny how effortlessly he’d fallen into the role. "You’re enjoying this way too much", you muttered.
Jensen’s eyes sparkled with amusement as he leaned closer, his voice a seductive whisper against your ear. “You’re the one who asked for it, doll. Don’t act like you’re not loving every second”.
And damn it, he was right.
Minutes later, you found yourself in the warm steam of the shower, the water cascading over both of you. Your body was still buzzing, your face flushed and your skin marked in a telling shade of red from where “Soldier Boy” had left his signature touch—your hips, your breasts, your ass, everywhere he’d gripped, squeezed, or held you in place. Despite the stinging sensitivity, the memory of his intensity made your knees feel weak all over again.
Jensen stood behind you, his chest pressed against your back, his strong arms wrapping gently around your middle. One of his hands rested on your stomach, brushing over your skin in slow, soothing circles, while the other held you steady as the heat from the shower enveloped you both. His touch was soft now, a stark contrast to the dominance he’d shown earlier.
“You okay?”, he murmured into your ear, his voice low and gentle, breaking through the sound of the water. His lips brushed lightly against your temple, a silent reassurance of his care.
You nodded, leaning back into his chest, letting his presence ground you. “Yeah”, you whispered, your voice soft but steady. “More than okay”.
Jensen chuckled quietly, the sound rumbling through his chest against your back. “Didn’t push you too far, did I?”, he asked, his tone teasing but with a genuine edge of concern.
You turned your head slightly to look up at him, a small smile tugging at your lips despite the heat still lingering in your cheeks. “No”, you assured him. “You were perfect. Maybe a little too good at it”.
That earned a low laugh from him, his hand sliding up to rest just beneath your ribs. “Told you I’m a professional”, he joked, pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder. “But for real, you tell me if there’s ever anything you don’t want, okay? I mean that”.
The sincerity in his voice made your chest tighten, and you reached up to rest your hand over his on your stomach. “I will”, you promised, your voice equally serious.
Jensen had already moved on to packing his suitcase, his movements purposeful but unhurried as he folded clothes and tucked them neatly inside. You sat on the edge of the bed, still wrapped in the towel from the shower, your skin warm and slightly flushed. The calm after the storm lingered in the room, a quiet intimacy that made you smile softly to yourself.
As you watched him, your eyes trailed over his familiar silhouette. Jensen had just pulled on a pair of dark jeans, leaving his upper body bare as he moved to grab a shirt from the nearby dresser. The way his muscles flexed with each movement made your heart skip a beat, and you found yourself lost in the moment, admiring him without saying a word.
Jensen glanced back over his shoulder and caught your gaze, a smirk tugging at his lips. “What?”, he asked, his tone playful as he held up a black t-shirt.
You shook your head, a grin spreading across your face as you leaned back on your hands. “Just admiring the view”, you teased, letting the towel slip slightly to reveal a bit more skin. “You clean up pretty well, Ackles”.
Jensen chuckled, pulling the shirt over his head and smoothing it into place. “Flattery will get you everywhere”, he replied, stepping closer to the bed and dropping his hands onto your knees. His touch was warm and steady, his thumbs brushing small circles against your skin. “But you’re making it really hard for me to leave when you look like that”.
You glanced down at yourself, the towel barely hanging on, and gave a small shrug. “Maybe that’s the plan”, you said softly, your tone playful but with a hint of longing.
Jensen crouched slightly so he was eye level with you, his hands sliding up to your thighs as he leaned in. “You’re not playing fair”, he murmured, his lips hovering close to yours. “You know how hard it is for me to walk away from you”.
“I hope so”, you whispered, your voice soft and tinged with emotion. Your hand reached up to brush along Jensen’s jawline, the familiar roughness of his stubble grounding you in the moment. “Because letting you go is hard for me too”.
Jensen’s gaze softened, and his hands tightened slightly on your thighs, his touch firm but tender. “You’re not making this any easier”, he admitted, his voice low and full of warmth. He leaned in closer, pressing his forehead against yours as his eyes fluttered shut for a moment. “This is the first time in weeks we’ll be apart".
You gave him a small, bittersweet smile, your fingers threading through the hair at the nape of his neck. “It’s not forever”, you reminded him gently. “It’s just a few days. And then you’ll be back, and we’ll pick up right where we left off”.
Jensen opened his eyes, and the intensity in his green gaze sent a flutter through your chest. “You better believe I’m counting down the minutes”, he murmured, his lips brushing softly against yours in a kiss that felt more like a promise than a goodbye.
When he pulled back, he sighed, resting his hands on your hips as if reluctant to let go. “You’ll be okay here, right? The house is huge, and it’s your first time here alone. If you need anything—”.
“I’ll be fine, Jensen”, you interrupted with a reassuring smile. “I’ve got the dog statue to keep me company, remember?”.
He laughed, the sound light and genuine, breaking through the tension. “Good ol’ bronze nightmare”, he said, shaking his head. “At least it’ll make sure no one sneaks in”.
You chuckled along with him, leaning in to press one last kiss to his lips. “Now go before I change my mind and barricade the door so you can’t leave”.
Jensen smirked, standing to his full height as he grabbed his suitcase. “Don’t tempt me”, he warned playfully. With a final lingering glance, he headed toward the door, pausing in the doorway to look back at you. “I’ll call you as soon as I land, okay?”.
You nodded, wrapping the towel tighter around yourself. “I’ll be waiting. Safe travels, Ackles”.
As the door clicked shut behind him, the house seemed to grow quieter, the absence of his presence already palpable. You sighed, standing up and moving to the window to watch as he loaded his suitcase into the cap.
It was just a few days, you reminded yourself. But you couldn’t shake the feeling of how much you’d already grown used to having him by your side, how much you’d miss him in even the smallest ways.
The next day, the house felt quieter—almost too quiet. Without Jensen’s easy laughter echoing through the halls or the warmth of his presence nearby, you realized just how much you’d come to rely on him being there. Breakfast was boring, the TV didn’t hold your attention, and every little task seemed to take twice as long because your mind kept wandering back to him.
Jensen had sent you a few pictures earlier in the day, each one tugging at your heartstrings in a different way. There was one of him with JJ perched on his lap, a goofy smile on both their faces as they held up their half-decorated gingerbread cookies. Another showed Arrow giggling as she smeared frosting on Jensen’s nose, and the last was Zeppelin, grinning triumphantly as he held up a hand-drawn Christmas card.
The photos made you smile, but they also left an ache in your chest—a longing to be part of those moments. To see the way Jensen’s eyes lit up when he was with his kids, to hear their laughter in person instead of imagining it from the snapshots.
You sighed, tossing your phone onto the couch and staring up at the ceiling. “This sucks”, you muttered to yourself, wrapping the throw blanket tighter around your shoulders. You wanted to text Jensen, to tell him how much you missed him, but you didn’t want to add to what was probably already a chaotic day for him. He deserved to enjoy his time with his kids without worrying about you feeling lonely.
Instead, you got up and wandered the house, hoping to distract yourself by finishing some of the little tasks you’d put off. You unpacked a few boxes, rearranged some of the kitchen shelves, and even found yourself dusting the bronze dog statue by the front door—a sure sign of just how bored you were.
Later in the afternoon, your phone buzzed, and you grabbed it eagerly, hoping it was Jensen. It was another picture, this time of the whole family sitting on the couch, watching a Christmas movie. Jensen’s caption read: “Wish you were here. Miss you like crazy”.
You clutched the phone to your chest, the ache in your chest softening slightly at his words. With a small smile, you typed back: “Me too. House feels empty without you. Also, I dusted the dog today. Don’t judge me”.
His reply came almost instantly: “I don’t know what’s more shocking—that you dusted or that you admit it. I love you”.
You smiled at Jensen’s reply, your fingers flying across the screen as you texted back:
“Love you too. Also, don’t act like the dusting isn’t a big deal. I’m practically a domestic goddess now. Have fun with the kids—don’t let them out-cookie you”.
You set your phone aside and stretched, trying to shake off the lingering loneliness. The photos of Jensen and the kids had left you craving a bit of the festive spirit, so you decided to channel your energy into something fun—baking cookies. Even if they were just for you, it would be a good way to pass the time and maybe cheer yourself up.
You wandered into the kitchen and pulled out the ingredients from the cabinets and fridge, grateful for the well-stocked pantry that Jensen insisted on setting up during one of his “let’s hire someone” phases. The sight of flour, sugar, and chocolate chips laid out on the counter brought a spark of excitement. Maybe you weren’t the world’s best baker, but you could definitely manage a batch of cookies.
As you worked, the kitchen began to fill with the comforting aroma of vanilla and melted butter. You hummed along to a playlist you’d put on in the background, rolling dough into imperfect little balls and popping them into the oven. The rhythmic act of measuring, mixing, and shaping cookies soothed your mind, and for the first time all day, you felt a little less alone.
When the first tray of cookies came out, golden and fragrant, you couldn’t help but smile at your handiwork. You snagged one immediately, blowing on it to cool before taking a bite. It was still warm, the chocolate gooey and perfect, and you let out a little hum of satisfaction. Maybe baking wasn’t such a bad idea after all.
Your phone buzzed on the counter, pulling you from your thoughts. It was Jensen again.
“What are you up to now? Don’t tell me you’re cleaning the dog statue again”.
You grinned, taking a picture of the cookies on the counter and sending it back with the caption:
“Nope. Just baked cookies. You’re missing out”.
His reply came a moment later:
“Not fair. Save some for me, alright?”.
You texted back:
“Only if you promise to hurry home. No guarantees otherwise”.
Jensen’s response was immediate and made your chest warm:
“Deal. Miss you more than cookies”.
Christmas Day had arrived, but instead of the warmth and excitement you usually associated with the holiday, the house still felt far too quiet. Dressed in one of Jensen’s ridiculously expensive sweaters—it still smelled like his cologne even after washing—you curled up on the couch, your legs tucked beneath you, and clicked through Christmas movies. The scent of him brought a bittersweet comfort, making you miss him even more.
The loneliness felt sharper today. You’d thought about visiting your family, but the idea of sitting through another round of prying questions about your love life felt unbearable. And Jensen… well, he was still a secret you weren’t ready to share, not while everything was still so complicated. So, instead, you’d resolved to spend the day alone, letting yourself melt into the world of feel-good holiday rom-coms and sugary cookies you’d baked the day before.
Meanwhile, on the other side of the country, you knew Jensen was enduring a very different kind of holiday chaos. He’d texted you early in the morning, a photo of JJ and Arrow excitedly tearing through wrapping paper, with a simple caption:
“Merry Christmas, sweetheart. Miss you so much”.
You’d replied with a quick selfie of yourself in his sweater, holding a mug of hot chocolate:
“Merry Christmas. Love you. But I think your sweater misses you more".
But since then, you hadn’t heard much from him. You suspected why.
Danneel was in her element during the holidays, or at least the version of the holidays she wanted the world to see. You could picture it all too clearly: the forced family photos, the perfectly curated videos of the kids opening presents, the captions about being “blessed”. Everything about it would be carefully staged for social media, a façade of a happy family. It didn’t matter that their marriage was on its last legs—appearances were everything.
Jensen had vented to you about it before, about the pressure to play along just a bit longer. But it still stung to think of him standing next to her in those photos, smiling like everything was fine, while you were here missing him so much it hurt.
You clicked aimlessly through Netflix, barely paying attention to the movie playing in the background. Your phone buzzed on the coffee table, and you reached for it, hoping it was Jensen. Instead, it was a new post from Danneel on Instagram. Against your better judgment, you opened it.
There it was: a perfectly framed family photo in front of a lavishly decorated Christmas tree. Jensen stood beside Danneel, his arm around JJ while Arrow and Zeppelin grinned at the camera. Danneel’s caption read:
“Merry Christmas from our family to yours. Grateful for another beautiful holiday together ❤️🎄”.
Your chest tightened, and you quickly closed the app, setting your phone down with a little more force than necessary. You knew it was just for show, but seeing it still stung. Jensen had promised you things were ending with Danneel, but moments like these made it hard not to feel like an afterthought.
The sound of the movie faded into the background as you pulled the sweater tighter around yourself, curling up into a smaller ball on the couch. It was just one day, you reminded yourself. Tomorrow, Jensen would call. Tomorrow, this would all feel a little easier.
You sat staring at the Christmas lights blinking softly in the dim room, trying to lose yourself in the comforting warmth of the sweater that smelled so much like Jensen. But when your phone buzzed again on the coffee table, a faint flicker of dread passed through you. You already knew what it was.
You reached for your phone hesitantly, opening the message from Jensen:
“Heads up. She’s posting some… staged stuff. Don’t let it mess with you. I hate it as much as you do”.
Your chest tightened, your fingers gripping the phone tighter. You appreciated the warning, but it didn’t fully prepare you for what came next. Against your better judgment, you opened Instagram again and found the new post from Danneel.
It was a picture of her and Jensen standing in front of the Christmas tree, the kids in the background opening presents. She was turned toward him, their faces close, and her lips brushed against his in a way that looked both intimate and entirely deliberate. The caption read:
“Holiday traditions with the ones I love most ❤️🎄 #FamilyFirst”.
Your stomach dropped. You knew it wasn’t real—knew Jensen’s relationship with her was over in every way that mattered. But seeing the image, seeing her hands on him, her lips so close to his, hit harder than you expected. The ache in your chest turned sharp, a mix of jealousy and doubt creeping in despite your better judgment.
Your fingers hovered over your phone screen, debating whether to say something to Jensen. He’d warned you. He’d told you it was all for show. But it didn’t stop the image from clawing its way into your mind, feeding into insecurities you hadn’t even realized were still there.
You sighed deeply, setting your phone down and curling further into the couch. You trusted Jensen, but the life he was still partially tethered to felt suffocating at times like this.
The weight of the day clung to you as you finally decided to head to bed early. Staying awake, scrolling through your phone, and letting your thoughts spiral would only make things worse. You turned off the TV, the soft glow of the Christmas lights fading into the darkened room as you padded to the bedroom. Climbing into the bed you shared with Jensen, you wrapped yourself in the familiar scent of his pillow, clinging to the thought that in just two days, he’d be home. That was your lifeline—a reminder that this situation wasn’t permanent.
You tried to focus on the fact that Jensen hated the staged images just as much as you did. He wasn’t the one choosing to post them. He was stuck in a situation he didn’t want to be in, but it didn’t make the ache in your chest disappear. It was easier to close your eyes and will the hours to pass quickly.
Meanwhile, in Connecticut, the tension in the house had reached a boiling point. The kids were fast asleep, their Christmas excitement finally wearing them out, leaving Jensen and Danneel alone in the living room. Jensen was still in the clothes he’d worn all day, his sleeves rolled up and his jaw clenched as he sat on the edge of the couch, a stack of papers in his hand.
“Why are we still doing this?”, he said, his voice low but taut with frustration. “We’ve had these same conversations over and over. You keep stalling. You agreed to this, Danneel”.
Danneel stood near the fireplace, her arms crossed defensively. She looked poised, her makeup still perfect despite the late hour, but her voice carried a sharp edge. “I told you, I’m not signing until I know what’s best for the kids”.
“And this circus on social media?”, Jensen shot back, holding up his phone briefly before tossing it onto the coffee table. “That’s what’s best for them? Making it look like we’re still a happy little family?”.
“They don’t need to see their parents tearing each other apart”, she countered, her tone icy. “They need stability, Jensen”.
“What they need is fucking honesty”, he replied, his voice rising slightly before he caught himself, glancing toward the hallway where the kids were sleeping. He took a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Dragging this out, playing house for Instagram, it’s not helping them. It’s confusing them. And it’s making it harder for me to move on”.
The words hung heavy in the air, their double meaning clear. Danneel’s eyes flickered with a mix of hurt and defiance. “Move on”, she repeated bitterly, her arms tightening around herself. “You mean with her”.
Jensen looked at her, his expression softening just slightly. “This isn’t about her. It’s about us. About ending this in a way that doesn’t destroy everything. But you’re making it impossible”.
Danneel, her composure already teetering from too many glasses of wine, grew visibly more agitated as the conversation spiraled. Her cheeks were flushed, her movements sharper and more erratic. She had crossed the line from defensive to outright combative, her words no longer measured but biting.
“Oh, you think you’re so noble, don’t you?”, she snapped, pacing in front of the fireplace, her glass sloshing slightly as she gestured. “You’re the one who walked away, who decided you were done. And now, because you’ve moved on, I’m supposed to just roll over and make it easy for you?”.
Jensen sat back, his jaw tightening as he watched her unravel. He exhaled deeply, trying to maintain some semblance of control despite his own growing frustration. “This isn’t about me”, he said firmly, his voice low but steady. “It’s about the kids. About giving them a stable environment—”.
“Don’t you dare lecture me about stability!”, she interrupted, her voice rising sharply. “I’ve been holding this family together while you’ve been off playing house with her!”.
Jensen’s patience finally snapped, and he stood, towering over her as his voice grew louder. “Holding this family together? Are you serious, Danneel? This isn’t holding anything together—it’s dragging it through the mud. We’re pretending for the sake of appearances, and it’s toxic. For us. For the kids. For everyone”.
Danneel’s face twisted into a bitter smile, and she placed her glass down with a loud clink before walking to the coffee table. She snatched the stack of papers, her hands shaking as she flipped through them. “Fine”, she spat, her voice dripping with venom. “You want this so fucking badly? You want out? Here!”.
Without hesitation, she grabbed a pen from the table and scrawled her signature across the necessary lines, the sound of the pen scratching against the paper harsh and final. When she was done, she ripped the pages free and hurled them at Jensen, the papers fluttering briefly in the air before hitting him square in the chest.
“There!”, she said, her voice breaking as she turned back toward the fireplace. “Merry fucking Christmas, Jensen!”.
Jensen caught the papers as they fell, his expression a mixture of shock, frustration, and a flicker of relief. He looked down at the signatures, his hand tightening around the edges of the documents. For a moment, he said nothing, letting the weight of her words hang in the air.
“Thank you”, he said finally, his voice calm but heavy. He straightened, gathering the papers carefully before turning toward the stairs. “I’ll stay here tonight for the kids, but after tomorrow, I’m gone. I’ll figure out a way to tell them in the least painful way possible”.
Danneel didn’t respond, her shoulders stiff as she stared into the fire, her back to him.
Jensen turned and walked upstairs, clutching the papers tightly in his hand. As he reached the guest room, he let out a deep breath, running a hand through his hair. It was over. Finally. The thought brought so much relief as he sat on the edge of the bed. His mind wandered to you, the only person who made him feel grounded and whole in the chaos.
His first instinct was to reach for his phone, to call you and hear your voice. You were the one constant, the one thing that always made sense in the chaos of his life.
He dialed your number, the familiar sequence offering a brief moment of comfort. But after a few rings, it went straight to voicemail. His shoulders sagged slightly, realizing you were likely asleep. He smiled faintly, imagining you curled up in his sweater, probably with the TV still playing softly in the background.
“Hey”, he said after the beep, his voice quiet but warm. “I just… I needed to hear your voice, even if it’s just your voicemail. It’s done. She signed the papers tonight. It wasn’t pretty, but it’s over. I know it’s late, so I’ll let you sleep. Just… two more days, baby. I’ll be home soon. I love you”.
He ended the call and set his phone on the nightstand, the faint glow of the screen illuminating his face for a moment before the room was plunged back into darkness. He lay back on the unfamiliar bed, staring up at the ceiling as his thoughts continued to race. Relief, sadness, guilt, and hope all battled for space in his mind, but the image of you—the way you’d smiled at him, the way you’d whispered his name—was the one thing that brought him peace.
Jensen closed his eyes, exhaustion finally pulling him under as he held onto the thought of you, counting down the hours until he could be by your side again.
The next morning, you woke up with a groggy sense of calm, your limbs tangled in the blankets as the morning light filtered softly through the curtains. You reached for your phone instinctively, still lying in bed, and saw the notification for Jensen’s voicemail. A small smile tugged at your lips as you opened it, his familiar voice immediately sparking warmth in your chest.
“I just… I needed to hear your voice, even if it’s just your voicemail. It’s done. She signed the papers tonight…”.
His words ignited a spark inside you, your heart racing as he continued. Relief flooded through you at the news, and the way he ended with "I love you" made your chest tighten with emotion. You sat up in bed, clutching the phone, eager to call him back and hear more about what had happened.
But before you could press the call button, a sudden wave of nausea hit you hard. Your stomach lurched, and you barely had time to toss your phone onto the bed before you bolted for the bathroom. Kneeling over the toilet, you clutched the cool porcelain, your body trembling as you heaved, the nausea relentless.
It took a few moments for the sickness to subside, leaving you weak and slightly disoriented. You sat back on your heels, wiping your mouth with a tissue as you tried to steady your breathing. The lingering taste of bile made your stomach churn again, but this time, it was more manageable.
“What the hell…”, you murmured to yourself, leaning against the wall as you tried to piece together why you’d felt so suddenly ill. You hadn’t eaten anything unusual the night before, and you’d been feeling fine up until now.
Your gaze flicked back to the bedroom, where your phone still rested on the bed. Jensen’s words echoed in your mind, reminding you of the steady comfort he brought even in moments like this. You decided to shake off the nausea and call him back, your heart still racing from his voicemail and the realization that his life was moving closer to the one you were building together.
You grabbed a glass of water from the kitchen to rinse your mouth and steady your nerves, then picked up your phone, ready to hear his voice again.
You held your phone to your ear, waiting as the call rang and rang, but Jensen didn’t answer. A flicker of disappointment crossed your face, but you quickly reminded yourself that he was likely busy with the kids or catching up on much-needed rest after the exhausting events of the night before. Still, a small part of you had hoped to hear his voice right away.
Setting the phone down on the counter, you made your way back to the bathroom to freshen up. Turning on the faucet, you let the water run cold as you grabbed your toothbrush and began brushing your teeth. The lingering nausea was still fresh in your memory, and you figured getting cleaned up might help shake off whatever this weird feeling was.
But as you stared at yourself in the mirror, you couldn’t ignore it: something felt… off. It wasn’t just the nausea anymore—it was a strange mix of fatigue and unease that settled in your chest. You paused mid-brush, frowning slightly as you tried to piece together why you felt so out of sorts.
Maybe it was the stress of the past few weeks finally catching up with you. Between moving into the new house, navigating the complexities of Jensen’s situation, and spending Christmas alone, it wasn’t surprising that your body might be reacting to it all. But even as you tried to rationalize it, a nagging thought lingered at the back of your mind.
Your hand rested on the counter as you leaned forward, taking a slow, deep breath to center yourself. “Get it together”, you mumbled, rinsing your mouth and splashing cold water on your face. The chill jolted you slightly, but it didn’t completely shake the fog settling over you.
Still, you brushed it off, telling yourself it was nothing a little food and fresh air couldn’t fix. Grabbing your phone again, you checked to see if Jensen had called back, but there was still no response. You sent him a quick text instead:
“Hope everything’s okay. Call me when you can. I miss you”.
With that, you decided to focus on starting your day, even though the gnawing sensation in your gut refused to leave entirely.
The sound of your key in the door seemed louder in the quiet house, and as you stepped inside, balancing grocery bags in both hands a few hours later, the sight before you made you stop in your tracks. Jensen stood against the kitchen counter, a cookie halfway to his mouth, his green eyes lighting up when he saw you. He looked like he hadn’t slept much, but his presence immediately filled the house with warmth.
“Hey”, he said, his voice soft but carrying that familiar note of comfort. “Surprise”.
You blinked, caught completely off guard. “Jensen? You—”, you paused, setting the bags down on the counter. “You’re not supposed to be back until tomorrow”.
He shrugged, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Caught an earlier flight”, he said simply, popping the cookie into his mouth and brushing his hands on his jeans. “Wanted to be home”.
The words sent a warm flutter through your chest, but the lingering soreness and nausea in your stomach reminded you that you weren’t exactly in your best shape to enjoy the moment.
Jensen stepped away from the counter, closing the space between you with a few long strides. His hands found your waist, his touch gentle yet grounding as he pulled you closer. His green eyes searched your face, concern mingling with curiosity as he tilted his head slightly.
“What’s going on?”, he asked softly, his voice low and steady. “I thought you’d be happy to see me. Especially with the divorce papers finally signed”.
His words hung in the air, and you blinked up at him, your chest tightening at the realization of what that meant. He’d done it—he’d closed that chapter of his life. Relief and gratitude swelled in you, but the lingering queasiness in your stomach dulled the joy just slightly.
“I am happy to see you”, you said, your voice a little shaky as you rested your hands on his chest. “I just… wasn’t expecting you so soon. And… I’m feeling a little off today”.
Jensen frowned, his hands tightening slightly on your waist as his brows knitted together. “Off how?”, he asked, his voice laced with concern. “You sick? Something happen?”.
You shook your head quickly, not wanting to worry him more than necessary. “No, nothing like that”, you reassured him. “Just some stomach stuff. Probably… I don’t know, stress”.
He studied you for a moment, his lips pressing into a thin line before he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead.
There was a pause as his eyes searched your face, his expression tender and filled with concern. Then, he leaned in to kiss you, a familiar gesture that usually brought comfort—but this time, you instinctively flinched, your body stiffening against him.
The movement was subtle but unmistakable, and it threw Jensen completely off. He froze, his brows knitting together once more, as he stepped back slightly, his hands still resting gently on your waist. “Hey”, he murmured, his voice laced with confusion and a tinge of hurt. “What was that?”.
You looked away, your heart sinking as you realized what had just happened. The image of the staged photo—the one of him and Danneel kissing—flashed in your mind again, unbidden and sharp. You’d told yourself it didn’t matter, that you understood it wasn’t real, but clearly, it had left a mark deeper than you’d thought.
“It’s nothing”, you said quickly, trying to brush it off, but your voice lacked conviction. “I’m just… I don’t know. It’s been a weird couple of days”.
Jensen tilted his head, his concern deepening as he gently tipped your chin up, forcing you to meet his eyes. “That’s not nothing”, he said quietly, his voice steady but firm. “Talk to me. What’s going on?”.
You hesitated, feeling a lump form in your throat as you tried to put your feelings into words. “It’s stupid”, you finally admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.
You opened your mouth to say more, to try and explain, but the words got caught in your throat. Before you could force anything out, a wave of nausea hit you like a freight train, making your stomach churn violently. Without a second thought, you pushed Jensen’s hands away, clutching your stomach as you spun on your heel and bolted toward the bathroom.
“Hey!”, Jensen called after you, his voice laced with worry. You barely registered it, the urgency in your body overtaking everything else.
You made it to the bathroom just in time, falling to your knees in front of the toilet as your body betrayed you. The sickness came in waves, leaving you clutching the porcelain for support as you struggled to catch your breath between bouts. Your head spun, and your heart raced, the abruptness of it all making it impossible to focus.
A moment later, you felt Jensen’s presence behind you. He didn’t say a word at first, simply kneeling beside you and brushing your hair back from your face with gentle fingers. His other hand rested lightly on your back, rubbing soothing circles as you trembled.
Jensen’s voice was soft and steady, laced with concern as he leaned closer, his hand never stopping the gentle motion against your back. “Baby, what’s that?”, he whispered, his other hand brushing a few damp strands of hair away from your face. The warmth in his touch was grounding, but the worry in his tone only made your chest tighten further.
You shook your head weakly, still clutching the toilet as your stomach twisted uncomfortably. “I… I don’t know”, you managed to croak out, your voice hoarse. “It just hit me so fast”.
Jensen frowned, his hand stilling briefly before resuming its soothing pattern on your back. “Have you been feeling like this all day?”, he asked softly, his voice a mix of worry and frustration, like he was trying to piece everything together. “You said you were off earlier. Why didn’t you tell me it was this bad?”.
You turned slightly, leaning back against the cool bathroom wall as the nausea slowly began to ebb. “I didn’t think it was anything”, you admitted, your eyes meeting his. “Just felt bloated and sore. I thought it would pass”.
Jensen sighed, crouching closer so he could look at you more fully. His green eyes searched your face, scanning for any sign of what was causing this. “This isn’t nothing”, he said firmly but gently.
You sighed, letting the words spill out before you could stop yourself. “It’s just the stress, Jensen”, you mumbled, your voice low and weary. “You try spending Christmas all by yourself while your boyfriend’s out there kissing his wife for everyone to see”.
The second the words left your mouth, you froze, your eyes widening as you realized what you’d just said. Heat flooded your face as you looked away from him, clutching the edge of the bathroom counter for something to focus on. You hadn’t meant to say it out loud—not like that, not now. The air between you felt charged, thick with the weight of your unintended confession.
Jensen sat back on his heels, stunned into silence for a moment. The tension in the room was palpable, and you could feel his gaze on you, his hands stilling completely. When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet, filled with a mix of guilt and understanding. “Baby…”.
You shook your head, your voice coming out softer this time, almost a whisper. “I didn’t mean to say that. I just… it’s been a lot, you know? I know it wasn’t real, and I know why you had to do it, but seeing that picture—it hurt more than I thought it would”.
Jensen exhaled deeply, his shoulders sagging as he reached for your hand, his fingers wrapping around yours. “I should’ve handled it better”, he admitted, his tone heavy with regret. “I thought giving you a heads-up would help, but I didn’t realize how much it’d still hurt you. That’s on me”.
You turned back to the sink, brushing your teeth with deliberate focus, the tension in the room still thick between you. “It’s not your fault”, you mumbled through the toothpaste, your voice soft but certain. After rinsing your mouth, you grabbed a towel and wiped your face, avoiding Jensen’s gaze as you turned toward the door.
“Where are you going?”, he asked gently, his voice laced with concern.
“To the living room”, you replied quietly, without looking back. “I just… I need a minute”.
Jensen stayed kneeling in the bathroom for a moment after you walked out, running a hand through his hair and letting out a heavy sigh. This wasn’t how he’d imagined coming home earlier than planned. He’d been in such a good mood, finally having the divorce papers signed, feeling like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. He’d thought you’d be happy to see him, that the two of you could finally start thinking about the future without the shadow of his past hanging over everything. But now this.
He stood slowly, following you into the living room where you were already curled up on the couch, staring blankly at the muted TV. The sight of you—so small, so clearly hurting—made his chest ache. He hated this. Hated that something he’d done, even if unintentionally, had caused you pain.
Jensen walked over and sat down next to you, his body close but not touching, giving you space to breathe. For a moment, he didn’t say anything, the quiet between you broken only by the soft hum of the television.
“I didn’t mean to hurt you”, he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper. “You have to know that. Every time she pushes for these public things, I hate it. I hate pretending. I hate what it does to you”.
You glanced at him, your arms wrapped tightly around yourself. “I know”, you said softly, your tone lacking its usual strength. “I know it’s not what you want. But it doesn’t make it easier to see”.
Your heart ached seeing the regret etched on Jensen’s face. You hadn’t meant to make him feel this way—he was the one person who always made you feel safe, secure, and loved. Now, you couldn’t bear the thought of him blaming himself for something so far out of his control.
Without thinking, you shifted closer, crawling onto his lap and settling yourself there. Jensen’s body tensed briefly in surprise, but his arms instinctively wrapped around you as you pulled them close, holding them firmly around your waist. You buried your face against his chest, your words muffled but filled with emotion.
“I’m sorry”, you whispered, your voice shaky. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. I just—everything’s been so overwhelming, and the nausea threw me off, and then that picture…”.
You felt his grip tighten around you as he leaned back slightly, resting his chin on the top of your head. His hand began rubbing slow circles on your back, silently urging you to continue.
“I’m so glad you’re here”, you said, your voice cracking slightly. “I was feeling so alone, and seeing you walk through that door—it meant everything. But I’ve been such a mess today, and I took it out on you, and I didn’t mean to…”.
“Hey”, Jensen interrupted gently, his voice steady and soothing as he tilted your chin up so you could meet his gaze. “Stop. You don’t have to apologize for feeling what you feel. This isn’t on you, okay? It’s on me for not being here sooner. For not making things clearer”.
You shook your head, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. “No, Jensen. It’s not you. You’ve done everything right—it’s just me getting in my head and overthinking. I hate that I’m making this harder for you”.
Jensen leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there as if to reassure you without words. “You’re not making anything harder”, he murmured. “You’re the reason I want all this. The reason I’m fighting so hard to move forward”.
His words wrapped around you like a warm blanket, melting away some of the doubt that had clung to you all day. You let out a shaky breath, resting your head against his chest once more as his arms tightened around you.
“I love you”, you said quietly, the words slipping out before you could stop them. It wasn’t the first time you’d said it, but it carried a different weight now—one born out of vulnerability and truth.
Jensen smiled softly, his hand brushing through your hair. “I love you too”, he said, his voice steady and sure. “And I’m here now. No more pretending, no more staged pictures. Just us”.
You nodded, the tension in your body finally beginning to ease as you let yourself relax in his embrace. In that moment, the world outside seemed to fade away, leaving only the quiet promise of better days ahead.
Jensen’s arms stayed securely around you, holding you close as the minutes stretched into something quiet and comforting. His chin rested lightly on your head, and the steady rhythm of his breathing was almost enough to lull you to sleep. But then he broke the silence, his voice a low murmur against your hair.
“By the way”, he said softly, the warmth in his tone unmistakable, “those cookies you made? Damn good. I had one earlier while you were out. Might’ve had two… or three”-
You let out a quiet laugh, lifting your head to look at him. “You didn’t even wait for me to get home?”.
He grinned, the corners of his green eyes crinkling. “Couldn’t help it. They were calling my name. You’ve got a real gift, sweetheart”.
The praise made your cheeks flush with warmth, but then your mind wandered to the groceries you’d brought in earlier. Your eyes widened as the realization hit you.
“Shit”, you mumbled, scrambling to get off his lap. Jensen’s hands fell away reluctantly, and he watched you with mild amusement as you hurried toward the kitchen.
“What’s going on?”, he asked, standing up and following you.
“The groceries”, you called over your shoulder. “They’re still sitting on the counter. God, I hope nothing’s gone bad”.
Jensen leaned against the doorway as you began unpacking the bags, his grin widening as he watched you move quickly, pulling out various items. “You’re cute when you’re in panic mode, you know that?”.
“Shut up”, you muttered, though the smile tugging at your lips betrayed your attempt at being annoyed.
He stepped closer, grabbing a few items from the bags to help. “What’d you get, anyway?”, he asked, peeking at the contents. “Anything good?”.
Jensen reached into one of the bags, pulling out a small, wrapped package and holding it up with a curious tilt of his head. “Mmm, what’s that?”, he asked, his tone playful as he examined it.
You glanced over your shoulder and rolled your eyes when you saw what he was holding. “It’s tea”, you said, reaching to grab it from him, but he held it just out of reach.
“Tea?”, he repeated, grinning as he turned the package over in his hands. “What kind of tea requires this fancy packaging? You sure this isn’t some secret gourmet chocolate?”.
“It’s for my stomach”, you explained, trying to stifle a laugh as you reached for it again. “You know, the stomach you apparently traumatized with your dramatic Instagram antics?”.
———————————
A/N: Please let me know what you think.🥰
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#jensen ackles#jensen x reader#jensen ackles x reader#jensen ackles x you#jensen fucking ackles#jensen x y/n#jensen x you#jensen ackles x female!reader#jensen ackles x y/n#jensen ackles the boys#spn cast#his true fate
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hiiii
request? yelena or florence (same tbh, you can choose) x reader, a little bit of angst but with an happy ending? and maybe fluff somewhere?
one shot that revolves around the phrase "I fell for you before I even knew it myself"maybe?? i dunno lol
Together
Pairing: Florence Pugh x GN! Reader
Summary: Afternoon tea soon becomes a cafe of confessions.
Angst & Fluff
Warnings: None, if there is any, please let me know | 1.3K
AC: Thank you for sending this, I hope you enjoy! x
The rain ran softly down the window of the small café where you and Florence often spent your afternoons. The smell of freshly brewed coffee wrapped around you like a comforting blanket as you sat across from her, your fingers tracing the rim of your mug, your heart beating with different emotions. It was no secret that you and Florence had grown closer over time, the late-night talks to the shared secrets to the little gestures of kindness made you terrified of ruining the beautiful friendship you had built with the actress.
Florence was telling you all about the new script she had gotten only a few days ago, you could see her excitement for the new role well beyond her words. She spoke her with her hands but you heard more from the look in her eyes with the way they sparkled with passion, it almost made it hard for you to focus on anything else. But underneath the proud smile you had dancing on your lips, you were struggling with a secret you’d been pushing down for weeks.
But after all that talk and excitement about her new role, her eyes shifted to the widow and within seconds she seemed miles away.
“Flo?” You said softly, catching her attention, “is everything okay?” You asked once she locked eyes with you. She nodded, “Sorry love, I’ve noticed I’ve been having more of these moments more than usual” she said, her eyes glistening with unspoken words. You frowned slightly, “you know you can talk to me about anything, right?”
A small smile tugged at her lips, “I know, it’s just sometimes, it’s harder to share things than it is to keep it buried”
Reaching for her hand, you felt the coolness of her skin against your fingertips, “there’s nothing you can’t share with me, whatever you say will always stay between us” you assured her. Florence sighed before taking deep breath that seemed to release some of the weight she was carrying, “have you ever had feelings for somebody you’re close with but you spend almost every night tossing and turning wondering if you were to tell them would it ruining things or would it be something beautiful?”
Your heart began to race at her words, you had been dancing around with the idea of your feelings for Florence in your mind for a while now, completely unsure if she would ever feel the same for you. With her business lifestyle and your own job playing a part in the cons list, you were sure that your feelings were no more than a simple crush and that eventually they would fade away. “Uh, yeah” you replied, questioning yourself if you’d ever be brave enough to tell her how much she meant to you. “I have, I think we all have” you added.
Florence nodded, looking down at your hand clenching around the mug in your hands, “did you ever tell them?” She asked before her eyes found yours once more. You shook your head, “The fear was too much for me, I was too scared of rejection or worse, ruining what I have with them” you told her.
“Them?” The blonde questioned, “so you’re still friends with them?”
“I am” you replied unsure as to how her question felt like both a confession and a knife driving into your heart, she wasn’t talking about you, surely.
“Do you regret not telling them?” Her next question followed. You took a moment to take a sip of your warm drink, using those brief moments to think of the right words to say. “Sometimes I do and sometimes I’m glad I haven’t”
Florence smiled ever so softly, “Maybe I should just let things be” she said with a lit sigh. You saw the way a bit of hope disappeared from her eyes and you hated thinking maybe that was your fault, maybe you didn’t give her the best answers.
“But hey” you started, “you’re a lot braver than I am” you added with a smile. “You can’t tell me that you can go to all those red carpets and put on some out of this world acting but you’re too scared to tell somebody how you feel? I think you should tell them, I mean, whoever it is, they’re lucky to have your attention and besides, what do you have to lose?” You added.
She took a generous sip of her hot tea before looking at you once again, “it might some as a surprise, but this feeling of fear is a lot bigger than the nerves I have ever felt doing my job” she started, “I have this deep fear of ruining what we already have…. what if they don’t feel the same? I know it’s a risk to take but if it ruins things, I don’t think I would ever be able to forgive myself” she continued.
Her vulnerability hung in the air like a thick mist as you leaned closer to her, wanting to close the gap of fear and courage. “But what if they do? What if they feel something strong but are also too scared to say anything?”
Florence chewed at her bottom lip lightly while she contemplated the words that you spoke softly to her. You’d never seen her this shy and nervous before and while it started to dawn on you a little that whoever it was had captured the heart of the same person who made you feel like a teenager having their first crush.
“I guess there was a real reason I called you this morning” she spoke, breaking the brief moment of silence between you both. Your eyes quickly shifted, hating that she was even bringing it up. “The last time we saw one another, I want to apologise for how I acted” she added.
“Flo, it’s fine, honestly” you assured her, leaning back in your seat.
“It’s not, I know I hurt you and I never meant to. I’ve always kept my emotions in check, but I have no excuse for snapping at you like I did. I thought if I could play it safe and push you away, I could convince myself it was easier that way”
“What exactly were you trying to make easier?” You asked.
“My feelings” Florence replied, her eyes locking onto yours again. Your heart skipped a beat as you discreetly pinched yourself under the table to assure yourself you weren’t dreaming. “These past few weeks, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you and it made me realised that I fell for you before I even know it myself” she continued in a soft and sweet tone.
Suddenly the world around you became a blur, all you could see was Florence sitting in front of you, the natural loudness of the café faded to nothing but a faint background noise as you listened to Florence open her heart, spewing her feelings onto the table at your hands.
“I cherish our friendship more than you know which is why I had to take a step back. Every moment I spent with you, I just felt I was losing myself to you, my heart was completely drawn to you and I was terrified if I said anything that it would ruin what we already have”
“F-Florence…” You struggled to find the right words, your heart skipping a beat with every breath you took, your stomach turning inside out just knowing that the person who captured Florence’s heart was you.
“It’s okay, you don’t have to say anything, I completely understand if this has come as a surprise and you probably don’t eve-“
“I’ve felt the same way for such a long time” you cut her off, the words flying out of your mouth.
“Really?” Her voice softened with a mixture of hope.
“Really” you smiled softly.
Florence reached for your hands, giving them a lit squeeze, “I don’t want to lose this, I can’t imagine my without you, even as a friends” she said in an almost whisper.
“Neither do I” you said, leaning forward, “let’s take it slow, together” you added, your forehead resting against hers as her smile grew.
“Together” she whispered.
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Auld Lang Syne (times long past)
A New Years Eve story! Bit of fluff and smut mixed together hope you all enjoy! Aaron Hotchner x Reader (18+ only please)
In your most secret of dreams you never thought you would have found such a family as you have made in the BAU. Falling in love with each member. Derek Morgan and his kind strength, bringing out the best in those around him. JJ and her abilities to care for all those around her. Penelope Garcia and her beautiful quirkiness, finding good and beauty in everyone and everywhere she goes. Spencer Reid and his astonishing mind constantly challenging you to better. David Rossi and his warmth, his ability to always know when something is wrong and how to comfort you with a smile and a “kiddo”. Emily Prentiss and her humour and beautiful laugh. Last but not least, the man whom you fear has taken your heart and if he ever wanted, your body and soul too, Aaron Hotchner. And gosh did that terrify you. You’ve debated over and over if you’d ever truly tell your boss just how you felt. Another year passing with your family and you’ve made plans this New Years Eve….
“this is for you and you and you my lovely humans” you say as you hand out the invitations to your team at the round table. “What’s this y/n?” JJ asks you as they all look at the small simple envelope you handed them. “I am glad you ask you fabulous blond, it’s an invitation to my new years celebration…as you know I fixed up that old house out in the country and…I don’t know it’s been a rough year for us all. I think we should have something to celebrate.” Your team all looks at you warmly but all you can focus on is Hotch’s eyes, the emotion hidden under that usual serious expression and you can’t quite read him. But his smile warms your heart as you remember to mention. “Oh and I hope it goes without saying this invitations extends to your family’s I wanna see one cute ass Henry and jack running around my house eating cookies to their hearts delight!” that’s seems to excite JJ “that’s fabulous! Thank you y/n consider me a definite yes, Henry and will have so much fun at that big old house!” JJ gives you a big hug before sitting down. “like I’d miss a chance to snoop into your life! Consider me in beautiful beautiful girl!” You wink at Pen and thank her.
“Hey I helped you repair that place pretty girl of course I’m in gotta see my handy work” you nudge Derek with your elbow as you sit down next to him. You notice Hotch still had not said a word that you begin to worry he won’t wish to come. Considering everything that this year brought. But the rest of the team all agree and you are at least relieved about that much. As Pen takes the remote for the screen to begin on our new case. The entire time you can’t seem to tear your gaze from Hotch who seems to avoid your eyes and your heart begins to break little by little but you try and let it be for now. As Pen explains the gruesome case in front of you. “thank you my darling y/n for bringing some spark of happy happy fun times times to this morning cause this case is a doozie and a weird one….New York city is dealing with a serial killer who’s victims all thus far seem to be middle aged men of Irish decent…” the team begins speculating the why’s and who’s but you just can’t seem to hear as you look at Hotch and wonder if perhaps you offended him? That’s why he said nothing about coming…
“y/n may I see you in my office please” Hotch says after telling you all, wheels up in an hour. You head into his office as he follows close behind and closing the door behind him. “um…is something wrong sir?”
you look at him and can’t help but lose yourself in his gaze even as he seems hesitant to talk. “No…yes, I mean-y/n I hope you don’t think because I did not give you an answer at the table that means I don’t wish to go or that I was acting rudely I was just taken by surprise-“
“why? You’re as much a part of my family as the rest of the team?” those words seem to soften Hotches mood and eyes, being replaced by a moment of heartfelt naked emotion that almost made your knees give in and your entire body melt away. He smiles,
“Thank you hun. But…..if that’s true why did you never mention you buying land in the country to me? Or that you needed help repairing it? I could have-I don’t know, but I would have been glad to help-“ his genuine wish to help everyone on his team all the time warms your entire heart and you find yourself giving a sigh of relief as if you you’ve held your breath this whole time. “Hotch….is that what your upset about?” he shyly nods in a way you’ve never seen before and you consider your next words carefully as your entire body wants to shout ‘because I’m in love with you dummy! And I was so scared that if we spent all that time together I’d just fall for you even harder and not be able to stop myself from saying something stupid. Never knowing if you felt that same way and it scares me and I don’t want to be a burden’
but instead you take a deep breath stepping closer to Hotch who’s arms are still crossed and standing by the door, stepping closer. “Hotch….i didn’t mention it because I know you, you would have offered to help me, to do whatever you and…with everything that’s happened. I figured you would want to spend your entire time with Jack, and I don’t wanna add to your workload . I want Jack to have time with his dad….its precious. And I don’t know I guess I didn’t want to burden you. That’s all…so….will you and Jack please do me the honour of being my guests?” you smile and don’t even realize how pleading your eyes betray in you. “y/n you can never be a burden….ever. Do you understand me?” his expression turns deadly serious as if you understanding is life and death. You meekly nod and smile “I understand now can you please say yes so I can breath again!” He laughs and it’s like music to your ears “we would love to is there a dress code?” ‘Aaron Hotchner whatever you wear will make me weak’ you think remembering those grey sweats he wore once at the hotel. You shake it off
“nope just whatever you are comfortable in”
you feel yourself able to stand a little higher now glad your whole family will be there.
….
The case was a tough one. Having to talk to too many victims families, realizing they were going to be going into the new year with such grief, was something that took pieces of your heart but you finally caught caught the unsub a young Irish woman who saw all these men as the one she lost many years ago and decided no one else was deserving of a man like him. “Must have been a good man” is all you seem to think. You feel yourself swell with pity a pang of guilt for all those families, victims you leave behind as you all fly back home….
Hotch let’s everyone go home early to get ready for your new years dinner. “I’ll see you all tonight well done everyone you all deserve to celebrate…”
everyone parts ways at the office but not before asking if there was anything you needed for the party “nothing but all of your companies lovely humans” as you see Reid leave you feel excited to see how he will like your in home library you built. You laugh to yourself and turn in time to see Hotch (the usual last person here) he steps up close to you “come on I’ll give you a ride then we can go together so I can help set up, better then you getting a cab” confusion is evident on your face as you reply “Hotch that’s not necessary? I can grab a taxi it’s no biggie and everything is already there just gotta set it in order that’s all plus what about Jack-“
“I’ll pick him up from his aunts on our way y/n ….i want to help….besides everyone else got to see this ‘big old house’. Me and jack want our own private viewing”
are you crazy or is Aaron Hotchner flirting? You can’t even argue you love both those boys and would be glad…
…
“that’s it just past the gate…as a warning I do have a housekeeper who will love spoiling Jack with all the fresh baked cookies!” “yayy!!!” Is all Jack could say before he sets eyes on your home away from home “THATS your house?! It’s like a castle!” Jacks childlike astonishment makes both you and Hotch laugh “well kiddo it WAS built a long time ago, I just fixed it up” Jacks eyes don’t leave the old mansion as he whispers “it looks like magic!” You blush with pride that this place can erupt such wonder from this amazing kids mind. “Thanks kiddo, maybe later I’ll show you and your dad around the whole place how does that sound?” jacks excitement grows as he asks his dad “sure buddy if it’s not to much trouble for miss y/n”
“no trouble at all”
…
After Introducing Hotch and Jack to your housekeeper and cook Mrs. Maclean you show them around some of the house saving the library for last, the biggest room in the house and and where the celebrations will take place. The entire time you watch as Hotch smiles the entire time, carrying Jack who’s smilies and laughs. You realize even if nothing comes between you and Hotch you are glad that you could help them be happy on new years, if anyone deserves some happiness it’s those two. Jack plays around the halls as Mrs Maclean puts the nonalcoholic spritzers and Champaign on ice “guests should be coming in soon and I expect you Mrs M to relax and let loose ill take care of letting everyone in. Won’t be many people other then the team it will just be a few more friends-“ she smiles and agrees as she looks between you and Hotch leaving you alone. “Thank you for this y/n….the party hasn’t even started and already Jack is having the time of his life it’s good to see…I thought this New Years was gonna be hard with…with everything that happened and Haley.” You can see Hotch’s eyes begin to tear up as he struggles. “I know Hotch it’s alright you don’t need to say more. And it’s absolutely my pleasure besides not everyday a persons home is called magical! Definitely highlight of my year?” You wink as you try to lighten the mood he lets out a light laugh from the cries and he holds your arm as he clears his throat “y/n…” he turns you to him dropping his hands to hold yours. You feel your heart pound as you look up at him longing and terrified
“Hotch?” “Aaron, please just call me Aaron”
“okay…Aaron…what’s wrong?” his hands tighten over yours as he clearly struggles to find the words
“I don’t really know how to say this, I’m, I’m your boss I know, and 20 years your senior and maybe this is a mistake but…perhaps I’m wrong but from what I noticed I thought you may feel the same way and this is probably only time we will be alone for the rest of the night so…I’m in love with you y/n….i think I’ve been in love with you for a while now and I think you feel the same way. I truly hope you do but if I’m I’m wrong and if I’ve made you uncomfortable-“ you try to speak, you want to speak, every part of you wants to admit how absolutely in love with this man you really are as you stood in absolute stunned disbelief, and apparently for too long as the doorbell rings
“fuck-let’s-can we continue later please?”
“yea it’s fine…. I said all I have to say….ill wait for how ever long it takes to hear whatever you wish to say” you run to the door as you faintly hear Aaron say “always”….
the night became a roaring success, your friends all hitting it off with your BAU family and vice versa, everyone having a good time, laughing and telling stories, pen and Derek flirting, Reid hitting it off with your English professor friends, Dave telling stories with JJ and will and Emily chatting it up with a couple of your veteran buddies. Throughout the night you never get a moment alone with Hotch and you start to fear you’ve missed your chance as it come five minutes to midnight and Mrs Maclean comes to you handing you a spritzer and whispering “it’s almost time dear” her Irish accent reminding her just what she meant.
“right” you take one more longing glance at Hotch before
“excuse me ladies and gents, it’s almost midnight and as it comes down to the time we would like to ask you to join us in an old tradition of ours and by we I of course mean my most loyal of housekeepers and friends Mrs Maclean, like this house, we have gone through plenty….like all of us, we have lived and loved and lost and gained and had to leave many behind and so we sing a classic to count down the new years together as a family. You and Mrs M begin “should old acquaintance be forgot and never brought to mind. Should old acquaintance be forgot and auld lang syne…”
you feel your heart grow with pride and eyes begin to fill with tears of memories as you look at your veteran brothers and sisters, your professors, and your BAU family and everyone joins as you see Hotch walk closer to you until he stands by you, Jack holding his hand as they join “for auld lang syne my dear for auld lang syne”
“we’ll take a cup of kindness yet for auld lang syne….”
“Happy New Years everyone!” Everyone cheers in unison as you see everyone embracing each other and just as you finish giving Derek a hug and kiss you turn to Hotch who hugs Jack and kisses his head and turns to you. You hug Hotch, realizing you are finally in his arms your embrace tightens letting your warmth envelope each other
“happy new years sweetheart” he whispers in your ear as you do the same “Happy New years Aaron Hotchner” as you release you look into each others eyes and you find the courage as you devolve the fear in both of your eyes by making your move, grabbing his shirt and kissing Hotch deeply feeling him grab your waist and cupping your cheek deepening the kiss even further as you hear “whoooooooo! Yea Hotch get it!” You both release each other to laugh as you hold his face in your hands and whisper “I love you too Aaron Hotchner and I am so glad I get to go into the new Years kissing you and waking up with you…” you wink at him with implication as his eyes fill will love and darken with lust as he replies “I love you, and can’t wait for that and more”
….
as the last of your guests leaving you and Hotch by the door and Jack and Mrs Maclean eating what’s left of the cookies, you hug Aaron as he grabs you in and kisses your forehead, feeling his warmth and being so close gets your mind and body excited as you look up at Hotch and his eyes seems to read exactly what your thinking as he smiles “what are you thinking beautiful?” He caresses your arm, you shrug innocently but smirk “I’m thinking how would you and Jack like to stay the night? Have plenty of guest rooms already ready in preparation for anyone who wanted to stay the night….if you want” you pepper a kiss on his neck as Jack and Mrs M go into the library to drink the last of the spritzer. He groans and grabs you harder as you kiss his neck deeper. “You’re killing me y/n” he groans as you giggle “is that a yes”
he laughs “as if I could say no”
you release each other as Jack comes back and Hotch walks towards him and going on his knee “hey Buddy! Y/n wanted to know if youd wanna stay here tonight like a sleep over? Do you wanna?” Jacks eyes glow with excitement “yea Daddy can we!?” He smiled kissing his son on his head “of course buddy!” He turns to you “guess we are all in haha”
“perfect! Just so happens the treehouse room is all set anyway so Mrs Maclean could you show Jack the way and we still have a few packages of toothbrushes for our guests”
“of course come along dear you’ll love the treehouse room love it’s as magical as the woods of Ireland” she winks and takes him by hand….
The treehouse was built to look exactly like the whole room was carved in a tree. It was one of your favourite rooms in the house. “plus it’s just down the hall from my bedroom so if Jack needs anything you can try and. Pry yourself from me and save the day” you wink at Hotch as he closes the light in Jacks room and closes the door, he looks at you with darkened eyes as he grabs your neck lightly….
“stop teasing me little one unless your willing to pay the price” his vice deepened and you quiver with excitement as you squeeze your legs together feeling yourself getting wet. Your smile
“a price I’m more then ready to give you…sir”
he growls “fuck” kissing you deeply opening your mouth with his tongue and grabbing your neck as you moan “Aaron please”
he laughs into your mouth “patience sweetheart”
Hotch keeps his distance until you enter your bedroom as if he knows this is torture for you. Like a switch, a wild animal, Hotch closes the door behind him and immediately pins you to it, using his knee to separate your legs even further and pushes his body into you, crashing his lips on you, his tongue an overwhelming wave of pleasure as he opens your mouth wider with his tongue then biting your bottom lip you most into his mouth. He grabs your hair forcing you to look up at him. His eyes a mix of animalistic lust, and love, admiration and it’s makes your entire body weak.
“oh y/n you are gorgeous…do you have any idea how much I’ve wanted this…needed this, needing you”
you feel your entire body warm and shake with excitement as you whisper “you have me, I’m yours sir” and with that his lips crash into yours again and trailing down your neck, he tears off your clothes until your in nothing but your red lace bra and parties and Hotch groans as he looks up and down your entire body “how the hell have I not kissed you before-“
he carries you to the bed before you can answer, laying you down as he takes off his old grey t shirt and then his worn jeans. He stands at the edge of the bed his breath quickening, his eyes a storm of emotions as if he is offering himself to me and waiting for my judgement. He is giving all of him to you, scars, heart, body and soul. You slowly sit up moan “you’re incredible sir” you trail your hands lightly over each of his scars, he swallows hard as you keep one hand on his impressive hard on, pumping his cock, he groans as you begin to trail kisses over every scar you touched, his moans drive you crazy and are by far the hottest sounds you have ever heard. “yes y/n fuck”
you finally stand and kiss him as he pushes you down on to the bed, putting himself on top of you, you instinctively spread your legs wide for Hotch as he trails kisses down your neck and on your breast, biting your nipples as you moan “Aaron fuck!” And your hand goes through Hotches hair.
“Aaron please…please! I need you inside me please”
He groans as he adjusts himself to your entrance but hesitates
“are you sure babe? Are you sure this is what you want? That I’m what you want?” you wrap your legs around him in answer as you kiss h his neck trailing up to his ears “Aaron….youre all I want” with that all hesitation, everything that’s stopped you two from admittedi g your true feelings to each other all this time, everything that’s stopped you is out the window and now it’s just the two of you against everything. And you feel it as he thrusts into you with such a need you couldn’t control your own body as you grabbed Hotch for dear life scratching down his back and biting his shoulder as he bites your neck. You moan into each other until your release as he cums deep inside you….and you look into each other knowing that there’s no going back now….
you lay down beside each other, Hotch caressing your arms up and down, kissing your hands, shoulder and lips. His eyes a calm Caramel filled with love. “Happy New Years Aaron Hotchner”
“Happy New Years my love”
#thomas gibson#aaron hotch smut#aaron hotchner x reader#aaron hotchner x reader smut#aaron hotchner#aaron hotch hotchner#aaron hotchner fluff#hotchniss#aaron hotch fanfiction#aaron hotch imagine#aaron hotch x reader#bau x reader#bau team#criminal minds
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beomgyu!spiderman au
summary: you and beomgyu have a normal yet budding friendship—well, mostly normal. turns out he's got a bit of a secret, and not just any secret, he's spiderman and well he doesnt want u to find out.
genre: fluff
characters: beomgyu!spiderman x f!reader
words: 4.6
a/n: idk i thought this wld be fun to write
warnings: nothing much
It was weird. So weird that it left this hollow ache in your chest every time you thought about it. Beomgyu wasn’t like this—he wasn’t the kind of person who left you wondering, second-guessing. He’d always been so easy to read, an open book with no missing pages. If something was wrong, you’d know. If he had a secret, he’d tell you. But now? Now he was shutting you out, and you didn’t understand why.
You tried to brush it off at first. Everyone gets busy, right? He had a life, you had a life, and it wasn’t like he owed you every second of his time. But standing you up three times in one week? That wasn’t just “busy.” That was deliberate.
And you weren’t mad—you told yourself you weren’t mad. You were just… confused. Hurt, maybe. Because this wasn’t like him. Beomgyu was your best friend. The guy who had spent hours trying to braid your hair after watching some random tutorial, only to give up and suggest cutting it all off instead. The guy who knew all your favorite snacks and always bought extras just in case. The guy who swore he’d never leave you hanging.
Except now he was. And every time you tried to talk to him about it, he’d brush you off with some flimsy excuse, like he couldn’t even be bothered to lie properly.
“I was just late,” he’d say, his voice light, casual, like he wasn’t tearing you up inside.
Late? For three days straight?
It was ridiculous. But instead of pushing, you waited. Because what else could you do? You couldn’t exactly drag the truth out of him, and part of you—an annoyingly soft part—was scared of what you might hear if you did.
So you waited. You sat in your apartment, half-watching reruns of a show you weren’t even interested in, your phone next to you on the couch just in case he called. And he always did, eventually, with that same apologetic tone that somehow made it worse.
“Don’t watch it without me!” he’d said the last time you saw him, practically begging. “Promise me you won’t!”
And you had. You promised. Because that’s what you always did when it came to Beomgyu—you kept your promises, even when he didn’t keep his.
But now it had been weeks since you’d paused that stupid show, and you were starting to wonder if you’d made a mistake. Maybe you should’ve just watched it without him. Maybe you should’ve stopped waiting altogether.
You sighed, slumping further into the couch. “Stupid Beomgyu,” you muttered under your breath.
And yet, you knew the moment he showed up, all of this would melt away. Your frustration, your hurt—it would disappear the second he smiled at you, like it always did. Maybe you were too soft. Or maybe…
Maybe you felt more for him than you wanted to admit.
(You did. You absolutely did.)
But it didn’t matter, right? You shook the thought out of your head. He was your best friend. That was all. Adding feelings into the mix would only ruin things, and you weren’t going to risk that.
Still, the ache in your chest didn’t go away.
You must’ve drifted off at some point because the next thing you felt was someone nudging your shoulder.
“Hey…”
Your eyes blinked open, hazy and unfocused. And there he was, crouching in front of you with that same apologetic look.
“Gyu?”
“Yeah, it’s me.” His voice was soft, quieter than usual. “Did you fall asleep?”
You wiped at your mouth, realizing you’d been drooling. Great. “How’d you even get in? I locked the door.”
His eyes flicked to the side. “You left your keys out front again.”
“I… I don’t think I did.” You frowned, sitting up and pulling your blanket tighter around yourself. “And why’s the window open? I thought I closed it.”
“You probably forgot.” His voice was quick, dismissive.
You narrowed your eyes but let it slide. “I guess. So, where’ve you been?”
“Just out,” he said, avoiding your gaze.
“Out where?”
“The grocery store,” he muttered. “You know… stuff like that.”
“Grocery store?” You looked him up and down. “Where are the groceries, then?”
His laugh was awkward, almost forced. “Why the interrogation? I thought we were watching our show.”
“Maybe we would be if you actually showed up on time,” you shot back, the words sharper than you intended.
“I said I was out!” His voice cracked, a sudden edge of frustration breaking through. “Can we just… watch the show?”
The shift caught you off guard. Beomgyu never snapped at you—not like this. You stared at him, trying to figure out what was going on in that head of his, but his expression was locked tight.
“Fine,” you said softly, scooting over to make space for him on the couch.
He sat down beside you, a little too close, and for a moment, you thought about pressing him again. But the tension in his shoulders stopped you. Whatever was going on, he wasn’t ready to talk about it.
The room felt heavier than usual. The two of you sat side by side on the couch, eyes glued to the screen, but it wasn’t the same. Normally, there’d be sarcastic commentary flying back and forth, bursts of laughter at the ridiculous plot twists, or arguments over which character made the dumbest decisions. But tonight? Silence. The kind that didn’t just fill the air—it seeped into it, cold and suffocating.
The show was playing, but neither of you were really watching. The images moved, the characters spoke, but your mind was elsewhere, and you were sure his was too.
You stole a glance at him. His face was slightly turned away, hood pulled over his head like he was trying to shield himself from the world—or maybe from you.
And then the words slipped out, quieter than you intended.
“Are you sick of me?”
Your voice was so soft it barely felt like your own, but it cut through the silence like a sharp knife.
Beomgyu froze. For a moment, he didn’t move, didn’t even breathe. Then he turned to you, just slightly, still not meeting your eyes.
“What?” His voice cracked. He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “No. Never. Why would you even think that?”
You shifted, pulling your knees to your chest and hugging them tightly. “Because… because you’ve been avoiding me like the plague. Did you really think I wouldn’t notice? You’re kind of my best friend, Beomgyu.”
Your words hung in the air, raw and vulnerable.
“I know,” he said quietly, his voice laced with guilt. “I know, and I’m sorry.”
But he still wouldn’t look at you. His eyes stayed fixed on the screen, his hood casting a shadow over his face.
That’s when you noticed. He hadn’t taken it off—not once since he arrived. Beomgyu never kept his hood up indoors. He hated it, said it made him feel stuffy.
“Beomgyu,” you said softly, sitting up straighter. “What’s going on?”
He shook his head, pulling the hood tighter around his face. “It’s nothing. I just—can we not do this right now? Please?”
Your chest tightened. The Beomgyu you knew was open, even painfully so at times. He wore his emotions on his sleeve, never hesitating to share what was on his mind. But now? He was closed off, guarded in a way you’d never seen before.
And it scared you.
You didn’t think. You just moved closer, scooting toward him until your knees brushed against his. Your hands found his cheeks, soft but firm as you turned his face toward you.
“Beomgyu…” Your voice wavered, your heart sinking the moment his eyes met yours.
Your breath caught. His face—the left side—was a mess. Swollen, raw, the kind of bruising that made your chest ache just looking at it. It wasn’t just a scrape or a tumble. It looked angry, like it had a story you didn’t want to hear.
You swallowed hard, forcing down the gasp that threatened to escape. He didn’t need that right now. Instead, you steadied your voice, though your hands trembled slightly.
“What happened?”
He tried to look away, but your hands held him there, gently but firmly.
“Nothing,” he mumbled, barely above a whisper. “I fell—”
“Bullshit.” The word came out harsher than you intended, but you didn’t care. “This doesn’t look like a fall, Beomgyu. Not even close.”
You could feel it now—the sting of tears threatening to spill. Everything from the past few weeks was bubbling up: the missed hangouts, the lies, the hood, the silence. And now this.
“Did someone do this to you?” Your voice cracked, barely holding it together.
He hesitated. His jaw tightened under your palms, and for a moment, you thought he’d lie again. But then he exhaled, defeated.
“No. I mean… yes.” He paused, his voice faltering. “I mean… kind of.”
Your brows furrowed.
“What do you mean kind of?” Your voice cracked, rising just enough to betray the knot tightening in your chest. “Beomgyu, what’s going on? Who did this to you?”
He sighed, pulling back slightly, your hands falling to your lap. “It’s nothing,” he muttered, his voice low. “It’ll heal in no time.”
“Beomgyu—”
“I’m fine,” he cut you off, avoiding your eyes.
And then—
“BREAKING NEWS!”
The sudden burst of sound from the TV made you both jump, your heads snapping toward the screen in unison.
The anchor’s voice was urgent, almost breathless. “Spider-Man vigilante almost gets caught in bank robbery two roads ahead from West Avenue earlier tonight. Witnesses report seeing him injured but still managing to escape authorities…”
“Look at how messy the world is. God, I can’t even fathom if you were out there doing stupid shit like this,” you sighed aloud, rubbing your temples and covering your face with your hands, the weight of the week catching up to you.
Beomgyu gulped audibly. “I–”
You didn’t hear him. Your eyes stayed glued to the screen, the video playing on repeat. Spider-Man, scraped up, barely getting to his feet, stumbling before launching away into the night. Something about it nagged at you, pulling at a thread you didn’t even know was there.
Instinctively, you grabbed the remote and paused the footage.
Your gaze flickered between the screen and Beomgyu.
Then back to the screen.
Spider-Man's bruise—the one on his face—was in the exact same place as Beomgyu’s.
Your heart stuttered.
You turned to him slowly, eyes scanning him up and down. He wasn’t looking at you anymore; instead, his gaze was glued to the floor, shoulders hunched. His hoodie sleeves were pulled down to his wrists, but now, the faintest hint of color peeked out—red and blue.
“Beomgyu,” you said carefully, your voice low, deliberate. “What are you wearing?”
You didn’t wait for an answer. Before he could react, you grabbed his arm and yanked the sleeve up.
And there it was.
Red and blue, unmistakable.
The fabric of the suit stretched over his skin, torn slightly in places, the bright colors muted by smudges of dirt and—was that blood?
“What. The. Fuck.”
Your words came out in a whisper, barely audible, but the weight behind them was deafening.
Beomgyu finally looked up, his wide eyes meeting yours, panic and guilt written all over his face. “I can explain,” he stammered, his voice trembling.
“You fucking—idiot.”
Your voice cracked as you spat the words, frustration laced with a trembling undertone of worry. You bolted from the living room, leaving Beomgyu staring after you with wide, uncertain eyes. A moment later, you came back, lugging your first aid kit and dumping it unceremoniously on the coffee table.
Dropping to your knees in front of him, you started rummaging through the kit, pulling out antiseptic wipes, gauze, and bandages like a woman possessed.
Beomgyu opened his mouth to say something, but you cut him off with a sharp glare. “Don’t,” you warned, your voice trembling with restrained anger. “Just sit there and let me deal with your idiocy.”
You grabbed his chin, pulling his face toward you. His eyes searched yours, but you avoided his gaze, too focused on the task at hand. The bruise on his face looked even worse up close, a deep purple that made your stomach twist in knots.
“You’re so stupid,” you murmured under your breath, the anger bubbling to the surface as you dabbed at the cut on his cheek with an antiseptic wipe. He flinched slightly, and you pressed harder, your hands trembling.
“An idiot,” you added, almost to yourself.
Beomgyu sighed, resigned to the scolding. “I know,” he mumbled.
You scoffed. “Putting yourself in danger to protect who? Huh? People who don’t even give two fucks about you?” Your voice cracked again as you pressed a little too hard with the wipe, making him wince. “You’re an idiot for doing this to yourself.”
“The biggest idiot I know,” you finished, your voice softer now, tinged with a mix of anger and worry.
Beomgyu chuckled, the sound low and almost sheepish. “You give a fuck about me,” he muttered under his breath.
Your hands froze. You looked up at him, narrowing your eyes. “What? Are you trying to say you’re doing this because of me? Because I didn’t ask you to do any of this. In fact, I didn’t even know you had spider-fucking powers.”
His lips quirked into a faint smile, amused despite the pain. “No, that’s not what I meant. I just—”
“Don’t,” you cut him off, shaking your head. “Don’t try to justify this. You scared the hell out of me, Beomgyu.”
Beomgyu watched you, his smile lingering as he took in your flustered state. This wasn’t how he imagined you’d react when you found out. In his head, you’d be awestruck, maybe even impressed. Maybe you’d finally see him as more than just your idiot best friend.
But this? The anger, the worry etched on your face, the way your hands shook as you patched him up—it wasn’t what he expected. And yet, somehow, it made him feel warm inside.
“You’re so mad at me,” he said, the corners of his lips twitching upward.
“Damn right I am,” you snapped, tying off the bandage a little too tightly.
“You’re mad because you care,” he teased, his voice soft, almost playful.
You rolled your eyes, but your cheeks flushed slightly, betraying you. “I’m mad because you’re a dumbass,” you shot back, but your voice had lost some of its bite.
Beomgyu laughed, and for a moment, the tension eased. Despite everything, despite the bruises and the secrets and the sheer absurdity of the situation, you couldn’t help but smile faintly. Because, as much as you hated to admit it, he wasn’t entirely wrong.
You dabbed the alcohol-soaked cotton ball gently on his bruised cheek, your tongue poking out slightly as you focused. Your brows knitted together in deep concentration, and every time he flinched, you did too, wincing like you could feel his pain yourself.
Beomgyu bit his lip, trying to stifle a smile. Even in the middle of this mess, you looked so ridiculously cute, so endearingly worried. He wanted to tell you to stop fussing, but honestly, he didn’t want this moment to end.
“Does it hurt?” you asked softly, your voice full of genuine concern.
“No,” he lied, shaking his head.
You squinted at him suspiciously. “How about this?”
Before he could register your words, you drove your knee into his groin.
“WHAT THE FUCK!” he yelped, doubling over in pain.
You crossed your arms, glaring down at him as he clutched his stomach. “Hurts, doesn’t it? That’s how I feel every single time you’re out there fighting God knows what,” you snapped, your voice trembling with anger and worry.
Beomgyu groaned, still catching his breath, but he couldn’t stop the faint smile creeping onto his face despite the unimaginable pain. “You’re insane,” he muttered, still grimacing.
“And you’re an idiot,” you shot back, your arms still crossed, but your voice softened slightly.
“I’m fine,” he said after a moment, straightening up as best as he could. “I’ll be fine.”
“Beomgyu, you don’t get it,” you said, your voice breaking now as the worry in your chest spilled out. “Sure, you’re fine now. Sure, you’ll be fine tomorrow. But these people…they’re getting weirder, stronger. Yesterday it was a bank robber. And you saw the news two weeks ago—the Avengers are fighting aliens from outer space!”
He stayed quiet, his gaze dropping to the floor.
You took a shaky breath, blinking back tears. “We’re just kids, Beomgyu. From a small-town neighborhood. You’re out here fighting things you shouldn’t even be near. What happens when you come up against something you can’t handle?”
He looked up at you then, his face serious, but there was something tender in his expression too. “I can handle it,” he said softly, his voice steady.
You shook your head, biting your lip. “You don’t know that.”
Beomgyu hesitated for a moment before reaching out, his hand brushing against yours. “I’m not doing this because I want to,” he admitted. “I’m doing it because…because if I don’t, who will? If I can stop someone from getting hurt, then isn’t it worth it?”
Your heart ached at his words, but you couldn’t bring yourself to argue. Because as much as you hated it, deep down, you knew he believed what he was saying.
“Beomgyu,” you began, your voice trembling as you tried to steady the whirlwind of emotions inside you. “The people you’re saving out there…they mean the world to the people who love them. I get that. But you—” your voice cracked, and you took a shaky breath. “You mean the world to me.”
His eyes softened, the guilt in them deepening with every word you spoke.
“It’s not that I don’t care about what the fuck’s been happening with the world, but when they look at you, they see a hero,” you continued. “But…when I look at you, I see my best friend. The person who’s been there for me through everything. I can’t let you get hurt. I just… I can’t.”
Your words hung heavy in the air, and for a moment, all he could do was watch you, his lips parted as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words.
“I’ll be careful,” he said finally, his voice soft but steady. “I promise. I’ll be here. Always.”
You stared at him, searching his face for something—certainty, reassurance, anything to make you believe him. “Can I count on it?”
“What?” he asked, taken aback by the raw vulnerability in your voice.
“Can I count on your promises?” you whispered, your hands clutching each other tightly, like you were holding yourself together. “Because if anything—and I mean anything—ever happens to you, I’d feel like it’s on me. For not stopping you. For not doing enough to keep you safe.”
Beomgyu’s heart broke at your words, at the way your tears glistened in your eyes but refused to fall, as if you were fighting against your own pain for his sake. He stepped closer, his hands reaching out to gently take yours.
“Nothing’s going to happen to me,” he said, his voice filled with a quiet determination. “You don’t have to carry that. It’s not on you. This is my choice, and I’ll do everything I can to keep that promise to you. To always come back. To always be here.”
You wanted to believe him, but the fear in your chest wouldn’t let go. Still, you nodded, swallowing back the tears that threatened to spill.
“Just… don’t make me regret this,” you murmured, your voice barely audible.
“I won’t,” he said, squeezing your hands gently. “I swear.”
But as much as you wanted to hold onto his words, you couldn’t help but feel the weight of everything: that no promise could shield him from the dangers he could face.
It had been a few hours, and all Beomgyu and you had done was lie on the couch, wrapped in each other's arms. Maybe a few tears here and there, mostly from you. Well, all from you, while Beomgyu kept insisting he'd be fine. It was a cycle of reassurance before things finally started to calm down.
"Why didn’t you tell me?" you asked, scratching the back of your neck, your voice quiet. "I thought we shared everything."
Beomgyu chuckled, clearly not taking you too seriously. "Well, look at how you reacted. Not too well, by the way."
You shot him a glare, not backing down. "What if you were in my shoes? You’d be telling me to take that suit off the second you found out."
Beomgyu smirked, clearly amused. "Well, that's because you have no athletic ability—"
You rolled your eyes. "The only reason you have athletic ability is because you got bitten by a radioactive spider. So... who’s really the winner here? Hint: it's the spider."
Beomgyu’s smirk faltered as he laughed softly, shaking his head. "Okay, you’ve got a point there. But still, it’s not about athleticism. It’s about being able to do something, anything, to make a difference."
You sighed, a little exhausted but grateful for the lighthearted moment amidst everything. "Just promise me, okay? No more secret superhero acts without telling me first."
His tone softened, the playful edge fading as sincerity took over. "I promise. Well, unless you don't pick up the phone and someone's getting robbed. I can't just sit back, right?"
You raised an eyebrow. "I trust you with some small-time bank robber armed with a knife or whatever, but an alien threatening to destroy Earth for eternity? That's a little different.”
Beomgyu’s grin returned, though there was a glint of seriousness behind it. "Okay, okay. I get it. Aliens are a little… above my pay grade," he teased, nudging you gently.
You crossed your arms, leaning back into the couch. "Exactly! See, now we're on the same page."
"Fine," he sighed dramatically, rolling his eyes. "I’ll leave the big, world-ending catastrophes to the professionals." He paused, then added with a smirk, "But if there's ever a small-time villain with a bad attitude, I’ll be there. I can't resist a good bank robbery."
You shot him a playful glare. "Just remember, you’ve got me to answer to if you get yourself killed trying to stop some thief."
"Wouldn’t dream of it," he said with a wink, though there was a hint of seriousness beneath the playful gesture. "Also," he muttered, "have I told you how Iron Man's basically mentoring me?"
"The Kang Taehyun? Get your head out of your ass, Beomgyu."
"Oh, I’ve got him on speed dial! Watch this." Beomgyu pulled out his phone and dialed a number, putting it on speaker. The phone rang for a while before abruptly cutting off, the screen showing that the call had been declined.
"Well... he might've been busy. I mean, he's Iron Man." Beomgyu shrugged with a grin, clearly trying to mask his embarrassment.
You rolled your eyes. "You do realize I don't care about this whole suave superhero life you're living, right? I'm mostly concerned about your safety."
Beomgyu raised his hands in mock surrender. "Alright, alright, but if Mr. Kang Taehyun knocks on our door tonight, I'll just tell him to beat it. My girlfriend doesn't care."
"Girlfriend?" You raised an eyebrow, giving him a pointed look.
"Did I say girlfriend? I meant best friend. You know, because you're a girl and all…" Beomgyu chuckled nervously, quickly turning his face away from you.
“No, you said girlfriend,” you teased, raising an eyebrow. "And don't think I didn't catch that."
Beomgyu stiffened, his face turning a little red as he tried to play it off. "I—uh, I meant best friend! You know, because you're a girl and all... I—I’m just—uh, kidding. Obviously."
You crossed your arms, leaning in with a smirk. "Are you sure about that? Because it sounded like you were already claiming me as your girlfriend, Beomgyu."
“Okay, and what about it?” Beomgyu’s voice softened, his playful smirk turning into something more serious. “Let’s be real, we were this close to telling each other we liked each other anyway. So why not skip the whole confessional part and get to the point? Let’s date.”
You stared at him for a moment, unsure if you were hearing him right. The air between you felt different now, charged with something you hadn’t expected.
"Wait, are you—" You stopped yourself, suddenly self-conscious. "You’re serious?"
Beomgyu leaned back, his eyes not leaving yours. "Yeah, I’m serious. I don’t want to keep pretending like I don’t care about you more than just... this." He motioned between the two of you, his voice growing softer, yet full of conviction.
For a moment, all you could do was breathe, trying to process his words. But then, the feeling you’d been ignoring for so long bubbled up, and before you could stop yourself, you found yourself smiling.
“This is how you’re going to ask me out? Looking like Scar from The Lion King and telling me to date you while using that tone on me? This is almost too romantic,” you said, dripping with sarcasm.
Beomgyu blinked in mock offense, throwing his hands up dramatically. “Hey, Scar’s got style! I can’t help if I’m channeling his energy right now. And for the record, I wasn’t angry—I was being passionate.”
You raised an eyebrow, trying to keep a straight face. “Oh, passionate, huh? So now I’m supposed to swoon over your villainous charisma? Really selling it.”
He rolled his eyes playfully but then leaned in a little closer, his expression softening. “Look, I’m not great with words, but if you want the long, drawn-out confession, I can do that too. But you already know how I feel. I care about you. More than anyone else. So... what do you say?”
You took a deep breath, letting his words settle in, the sarcasm fading as your heart did the talking. "Well, when you put it like that...I kinda wanna hear the long, drawn-out confession.”
Beomgyu grinned, his eyes lighting up as he straightened up. “Alright, alright, if you insist.” He cleared his throat dramatically, then looked at you with all the seriousness he could muster, though a playful spark lingered in his gaze.
“I’ve spent countless nights trying to figure out how to say this. Should I tell you how every time I see you, my heart races? Or how I can’t help but smile whenever you walk into the room, like everything’s right in the world? Maybe I should mention how I think about you more than I care to admit, even when I’m supposed to be saving the city,” he said, each word sincere, though he tried to mask it with his usual humor. “But let’s get to the point. I care about you more than anything, and I think it’s about time I stopped pretending like I’m okay with just being your friend. So... what do you say? Will you be my girlfriend?”
“If you’ll take me as your girlfriend, then yes.”
Beomgyu's heart skipped a beat at your words, and for a moment, he forgot to breathe. He stared at you, eyes wide, as if processing what you had just said.
A grin slowly spread across his face, softer than his usual teasing smirk. "I think I can handle that. Might be a little tougher than fighting bad guys, but if I can take them on, I can handle you, right?"
You rolled your eyes, a playful smile tugging at your lips. "Oh, so now I'm your biggest challenge, huh?" you teased, raising an eyebrow.
Beomgyu smirked, his gaze softening as he leaned in a little closer. "You’re definitely the toughest one," he said, his voice low and sincere, "but I think I'm up for it."
"Well, good luck," you whispered, your voice suddenly quieter, the teasing giving way to something a little deeper. "You’re gonna need it."
#txt oneshot#txt fic#txt x reader#txt fanfic#txt fluff#txt imagines#txt scenarios#beomgyu x reader#tomorrow x together#choi beomgyu x you#choi beomgyu au#choi beomgyu x reader#choi beomgyu fanfic#beomgyu au#beomgyu fic#beomgyu oneshot#beomgyu!spiderman
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i'm not yours
Daryl Dixon x fem reader
summary: Daryl is in a relationship with Leah (they live in Alexandria together, so completely different plot to what TWD sold us), and you have been friends forever now. He doesn't know but you love him and you finally decide to tell him.
warnings: some swearing, but nothing too crazy
A/N: this one broke my heart, I was listening to Conan Gray "Yours" and I thought it would be a great idea. Don't ask why Leah, it just fits the story the most and it's easier to write about someone who you actually dislike a little than someone like my sweet precious Connie. I know Daryl wouldn't be like that in any way, shape or form, but I wanted to write something that has a bit of a sad ending. Welp, here we are.
Knock knock knock.
The sound of it echoed through your house, and it made you jump in your place at the desk, where you were writing in your journal. You knew exactly who it was. You promised Daryl you will go with him for a scavenging trip, as you were his best friend, but also a real good scavenger. You knew you couldn't deny him when he asked you two days ago, and even if it means enduring your stupid heart beating fast every time you were around him.
Truth was, you were in love with Daryl for quite some time now. You couldn't remember when exactly it happened. It felt like day by day you heart was aching to be more to him. More than just a friend. To be able to touch him, kiss him, feel him against you, not only as a friend... but as something deeper.
You were going to tell him a few months back, but then he met Leah and everything changed. You could see how he looked at her. Even though his face did not let it show, his eyes told you that he was attracted to her. Hell, you knew way before he admitted to it. And then, stupidly, you pushed him to ask her out but he only gave you a look of "do not even go there" and waved his hand at you. It wasn't long after that, Leah decided to make a move herself. She asked him out and he said yes. Of course, he said yes. He was silently yearning for her since she showed up in Alexandria. It almost made you sick how much he was into her.
You tried to be happy for him, you really have. And a part of you is happy for him. He finally seems a bit more relaxed, smiles a little more, talks a little more. Leah had a good influence on him through the months - you couldn't deny that. But deep down, you wished you were the one who was making him that happy, that much more open.
With a sigh, you closed your journal and got up, making your way to the doors. You opened them, only to be greeted with a slight smile from Daryl and a nod. "Hey," he said. "You ready to go?"
"Yeah," you say and you looked him up and down. He was wearing a weird, cape like thing. "The hell are you wearing?" you ask him, putting on your own jacket.
"A poncho," he says without missing a beat. He looked down at it and brushed an invisible fluff off it. "Why?"
"A poncho?" you raised you eyebrow, your lips curl into a smirk.
"Yes, a poncho," he says, rolling his eyes. "What's wrong with a poncho?"
"Nothing," you shake your head. "I just didn't take you as a poncho guy."
"Leah made it for me and it's quite warm," he shrugs his shoulders and looks at you with a slight smile. Of course, you thought to yourself, physically wanting to roll your eyes at it, but your smirk never falters. "I'll ask her to make you one. We'll both look like Robin Hood in the woods." You snort with laughter, stepping out of the house and following him to the gates.
Your heart was already thumping in your chest and it's only been mere minutes since you've been close to him. Your palms were sweaty. All you could think about was wrapping your arms around him and never letting him go. You knew you couldn't, but it was getting increasingly harder to be around him, knowing that him and Leah are playing house and being happy together.
If it isn't clear yet, you hate Leah. Pretty much everyone disliked her in Alexandria, but you were hundred percent sure you hated her most. Not because she was with Daryl, but she was just... so... bland. So boring. She had nothing going on for herself, she cries more than anyone you know, but yet somehow Daryl likes her? You found it strange. You found her strange. But you guessed that maybe she is only ever so bland in front of people, and she might be a bit more fun behind closed doors.
"Where are we going today?" you ask Daryl once you were out the gates, sounding casual and normal as always.
"I found some places, a couple miles out west and I wanted to check them out and see what we could find," he says, looking forwards. "We're running low on some medical supplies."
"Righto," you nod, focusing on the surroundings.
You walked and Daryl talked about Leah, non stop, like he didn't have any other topics to talk about with you. It was all 'Leah this... Leah that' and it really pissed you off, even though you didn't show it. You missed your usual banter and teasing. You missed the connection you formed over the years of friendship. Daryl quietens for a second before he speaks again.
"You should give Leah a chance, you know?"
"Kinda hard to give a chance to someone who has everything you want," you murmur.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
You stop in your tracks and your eyed widen realising that you said it out loud, instead of in your head. You turn to Daryl, who also stopped walking, and were looking at you with a raised eyebrow. You felt like your heart surely will jump out of your chest, in panic, under his questioning gaze.
"Nothing," you say, shaking your head.
"No, it's clearly something," Daryl presses and steps closer to you. "Why do you hate Leah so much? She's a really good person. If only..."
"Dear God, do you have anything else to talk about anymore?!" you roar, slinging your hands up in frustration. "I am so fucking sick of hearing you talk about her!"
"She's my..."
"Yeah, she's your girlfriend, got it!" you scoffed, the irritation building up inside of you. "You won't let me forget for even a minute!"
"What's gotten into you? Why are you acting like this?" he asks, looking you up and down, so clueless that it makes you blood boil and your face turns red. You clench your fists until your knuckles turn white.
The next words come out of your mouth with anger, frustration, so much fucking annoyance that you weren't able to stop them.
"Because I fucking love you! Because Leah gets to have you every single day of the week, while I have to watch you two from the side lines, kissing and holding each other and it makes me fucking jealous. Because I was supposed to be that person to you! Me!"
Daryl's eyes widen at your confession, and you keep looking at him. You swallowed hard, the realisation of what you just said finally hitting you and you close your eyes for a minute, trying to steady your breath. Everything seems to slow down around you, like someone switched the world to slow motion setting. Your body freezes up in place and when you open your eyes again, you see Daryl standing there, frowning.
"What the fuck, Y/N?" he asks, crossing his arms on his chest, his muscles stretch and roll under his checkered shirt. "Why would you ever tell me that?"
"I didn't mean to," you say but then you shake your head catching yourself on a lie. "That is a lie. I meant to... way before the Leah bullshit. But I've always chickened out."
"Before Leah? Y/N... How long has this been going on? And why the hell you thought that now is the best time to tell me?" his voice is cold and unforgiving. "I thought we were friends."
"We are!" you say quickly. "Of course we are friends."
"But you love me," he says slowly. "And now I know. How am I supposed to treat you now?"
"Just like you did before all of this," you say and you take a step closer to him. "Nothing needs to change. We can just forget about it."
He instinctively takes a step back.
OUCH.
You look into his eyes, your eyes pleading and questioning, like you were trying to search for answers in his. You wanted him to say that it is fine and that he will just forget about it, but he doesn't. Instead, he's standing there, his hands squeezing on the crossbow, looking at you like you've just stabbed him or something. Confusion on his face tells you he doesn't know how to deal with this information, knowing his best friend loves him in a romantic type of way, not the friendly way.
"Please, Daryl," you say, your head swing down, between your shoulders. "I'm still your best friend..."
"Best friend?" he scoffs.
OUCH AGAIN.
"Yes... Am I not?" you ask quietly, feeling the sting of the tears at the back of your eyes as you pray to God not to break down in front of him.
"You were, until you fell in love with me," he says without skipping a beat and you feel like your heart is being ripped out your chest. "Do you really expect me to just forget about all of this, and continue to be friends with you?"
"What do you mean?" you ask, your voice really weak.
"How would I know you won't try and destroy my relationship? Try to put a wedge between me and Leah, so you can have me all to yourself?" he starts to pace around, his eyes still scanning you, nothing but coldness in them.
"I wouldn't," you whisper. "You happiness is important to me."
"I cannot be sure about that now, can I?" he huffs. "So what, you're okay with just being friends with me?" he look you dead in the eyes and you could've sworn your heart stopped beating for a few seconds.
No. I want more. You wanted to say, to scream, but you knew that it wasn't the answer he was looking for.
"I'm okay with being just friends with you," you say, looking down at the ground, your words lack conviction.
"You're lying," he calls you out.
"I am," you admit pretty quickly, knowing he could read you like a book.
He looks at you for awhile, before rubbing his face with his whole hand. You could see he was trying to process the information as best as he could, and you were afraid that you just made the biggest mistake of your life. That you were about to lose a friend, someone who has been there for you forever now, just because your stupid feelings.
You bite your lip, trying hard to keep your emotions in check, your eyes still stinging at the back. Daryl was pacing around again, not looking at you anymore. His face serious, more serious than you ever saw him be. He suddenly stops.
"I would never see you as something more than a friend," you hear him say and your whole body shivers with how cold and mean it sounded.
You look up to him. He's now standing in front of you, with his crossbow swung across his body, his hands crossed on his chest. His blue eyes - oh, those perfect blue eyes - are looking at you but there is nothing behind them. His jaw seems to be clenching hard, like he's trying not to yell and scream. You wouldn't blame him if he did, but you were glad that he wasn't. Because it would, for sure, make you curl into a ball and cry.
You swallow hard and nod to him, acknowledging the words he just said.
I would never see you as something more than a friend.
You knew it. You knew you'd never be his. Deep down you were aware of it, but your stupid aching heart thought that maybe, just maybe, he'd change his mind one day and he'd see you as more than a friend... It was a delusion, promptly followed by empty hope.
"I know," you manage to whisper to him, your eyes digging a hole in the ground before you. You were too embarrassed to look at him, now that he knows and he will always know. He will always have your words at the back of his head and, most likely, he'll never treat you the same way.
Your whole scavenging trip goes in an excruciating silence. You go through the buildings and you scavenge the most of it, before going back to Alexandria. There is no goodbye from Daryl when you step inside the gates. There is no "see ya later" or anything else that would indicate that your friendship is okay. Of course, your friendship wasn't okay. You just told him you loved him, and he said he'd never see you as more than a friend...
You watched him head to his house, greet Leah and pull her inside the house, closing the doors behind him. You think about what they were doing, but you quickly shake your head to get rid of these thoughts. Your eyes finally fill with tears as you head down the street, your head down, your hands in your pockets. You let it all out, stepping inside your house, sliding down the doors onto the floor and curling into a ball. It felt like you just lost a piece of yourself. Piece that was important, maybe too important.
Days go by, and Daryl stays away from you, you both slowly drift away from each other. It was clear he wasn't comfortable with being friends with someone who loved them more than that. It was clear that your friendship was ruined, and that it was your fault. When you passed by each other, there was no words exchanged. It was like two complete strangers, just living in the same community.
You remember how he made you smile, and laugh. You you'd always tease each other and banter. How you always find ways to annoy people around you. You remember how everything that you liked about your life, it was somehow connected to him. How hearing his name made you smile every single time because you knew that day spent with Daryl was going to be full of adventure and mischief which you loved.
But one day, hearing his name didn't make you smile anymore...
#daryl dixon imagine#daryl dixon#the walking dead#daryl x female reader#daryl dixon x reader#the walking dead daryl#daryl dixon sad story#daryl dixon friendship#daryl fanfiction#twd daryl dixon#twd daryl#daryl x reader
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Not Quite Strangers
Song Eunseok x Reader
Word Count: 2,566 Genre: Smut/Fluff Rating: Explicit, MINORS DNI!
Summary: Y/N and Eunseok work for the same company, but she has no idea that he exists. No idea, that is, until she sees him at the club, and the two get along much better than expected.
Warnings: Slightly mean dom!Eunseok, bimbo!Reader, unprotected sex, creampie, blowjobs, biting, drunk sex (EVERYTHING IS CONSENSUAL), men at her job are kind of weird to Reader. If you think I missed a warning, please let me know!
Fic is under the cut.
Eunseok was amazed that you were still employed, frankly. Every day that you were both scheduled, you spent more time applying lip gloss and playing with your hair than paying attention during meetings. On top of that, your work never seemed to be done in a timely manner. Most of your outfits, usually crop tops and miniskirts, were egregious dress code violations as well. Your blatant disregard for your job pissed him off, and it only solidified his belief that you had to be fucking your boss. The twinge of jealousy at the thought was both embarrassing and infuriating, and the realization that he wanted to be the one fucking you pissed him off more.
You had no idea that Eunseok even existed. You didn’t know many of your coworkers, actually. You were far more preoccupied with more important things at work, like planning outings with your friends and making sure that your hair looked okay. Your work did get done too, of course. Did it get done on time? Not always, but your boss never seemed to care. He was too busy staring at your boobs to even notice how little you actually did during the day.
At the end of another boring workday, your best friend Minnie suggested that you go to the club for a little bit of fun. Whether she meant alcohol, sex, or dancing was anyone’s guess. You, however, were looking forward to finding someone to hook up with. It had been far too long since you had been fucked properly, and you were desperately hoping to fix that with the help of a night out.
When you and Minnie got to the club, you could hardly contain your excitement. Your favorite song was playing, and there were people everywhere. You always loved being around crowds of people, and tonight was no exception. Plus, you were certain that some of the people in the club had to be attractive guys that you could take home for a night. Before seeking out your next hookup, however, you and Minnie approached the bar for a bit of liquid confidence. You didn’t necessarily need it, but a little boost could never hurt.
When you felt sufficiently tipsy, you started looking around to see who your options were for the night. As your eyes scanned every inch of the club, it didn’t take long for a certain guy standing by the bar to catch your attention. He was tall, with messy hair, a smile that gave you butterflies, and dark eyes that you could easily imagine yourself getting lost in. After a deep breath and a quick reapplication of your lip gloss, you decided to approach him.
“Hi, I’m (Y/N), what’s your name?” you asked.
“Do you really not recognize me?” he asked. The blank look on your face indicated that you did not, so he continued, “I’m Eunseok, we work in the same office.”
“Oops, sorry,” you said with a giggle, “I’m bad at recognizing faces.”
“That’s ok, sweetheart. Would you like to dance?”
“That sounds great!”
The two of you made your way to the dance floor while a shitty remix of a cheesy pop song blasted through the club. Once you found a spot with enough room for both of you to move comfortably, you started dancing. Eunseok had his hands around your waist while you swayed to the music, and you couldn’t help but think about the other parts of your body that you wanted his hands on. While you danced, he whispered in your ear about how sexy he thought you were and how he couldn’t wait to take you home.
By the time the song ended, the tension between the two of you was palpable. In a moment of poor judgement that you would later blame on the alcohol and horniness coursing through your veins, you asked Eunseok to follow you to the club’s bathroom. He did just that, but he had to admit that he was confused. The bathroom was empty, which was perfect for what you wanted to do. So, you sank to your knees, and that was when Eunseok’s confusion went away.
Before you continued, you looked up at him and asked, “Can I?”
“Go ahead, sweetheart.”
That was all you needed to hear to carefully unbutton Eunseok’s jeans and pull them down along with his boxers. Once his cock was free from its constraints, you started by gently kissing the tip. He sucked in a sharp inhale, and that was your signal that he was enjoying himself. So, you started to gently suck on his tip instead of just kissing it, and he let out soft groans as he felt you take him into your mouth.
As you carefully took more of Eunseok’s cock into your mouth, the moans and groans that slipped from his lips only got louder. You weren’t complaining, though. He had a sexy voice, and with each soft curse or moan of your name, you felt yourself getting just a little bit more turned on than you were before.
Eunseok would have been a liar if he’d said that he hadn’t imagined this exact scene before. When he was alone at night, he frequently pictured you on your knees in front of him, your mouth around his cock. Now that he was actually experiencing it, however, he found that none of his fantasies could ever come close to the real thing. Your movements were exactly the right speed, and every so often, you swirled your tongue around his tip, earning extra moans of pleasure.
It didn’t take long at all for Eunseok to feel his release approaching. With a loud groan, he said, “I’m close, sweetheart. Keep going.”
You did exactly as you were told, excited for what was coming next. With one more well-timed swirl of your tongue around his tip, Eunseok stilled in your mouth. As he came undone, a warm, familiar liquid hit your throat, and you loved the feeling.
Once you were certain that you had swallowed all of it, you carefully stood up. As soon as you found your footing, Eunseok pulled you close and kissed you. Though you’d definitely kissed a lot of people over the years, no one had made you feel quite like he could. Whether it was the alcohol that was coursing through your veins or genuine attraction, you had no idea, but you couldn’t help but think that you really wanted to see him again.
You were distracted from your thoughts by Eunseok asking, “What do you think about taking this back to my place, gorgeous?”
“I’d love to! I just need to let Minnie know that I’m leaving.”
When you found your friend, she was dancing with a very attractive guy. Not wanting to disrupt her fun too much, you just tapped her shoulder and let her know that you were leaving with someone. She gave you a knowing smile and said, “Have fun!” before turning back to the guy she was dancing with.
Both you and Eunseok were too tipsy to drive, so when you were ready to leave, he called an Uber back to his apartment. While you waited, you continued to flirt with him shamelessly. It all started with a seemingly innocent comment from you about how good Eunseok looked in the jeans he’d chosen to wear. He smiled at the compliment and said, “You don’t look too bad yourself, sweetheart. I have a feeling that dress will look better on my floor, though.”
“I don’t know, I think it looks pretty good on me.”
Eunseok laughed a little bit at your comment and said, “Yes it does, sweetheart.”
Before you could think of something else to say, the Uber arrived, and Eunseok helped you into the backseat before getting in himself. Once the two of you were settled and the car started moving, he gently placed his hand on your thigh. The gesture seemed innocent enough, but you knew that he had other intentions.
While you waited to get back to Eunseok’s apartment, you found that it was difficult to control yourself, to say the least. Each moment the two of you spent so close together was another moment that you thought about how good it would feel when you finally got the chance to be even closer. If the noticeable bulge in his pants was any indication, he was probably thinking about the same thing.
Once you got out of the car and started to walk up the steps to Eunseok’s apartment, the wait got even more torturous. Especially when you saw the way he stared at your chest before turning away to unlock the door. Once the door was open, he grabbed your hand and pulled you inside.
As soon as the front door to his apartment was shut, Eunseok pushed you against it and kissed you. You moaned softly, loving how his lips felt against yours. However, before you could enjoy the feeling for too long, he pulled away and said, “I need you to tell me now if you don’t want this.”
“I want it. I want you.”
That was all Eunseok needed to hear to grab your hand and basically drag you to his room. Once you were there, he pulled you closer to him and said, “Strip. Now.” You did exactly as you were told, putting on a bit of a show as you slowly pulled your dress off of your body. When he finally saw you entirely bare in front of him, he groaned and said, “Fuck, baby. You’re so fucking sexy.”
“Please fuck me. Can’t take it anymore.”
“Are you sure, sweetheart?”
“I’m sure. Want you inside me.”
Within seconds, Eunseok’s clothes joined yours on the floor, and he climbed onto his bed. Once he was seated, he patted his lap, a signal that he wanted you to ride him. You didn’t waste another second once you realized what he wanted, carefully climbing into his lap and lowering yourself onto his cock.
The groan that slipped from Eunseok’s mouth as he felt you around him was straight-up sinful, and you loved it. It probably made you a bad person, but something about the way men seemed to just fall apart when you had sex with them was a massive boost to your ego. You loved being the reason that someone was turned on, and you loved the way men acted when they were turned on even more.
Once you took a moment to adjust to the way Eunseok stretched you out, you slowly started to move up and down. While you bounced on his cock, soft groans left his mouth that were like music to your ears. As the sounds of pleasure filled the room, you couldn’t help but think that you really wanted to do this again soon.
Eunseok was pretty sure that he was in heaven when he felt you bouncing up and down on his cock. You were easily one of the most beautiful women he’d ever seen, and he had no problem telling you that in between the moans that slipped out of his mouth.
It didn’t take long at all before the only sounds in the room where Eunseok’s groans, your whines and moans, and skin slapping skin. Neither of you spoke for a while, too lost in pleasure and each other to even try to fill the space with words. You were the first one to break the silence, saying “Feels so good, sir. Love the way you fill me up.”
“Fuck, baby. Don’t call me that.”
“Why?”
“Because when somebody as pretty as you are calls me something like ‘sir,’ it gets a hell of a lot harder to control myself.”
“But I don’t want you to control yourself, sir.”
That was all Eunseok needed to hear to completely snap, grabbing your hips and moving you up and down himself. When he started fucking into you harder, your soft whimpers turned into loud moans that could have only been described as pornographic. Both of you loved every second, and while neither of you wanted to admit it just yet, you both really wanted to do it again.
Just when you thought that you couldn’t feel any more pleasure at Eunseok’s hands, you felt him start kissing and biting your tits. When you felt his mouth on you again, your moans got even louder, if that was even possible, and he felt like he was going crazy. Though to be fair, he felt the same way about basically everything about you, from the way you smiled at him to the way your tits bounced as he fucked you.
Eunseok was snapped out of his admiration of your body when he heard you cry out, “I’m close, sir. Can I please please please cum?” as you felt your release drawing closer.
“Hold it for just a little bit longer, baby. Wanna do it at the same time.”
“Please, sir?”
Hearing you beg was the last little push that Eunseok needed for his release to start to creep up on him. With a groan, he said, “Fuck, I’m close baby. Where do you want it?”
“Inside. Want you to fill me up.”
“Fuck. Cum with me, sweetheart.”
You came undone with a loud moan of Eunseok’s name at the same time that he stilled inside of you. Something about the way he groaned as he filled you made you want even more of him, if that was even possible. It was a feeling that you weren’t quite used to having about the guys that you hooked up with, but as you came down from your high, you couldn’t help but think that you liked the feeling.
Once you’d both recovered from your orgasms and he was absolutely sure that you were ok, Eunseok lifted you off of him so he could go get each of you a glass of water. When he came back and handed you your glass, you smiled and said, “Thank you.”
“No problem, sweetheart,” he responded before taking a sip from his own glass.
Once he was satisfied with the amount of water that you drank, Eunseok took your glass and set it on the nightstand next to his own. Then, he carefully got back into bed with you and held you close. While you relaxed in his hold, the two of you talked about whatever came to mind as you drifted off to sleep.
The next morning, you were relieved to find that Eunseok was still in bed with you with his arms wrapped around your waist. You knew that you should get out of bed soon to start getting ready to go back home, but you really didn’t want to. Eunseok’s bed was so comfortable, and you really wanted to stay comfortable for just a few more minutes. Plus, you weren’t quite ready to leave Eunseok yet.
Eunseok woke up a few minutes after you did, also relieved that you were still in bed with him. He liked you a lot, and he really wanted to spend as much time with you as he could before you left. Sure, he thought you were really fucking sexy, but his interest in you ran deeper than that. He didn’t just want to fuck you once. He wanted to be yours, and he could only hope that you felt the same.
Thank you so much for reading my first fic of 2025! I cannot wait for you guys to see what I have in store. If you liked this one, please like and reblog! If you'd like to read more of my work, you can find my masterlist here. If you wanna see what I have in the works, my upcoming works list is here. If none of that catches your attention, or there's something specific that you want to see, send a request via my asks or dms! If you want to be tagged in my new fics, you can leave a comment on any of my posts, send an ask, or send a dm with the username that you'd like tagged!
Thank you again for reading. I hope you have a wonderful day and an incredible year!
#kpop fanfic#kpop imagines#kpop smut#kpop fic#kpop fluff#riize x reader#riize fanfic#riize imagines#eunseok x reader#riize fluff#riize smut#eunseok smut#eunseok fluff#kvanity
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Growing closer than expected (Patreon)
#Doodles#Pokemon#Kabu#Larry#Firebland#Silverstreakshipping#To the shock of no one this is Zarla's fault (lol)#Bad influence! Too inspiring! Stop this! I'm totally not culpable for Being Inspired for the [X]th time now definitely lol#I kept finding little ideas popping into my head with them and I mean if I've already doodled them Once I guess I could try a couple more#Learned them just well enough to keep finding things for them pft#Although I am surprised by just how easy I find Larry to Draw - not necessarily that I'm fully Confident in drawing him yet but like#There's very little struggle to the shapes I put down here and I'm fairly pleased with their configuration haha#Kabu on the other hand!! Why is he so hard to draw!!! What!! Like I know his clothes are complex but no his face!#He's got a really cute and difficult-to-draw face! Why! I cannot figure him out#It's probably the do with the shape and size of his head...his hair........ I really enjoy fluff and he's Kind of but Not Really fluffy??#And his white streaks aren't intuitive to me - but Larry's floofs are??? I don't know#The only thing I can figure it that I Kind Of draw Dexter the same way - Larry's streaks are like an exaggerated version of how I floof Dex#And then a suit is second nature by now but I've already talked about my difficulties with Kabu's clothes lol#Didn't stop me from putting him out front for this hug tho! It's cute... Kabu asking Larry to come play with him but Larry has stuff to do#May or may not have felt a little that way myself - made most of these doodles during Requestober haha so busy!#The brightly shining brilliant glow boyfriend setup-payoff returns ♥ He glows like a fire! Overwhelming!#I still really love that glow cutaway style around the low-bouncing flower haha - just don't draw there and it gives the impression! Fun :)#Hugs <3 Unsurprisingly been in the want of cute fluff and sweetness and hugs were very on the menu#It really is fun to think of Larry being just a Little weird about how much he feels for Kabu#Acting childish as that part of him hasn't had the chance to grow and mature! Stuck awkward and gangly in otherwise full development#Feelings so big and strong and immediate for the first time in too too long <3 Gotta express them all somehow#And ending off with a bit of silliness haha - was Kabu prompting him just to hear such an answer? Who knows ♪#Larry just too straightforward haha - why else would he do or say things unless he felt like it! Pfsh obviously#Haha
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infect me with your love
pairing ⸺ spiderman!gojo x reader
summary ⸺ you have always existed in gojo satoru’s shadow. he is a physics prodigy, a person that everyone endlessly admires for his intelligence and charisma, and you hate him for taking the spotlight that you deserve to share with him. but it all changes one day at 5:07AM at your starbucks job when gojo barges in, ordering ridiculously sweet drinks and posing existential questions. is there more to gojo that meets the eye, and is it linked to the vigilante swinging around New York City?
warnings ⸺ college au, academic rivals to lovers, SMUT, tooth rotting fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, basically the holy trinity, reader works at Starbucks (BOYCOTT tho), set in NYC, both reader and gojo are physics majors, mentions of SA, attempt at SA on reader but nothing too graphic, some violence, gojo swings reader across NYC so might trigger fear of heights?. SPIDER-MAN KISS SPIDERMAN KISS, injury and mentions of blood, mentions of gun, inappropriate use of webs LOL, fingering, oral, p in v sex, reader has a vagina, fem reader implied
playlist ⸺ quantum rizzics
a/n thank you for @avaults my POOKIE for beta reading this. this has been a journey and my first longfic and i hope you guys enjoy this as much as i did writing it it's my baby:')
if u don’t wanna read the smut just skip the part after they make up, it’s not necessary to the story and is the ending scene. but just to be clear, minors dni.
kinktober masterlist | general masterlist
fun fact: starbucks opens at 5am.
of course, that depends on your local hours and where you live, but in the campus starbucks you worked at, your manager fortunately didn’t really care if you showed up to your opening shift a bit late. after all, no professor or undergrad is waking up at the ass crack of dawn to get a fuckin coffee; if they really needed a pick me up, they’d go to get the free alcohol at one of the frats that was still partying.
matter of fact, your manager didn’t really give a fuck what you did as long as you didn’t get the shop blown up or the matcha spilled (it was expensive). this meant you could leisurely wake up at 4:45am and set up the display muffins and cake pops when you arrived in the shop at 5:20am. really, the manager ought to reduce the hours because all you do is finish your readings for your gen ed history classes on the canvas app on your phone. so, really you get paid for doing your homework on your shifts—not that you’re complaining or anything.
that is, until gojo satoru.
first, let’s get the record straight about who gojo is. gojo is a physics second-year—same as you–who is the bane of your existence. up until a few months ago, you never saw gojo satoru outside of classes (where he was dozing off) unless you happened to show up at a frat party, which was only a few occurrences when you got peer pressured by your friends. clearly, he was a “work hard, party hard” type person because he frequents the frats more than the library while having the grades to make up for it because he’s a prodigy. he’s charismatic and smart as fuck; right out of middle school he was studying manifolds and abstract algebra while the rest of the high school freshmen were learning the quadratic equation and the concept of variables. he probably learned what gravity was at age of two and was doing research in quantum field theory by the time he got into college.
take the last time you saw him outside of class, at office hours with professor yaga.
the air in professor yaga’s office is thick with the scent of old textbooks, the hum of the overhead lights adding to the familiar quiet. you’ve been waiting all week for this chance, and you’re armed with a question that’s supposed to signal i’ve done my homework. you lean forward, trying to project confidence as you ask, “i read in your last paper that you’re working on optimizing error correction in quantum computing systems. is there a reason you prioritized stabilizer codes over surface codes?”
professor yaga’s brow lifts, impressed, and you can feel the warmth of his approval starting to settle around you. “ah,” he says, sounding pleasantly surprised, “you’ve actually read it. that’s... a complicated question.” he leans back, launching into an explanation, and for a second, you think this might actually be it—the moment he notices you for your dedication, your depth of knowledge.
but then, the door creaks open behind you.
you tense, a sinking feeling pooling in your stomach even before you turn around. of course, it’s gojo satoru, strolling in like he owns the place. his bag is slung over one shoulder, and he’s flashing that easy grin that never seems to falter. he spares you the briefest glance before zeroing in on professor yaga.
professor yaga’s face shifts instantly, a mixture of annoyance and resignation flashing in his eyes as he sighs, “gojo. nice of you to join us.”
“hey, i was just passing by,” gojo says casually, though he’s clearly anything but. he doesn’t pass by anywhere without making an entrance. “thought i’d check in on how everyone’s doing.”
the glint in yaga’s eyes sharpens, and he fixes gojo with a look. “when’s that last problem set coming in, satoru? i’ve had enough late assignments from you for one semester.”
at this, another professor at a nearby desk chuckles, casting an amused glance at gojo. “don’t push him too hard, yaga,” he says as if gojo’s delinquency is something charming, a shared inside joke. “kid’s already got the department’s highest scores without trying.”
oh, for god’s fucking sake. you force yourself not to roll your eyes, your grip tightening on the strap of your bag as you sink back in your chair. of course, all it takes is for him to show up and somehow you’re rendered invisible. just minutes ago, professor yaga was engaging with you, treating you as if you might actually belong in this room with your carefully constructed question. now, he’s utterly distracted, entirely absorbed by whatever pseudo-flattering insults he’s throwing at gojo. and, for the record, that stupid, balding professor is wrong. you have the same fucking scores as gojo, so you’re equals.
you’re not even sure gojo realizes he’s doing it—that he has this magnetic, obnoxious effect on everyone in a room. but that’s exactly what grates on you the most. he pulls all eyes to him, like he’s some cosmic force everyone’s compelled to admire. and you? you’re just… there. not that it’s any different than the usual experiences you’ve had as a woman in stem, always feeling like you have to prove yourself five times over. but somehow, gojo makes it worse.
and he does it all effortlessly, like physics is some sort of playground where he can breeze through research and exams, sprinkling charisma wherever he goes. he’s probably off writing his own theories on manifolds while everyone else is struggling to keep up with quantum mechanics. meanwhile, here you are, clawing for every shred of recognition, only to watch it fizzle as soon as he steps into the room.
he flashes a grin at professor yaga. “i’ll get it in,” he says, waving a hand dismissively. “i’m just, you know, prioritizing. some of us have… extracurriculars.” he doesn’t wink, but he might as well.
you resist the urge to scoff, sinking deeper into your seat as the frustration bubbles up, sharp and hot. it’s not like you’re jealous. you’d rather endure anything than admit that. but watching gojo waltz in and immediately siphon off any attention you’d managed to earn feels like a slap. if he could just stop showing up, or better yet, stop pretending to be so casually brilliant, maybe—just maybe—you’d have a chance at something other than this routine invisibility.
you let out a huff, pretending to check the time, imagining you had somewhere better to be. you have brilliant, observant blue eyes following you out the door, but you’re too busy trying to keep yourself together until you reach your dorm, where you ugly cry it out.
which, of course, brings you to mornings like this one, where you actually do have to be somewhere. namely, behind the counter at the campus starbucks, opening up shop while most of the world is still asleep. you catch sight of the green mermaid logo ahead, just visible through the dim haze of a 5:07 a.m. chill.
and right beneath it, there’s a familiar head of silver hair.
your eyes have to double take on the man who seems to be looking a bit slouched, tired and leaning against the light pole while tapping his foot. the muscular yet tall stature and white hair are unmistakable; it’s the same ones you’ve dreamed about throttling. but you’re so confused as to why he’s there that you just decide to wordlessly walk towards the store and open up, ignoring his presence until his voice cuts through the morning silence.
“doesn’t this store open up at 5?” his voice sounds tired and groggy, you notice.
“uh, yea,” you answer tentatively, shrugging. “but, um, no one comes until 7 so i show up late.”
his eyes narrow and somewhat playfully (well, as playful as he can sound at the ass crack of dawn anyways), he asks, “don’t you know time is of the essence? seems pretty irresponsible to me that you’re not showing up on time.”
you just stare at him for a bit because, after all, this is the guy you’ve been having the murderous equivalent of wet dreams about for the past year talking to you in a friendly, joking, familiar way. needless to say, you’re at a loss of words in your slightly flustered state, so all that comes out is a short “sorry” before you’re walking in, getting ready to put on your apron and setting the oven on to heat up the croissants.
gojo follows in after you, choosing to sit at the table closest to the counter. he sets the backpack he had on his back down, rummaging through and whipping out his laptop and plugging it in. it’s a heavy old thing, and gojo’s biceps strain as he pulls it out and you almost snort when looking at it in its entirety. a gaming laptop.
but you don’t do that, because laughing at someone who’s a stranger to you would be mean, no matter how much you hate him, so you resort to setting up the counter and getting some powders out. bending over, you get the newly shipped box of cake pops, deigning to put them out on display until you’re interrupted with a cough.
you turn, looking inquisitively at gojo until he points down to the counter, indicating that he wants to order. you mumble, “just a second!” before you continue hauling the box to put it on the top counter where you can easily unpack it and brush your hands, walking up to gojo and getting the system ready to take his order.
and your fingers are poised on the buttons until you realize that no order is coming out of his mouth. you blink, and he blinks, keeping a stoic face that nevertheless poorly conceals an amused expression.
“…what can i get you?”
at that, he pouts. “no good morning? no chirpy hello?”
you just stare at him for a good second. what the fuck?
“what?” gojo frowns. “shouldn’t you do that to every customer?” you realize belatedly you’ve said it out loud in your shock, but shake it off nonetheless.
the silence lingers after gojo’s teasing comment, making you acutely aware of the odd situation: you’re standing there in your work apron, face-to-face with the man you’ve imagined taking down in your head a thousand times, and yet here he is, tired but playfully trying to chat you up. you should hate this—he’s getting under your skin, but for some reason, you just feel unsettled, disturbed that he’s so human.
you don’t trust your voice to not crack while making eye contact with him, so, instead, you focus on your screen. you settle on a simple, flat, “morning,” without a hint of cheerfulness, staring down at the register like it’s your lifeline.
gojo’s eyebrow quirks at your half-hearted greeting, but he says nothing, opting instead to study you with an amused glint. you can feel his gaze, like a weight on your skin, and it almost makes you shiver. he leans forward a little, propping his elbows on the counter, his posture loose but expectant. his playful energy is barely masking something beneath it, something harder.
gojo's grin is wide, almost boyish, and it makes your stomach churn more than it should.
“see? was that so hard?” he says, leaning forward on his elbows like he’s settling in for a chat. his tone is too friendly for someone who’s never exchanged more than a glance with you in class—someone you’ve been actively avoiding whenever possible.
you scowl, moving to the register to finally punch in his order. “what would you like?”
“hmm...” he taps his chin, dragging out the silence. he’s enjoying this, that much is obvious. “surprise me.”
you blink, fingers still poised over the buttons. “surprise you?”
“yeah,” he says, shrugging like it’s no big deal. “you work here. you know what’s good.”
you want to throttle him. really, truly throttle him. there’s no way this is real—no way the gojo satoru is sitting in front of you at 5:07 in the morning, asking you to surprise him with a starbucks order like he’s some quirky regular.
and yet, here you are.
“fine,” you mutter, punching in the order for the sweetest, most ridiculous concoction you can think of. caramel drizzle, extra whipped cream, a pump of every syrup in the back room—you’re not going easy on him. “that’ll be eight dollars.”
he doesn’t blink at the ridiculous price. of course, he doesn’t.
pulling out his phone, he taps it against the card reader and flashes you another grin. “thanks, i’m sure it’ll be great.”
you barely resist the urge to roll your eyes. “uh-huh.”
as you move to make the drink, the silence between you stretches uncomfortably. you’ve spent so much time thinking about gojo, despising him, that now that he’s here, right in front of you, you don’t know how to act. and the worst part? he seems perfectly at ease, completely unfazed by the fact that you’ve spent the better part of a year dreaming of his downfall. he’s back to looking at his stupid heavy ahh gaming laptop, and as you move over to put in copious amounts of caramel pumps, you notice that he’s on cool math games playing fireboy and watergirl and almost snort out loud. he’s locked in on his game, his legs moving up and down anxiously, reminiscent of an ipad kid.
after a few minutes of assembling his monstrosity of a drink, you slide it across the counter. “here,” you say, trying to keep the irritation out of your voice.
gojo raises an eyebrow at the drink, the sheer volume of whipped cream threatening to spill over the lid. “wow,” he says, sounding genuinely impressed. “you really went all out.”
“you said to surprise you.”
“i did,” he admits, grabbing the cup and taking a slow, deliberate sip. his eyes widen slightly at the overly sweet taste, and for a brief moment, you think you’ve won.
but then he smiles again, that same irritatingly carefree smile, and you know you haven’t.
“so,” gojo begins, leaning back in his chair like he’s settling in for a long conversation. “what’s a genius like you doing working the early shift at starbucks?”
your hands freeze mid-clean, and you glance at him sharply. genius?
you can’t tell if he’s being sincere or mocking you—probably the latter, considering who he is—but the word still lingers in the air between you, unsettling.
you scoff, trying to brush it off. “gotta pay the bills somehow,” you mutter, going back to wiping down the counter. but gojo’s gaze is heavy on you, and you can tell he’s not letting it go.
you glance up at him. “look, i like having time to think in the mornings. it’s quiet. besides, no one’s lining up for coffee before 7, so it’s not like i’m missing anything.”
gojo chuckles softly, but there’s something off about it. “thinking time, huh?” he repeats your words, but there’s a strange edge to them, like he’s mulling them over. in fact, you think you just realize that he’s been acting oddly this entire morning, restlessness evident in his figure. he taps his fingers on the table, his eyes flickering to the window, watching the gray morning light spill into the shop.
“doesn’t it ever feel like…” he trails off, brow furrowing slightly. “i don’t know… like you should be doing something else? like… something more?”
his question hangs in the air, heavy and unspoken, but you get the feeling he’s not talking about you. there’s something in his voice, something that sounds like he’s grappling with his own thoughts, with his own place in the world.
for a moment, you’re tempted to brush him off. to tell him he’s overthinking things, that he’s gojo satoru and he already has everything laid out for him. but something stops you. maybe it’s the way he looks—his usual confidence slightly cracked at the edges, his playful tone masking something else. something deeper.
you shrug, turning back to the counter. “i mean… it doesn’t have to be ‘more’ all the time. sometimes just showing up is enough.”
there’s a pause, and you can feel the weight of your words sinking in. gojo goes quiet, really quiet, and when you glance back at him, his usual smirk is gone. he’s just… staring at you, eyes narrowed slightly like he’s trying to figure you out.
“just… showing up, huh?” he repeats softly, almost like he’s testing the words. his fingers stop tapping, and he leans back in his chair, his gaze unfocused, like he’s somewhere else entirely. somewhere in his own head.
you don’t say anything else. you’ve said your piece, and somehow, you know it hit deeper than either of you expected. there’s a strange silence between you now, not uncomfortable, but heavy with understanding.
gojo stands up after a long pause, grabbing his bag and slinging it over his shoulder. he looks at you, his usual grin slipping back into place, but it’s softer now. less cocky. more real.
“maybe you’re right,” he says, and this time there’s no teasing in his voice. “sometimes it’s enough just to show up.”
and with that, he gives you a small nod, turning and heading out into the cold morning. the door swings shut behind him, and for a second, you just stand there, staring after him.
something’s shifted. you don’t know what it is, but it feels like the start of something. something bigger than just a rivalry.
you shake your head, turning back to the counter. it’s too early for this shit.
…
“you know, i didn’t get your name.”
gojo’s voice cuts through the low hum of the espresso machine as he leans against the counter, that same insufferable grin plastered across his face. he’s here again, of course, only this time it’s during your closing shift. the place is quiet, almost deserted except for the occasional customer who swings by for a quick coffee before heading back out into the cold.
you look up from the equipment you were cleaning, already annoyed. “i’m pretty sure we’ve shared at least one class every semester.”
you weren’t trying to hide the pettiness. gojo, for all his academic genius, clearly couldn’t be bothered to remember you—a recurring face in his orbit. it’s not like you were expecting him to remember you, especially among the sea of faces in lecture halls, but something about the way he strolled in, acting like this was just some cute, quirky meet-cute, got under your skin.
gojo quirks an eyebrow in confusion, his gaze drifting up toward the ceiling as if searching the recesses of his mind for your name—only to come up empty. “are you a grad student?”
you flash him an exasperated look. “just for that, i’m not telling you.”
grabbing a towel to wipe your hands, you step out from behind the barista counter, heading towards the trash can just behind him to restock the straws. as you make your way to the supply room, you can feel his eyes following your every move. to your surprise, gojo starts walking toward you, his presence looming as you dump the straws into the container.
it isn’t until you turn around that you realize he’s standing right next to you, bent comically at the waist and squinting at something on your chest. heat creeps up your neck and into your cheeks as you realize his proximity and move to take a step back.
he wasn’t ogling you (thank god), but instead, squinting at the nametag pinned to your apron.
"ah," he says, straightening up with a triumphant grin. “there it is. y/n, huh?” the way his mouth rolls over your name slowly makes you feel a bit weird, because after all, this is the guy you’ve shit talked about in your diary finally acknowledging you existed, but before you can reflect on the feeling, you bristle again in annoyance.
“really? you had to get that close just to read my name?”
gojo doesn’t seem fazed by your annoyance, in fact, it only seems to amuse him further. “hey, i was just trying to be thorough. gotta make sure i get it right, you know?” his grin widens, and you swear he’s enjoying this way too much.
“thorough. sure.” you turn away, trying to busy yourself with the straws again, but the heat still lingers on your face. his proximity had been… unexpected. and a little too close for comfort.
when you’re done with the straws, you steel the courage to turn your body so you’re facing him, making an indication with your hands for him to move out of your way. instead of him giving you space to leave the cramped corner, he leans against the counter now like he practically owns the place. in doing so, he effectively pins you against the corner of the coffee shop, leaving you no option but to fiddle with the straws while pointedly avoiding his gaze, but not before you see the pout on his face. “you’re not going to ask me for my name?”
“i know it. it’s gojo.” you immediately curse yourself for letting your lips loose.
fuck. he squints his eyes in what you perceive as suspicion. “how do you know my name?”
“i saw it on your credit card information.” you couldn’t exactly tell him how you’ve stalked him (as well as how inefficient you found a function in his 6th grade robotics code), so that would be a plausible enough reason.
but gojo, of course, doesn’t let up. “so, y/n,” he starts. “you going to the party next week? you know, for halloweekend?”
ah, halloweekend. the ultimate weekend for getting excuses to dress slutilly, excessively drink, and get laid. at your college, it was an even bigger deal, with people partying for all three days of the week’s end as well as the weekend before and after halloween. you shook your head. “i don’t think so.” that phys 321 assignment was not going to finish itself, nor were parties really your scene.
“what?” he immediately crosses his arms across his chest, frowning and leaning closer to you to squint at you. “why?”
you sigh inwardly, awkward at the prospect of him bugging you further about your life. “i’m bu—”
you’re interrupted by the sound of the door opening and instinctively move to get behind the counter to take the new customer’s order; at first, you thank the heavens that you got a distraction from gojo, that you’re not alone anymore, but seeing who the customer was, the hope extinguishes like a candle face with wind.
you both see a man swagger in, the same guy you’ve noticed hanging around far too often lately. his eyes immediately lock onto you, and a slow, sleazy grin spreads across his face.
“hey, look who’s still here,” the man says, sauntering over to the counter like he owns the place. “my favorite barista.”
you tense, forcing a smile. “what can i get you?”
he doesn’t answer right away, his gaze sliding down your body in a way that makes your skin crawl. “i was thinking…” he drawls, leaning in closer than necessary, “you and i should hang out. you’re always here, and i’m always here, so it’s like fate or something, right?”
your stomach churns, and you take a small step back, maintaining your composure. “i’m good, thanks.”
but he doesn’t let up, leaning further across the counter. “come on, don’t be like that. just one drink. you deserve it after a long day.”
“i really can’t—”
“don’t be shy,” he interrupts, a grin spreading wider. “i’m a nice guy, i promise.”
before you can think of another polite rejection, gojo steps forward, his body language shifting entirely. the playful air around him evaporates, replaced by something colder, more dangerous. he positions himself squarely between you and the guy, effectively cutting off the man’s view of you.
“she said no,” gojo says, his voice firm, low. “so why don’t you fuck off?”
the sleazy guy blinks, clearly not expecting the sudden shift. his smile fades, and he glares at gojo, sizing him up like he’s considering pushing back. but one glance at gojo’s unwavering stare, and the guy decides it’s not worth it. with a muttered curse, he turns and leaves, the door swinging shut behind him.
you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. the guy’s been bothering you routinely; part of you thinks that he’s still not going to leave you alone, but the rest of you visibly relaxes, the weight of this guy’s harassment lifting off your shoulders under gojo’s protection.
gojo turns back to you, the usual teasing smirk creeping back onto his face, though his eyes are still sharp. “you okay?”
“yeah,” you manage, though your voice is quieter than you’d like. “thanks for that.”
“don’t mention it.” he shrugs it off like it was nothing, but there’s something different in the way he’s looking at you now—something protective. “i know you’re perfectly capable of handling yourself, but i figured i’d speed things up a bit.”
you roll your eyes, trying to shake off the tension. “you’re such a hero, gojo.”
“always,” he replies with a wink. and just like that, the moment’s lightened again, the balance between you restored, though there’s a subtle shift in the air. something unspoken between the two of you—an understanding, maybe.
you don’t acknowledge it out loud, but as you go back to restocking, you find yourself glancing at him more than before. and for the first time in… well, ever, you don’t completely mind his presence.
…
fast forward a few hours, and after a bit of conversation, gojo finally leaves the fine institution that is your campus starbucks. right now, you’re alone and finishing cleaning up. you lock up, the starbucks finally closed, finishing your last task for the night. it’s quiet—too quiet, actually, with the usual streetlights casting strange shadows across the empty sidewalk. the air feels heavy, like something unseen is lingering just out of reach, watching from the dark. you shake it off, telling yourself you’re just tired and letting your nerves get to you.
as you start your walk back to your dorm, the feeling only grows. the street’s nearly empty, and with each step, the silence presses in closer. it’s fine, you tell yourself, picking up your pace. but then you hear it: the echo of footsteps, faint but unmistakable. heart pounding, you speed up, every instinct telling you to just get back. almost there. you just have to cross the alley—
“hey there,” a voice drawls, and your stomach sinks. a hand moves to grab at your shoulder, making you turn quickly. what meets your vision is the same guy from earlier, his grin widening in a way that makes your skin crawl.
you try to move out of his grip, but he grabs you harder, cutting off any escape. “aw, don’t be like that. i just wanted some company.”
your throat’s dry, but you manage, “i said no.”
he doesn’t even pretend to listen, his gaze trailing over you with that same leering interest. “no need to be so uptight. i could make this fun for you.”
your back hits the wall of the alley. trapped. he leans in, his breath warm and sour against your face, one hand reaching out as he says something sleazy that you can barely hear over the pounding in your ears—
and then a voice cuts in from above, all easy humor. “y’know, i always thought this city’s trash problem was bad, but this is something else.”
your heart leaps in your chest at the small flicker of hope, that someone has the balls to try to rescue you. but as you—and this creep—turn, you find no evidence of another party present, only his mysterious presence.
“who’s there?” the guy snarls, his grip tightening so much that you wince. “why don’t you get lost if you know what’s good for you—”
“dude, don’t you have any rizz?” the mysterious boy retorts.the stranger has a youthful voice, someone of your age. “the way you have to resort to sexual harassment is just sad. you guys are always sooo predictable, you’re so gonna tell me to scram or something.”
the man scowls, hand leaving your arm in an effort to search for the stranger in the dark. “why don’t you mind your own business, punk—”
and he’s interrupted, because a shiny, silver something flings out in the darkness and lands on his face, sending his arms in a frenzy to uncover what it is. the man rips the sticky, silver webbing off his face with a growl, looking around wildly, his expression shifting from confusion to anger. his eyes dart through the dark alley, searching for the source of that cocky voice, but there’s nothing—just shadows and the faint flicker of a streetlamp somewhere down the block.
“who the hell are you?” he snaps, twisting his neck as if he could scare whoever’s hiding out there into the open. “show yourself, you bastard!”
a chuckle echoes from the darkness, bouncing off the brick walls. “wow, real tough guy, huh? but you should work on those anger issues. they’re, uh…a bit unbecoming.”
the man spins around, and another burst of webbing flies out from somewhere unseen, sticking to his shoulder this time. he yanks it off with a frustrated grunt, his head whipping from side to side as he tries to locate the stranger.
“you think this is funny?” he spits, voice raised in a mix of fear and fury.
“depends. do you?” the voice is closer now, almost like the stranger is right above you, yet no one’s there. “or is this just a big overreaction? all i did was suggest you rethink your approach. go to therapy or sum’.”
the man snarls, fists clenched, starting to look downright unhinged. “get down here and say that to my face, punk!”
“as you wish.”
with a soft thump, a figure drops from above, landing directly in front of the guy in a low crouch. in the dim light, all you see at first are the blue and black accents on the otherwise white suit, his head tilting up, illuminated just enough that his white, wide eyes glow with a certain playful menace. and then, your eyes widen as you gasp to yourself.
you’ve seen him before.
okay, pause.
you’re a busy college student, one who stays entrenched in the bubble of upcoming exams, assignments, and problem sets that you don’t check the news often. in the off chance you do turn from your usual consumption of social media during your breaks to the news, you only have time to read the big headlines.
so you did read somewhere that in your university’s city of new york city, there was a masked menan—vigilante that had beat up a few guys near a shawarma joint or prevented some shootings at a nightclub. new york city was full of incompetent cops that were on the lookout for him (a/n acabbbbbb) since this guy was a vigilante, some kind of superhero slinging around on webs. some name—spiderman.
but before you could read more into the article, your soul almost left your body when you got a canvas notification saying your midterm was graded, so that was the end of that.
alright, pause over. back to now.
“hi!” spiderman chirps, giving him a friendly wave before ducking just as the man throws a punch. the swing goes wide, and spiderman straightens up with a disappointed sigh. “see, this is why i’m the one with the web powers. you’d hurt yourself with these moves.”
without warning, the man charges again, swinging in rapid succession, but each one misses as spiderman easily sidesteps, practically dancing around him. “oof, dude, how did you make it this far in life with reflexes like that?” he ducks another blow, slipping behind the guy to give him a light tap on the shoulder as he passes.
the man stumbles, eyes flashing with frustration, and lets out a roar, reaching down to pick up a loose brick from the alley floor. he raises it above his head, face twisted in a snarl.
“oh, so we’re improvising now?” spiderman quips, and before the man can bring the brick down, a strand of webbing shoots out, sticking to the brick and yanking it from his grasp. it flies off somewhere into the alley, landing with a dull clatter.
the guy stumbles forward, off balance, and spiderman takes the opportunity to web his feet to the ground, immobilizing him in place. the man struggles, pulling his legs, but he’s stuck fast.
“ever heard of boundaries?” spiderman asks, tilting his head with mock innocence. “or, like, self-restraint? you should look into it.”
the man glares, seething, still struggling against the webs. “you think you’re some kinda hero?” he sneers.
spiderman shrugs, glancing over at you, catching your gaze in a way that makes you feel both strangely comforted and seen. “nah, hero’s a big word. i’m just your friendly neighborhood guy with slightly above-average reflexes.”
with a frustrated yell, the man finally wrenches one arm free and makes a desperate lunge, his fist connecting with spiderman’s side. spiderman lets out a small grunt but only wobbles slightly before grinning. “okay, buddy, playtime’s over.”
before the man can even react, spiderman sends out another web, this time at his wrist, effectively pinning him to the alley wall. he struggles, face twisted in anger, but spiderman just raises a gloved hand to his lips as if hushing a child. then, in the lull that follows, you remember the thick quantum mechanics textbook in your bag. without thinking, you yank it out and, in a burst of adrenaline, swing it at the man’s head. the book lands with a solid thud, and he slumps, finally, into silence.
spiderman looks at the unconscious man, then at the textbook in your hand. he lets out a low whistle. “you know, i’ve always thought textbooks were a weapon of choice, but that’s next-level dedication.” that’s when you realize just how tall he is compared to you, and you can’t help your excitement when you realize that he’s here in the flesh.
“nice hit, by the wa—”
“it’s you!” you exclaim.
“what?” he sputters, white eyes widening almost comically. “me? oh,” then he straightens up, “yea, yea. just your friendly neighborhood spiderman. rescuing pretty girls from creeps, kinda my thing. ” he shrugs.
you continue, excitedly, “right, you’re the one on the news—” you move your hand to point at him but quickly wince, the pain of the man’s grip catching up to you.
he doesn’t miss the movement, eyes squinting at you. “hey, we’ll have to get you home. do you trust me?”
you look at him, clutching your arm in pain, and really take a moment to check him out. he’s saved you, he’s probably six feet tall, and his ass looks fantastic in his suit. at this point, you’re looking at him with heart eyes. but you can’t exactly tell him you want him to propose, so all you utter out is a “y-yeah. my dorm’s randall.”
he doesn't waste any time. with a quick nod, he hooks an arm around your waist, pulling you close as he aims a webline up toward the buildings. “hold on tight, randall’s just a swing away,” he murmurs, his voice light but steady. his hand settles on your hip, and you can't stop the way your stomach flips at the contact.
before you can even process what’s happening, he launches the two of you into the air, the city blurring beneath your feet as you cling to him, fingers gripping the fabric of his suit for dear life. his arm stays solid around you, his grip somehow both gentle and strong. he lands lightly on the roof of your dorm, setting you down carefully like you’re something fragile. and he steps back, dusting his hands off in the most nonchalant way possible, like he didn’t just take you on the most exhilarating ride of your life.
“this is your stop,” he says, that signature, almost cocky smile playing in his voice.
“uh… yeah. thanks. for the rescue,” you manage, your voice a little shakier than you’d like. you don’t know if “thank you” is enough—it doesn’t even come close to covering what you feel.
but he just shrugs, taking a step back. “all in a day’s work,” he says. “or night’s work, i guess.” he pauses, giving you a quick once-over. “get some sleep, yeah?”
and just like that, he gives you a small, almost playful salute and vanishes, swinging off into the night as easily as he’d appeared, leaving you standing on the rooftop with your heart still racing.
back in your dorm room, you drop onto your bed, staring up at the ceiling as tonight’s events replay in your head: the alley, his voice cutting through the dark, that cocky smirk, the way he felt holding onto you as you soared over the city lights. a tiny part of you wonders if you imagined the whole thing—if maybe you’re just the victim of some wild, sleep-deprived hallucination.
but no, your arm still aches from where the creep grabbed you, and you can still feel the ghost of his hand on your waist, steady and reassuring. you bite your lip, a smile creeping onto your face despite yourself.
just before sleep finally claims you, you let out a quiet laugh, shaking your head at the absurdity of it all. “the city’s vigilante, huh?” you murmur, as if he’s somehow still listening.
the thought is wild, a bit surreal—and strangely comforting.
…
“one caffe americano!” you call out, reading the label on the cup before handing it over with a small nod. the customer takes it with a quick thanks, and you return to the counter, barely holding back a yawn. the events of last night flicker through your mind—a web-slinging hero, an alley, the lingering ache in your arm—and you shake it off. there’s no room for distractions. life as a college student means the grind never stops, especially on a morning shift right before class.
when your coworker finally arrives, you let out a quiet sigh of relief, grab your bag, and step out into the brisk morning air. the chill helps wake you up as you make your way across campus, hoping to catch up with your friends before the lecture starts. just outside the building, you spot utahime, sitting on a bench, waiting with her usual tired smile.
“hey, finally off the clock?” she asks, raising an eyebrow.
“yeah, barely,” you reply, rolling your eyes. “i’m still running on fumes from last night. you guys save me a seat?”
“of course. nanami’s already inside,” she says, gesturing toward the building.
you sigh. “you won’t believe the things that happened last night.”
she gives you a look, in the traditional utahime protective-mother-hen type way. “what happened?”
you give her the rundown of what happened, the guy (who she bristles at, gives you a slap at your hand to tell you that you should’ve told her earlier, kento would’ve been able to beat his ass if she hadn’t gotten to it first) and how spiderman saved you. “i would give him what he’s missing,” you sigh, dreamily.
utahime looks at you in a judgmental way. “and that’s all you got from this? for fucks sake, he’s a vigilante, you don’t know if he’s started to tail you or not. pooks, he could literally be dangerous. try to convince your boss to let someone else get your night shift.” as soon as you open your mouth to protest, she cuts you off immediately. “and no, i don’t give a fuck about your people pleaser tendenci—”
“we’ll revisit this conversation later.” you give her a sweet smile as you start to speed walk, door of the lecture hall of the 9am section of phys401: intro to quantum algorithms, falling in with the usual stream of students after you hear an irritated “yea, cause i’m gonna kill you otherwise.” the familiar chatter and echo of footsteps make the day feel almost normal, grounding you as you weave through the hall.
inside, you quickly spot kento’s shining, disney prince-like blonde hair, who has saved seats for the three of you near the middle of the hall, away from the ugly, smelly grad students who always crowd the front. he gives you a quick nod as you settle down beside him, flipping open your notebook. the reliable calm on his face helps ease the lingering jitters you hadn’t realized you were carrying.
“long night?” he asks, glancing at the dark circles under your eyes.
“you could say that,” you mumble, not quite ready to get into details. instead, you wave it off. “just work assignments, and getting jumped, the usual.”
nanami breaks into a series of shocked coughs, and you hurry to pat his back as he undeniably burns his tongue on the coffee he was taking a sip of. “what?”
his rather loud exclamation sets off stares from people sitting closer to you both, so you give utahime, who lets out a quiet groan as she’s settling into her seat beside you, a knowing look. “it’s a long story, i’ll tell it to you later.”
he reluctantly settles in after that, not because he has a choice but because yaga is starting to address the class by asking about the weekend and getting his usual blank stares in return until a voice you recognize as suguru geto’s is saying something to undeniably piss him off, but you don’t register quite what it is exactly because the door opens and any attention on geto is directed to the boy with white hair and blue eyes tiredly walking into class.
he’s about ten minutes late to the lecture, which is already weird because he’s usually about 27 seconds late, not that you keep count. but also, normally gojo is the picture of confidence and cockyness, making some of the female grad students whisper things about him that you don’t think they should be for the five year gap between them and gojo.
but today, he looks different—messy, unkempt, with shadows under his eyes and a weird angle to his torso, the way he walks, and the way his opposite hand is subconsciously hovering around his side.
your brows knit together as he heads to an empty seat rows behind you next to geto, ignoring the stares of half the room. it’s so out of character for him that you can’t help but wonder what’s going on. you shoot utahime a knowing look, and she stifles a laugh, barely managing to keep a straight face as she watches gojo slink to his seat. nanami’s usually impassive face exchanges a look with you as well before he turns his attention back to professor yaga’s opening remarks. gojo slides into the row behind you without a word, avoiding everyone’s gaze—or so you think, until you feel it.
as you attempt to listen to professor yaga, you can’t shake the sensation of eyes boring into the back of your head. you resist the urge to turn, telling yourself it’s probably nothing… except the feeling lingers, so strong that your pulse ticks up a notch.
“okay, now that we’re all here,” yaga says in a dry tone, barely able to hide his irritation as he glances pointedly in gojo’s direction, “let’s begin with today’s lecture on grover’s.”
professor yaga taps the board, and the projector switches to a set of slides titled quantum speed-up and the grover search algorithm. he launches into his explanation, voice clipped. “grover’s algorithm provides a quadratic speed-up for unstructured search problems, a notable advantage in quantum computing. but can anyone tell me why this isn’t considered an exponential improvement?”
you raise your hand, as does nanami. a subtle shift of movement in your peripheral vision draws your eye to gojo, who’s leaning back in his chair, arms crossed. yaga’s attention lands on nanami first, and he gives a succinct answer about how grover’s algorithm yields only a quadratic speed-up in terms of computational complexity. as he answers, you swear you catch gojo watching you, again, through the corner of your eye.
determined not to let him get under your skin, you lean over to whisper to nanami. “what’s with him today?”
nanami, still watching yaga, raises a brow. “maybe he finally realized that he can’t get by without skipping class today.”
utahime snickers quietly. “doubtful. more like he thinks it’s funny to waltz in whenever he likes and still ace every test.”
“exactly.” you sigh, drumming your pen against your notebook. gojo’s rare absences don’t even seem to faze most professors. and despite his unpredictable attendance, he’s always managed to stay miles ahead. today, though, something’s… different about him. like he’s made a life changing decision in the past 48 hours.
“moving on,” yaga says, pointing to the board where the next slide materializes. “the heart of grover’s algorithm lies in its use of an amplitude amplification technique, where we iterate a search oracle along with an inversion process. pay attention—this concept of iterative improvement will become key when we start covering variational quantum algorithms.”
as yaga delves deeper into amplitude amplification, you manage to focus, jotting down notes on the necessary steps in grover’s search. yet each time you settle into the lecture, you feel gojo’s gaze pricking at you. the first time you turn around, there’s nothing there—just him slouched, seemingly absorbed in whatever he’s staring at on the ceiling. but then, you sense it again and, on your second glance, you catch his blue eyes meeting yours, and he quickly looks away.
what’s his problem? you give him a questioning look, but he’s adamantly not looking at you, trying to look nonchalant as he’s pulling out his laptop. he might look like a student taking latexing notes of what yaga’s yapping about, but the way he’s using his mouse more than he is his keyboard tells you that he’s probably on papa’s freezeria instead.
you decide that you’re going to waste your time wondering how gojo’s brain functioned, so you instead focus back on the lecture. after all, you didn’t understand any of the lecture notes you took notes on before and what it said about the diffuser in the circuit.
“now,” yaga’s voice sharpens, pulling you back into the room, “these iterations act as amplitude amplification steps, so pay close attention—especially those of you who have a habit of being late.” his eyes slide back to gojo, who remains oblivious, leaning back with a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as the sound of his name brings him back to the lecture.
gojo doesn’t even look phased. instead, he raises a hand casually, like he’s about to ask a simple question. you can feel the anticipation ripple through the room—half the students are waiting to see if he’ll fumble, and the other half already know better.
“professor yaga,” he drawls, “don’t you think amplitude amplification is a bit of an oversimplification? the way it’s typically presented, you’d think grover’s algorithm was just… guessing with style.” he flashes an infuriatingly smug smile, drawing out the pause before continuing. “but we both know it’s more about quantum phase inversion, right? the oracle reflects about the mean state, iterating with a precision that isn’t just luck. or maybe that’s all too technical?” he leans back, feigning innocence.
the smugness in his tone makes something flare up in you, and before you can stop yourself, your hand shoots up.
“actually, gojo,” you interject, your voice louder than you intended, “calling it “guessing with style” is a very gross oversimplification. grover’s algorithm isn’t about intuition or luck. it’s about optimization. it’s not just about spotlighting a target like a rando guess, it’s more like rotating the probability in a controlled manner—with iterations—to amplify the correct solution. not just some quantum trick or guess.” you cross your arms, leaning back in your chair as you stare him down. “it’s not even that bad, compared to what we have classically.”
as soon as you spoke, it seems that the fight and mischievous look in gojo’s eyes fades, replacing it with something that shockingly looks like him being flustered as he averts your gaze, looks to the ceiling, and murmurs something like “yea, that’s basically most of quantum computing, desperately trying to prove we’re not just wasting our time” but yaga interrupts him, clearly a bit annoyed at the two know-it-alls that you and gojo were acting like.
“now,” yaga says, shifting back to the lecture as if nothing happened (probably because he wasn’t paid enough to deal with this shit), “these iterations act as amplitude amplification steps, so pay close attention—especially those of you who have a habit of missing lectures.”
you’re just left confused as to why the conversation didn’t escalate like the typical academic rivals in movies, because you’ve definitely seen gojo bully some people who didn’t know what the fuck they were talking about instead of just blushing like some schoolgirl. regardless, you can’t help but notice the thrill that you felt, having finally argued with him, having been seen as someone worth arguing. you try to temper it as yaga continues onto the rest of the lecture.
…
“i can’t believe you’re making me go.” you tug at the hem of your white corset, paired with a matching skirt, still incredulous at how utahime managed to talk you into attending one of the infamous halloween frat parties. the night air is crisp against your exposed shoulders, and despite your complaints, you shiver more at the thought of wasting the next few hours among sweaty strangers than the actual cold.
utahime, walking beside you in a devil-red version of your outfit—complete with horns perched precariously on her head—looks far too satisfied with herself. she adjusts the horns with one hand, giving you a sidelong glance that practically drips with smugness.
“stop pouting,” she chides. “i’m not going to let you waste another night holed up in your room, buried in manhwa or quantum physics. i’m pretty sure there are cobwebs growing in your—”
“utahime,” you hiss, cutting her off with a mortified glance around.
“pussy,” she finishes, completely unbothered. “i’m going to find you a guy to hook up with. i’m not saying you have to go all the way, but flirting? kissing? maybe something more? very healthy. highly encouraged.”
your mouth falls open in protest, but before you can get a word in, she fixes you with a sharp glare, her dark eyes flashing with all the authority of a disappointed parent. “don’t even think about arguing with me. i swear, if you don’t at least try to enjoy this, i’ll make it my personal mission to find someone for you.”
“i can’t believe this,” you mutter, crossing your arms. “you’re supposed to be my friend, not my pimp.”
“oh, i’m your friend. that’s why i’m doing this. you’ll thank me when you’re sixty and not crying about how boring your college life was.”
“i’m not boring,” you counter. “i’m selective.”
“sure,” utahime drawls, clearly unconvinced. “and whatever weird sexual tension you’ve got going on with gojo doesn’t count.”
you scoff, stopping in your tracks to stare at her. “what tension? we’ve literally talked once this week. and that was the first time we had a conversation.”
she doesn’t respond, already scanning the scene ahead. the street of frat houses looms just ahead, glowing with gaudy orange lights strung up across balconies. the bass from the nearest party reverberates through the pavement underfoot. it’s already crowded, hordes of people shuffling in and out, laughing, shouting, and showcasing their half-baked halloween costumes.
you follow utahime’s gaze to the nearest house, packed with enough people to make the windows fog up. just the thought of squeezing into that humidity makes your stomach churn.
“looks crowded,” you mumble. “maybe we should—”
before you can suggest retreating, utahime grabs your wrist and practically drags you toward the house. “nope. you’re coming in. no backing out now.”
the moment you step inside, the smell hits you. sweat, stale beer, and an undercurrent of what you can only describe as frat-house musk. your nose wrinkles, and you instinctively recoil, pulling your arm free from utahime’s grasp.
“god, it smells like a gym locker in here,” you say, covering your nose.
utahime doesn’t seem fazed. she’s already scanning the room, her eyes landing on a beer pong table set up in the corner, surrounded by cheering students. “this is perfect!” she says, beaming.
“for what? contracting a fungal infection?” you mutter.
but she’s no longer listening, her focus shifting as a tall, broad-shouldered guy in a makeshift cowboy hat approaches her and then stops in front of both of you, his stare fully enthralled by utahime. “hey,” he says, a bit suavely, in the way that makes you inwardly roll your eyes because you know she’s going to eat it up. she likes it when they’re a little ugly, and this guy fits the bill.
“hey,” and she giggles, making you have to physically fight the urge to puke, “what’s up?”
they exchange a few words, and before you know it, she’s smiling in that way that tells you she’s found her entertainment for the night.
“go ahead,” you say dryly, waving her off. “i’ll just fend for myself.”
utahime starts to protest, but you’re already beelining for the kitchen, trying to get a drink that’s not too crazy to survive the night. it’s surprisingly less chaotic in the kitchen, though the counters are cluttered with half-empty bottles, red solo cups, and some questionable punch that looks radioactive. you scan the room, your eyes landing on a cupboard that might hold something simple—like water. a series of ding! ding! ding!’s go off in your mind as you find the pack of plastic water bottles.
standing on your toes, you reach for the handle, but it’s just out of your grasp. you huff in frustration, shifting to get better leverage when a hand way bigger than yours suddenly appears above yours, effortlessly grabbing the item you were reaching for.
“let me get that for you.”
you turn to thank the person, the words dying on your lips when you see who it is.
gojo.
he’s standing impossibly close, his signature smirk firmly in place, but there’s something almost casual in the way he looks at you, as if this is the most normal interaction in the world. you swear you’re so close that you can see like the two open pores on his otherwise flawless skin, as his eyes inevitably drag themselves downwards to scan your outfit for the night—a shitty angel without wings and halo (you couldn’t be paid two shits to put in the effort; both of the top and skirt were utahime’s, anyways.) then, his eyes meet yours again, a bit of playfulness in them.
“well, well,” he drawls, handing you the water bottle. “never thought i’d see you here.”
you take the bottle, trying to ignore the brush of his fingers against yours. “didn’t have much of a choice. utahime dragged me.”
his grin widens. “classic. let me guess—she’s off trying to find her soulmate at the beer pong table?”
“something like that,” you mumble, not wanting to give him the entire story. twisting the cap off the bottle, you take a sip, hoping he’ll just leave you alone, but instead, he leans against the counter, looking entirely too comfortable.
“so,” he says, tilting his head, “i heard through the grapevine that you had a run-in with that spider-man guy this week.”
that makes you pause mid-gulp of water, instead coughing a bit as you try to swallow it down without basically drowning in kirkland signature natural spring water. you’ve only told like, three people outside of kento and iori, so you’re confused why he knows this information, but you continue on regardless. the memory of spider-man swinging in to save you flashes through your mind, and you can’t help but smile softly to yourself. “it was amazing. he’s—he’s incredible, honestly. the way he just swooped in and handled everything? so fast, so precise. he’s like a real-life superhero.”
you’re basically gushing to him, and you realize that a bit too late as you look at his face to gauge his reaction. he’s looking at you with a newfound interest, albeit a bit too conflicted to fully tease you about it when he says, “sounds like you’re smitten.”
“maybe i am,” you admit, laughing. “i mean, who wouldn’t be? he’s brave, he’s kind, and he doesn’t even stick around for the credit. it’s like he’s this selfless, untouchable figure.” you also kind of want to give him a sloppy toppy for saving you like that, but you spare gojo the details.
“untouchable, huh?” gojo echoes, his tone turning a bit wry and…jealous? “sounds like someone’s got a crush.”
you roll your eyes, but it’s half-hearted, and you think gojo can tell with the way you’re heating up and bashfully looking at the ground. “don’t be ridiculous.”
“i’m just saying,” he continues, leaning closer, “if that’s your type, you might want to raise your standards. superheroes are overrated.”
you raise an eyebrow. “and what, you’re not?”
he grins, that infuriatingly charming grin that makes you want to simultaneously punch him and laugh. “i’m better. i’m real.” he then puts his hands on the counter behind you, caging you between them until your knees are lightly brushing, and suddenly his face is so close that small little breaths from his nose are fanning across your face. “i can prove that to you.”
and you hate your body for being so…reactive and enthusiastic to his smooth-talking, face flushing. despite that, you try to put on an air of nonchalance. “god, you’re insufferable.”
“really?” he teases. his hand leaves the marble counter to hover at your hip, his hand subconsciously tracing your curves an inch above your skin. the motion, firm but tentative as if he’s waiting for you to give him the green light, makes you shiver as you subconsciously move your hips to finally have the skin-to-skin contact. and your skin sings in happiness as he draws circles into the area right below your skirt, even momentarily dipping just below, to which you realize that he’s treading very close to your panties, since your skirt’s really short.
"yea," you basically sigh, hating yourself for how breathy your voice sounds.
it seems to have an effect on gojo because his eyes darken as he murmurs, "wastin' your time on that spiderman guy."
maybe it's the fact that it's late (you've been getting sub four hours of sleep this past week) or the lights in this humid frat bring a heady air, but all academic-rivalry-overshadowed-woman-in-stem history between you and gojo disappears in your brain as you rake your eyes up and down his torso and then look at him through your lashes. "who should i spend my time on instead?"
he gives you a little smile as he stares down at you, eyes raking over your face, catching at your lips and then going back up again to meet yours. “i don’t know, someone who’s as smart as you,” he murmurs.
“yea?” you laugh out breathlessly. your faces are so close that in normal circumstances, you would worry about how you both looked so close together, one hand on your thigh and the other splayed on your waist. “and how would you know how smart i am?”
satoru starts, lips coming closer and closer. “because i—”
but he’s interrupted, because you both hear a “satoru” and pull apart, breathing heavily as you both turn to look at the offender standing in the entrance of the kitchen: suguru geto, gojo’s best friend, looking more tired than anything as his eyes catch on you, then going to gojo with a pointed look. it’s not hard to figure out what was going on based on how disheveled you both look, your skirt crooked and his shirt crumbled, and your cheeks heat. before you can say anything, however, suguru sighs and says to gojo, “there’s a burglary happening nearby.” then, he turns but not before giving you a nod. “make sure to stay safe.”
he promptly leaves, leaving you confused standing there. was this such an emergency worth noting that he interrupted his best friend?
you try to seek the answer in gojo’s face, but he has this conflicted, annoyed countenance and you suddenly feel kinda of insecure because he’s raking his hand through his hair, staring painfully at the ceiling then at you. at the same time you utter out a “uh–” he says “i have to go.”
“oh.” you blink. a why brews on top of your tongue, but you temper it, reminding yourself that you’re not close to gojo like that. needless to say, you feel a little embarrassed as you watch him jog out of the kitchen with a little wave to you. you want to overanalyze gojo’s last look to you, the one that looked a bit like disappointment and yearning, but you shake it off, staring at the 16.9 oz plastic water bottle in your hand that you forgot about.
taking a sip, you cringe as you become more aware of your surroundings and the state you’re left in because of gojo. that your panties are a bit more sticky—you reach under your skirt to adjust them so they don’t stick to your crotch so much—and you’re hot all over.
then reality comes crashing back. what the hell did you and gojo just do right now?
you groan out loud, banging your head against the fridge, but as you reel back, in your peripheral you see someone there. your head shoots to see the guy who’s now looking at you with a weird expression as he undeniably waits for whatever freaking out you were doing to gain access to the fridge.
“sorry,” you blurt out, and gather yourself to beeline for the exit. god, you needed to find utahime.
…
the soft hum of a tv in the corner of satoru’s apartment provided the only sound, save for the faint rustle of suguru flipping through a textbook. the remnants of takeout—boxes of half-eaten pad thai and a pile of discarded chopsticks—littered the coffee table between them. satoru leaned back on the couch, legs stretched out, staring at the ceiling like it held answers he hadn’t thought to ask yet. he held a small foam ball, tossing it up and catching it over and over. his mind, however, wasn’t focused on the ball but on you.
it was starting to feel like an obsession. he’d always been able to compartmentalize things—his studies, his friends, his other responsibilities. but you? you’d broken through the usual barriers in his head, wedging yourself firmly into every free thought he had.
“do you think she likes me?” he asked suddenly, breaking the quiet.
suguru glanced up from his book, his expression unreadable. “who, starbucks girl?”
satoru scoffed. “she’s not starbucks girl. she’s…” he trailed off, tapping his fingers against his knee. your name lingered on his tongue, oddly weighty in a way that felt almost unfamiliar.
suguru smirked. “oh, she’s got a name now? progress.”
“shut up.”
but he couldn’t shut his mind off, not when you kept taking up space in it. it wasn’t just that he’d noticed you now—really noticed you, for the first time. it was more than that.
satoru had always known who you were. you weren’t exactly easy to miss. in a program full of ugly guys who didn’t shower and loud personalities, you had carved out your niche by being the cold, unreachable one. the one who didn’t bother with group projects unless she had to, who barely engaged in conversations beyond what was strictly necessary. other guys in the program talked about you, of course. they always did.
“frigid,” they called you. “too serious. probably thinks she’s better than us.”
they weren’t entirely wrong. you were better than most of them, but not for the reasons they assumed. satoru had read your work—papers that brimmed with insights that most of their half-baked theories could only dream of. he could tell you put in the effort in your classes and research, while all the guys left shit-talking had to rely on their grad student mentors to be able to write a legible paper. for fucks sake, he doesn’t even thing anyone could code in qiskit or cirq like you could; he had skimmed your notes once, left them behind after a lecture, and found them meticulous and sharp before he turned them into the professor to return to you.
and yet, despite the brilliance you carried with you, you had never given him a second glance.
that day at starbucks, though.
satoru rolled his head to the side, gaze drifting toward the window. he hadn’t expected to see anyone at five in the morning, let alone you. he’d been desperate for answers then—he had spent his night staring at his hands, which had seemed to keep ejecting spider-like webs after he’d been horribly sick. he knew he shouldn’t have gone fooling around in new york’s subway tunnels at 3am with suguru and shoko, but after a seemingly-harmless spider had bit him, he had been reeling from the discovery of his newfound powers and grappling with the weight of what they meant ever since.
and there you were, unlocking the starbucks, bleary-eyed but no less composed.
you’d handed him his coffee, not interested in him the entire time, and he remembered blurting something out—something ridiculous about fate or responsibility, his usual bravado faltering in the quiet of the moment. he had been spiraling, unsure of who he was anymore, and you’d said something.
what was it again?
“it doesn’t have to be ‘more’ all the time. sometimes just showing up is enough.”
the words had stayed with him, carved deep into the corners of his mind. you didn’t know it, but they had pulled him back from the edge that day. since then, he’d started noticing you in ways he hadn’t before.
the way you brushed your hair behind your ear when you were deep in thought. the furrow of your brow when you argued as respectfully as you could with a professor (gojo knew you were holding back, though, and the thought always made him smile to himself because if he wasn’t an idgafer he would be incensed like you at the idiotic teacher). the smile—rare, fleeting, but utterly disarming—that occasionally lit up your face when you talked to utahime or that guy you were too friendly around, nanami.
“you’re doing that thing again,” suguru said, snapping him out of his thoughts.
“what thing?” satoru asked, sitting up straighter.
“brooding. you’re thinking about her, aren’t you?”
“no.”
suguru arched an eyebrow. “you’re a terrible liar.”
satoru sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “fine. maybe i am. but it’s complicated.”
“how is it complicated?”
“she doesn’t like me,” satoru said, shrugging. “at least, not as me. she likes spider-man.”
suguru blinked, clearly unimpressed. “you’re being stupid bro.”
“i’m not being stupid,” satoru argued. “she thinks spider-man’s this amazing, selfless hero. she doesn’t know i’m just some guy who can’t even figure out how to flirt with her without making an ass of himself.”
suguru leaned back in his chair, regarding satoru with an almost pitying look. “so let me get this straight. you’re worried that she only likes spider-man, even though spider-man is you. like it’s some kind of split personality thing?”
“well, when you put it like that—”
“it sounds dumb,” suguru finished. “because it is dumb.”
satoru glared at him, but suguru only shrugged. but how could he not think about you? even now, the memory of your voice—calm, steady, and unexpectedly warm—echoed in his head. you had this way of looking at him, like you were peeling back layers he didn’t even know he had. and that smile... he groaned inwardly. he wasn’t supposed to be so drawn to you, wasn’t supposed to imagine what it’d feel like to have you smile at him like that all the time.
“look,” suguru continued, “if you like her, shoot your shot. you’re already overthinking this, and you haven’t even done anything yet. what’s the worst that could happen? she says no?”
“or she laughs in my face,” satoru muttered.
“which would be deserved, honestly,” suguru said, smirking. “but seriously, you’ve got nothing to lose. and everything to gain.”
satoru didn’t respond, his gaze fixed on the takeout boxes on the table. he wanted to believe suguru was right, but there was a small, stubborn part of him that wasn’t so sure.
because it wasn’t just about rejection, or even whether you liked him as satoru or spider-man. it was about what came after. if he let you in and something happened to you—if his double life brought danger to your doorstep—he wasn’t sure he’d ever forgive himself.
but then there was suguru’s voice in his head, steady and persistent: you’ve got nothing to lose. and everything to gain.
…
amidst a week of endless projects upon projects and other miscellaneous assignments from your research group partners (since the grad students loved to pile their work on top of you, the helpless undergrad), you find yourself nursing a hot chocolate while on top of your dormitory building’s roof.
you find sanctuary, coming on here for time to yourself whenever you find yourself stuck in a busy week. quiet, solitary, with a view of the city lights flickering like scattered fireflies. you hugged your cardigan tighter around your shoulders as you stepped onto the roof, your laptop tucked under one arm, a mug of tea precariously balanced in the other hand. the air was crisp, biting just enough to sting your cheeks.
setting your mug down on the ledge, you perched beside it, pulling up your knees and balancing the laptop precariously as you typed. the words on the screen blurred after a while, blending into the chaos in your mind. frustrated, you closed it with a snap and leaned your head back to gaze at the stars.
“rough night?”
you startled, spinning your head around so fast your tea nearly toppled. but you can’t find anyone, just the sound of soft footsteps landing somewhere not visible to you.
“you scared the hell out of me,” you sighed, clutching your chest.
“sorry,” he said, though his tone didn’t sound all that apologetic. “didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“then maybe don’t sneak up on people like that,” you muttered, still trying to calm your racing heart.
he chuckled, and the sound was warmer than you’d expected. “noted. so, what’s got you out here at three in the morning? don’t tell me you’re pulling an all-nighter.”
you sighed, the initial shock fading into a dull thrum of shyness. “it’s not an all-nighter if the night isn’t over yet.” then, you squint at a random spot, pretending it’s him. “besides, why are you here? shouldn’t you be out stopping robberies or saving cats from trees?”
“done and done,” he said, crossing his arms as he leaned against the ledge. “now i’m just enjoying the view.”
you turned your gaze back to the skyline, hoping the darkness hid the faint heat creeping up your neck. “so, what’s a guy like you doing on a random rooftop at three in the morning?”
“could ask you the same thing,” he countered.
you hesitated. for some reason, admitting the truth to him felt easier than admitting it to anyone else. “just…needed a break.”
“from?”
“everything,” you said, exhaling slowly. “classes. expectations. people.” you paused, then added with a faint smile, “not you, though. you’re an exception.”
“oh?” his voice lightened, carrying a hint of playful intrigue. “should i feel honored?”
“maybe,” you said. “it’s not every day you get to meet a real hero.” then, “okay, but why do you always hide in the dark?”
his voice is smug, meant to be playful. “it adds to the mystique?”
you pout. “what if i call the police?”
“it’s not like the cops can catch me anyways, baby. their shitty coffee and donut filled asses aren’t enough to keep up with me.”
you really try not to flush when he calls you that pet name. “is success getting to you?”
“what success? most i hear is everyone debating whether or not i should be experimented on.”
“really?” you teased. “that’s not what i saw on my for you page last time. there are girls out there who want you to sign their tits after you rescued that baby.”
then, you hear the soft thud of nimble feet dropping onto the ceiling and turn your head to see him in all his glory. he has a muscular figure highlighted in his white suit, blue and black lines traveling their way across his body. casually, he stretches and then drops down to the floor, sitting cross legged from across from you as if joining you in a regular gossip sesh. he puts his elbow on his knee and rests his head on his hand. “are you one of those girls?”
you laugh sheepishly, turning away as heat creeps up your face again and your heart hammers, because you can’t exactly tell him that, yes you’re absolutely enamored with him after he saved you that day and yes, you do indeed want him to sign your tits.
“you should do that more,” he said.
“what?” you look back at him, wide eyed in confusion.
“laugh.”
the way he said it, low and almost reverent, made your cheeks heat. you busy yourself with toying with your cardigan, scooting yourself away from the edge and closer to him. “and you should stop being such a flirt,” you said, though there was no bite in your voice.
“can’t help it,” he said, leaning closer. “it’s kind of my thing.”
“is that right?”
“mm-hmm.” he paused, then added, “you know, there’s something i’ve been meaning to ask you.”
“what?” you asked, arching an eyebrow.
“take my mask off.”
the words hit you like a gut punch, dissolving the playfulness that had filled the air seconds ago. you blinked up at him, searching his face—or at least what you could see of it—for any sign that this was some elaborate joke. but there was no hint of humor, no smirk tugging at his lips. he meant it.
your fingers hovered at your sides, hesitant. “are you sure?” the question came out soft, barely audible, but it felt like it echoed in the quiet night.
“never been more sure of anything,” he murmured, voice low and steady.
you swallowed hard, your heart hammering in your chest. slowly, almost against your better judgment, you reached up, fingertips brushing the edge of his mask. the fabric felt smooth, warm under your touch, but your nerves were anything but.
with a deep breath, you peeled it back. bit by bit, his face came into view—a shock of white hair, impossibly sharp features, and finally, those eyes. those unmistakable, infuriatingly familiar blue eyes. your breath caught, and for a moment, the world tilted sideways.
“gojo?”
the name fell from your lips before you could stop it, unsteady and disbelieving. your mind raced, trying to piece together the impossible puzzle that had just landed in front of you.
he grinned—that grin, the one that always made you want to slap it off his face and yet somehow managed to disarm you every single time. “hey.”
“hey?” your voice cracked as you took a step back. “that’s all you have to say? hey?”
“would you prefer, ‘surprise’?” he quipped, his grin widening as though this was the most normal thing in the world.
you laughed, the sound a little hysterical but real, like you couldn’t contain the storm of emotions rushing through you. “surprised? you’ve been… you’ve been spider-man this whole time?” the words felt foreign on your tongue, like they didn’t belong in the same sentence as gojo satoru—the one you’d argued with in class, the one who had no problem making you want to tear your hair out. and yet here he was, standing in front of you, the last person you ever would have suspected to be the city’s most infamous masked hero.
gojo gave you that crooked grin, the same one he wore when he thought he had won—when he thought he had it all figured out. “i know. it’s a lot to take in.”
you stared at him, trying to make sense of it, but no amount of logic could bridge the gap between the gojo you knew—the guy who drove you up the wall in class and always had a cocky comeback—and the masked hero who had saved you and the one you had a crush on.
you didn’t know whether to scream, laugh, or cry.
you take a shaky breath in, still trying to process everything. “you... you saved me, gojo. you’ve been right there, all these times, and i had no idea it was you.”
“guess i’m just that good at keeping secrets,” he said, his tone playful, but there was something more there, something softer, that you couldn’t quite put your finger on. his eyes held a flicker of something—maybe vulnerability, maybe uncertainty.
the weight of the moment hung thick in the air between you, and for a long second, you didn’t know what to say. this revelation was like the ground beneath you had cracked wide open, and you were left staring into an abyss that was both terrifying and exhilarating.
finally, you shook your head, letting out a short breath. “this is insane.”
he didn’t seem bothered by your reaction, though his eyes darkened just slightly, the smirk still there, but with something a little more honest creeping into his expression. “yeah. but you’re handling it better than i thought. kinda thought you would faint, or something.”
the world had shifted, but somehow, with gojo now sitting in front of you like this, with the mask off and the man behind the myth revealed, it felt like the pieces were finally starting to fall into place. even if they didn’t make perfect sense yet.
and yet, something about his presence—his undeniable realness—felt oddly grounding. he wasn’t the invincible spider-man anymore. he was just gojo. the gojo who had somehow become more than just your academic rival, and maybe, just maybe, a little bit more than that.
something in gojo’s facial expression shifted to something a bit more hesitant, a little nervous as he stands and extend his arm out to you. softly, he asks, “do you trust me?”
“yes.” you took his hand, standing up as he flashes you a charming, yet mischievous grin, one so shit eating that you regret saying that. “why?”
“i’m taking you for a ride. consider it an apology for freaking you out earlier.”
you hesitated, looking between his outstretched hand and the city skyline just beyond your college campus. “i don’t think this is a good idea—”
“you trust me, don’t you?”
and somehow, against all logic, you realized that you did.
“fine,” you said, stepping closer to him to cling onto him.
he pulls you closer, and as he does so, he cranes his neck down to meet your eyes, smiling giddy. “anywhere you wanna go?”
you think for a moment, but know immediately the place where you’d like to visit that’s open at this ungodly hour. “do you know that one shawarma joint—-”
before you can even finish, the wind whips around you as gojo slips his mask back on, pulls you closer to him, and uses his free hand—that is, the one that’s not clinging onto your firmly—to shoot a glistening web, one that you saw when he used it on the man who harassed you in the ally. it clings onto a nearby building, and then you’re off the ground, soaring through the air.
you let out a scream of terror against gojo’s chest, tightening your arms around him. you can feel a laugh rumble in his chest, a boyish chuckle as he peers down at you and shouts, “are you having fun?”
“gojo,” you whine, burying your head into his chest further. despite your initial fear, exhilaration creeps its way into you as you the city blur, skyline jumping and dipping as gojo effortlessly swung you both around.
when he finally stopped, landing gracefully on a secluded rooftop, you were breathless—not just from the ride but from the way he was looking at you.
“you good?” he laughed, panting from the exertion and tenderly using his hand to rake his hand through your hair, which, you note out of embarrassment, must’ve been messed up from the wind passing through it.
“i hate that you made me dizzy, but yea, i’m good,” you mumble, pulling out your phone to open your camera, fixing your hair.
when you’re done, gojo looks at you with the manic buzz you can only have at 3am. “ready to get some shawarma?”
…
the streets were eerily quiet, the kind of silence only a city at 3am could have. just the two of you, your footsteps echoing against the pavement, the occasional glow of a streetlamp painting your path.
“okay, that shawarma was like, mid at best,” gojo walks alongside you. he’s thrown on a sweatshirt and gray sweatpants over his suit, walking alongside you on the street. your stomachs are full, and you suggested a walk to be able to digest the bigass bowl you both ate.
“nothing tastes better than something you’re eating when you’re supposed to be studying, instead,” you shot back, hiding your little smile as you cross your arms while strolling. the shift between you and gojo was so jarring that you’re still reeling at it, but what is 3am if not for big life changes?
“yea, that’s fair,” he sighs, crossing his hands behind his head as he continues strolling beside you. “so,” he continues, “now that i’ve officially blown your mind with my secret identity and fed you some incredibly mid shawarma, what’s next? should i fly you to paris, or is that too cliché?”
you roll your eyes, but deep inside, you’re really biting back a grin. “relax, bugboy. maybe first let me recover from being swung like a human pendulum.”
gojo stopped walking, turning to face you with a playful glint in his eye. “you’re still thinking about that, huh? admit it—you loved it.”
you raised an eyebrow. “i screamed into your chest for a solid ten seconds. does that sound like love to you?”
he tilted his head, feigning deep thought. “i dunno. there’s a fine line between terror and thrill. and judging by how tightly you were holding onto me…”
“you’re insufferable,” you muttered, but your voice lacked bite.
“and yet, you’re still here.”
his words hung in the air, the playful edge softening into something quieter, more sincere. your steps faltered, and you looked up at him, the absurdity of the night fading into the background as your gaze held his.
“guess i’m curious,” you admitted.
“curious, huh?” he said, taking a step closer. “careful. curiosity killed the cat.”
without thinking, you blurted, “at least i’ve got a fifty-fifty shot, right?” the words barely left your mouth before the regret hit, your inner voice screaming at you for making a lame quantum mechanics joke at a time like this. schrödinger would be proud, you thought bitterly.
but then gojo laughed—not the teasing, obnoxious kind of laugh or the weird look you’d expect, but a genuine, boyish chuckle that reached his eyes. he smiled at you, soft and unguarded, and suddenly, the space between you seemed to shrink.
the flickering streetlamp cast a warm, uneven glow over the two of you. in that moment, the sprawling city felt impossibly small, narrowed down to just him and the pounding of your heart in your ears.
gojo reached up, fingers brushing a stray strand of hair away from your face. “you know,” he murmured, his voice low, “i’ve been wanting to do this for a while now.”
your breath hitched, heart thundering in your chest. “do what?”
“this.”
before you could respond, he closed the space between you, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that was somehow both soft, yet electrifying. for a moment, time seemed to stop, the city around you fading into nothing as the warmth of his touch anchored you in the moment.
when he finally pulled back, his grin was back in full force. “so, was that better or worse than shawarma?”
you blinked at him, still trying to find your footing in the aftermath of what just happened. an immediate feeling of bashfulness crept over you because not only did you just kiss spiderman, you just kissed gojo. there are girls who would kill to be in your position, and that makes you flustered as you turn your head away from him so you don’t have to make eye contact. “i hate you,” you mumble half heartedly, cheeks burning.
gojo doesn’t let you off so easily. his thumb brushes gently along your chin, coaxing your face back toward his. his touch is warm, deliberate, and it sends a shiver down your spine.
“oh my god,” he says, a grin spreading across his face. “are you embarrassed? you’re so cute.”
when the warmth of his hand leaves your chin, you open your eyes, shocked as you find out that he’s nowhere to be seen. you call out a tentative, “gojo?”
somewhere behind you, to the left, comes out a muffled shout. “i’m here!” you whip around, your brows furrowing as you follow the direction of his voice. it’s coming from an alley just off the street, dark and bathed in shadows.
“seriously?” you mutter under your breath, your annoyance half-hearted, making your way toward the sound. you find yourself at the mouth of the alley, the dim glow of a distant lamp barely illuminating his silhouette.
gojo’s perched on the side of the wall like it’s the most natural thing in the world, one leg propped up, his mask pulled halfway up to reveal that damn smirk. “you’re slow,” he teases, his tone light and infuriatingly smug.
“what are you doing?” you ask, crossing your arms.
he gestures toward himself. “you came looking for me, didn’t you?”
you roll your eyes, stepping closer despite yourself. “what, did you think i’d just leave you lurking in some alley like a creepy insect?”
“well,” he says, shooting a web to stick on the bottom of some stairs of one of the buildings to hang upside down, “you could’ve left, but i had a feeling you wouldn’t.”
before you could retort, he shoots his web closer to something on top of you, now dangling upside down yet again but his proximity even closer, stealing the air from your lungs. his fingers brush a strand of hair from your face, lingering just long enough to make your knees feel unsteady.
“so,” he murmurs, his voice low and teasing, “are we doing this again, or are you gonna keep pretending you hate me?”
your heart stutters, but before you can overthink it, you pull his mask down even further to uncover more of his lips, and you join them together—this time, softer, slower, as if savoring the moment. you grab at his chin to pull him closer to you, you both sighing into the kiss, and then smiling giddily each time you pull back, only to come back in.
and just like that, you start to fall into…something with not only the vigilante that’s swinging around new york, but also gojo satoru, your long-time rival.
…
when satoru swings by your dorm next, he doesn’t expect his heart to lurch so much at the view of you so cozy.
it’s undeniable; you and satoru have been dancing around each other. you’re not exactly a hook-up to each other—you two haven’t had sex—but you’re not exactly girlfriend and boyfriend. and it’s not something casual, either. he doesn’t reveal that he’s spiderman just to get into girls’ pants.
you’ve both developed a sort of rapport, he supposes. it’s been stolen glances during phys401 and late nights spent talking or, occasionally, making out. you’ve even started to nurse his wounds, if he ever shows up with bruises and blood matting his suit. one of the perks of you having a single.
he’s even fallen asleep overnight, especially on friday nights when he doesn’t have lecture in the morning. some of his things, like some spare equipment and suits, have even found their way into your closet.
you’re both on a dangerous roller coaster, and satoru is closing his eyes on the fall down.
but right now, he’s perched outside your window like a creep. you’re sitting on your bed, cross-legged and squinting at something on your laptop, and satoru smiles to himself as he sees your tank top and shorts and just how homey you look. you probably know satoru is coming, but you’re so comfortable around him that it makes his heart ache. he shouldn’t be doing this, but he can’t stop.
satoru lightly taps on your window, his knuckle brushing against the glass softly, not wanting to startle you. you glance up, catching sight of him, and there’s no hiding the smile tugging at your lips.
you get up, and satoru follows the movement of your bare legs with his eyes as you slide the window open. “you know, most people knock on doors like normal humans,” you say.
“i like to keep things interesting,” he shoots back, climbing in effortlessly. the faint chill from the night clings to him, and his hair is slightly disheveled from the wind.
he glances around your room, catching sight of your scattered notes and the distinct look of frustration etched across your face. “what’s got you looking so miserable?”
“phys401,” you reply with a resigned sigh, flopping back onto your bed. “this problem set is impossible.”
satoru smirks, peeling off his gloves and mask and plopping down beside you. “let me see.”
acquiescing, you hand over your notebook, watching as he scans your work with intent, eyebrows scrunching as he tries to understand the statement to prove. he makes a few thoughtful noises, before grabbing a pen and scribbling something down. “here,” he says after a moment, “you’re overcomplicating this step. instead of doing the tensor product you did, you could just make this zero by taking an inner product, since they’re orthogonal states. the rest will fall into place.”
you squint at his messy, rushed handwriting, and sure enough, the proof seems to come together. “how are you so good at this?”
“physics prodigy, remember?” he teases, leaning back on his hands as he lays down on your bed.
“thanks for the help,” you say softly, your eyes lingering on him a beat too long. he’s kind of dreamy, you think. the moonlight filters across your window, giving his platinum hair a sheen as his cerulean eyes look into yours with kindness.
his smirk fades, replaced by something softer, something unspoken. “anytime.” he then makes a show of stretching out his limbs, purposely bumping into you with one eye open smugly to observe your reaction, to which you glare at him. he spots your notebook, picks it up, and flips through it. “you know, for someone who complains so much about phys401, you’re not half bad at it,” he teases, scribbling something in the margin of your notes by grabbing a stray pen next to him.
you roll your eyes, shifting so you’re cross-legged on the bed, facing him. “not all of us are physics prodigies, satoru. some of us actually have to work hard.”
he chuckles, handing the notebook back to you. “hard work is overrated when you can just charm your way through everything.”
you snort and joke, “if charm was all it took, i’d have aced the midterm.”
there’s a beat of silence as you glance down at his notes. he’s corrected a mistake you hadn’t even noticed, and his scrawled proof flows so effortlessly it makes you a little envious. “how do you do that?” you ask, more to yourself than him.
“do what?”
“make it look so… easy,” you say, frowning slightly. “everything. physics, life, swinging through the city.”
satoru leans back on his palms, his smirk softening. “trust me, it’s not as easy as it looks.”
you glance up at him, surprised by the honesty in his tone. “what do you mean?”
he shrugs, but there’s something vulnerable in the way his gaze flickers away from yours. “i mean, everyone sees the guy with the jokes and the perfect test scores, but no one sees the late nights or the bruises.” he gestures vaguely to his chest, where you know the bruises from his spider-man escapades hide. “guess i’m just good at pretending.”
you sit with his words, the weight of them settling between you. “you don’t have to pretend with me, you know,” you say softly.
his eyes meet yours, and for a moment, the mask—the real one—drops. “i know,” he says, just as softly.
the air between you feels heavier, like the world has shrunk to just the two of you. you’re hyper-aware of how close he is, the faint smell of the night clinging to him, the way his knee brushes against yours.
“thanks,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “for letting me be here. for…” he trails off, his gaze dropping to your lips before flicking back up.
your breath catches. “satoru…”
“yeah?” he says, leaning in slightly, his voice lower now.
“i…” you trail off, not even sure what you were going to say.
he leans closer, and it feels like everything around you stills. his hand finds its way to your face, his thumb brushing your cheek. “can i?” he asks, his voice barely audible.
you nod, and then his lips are on yours.
the kiss starts tentative, almost shy, but it doesn’t stay that way for long. it deepens, his hand sliding to your waist as you pull him closer. the tension that had been building for weeks—months, maybe—finally snaps, leaving nothing but heat and want in its wake.
his weight presses you back into the bed, and you can feel his heart racing against yours as he pins you to the bed, now on top of you. his hand slips under the hem of your shirt, warm against your skin, and as his thumb traces shapes into your circle and closer to more sensitive areas, a sigh escapes you.
that’s when he freezes.
he pulls back, his breathing uneven, his eyes wide and filled with something like fear. “we can’t,” he says, his voice hoarse.
your heart drops into your chest.
“why not?” you ask, trying to catch your breath.
“because,” he says, sitting up and running a hand through his hair and he’s heaving. “because i’m spider-man, and you—” he breaks off, looking anywhere but at you. “you deserve better than this. better than me.”
you sit up, pulling your shirt back into place and looking at him, hurt. “that’s not your call to make, satoru.”
“i’m trying to protect you!” he says, his voice rising in agitation. he sits back onto his heels, raking a hand through his hair as he looks at the ceiling, as if in pain.
you can’t believe him. his self-righteousness irritates you to no end, especially after you’ve bared your soul, and now your body to him, something you considered intimate. you feel conflicted—whatever you had, it didn’t have a label. but that didn’t mean that you didn’t want that to be true. badly.
“and who asked you to?” you snap back. “i’m not some damsel in distress who needs saving.”
“i know that,” he says, his tone softening. “but if something happened to you because of me…” he shakes his head. “i couldn’t live with that.”
the anger bubbling in your chest boils over, and you snap. “so what? you’re just going to walk away? after everything?”
he stands, his expression pained. “i’m sorry,” he says, heading for the window.
“don’t you dare apologize,” you say, your voice trembling as you stand by the foot of your bed, hating how your eyes brim with tears. “if you leave, don’t bother coming back.”
he pauses, his hand on the window frame, before glancing back at you. “i’m sorry,” he says again, softer this time, before slipping out into the night.
the window clicks shut behind him, and you’re left alone in the silence, the ache in your chest threatening to swallow you whole.
…
the whir of the espresso machine and the gentle hum of background music fill the mostly empty starbucks, the occasional customer wandering in like clockwork. it’s a quiet shift, the kind you’d usually relish—except today, the quiet only makes the knot in your chest tighten.
you’re stationed behind the counter, staring blankly at the milk steamer as it hisses, lost in your thoughts. that is, until utahime’s voice breaks through.
“alright, spill,” she says, leaning her elbows on the counter beside you.
you glance at her, eyebrows raised. “spill what?”
utahime rolls her eyes, brushing a strand of her hair behind her ear. “oh, please. you look like someone stole your favorite pen and broke it in half. what’s going on?”
“nothing,” you lie, turning back to the steamer. “i’m fine.”
utahime’s skeptical gaze bores into you. “you’re a terrible liar. nanami, back me up.”
from his spot at a nearby table, nanami looks up from his book, his sharp eyes narrowing as they lock onto you. “it’s boy trouble,” he says flatly, like he’s solving an equation.
your head snaps toward him, a glare already forming. “excuse me?”
“it’s obvious,” he says, setting his book down and regarding you with his usual piercing gaze. “you’re distracted, you look upset—it’s boy trouble.”
utahime perks up, leaning closer. “wait, is he right? is this about a guy?”
you let out a groan, leaning your elbows on the counter. “can you two not gang up on me right now?”
“so it is a guy,” utahime says, her tone turning smug.
“i didn’t say that,” you retort, but the heat in your cheeks betrays you.
nanami raises an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed with your deflection. “you might as well just tell us. it’s not like we’re going to let it go.”
you sigh, running a hand through your hair. “fine. it’s… someone i liked. someone i thought liked me too. but he freaked out and said it was too…dangerous to keep going.”
utahime frowns, her curiosity replaced by concern while kento snorts. “dangerous? what does that even mean?”
“that’s what i’d like to know,” you say bitterly, the frustration bubbling up as you speak. “he acts like he cares, but the second things get serious, he bolts. like i’m some fragile thing that can’t handle it.”
nanami leans back in his chair, his expression thoughtful. “he might not be scared of you. he could be scared of what it means for him. of responsibility and commitment. some people run when they feel too much.”
utahime nods, her hand resting gently on your arm. “whatever his problem is, it’s not fair to you. if he can’t get it together, that’s on him, not you.”
you glance between them, the weight of their words settling in your chest. “i know that,” you say quietly. “it just… sucks.”
“of course it does,” utahime says, her voice soft but firm. “but you’re not the problem here. don’t let him make you think you are.”
nanami picks up his book again but pauses before opening it. “and don’t let him live rent-free in your head. if he can’t see what he’s giving up, that’s his loss.”
their support feels grounding, like a steady hand in the middle of a storm. you manage a small smile, nodding. “thanks, guys.”
“anytime,” utahime says, flashing you a reassuring grin. nanami simply nods, returning to his book but keeping an eye on you like always. for the first time all week since gojo left your room, the heaviness in your chest feels a little lighter.
…
the knock at your window is faint, almost timid, but it jolts you out of your daze. you sit up in bed, your heart pounding as your eyes dart toward the window. it’s late—so late it’s early—and for a moment, you think you imagined it. you hate to admit it, but because of your boy troubles you haven’t been able to sleep all week. you’re also no stranger to imagining ants crawling up your body or phantom noises, so you adjust in your bed, trying to go back to sleep.
then it comes again, a little louder this time.
you throw off the blanket and pad over, the chill of the floor biting at your bare feet. when you pull the curtain aside, your breath catches.
satoru.
he’s crouched outside, his suit torn in places and soaked with blood. his head lolls slightly, like he’s barely holding himself up, and when he lifts his gaze to meet yours, it’s tired and pleading.
you don’t think—there’s no time for that. you unlatch the window and shove it open, reaching out to help him inside. “satoru, oh my god,” you breathe, your voice shaking.
“hey,” he mutters, his grin weak but still so unmistakably him. “sorry for the mess.”
“shut up,” you snap, guiding him onto your bed and setting him down with gentle hands, ones that contrast your tone with him. “what the hell happened?”
“nothing i couldn’t handle,” he says, wincing as he tries to sit up straighter and flashes you a sheepish smile. “you should see the other guy.”
“you’re bleeding everywhere, satoru. you clearly didn’t handle it.” you grab your first aid kit from under the bed and yank it open, your hands trembling.
“i’ve had worse,” he murmurs, but his bravado is thin, cracking at the edges.
“stop talking,” you say, your voice trembling and cracking. “just—just stop.”
for once, you thank the gods that he listens.
you work quickly, cutting away the shredded fabric of his suit and cleaning the worst of the wounds. it’s not pretty—his torso is littered with bruises and gashes, the kind that make your stomach turn—but you keep your focus.
when you press a disinfectant-soaked pad to a particularly deep cut, he hisses, his hand flying to grab your wrist.
“sorry,” you whisper, glancing up at him with a tender look in your eyes. his expression matches yours, and your faces are so close to each other that you can’t bear it anymore, going back to your work.
his fingers loosen but don’t let go, his grip warm and grounding. “you’re good at this,” he says softly, his voice rough.
“yeah, well,” you mutter, ducking your head to avoid his gaze. “you’ve given me plenty of practice.”
the silence stretches as you finish bandaging him up. when you’re done, you sit back, your hands still trembling as you place them in your lap. “you’re an idiot,” you say, the words tumbling out before you can stop them.
he laughs, soft and hoarse. “yeah. i get that a lot from this girl i know.”
you look up at him, and the weight of everything—his injuries, his secret, the distance he tried to put between you—crashes over you. “you can’t keep doing this, satoru. you can’t keep pushing me away just to show up like this.”
his smile fades, replaced by something raw and unguarded. “i know,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “i know, but…”
“but what?” you demand, your voice cracking. “you’re spider-man? you think that’s an excuse to keep shutting me out?”
“it’s not an excuse,” he says, running a hand through his messy hair, matted with even more blood. his or someone else’s, you’re not sure. “it’s a reason. i don’t want you to get hurt because of me.”
“you think i’m not already hurting?” you snap, the anger bubbling to the surface yet again. “you think it doesn’t kill me to see you like this and know i can’t do anything to stop it?”
his eyes widen, and for a moment, he looks like a little boy, lost and unsure. it is then that it hits you that he’s just twenty. a college student, not someone who’s wanted by the cia or someone who’s battled terrorists. for fucks sake, he can’t even legally drink.
and your heart can’t help but melt as he says, “i just… i don’t want to lose you.”
“then stop trying to,” you say, your voice softer now. “stop pretending like you’re protecting me by keeping me at arm’s length. let me in, satoru.”
he stares at you, his breath hitching like he’s holding back a thousand words. then, in a rush, he closes the distance between you, his hands cradling your face as he presses his forehead to yours.
“i’m sorry,” he whispers, his voice breaking. “i’m so sorry.”
you exhale shakily, your hands finding their way to his wrists. “just stop being an idiot, okay? stop trying to do this alone.”
he nods, his grip tightening like he’s afraid you’ll slip away. “i promise,” he says, and for the first time, you believe him.
…
a cramp gripping satoru’s entire leg is what wakes him up.
he winces in memory of the injury; one of those stupid terrorists had too good of an aim, grazing his leg while he was mid-air. it hurts like a bitch now, and he moves to lay on his back, until something stops him. roses.
he looks, bleary eyed, to you. the floral scent coming from you, making him dizzy. his body cocooning yours.
you both unconsciously moved in your sleep so that you were spooning, your fragrant hair, soft from shampooing, tickling his throat with your ass in his crotch.
nestled right against his morning wood.
good fucking lord, he groans to himself, then starts to panic because if you wake up and realize he had a raging hard-on while you were sleeping, you would definitely think he was a creep. he’s already on thin fucking ice. so naturally, he starts to recite the star spangled banner while trying to will his boner away.
oh, say can you see—
to no avail, because you huff softly in your sleep, soft and warm body unconsciously leaning back to grind your ass against his lap, turning his dick to steel.
“oh, fuck,” he curses out loud, using his hand to cover the lower half of his face and clench his eyes shut. you feel so sweet, innocently adjusting while he can’t even control his lust for you.
but once the grind seems to continue for a bit too long, more than what can be chalked up as adjusting in your sleep, he peers down at you. you’re awake.
and because satoru’s selfish, his hands creep up your tank top, settling on your bare stomach, where he knew you were ticklish. as a result, you wiggle, and he uses this opportunity to pull you even closer to him, right up against him.
“baby,” he says, making his voice all deep and sighs on purpose, just to be unfair to you. “is this okay?”
you whine, and he settles his face in your hair, the strands of it tickling his skin as he inhales in the scent of you. “i thought it was a dream.”
he smiles into your hair. you make him feel like sunshine incarnate, and the rush he’s getting right now is akin to the one he gets jumping off the empire state building. “no, this is very real.”
“hm,” and you continue to drag your ass into him, murmuring in a soft voice that makes him want to take you right there and then, “it still feels like a dream. like you’re not real, right now.”
oh, what he would do to make you say his name in that same voice; he wants to whisper all the things he wants to do to you right now. “i know, baby. you feel like a dream.” his hands continue to slide up and up your torso, groaning at your sharp intake as he gently fondles the softness of your breasts.
you overwhelm his senses, teasing him, and when you let out a whine of his name, satoru snaps.
“i’m going to make you feel good right now. tell me if it’s a fucking dream,” he grits out, ignoring whatever cramps that were screaming at him to get on top of you.
you gasp out a “satoru,” wriggling in his grasp, and he can’t take it anymore. he brings up one of his hands. shoots a web that lands right on your left hand. then your right hand.
satoru just tied you up using his webs.
you look at him in whatever version of shock you can muster in your tired state. “satoru, what the—” but you’re muffled, because he’s kissing you, hard, roving his hands up and down your body and grabbing whatever he can as if he’s devouring you while making out with you.
“do you know,” and his eyes flash dangerously while looking down at yours, “how you’ve teased me with these shorts?” his hands trails down to the waistband of the offending piece of clothing, pulling it to make it snap against your skin. you jump, looking at satoru desperately, who’s left you bare at his mercy, subject to his super human strength as he grabs your shorts with both his hands again. “every fucking time i’ve sneaked up in to your room, it’s been so hard to not fuck you senseless in these flimsy things. it’s only fair you pay the price, right baby?”
it’s not like you have anything to answer him with, having lost all brain cells being fucked out like this. he pulls them down, and if he had laser vision, he would have stared through your panties long ago, eyes fixated on the crotch that was nearly translucent with the amount of slick going through it. burying his face right in between your thighs, he noses at your cunt before groaning. then, he uses his teeth to grab onto the middle and pull. until your pussy is bare to him.
“oh, fuck you’re so pretty,” he curses, lapping at your sweetness. his tongue roves up and down your folds, and if your hands could, they would be pulling at his hair solely because you were so sensitive. but you were trapped, thighs gripped in his strong hands and your arms trapped by his ultra-strong webs. “my good girl.”
then, you feel pressure at your opening. “sato—” you squeal but are immediately interrupted by your own moan as he curls his long, thick fingers, eyes observing your every movement as you squirm, electric shocks running up and down your body as he hits your spot dead-on.
and he notices, because the motherfucker chuckles. “oh, so that’s the spot, huh?” he purrs, visibly pleased as he memorizes it and abuses it, hitting it with every stroke. you barely notice him add one finger, add two fingers as he starts to suck on your clit. overwhelmed with pleasure, you’re only brought back to reality when he rips all contact away from you.
“what—” you mumble mindlessly, until you see what he’s doing. he pulls his sweatpants down. and he’s not wearing boxers, so you drool when his cock springs out, leaking copiously and hard. without taking his eyes off you, he pumps it to its fullest length, and you’re just staring in awe at its sheer length.
“what’re you looking at, baby?” he teases, using his hand to wiggle his cock in front of your face to mock you. “want it so bad, isn’t that right?”
you glare at him half-heartedly, but whine regardless. “just put it in, gojo.”
“oh,” and he flashes you a smile that makes a big danger sign in red flash across your mind. “it’s gojo, now is it?”
“satoru,” there are tears brimming in the corner of your eyes, the ones that make satoru even more aroused at your want, “please. i need it.”
a boyish grin and a forehead kiss that has you reeling at his duality. “anything for my woman in stem.” with that, he pushes in, both of your eyes rolling back as his cock is engulfed by your gummy walls. soon after, he starts thrusting, desperation fueling both of you as you cross your legs behind gojo’s back, the deeper angle making his thighs shake while fucking into you.
he grabs your face, gives you a tender kiss. “fuck, i love this pussy. so sweet for me.”
you give him a wanton moan in return as he continues to thrust deep, tender strokes into you. “satoru, ‘m not gonna last long.” with the amount of foreplay he’s done alongside how sensitive you are, you’re steadily reaching your orgasm already, and with the way satoru’s now tightly gripping the sheets beside you while thrusting inside you, he is too.
wet squelching noises echoes across the room, and you know the neighbors can hear the obscene plap! plap! plap! coming from skin meeting skin, your hips against his. he buries his face into your neck, panting at your ear until he uses his hand to wrench your face towards his.
“i love you,” he groans, forcing your eyes to meet his. “i love you forever and will do so. so you can’t break my heart,” and he’s desperately thrusting again, “and you can’t leave me. please.”
at his confession, you break, back arching as you also squeal out a iloveyou while gasping loudly, hips rolling to rise against his as he fucks you through your orgasm. quickly, his thrusts veer into overstimulation and you whine. “toru.” he takes one look at your state—face impossibly flushed, hands tied, and pussy absolutely engulfing his cock, and his orgasm hits him like a truck, making him gasp and bend and break as he goes to heaven and back with the aftershocks of your orgasm making your pussy clench around him so beautifully. his cum enters you in hot spurts, making you exhale sharply at the feeling as he comes down from his orgasm, collapsing next to you.
for a few minutes, heavy breathing fills the room, both of you catching your breaths. until satoru breaks the silence. “so, what’s it like to fuck a superhero?”
you take one look at him—all smug and propped up on his elbow—and spidey sense be damned as you try grab a pillow. key word is try because you’re then wrenched back with a reminder that you’re still bound. “satoru,” and you give him a sickly sweet smile, the one that he knows means he’s in trouble, “when are these going to dissolve?”
and satoru pretends to be deep in thought, but you can see him trying to inch off the bed slowly, as if to escape your wrath after his answer. “uhm…maybe five hours?”
if it weren’t for the damn spidey sense that he had, he wouldn’t have been able to escape the swing of your legs as you looked at him murderously. “satoru gojo you will unhand me from these webs this instant—-“
“i don’t know,” he shrugs, shit eating grin in his face. “you look kinda sexy in bed like this. mad at me.” but when your eyes flash with anger, he hiccups nervously, telltale of the fact he won’t mess with you.
“i hate you,” you groan out, pouting like a petulant child while you glare at the ceiling.
satoru comes close to you to bend at his waist and give you a forehead kiss. “no, you don’t.”
you give him a pointed glare, telling him not to be testy. “clean me up. now.”
at your expression, his eyes widen in fear and he salutes. “anything for you, ma’am.”
at his retreating form, you giggle and sigh to yourself. you never would’ve known that spider-man would be the one fetching a clean up rag for you after fucking the shit out of you, but you wouldn’t trade it for the world.
when satoru comes back, he cleans you up, tenderly, as if he is afraid that you will break. you’re a little drowsy when he returns to you, but he doesn’t dare try to wake you up when he hears little breaths from your nose indicating you’ve fallen asleep. after he finishes his job, he admires your features.
satoru lingers for a moment, his gaze softening as he watches the gentle rise and fall of your chest. the weight of his responsibilities presses on him, as it always does, but tonight, it feels heavier—like a tether pulling him between the life he’s chosen and the life he craves.
you, so peaceful in sleep, represent something fragile, something precious. and that terrifies him. because what if he fails? what if the cost of being spider-man is losing the one thing that feels real?
still, he knows he can’t walk away—not from this city, not from you. with a deep breath, he leans down and presses a featherlight kiss to your forehead, a silent promise lingering in his chest.
“i’ll keep you safe,” he murmurs, barely audible. “no matter what.��
instead of leaving, satoru settles down beside you, careful not to disturb your rest. the city can wait, just for a little while. for now, he wraps an arm around you, grounding himself in the warmth of your presence. as your breathing evens out against him, he lets his own eyes drift shut, the weight of his responsibilities momentarily lifting. today, he chooses to stay.
kinktober masterlist | general masterlist
a/n ok if you're ever curious what being fucked in the ass with a wooden dildo no lube is like, just try to write this fic or any longfic. it's 4am, this a/n is short and unintelligble just like most of this fic but it's been a journey, im very sentimental because of this fic and i hope you guys like it. ok im going to pass out so pls ignore all typos xoxo but please flood my inbox im excited to see yalls reactions when i wake up
plspls pls comment and reblog!!!
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Mutual Help | 59
↳ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬; in order for you to pretend to be his girlfriend, he helps you with your sexual desires ⏤ he calls it mutual help
⇢ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: jungkook x reader
⇢ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: fake dating au, fluff, angst, smut, slow burn
⇢ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: explicit language, explicit content
⇢ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 18.5k+
⇠ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯. | 𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐱 | 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 ⇢
Sometimes you decide on things by feelings or whatever seems right at that moment.
You might've suggested something that has bit you in the ass right back. It didn't feel as satisfactory as it perhaps should have when you hinted on meeting new people. Although, it's a great opportunity for both of you to move on, even though just the thought alone leaves a bitter taste on your tongue.
Not even the alcohol on it tastes as bitter.
Regardless of what kind of opportunity it turned out to be, you had to do it. You're slowly losing it and being in Jungkook's presence alone is not helping.
A jealous kind of person is not what you would describe yourself. When the word jealous comes to one's mind, they think of someone being possessive jealous in the worst kind of way. You might've been possessive about people around you, but in a healthy way.
Sure, the thing with Ester is not the greatest example of it, but that was something different.
There's something building up, something you haven't experienced with Jungkook before. You were jealous in the friendliest possible way. You don't want to dwell on it more than necessary, but with Ester, you were scared of her becoming Jungkook's close friend. It sounds terrible this way, perhaps a little toxic too – it's hard to describe and put it into the right words so one could understand it clearly. There are parts where even you don't understand it.
You're confident about what you and he have. From the moment you met to the point where your friendship is at. Even that is a bit debatable, but you don't want to go there. Not right now. And possibly not in the near future. There are certain things you don't want to think about.
Ones you're scared of.
Still. Seeing Jungkook having another friend who he genuinely gets along with, in a meaningful way caused you to act on the void you felt.
But jealousy is a human emotion nevertheless. And you totally hate it at the moment.
Because there's no Ester or any possible special friendships to be made. This is different.
Why the fuck you hate staring at Jungkook and Nara. That's what she's named and introduced herself as when she happily sat behind Jungkook, holding his waist as he drove them through the small waves on a jet ski.
Clearly, sharing a meaningful connection called friendship is not on top of her list. She's smiling the entire time they talk about whatever, even though it's the most casual topic. She's not the typical giggling type that smiles to whatever that's being said just to flirt. She seems genuinely interested in Jungkook. Maybe a little bit too much.
Okay, definitely.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
You tap your fingers on the table, sun setting down as you watch Jungkook and Nara taking a fucking walk along the beach. You hate that after three drinks, you still have your stomach crumbled and twisted around.
There's no reason for you to be mad at Jungkook. You told him to meet people. You freaking hinted about him trying to get it on with other people. Okay, maybe you're irritated he took it seriously and clearly goes for it a little too soon. You also told him you'll be fine here while they go on a walk alone.
“So it's just you two here?” Gabriel asks next to you, catching your attention for the hundredth time in the past three hours. Yes, that's how long you've been spending your time with them.
They're fun and friendly. Nothing bad about them. Clearly young people who want to have fun. They're relaxed, fun and outgoing.
So why the hell would you rather have Min Yoongi here than having to witness all of this?
Mentally shaking your head at your ridiculous thoughts, you turn to Gabriel and tear your eyes off those two. You give him a stare that tells him enough about your suspicion by that sudden question.
“Relax, I'm just asking.”
“And I should believe you because?” you question him. You might've appeared slightly cold toward him. You're not sure if his friendliness wants to aim somewhere else and to something more, or he's just that outgoing.
Clearly, he doesn't want to back away because he's been very persistent. You give him that.
There's a slight spark between the tug and pull game. But it's not the one you're looking for.
“Because I'm telling the truth.”
There's chatter and laughter going from the other people you've been introduced to. You don't remember all of their names though. You hope you won't have to see them after this. God, that sounded so harsh. They're nice, you swear! But!
They don't give you any attention which makes your conversation slightly more comfortable.
“You're still a stranger. How do I know you're telling me the truth?”
“So just believe me–”
“That literally goes against–”
He laughs. He's handsome. Has a sharp jawline and a cute smile. “You're a piece of work.”
“I know. I'm amazing.”
He can't seem to drop his eyes off you. You've experienced those before. Which is why you're not sure if he's honest about that or if it's the trick of flirting with you. It seems like men always have some kind of ulterior motive behind their behavior.
You don't hate men. Even if it looks like it. You just don't trust them.
Unless they are Jungkook, Jimin or Taehyung.
Surprisingly, at least Gabriel doesn't annoy you in the Min Yoongi type of way. He's nice, not pushy and annoying which you appreciate.
You glance at him fully, both of you chuckling at your ridiculous conversation.
There's a deeper meaning behind his question. For the first time, he showed more of his prying persona. You can't blame him. It was bound for people to question it. You've grown used to it.
“Yes, it's just me and Jungkook.”
He nods, already knowing this but traces his glass. He had one beer an hour ago and after that one, he switched to lemonades. Somehow, you find that a little attractive.
“Our friends were supposed to go with us, but it didn't work for them unfortunately.”
He already knows you're staying at one of the beach houses, which to their expressions, they were a bit surprised to hear that. It's a more expensive side of the beach and while they're staying nearby, it might sound suggestive that you two alone are where families and lovers mostly stay.
“Didn't work how? What if it's their way to get you together alone?”
His question has a light tone full of teasing and suggestion, knowing exactly where this is going. He's trying to figure out your relationship with Jungkook, probably not believing two best friends that are on a vacation are only that. Friends. Well, that's quite debatable in all ways but you're not exactly going to share a full depth of anything related to your actual relationship to Jungkook.
Gabriel doesn't give you any vibes of being a snitch, but he's still a stranger. A handsome one but not even his pretty face could make you spill the tea. Anyway, he's definitely not asking because he's skeptical but mostly asking for himself.
You would've had to be blind and dumb not to notice his undeniable attention and interest aimed toward you. It's flattering and a compliment, really. More than anything else.
“Well, one of them ended up in a hospital with broken toes, so I would like to think he didn't do it on purpose.”
“Ouch.”
“Exactly,” you deadpan, sipping more of your drink.
He grins. He has a cocky twist to his smile. There's no denying he's a catch wherever he travels.
“Even though, you never know with him.” you say, watching Gabriel's confused look before you shrug and chuckle under your breath.
Taehyung loves himself too much to hurt himself. No matter how much he would love you and Jungkook messing around more.
Speaking of him, you glance back at the couple walking down the beach. There's nothing special or weird about it. They're just walking beside each other, there's even some distance between them now. Is Jungkook listening to your previous words and just trying to – you don't even know how to name it.
Is he trying to get to know someone else in hopes of getting more?
Is he planning to hook up with anyone from this group?
Because he totally could and there would be nothing you would do about it. But why should you in the first place? It should not bother you. You should be in the front row hyping him up to do it. You should smack his shoulder and tell him to go for it, like all the guys do.
So why can't you?
You believe it's because you've never experienced anything similar to what you have with Jungkook. Obviously, he's more than the sex God you've portrayed him as in your head. He's definitely more than that. But speaking just about that alone, the thought of him going for someone else and showing that side of him to some stranger he just met, honestly bothers you. It's too soon. And you know if you weren't too thoughtful, you wouldn't be in this position because you would've kept hooking up.
You wouldn't have to worry about him suddenly having sex with someone else. He would never do that when he's intimate with you.
Fuck. Why are you even thinking of all of this?
You did what was best for you and him. At the end of the day, it's just a matter of time before something like this happens. And you know it will and you're going to be okay with it. You will move on.
But perhaps you rushed into it. You've panicked and indirectly told him to just have fun. Without you. In that exact sense you're thinking of.
He's smart. Of course he caught onto the meaning right away and something tells you he's doing exactly that. You can't even be mad at him because you told him. You were the one who encouraged and pushed him to move on.
“I didn't mean to pry,” Gabriel speaks up, reminding you of his presence and your cheeks heat up even more under the sun that's barely up there.
You try to cover up your staring by looking at the sea before finally looking at him. He couldn't see the exact direction of your vision, but he could've guessed because they're right there.
“I just find it interesting.”
“Interesting?” You frown in confusion.
“You two.”
“What's so interesting about two best friends? Because one is a female and the other male?”
His brows shoot up, catching up onto your slightly offended tone. “I didn't mean it like that.”
“How did you mean it then?”
He hesitates, but your lifted brow that demands a response causes him to lick his lips as he sighs. “You've been checking him a few times now.”
You grit your teeth together. Not because you're offended that he indeed noticed, but you're embarrassed that he did.
“I've been checking on my best friend.”
“Alright, alright,” he chuckles, trying to play it off as he puts his hands up in surrender. “I wasn't really trying to suggest something else. I just noticed that your friendship seems… special.”
“And it is.”
He nods, wrapping his hand around the drink as he picks up on the small droplets. “Nara won't bite his head off. She's cool.”
“I wasn't suggesting anything else.” You throw his words back at him. He notices, the left corner of his lips twisting in a smirk but he doesn't say anything about it.
“Would your friend bite my head off though?”
You arch your brow at him, “And why would he do that?”
“I don't know, maybe for trying to get to know you?”
“You're getting to know me.” you point out, knowing what he's hinting at but you're playing it off. An amusement dances in your eyes and he sees it, his smirk only getting bigger but the determination of getting straight with you is even bigger.
“I am.” he hums.
“Well, I can't promise anything. Jungkook is protective.”
“Surely he would understand I don't have any vile intentions. I mean, you're single, right?”
You gulp, stopping for a moment. You could possibly make some kind of situation. You're single but you weren't exactly free and down to meeting someone else. For multiple reasons. You could tell him you just got out of… relationship that had nothing to do with dating. Simply said, you could tell him you had a fuck buddy and now you're just focusing on yourself.
But considering your previous topic, he could easily catch on and for some reason, you don't want to risk it. You don't want any strangers knowing about you and Jungkook. It seems awfully personal and intimate.
“I am.” you mutter.
“So? He can't chase all men away from you.”
And he probably won't.
“I don't know… he did punch a guy for me.”
“What?” he deadpans.
You chuckle, “He was my ex. Said some nasty stuff. Kook didn't like it.”
“So he… punched him?”
“Mhm,” You take another sip. “He did deserve it though.”
“I would never say nasty stuff about you. Or any woman.”
What are you supposed to do with that information?
“Never say never.” you shrug.
“No, I mean it. I wasn't raised like that.”
“I don't think he was either. But sometimes we don't know ourselves. And sometimes we can surprise ourselves too.”
“I get that, but if your friend had to punch him for it, he obviously wasn't good.”
You look at your drink that's slowly disappearing. You should slow down. “He's not a bad guy.”
“Doesn't sound like it.”
You roll your eyes, “You've got an answer for everything, don't you?”
“You seem to be just the same way.” he points out.
“You've known me for a few hours, Gabriel. I could be a total bitch or a completely different person than you've made up in your head.”
“And that's why I would like to know you more.”
You stare at him.
Having to be in similar situations a few times, this time feels slightly different. Even though he's determined, he's not annoyingly pushy. He's good looking and has something in him that makes you flattered that he's not backing down. Showing a clear interest in you is not something you would gag at or roll your eyes like you usually would have.
“So if I wanted to invite you for dinner, lunch… whatever you want it to be, would you go?”
“Are you asking me on a date, stranger?”
He chuckles, shaking his head. “I'm asking to hang with you and get to know you.”
“Umm, isn't that the definition of a date?”
“Could be,” he shrugs, “But I'm from Italy and you live on the opposite side of the world.”
“Exactly.” you point out.
“Oh come on, just say no if you don't want to.”
“Are you looking for a hook-up, Gabriel?” you question him, not wanting to beat around the bush. Somehow, you know he's honest but you have a hard time believing he's just interested in getting to know you.
Why?
Like he said. You live in different countries and both of you don't look like the type to have a long-distance relationship.
He starts coughing, taken back by your sudden straight-forwardness before he laughs, finding some amusement in it. “If you want to.”
“Is that why you want to get to know me?”
“No.”
You look at him skeptically, “I'm sorry, I just find it hard to believe.”
“Then I'm disappointed by the man you've encountered.”
“Hey, I have amazing men around me.”
Two of them probably broke more hearts than any of these people in this group, but they're amazing men regardless of it. It's the fact they never did it intentionally. And Jungkook is the definition of a perfect guy. Perfect in terms of loving and thoughtful person who would give everything to his loved ones.
“Never said you don't. You love your friends very much, don't you?”
That goes without a question. He sees the look on your face and it causes him to smile. For some reason, he seems smitten by you. Of course he does, look at you. You're amazing.
“You could say they're my second family.”
Perhaps if they were actually here, things would've been a lot different. That goes without debate.
Taking in the silence that follows, you can't help but glance in the direction where Jungkook and Gabriel's friend are walking down the beach. However, they no longer are and instead you find him taking pictures of her. She makes poses, showing off her toned and tanned body. And then she walks up to him, clinging to his side as he shows her the results. She seems to be impressed, as far as you know, it's hard to see it clearly from this distance.
And it's for the better, honestly.
“Listen, it doesn't have to mean anything more. Just us hanging out over a good dinner… or a lunch.”
Gluing your eyes back to Gabriel, which seems to be the safer choice, your eyes run over his features as you take a breath – realizing your stiffened posture before you relax.
“I don't have any sick intentions.”
“You know… you constantly making sure I know that kinda makes it harder to believe you.”
He laughs, shaking his head as he smiles at his drink. Your teasing brings some peacefulness into this conversation again. “Just let me know your decision. Take your time.”
You give him a smirk, knowing you're kind of running out of time. Both of you know it and that's why you both grin at each other. Before any of you can say something, the approaching chatter interrupts you. Jungkook and Nara join you, she says something which makes Jungkook smile and that's when he looks up. Your eyes meet and you straighten yourself, ignoring the way your heart squeezes.
“What's up,” Gabriel says next to you, looking at Nara who seems to joyfully sit down and take a few sips of her drink.
“Got some nice shots. Jungkook here is pure talent. I'ma show you later.” she says, smiling at Jungkook at the compliments she's giving him.
The corner of his lips turn slowly up before he glances back at you. Looking away, you poke the back of your front teeth with your tongue.
“What's your plans for tomorrow? We were thinking of visiting the water park here. It's brand new and apparently very fun. You wanna join us?” Nara asks, reaching for a bowl of fruit that Gabriel has ordered. “Anyone?” she points at the bowl.
Everyone shakes their heads before her previous question still sits in the air. She glances between you and Jungkook, awaiting your answer.
Once again, you look at each other without saying anything.
“They probably have different plans, Nara.” Gabriel notes, shrugging.
Not wanting to let them know about the lingering tension that somehow remains between you two, you take matters into your hands and give Gabriel a smile. “We don't yet, not definite but we'll think of something.”
They seem to be settled with that before the conversation moves to something else. Somehow it seems unfinished and by the time you and Jungkook are alone, walking back to your beach house, the feeling intensifies.
“So what about tomorrow?”
Jungkook is the first one to speak up once you get inside, a few minutes spent in silence after both of you are finished with your shower. You cut strawberries for yourself you got at the market earlier this morning.
“I don't know. We don't have any clear plans, do we?” you hum.
“We could look around the Island. See what's up there and decide then.”
“Sounds good.”
Jungkook stands behind you, in a safe distance but you can feel his eyes burning your back. However, he doesn't make a sound before a silent sigh leaves his mouth.
“Then what?”
“What then?” you frown, focusing on your cutting as he walks up to you. He leans against the counter with his lower back, crossing his arms over his chest. Luckily, he has put a t-shirt on. One second staring at him topless and you would be done for.
He's staring at you. You know he is, yet your eyes stay glued to the cutboard while you're taking your time with cutting the strawberries more precisely than it's necessary. “The water park. You wanna go?”
You halt, pursing your lips slightly. “Do you?”
He sighs again, “I think it would be a nice plan if we feel like it after we're done with the sightseeing.”
You stay silent before he taunts;
“Don't you?”
Your jaw clenches, “I think you should go if you wanna go so badly.”
He laughs sarcastically, “What?”
Fuck. You and your mouth. Composing yourself, you shrug before you put down the knife. “Didn't they want to go during the day?”
“Nara told me they will probably go in the afternoon. The heat is supposed to be crazy tomorrow, it's better to go later in the day.”
Of course, she did. Anything so she could go with Jungkook.
While that little comment sounds bitter in your mind, you do know Nara wants him to go. And you should not feel angry or annoyed at it. Maybe that's not why you're annoyed at it at all. It's simple knowing that Jungkook wants to go.
So forcing yourself to smile, you get the courage to stare him in the eyes. “You go if you wanna. I've got plans in the afternoon.”
Silence. For a split second.
“What?”
Another follows and you wet your lips as you shrug. “I'm going out with Gabriel.”
Well, he doesn't know it yet. He's waiting but you're guessing he will be more than glad to skip the water park. If he doesn't, that's going to be incredibly embarrassing for you and your ego.
Jungkook tongues his cheek, looking away as he scoffs silently. But the overbearing silence makes it ten times louder. “I see.”
“Jungkook–”
“Is this how it's gonna be?”
You gulp, “What do you mean?”
“We came here to spend time together but we spend it separately? Is that how desperately you want me gone?”
“Jungkook!”
He lifts his hand up, the point finger up as he motions for you to be quiet. “I'm going for a walk.”
“You don't have to–”
You don't get to finish it, he brushes past you and is gone before you can take another breath.
One of the worst habits you possess is the need to spill out anything that bothers you to someone. That someone is in most cases Jungkook, purely because he gives the best advice and comfort to anyone who needs it. He never judges and he just… gets it. He's that person you come to and can tell him anything, somehow the words he says or his mere presence is helpful enough.
For clear reasons he's not available – nor would he be suitable since he's the main reason why you're bothered in the first place. You're the one who messed up. For a moment you wondered whether you should go after him, to talk it out like any healthy person would do. But once you got out of the door, he was nowhere and to be walking alone around the Island with no one by your side is not something you wish to risk. Even though it seems to be safe here, you know he wouldn't be happy if he came back and you weren't here.
Or maybe he wouldn't care.
You would like to think he would. It's still Jungkook. No matter how many times you fight or there's tension, it's still him. But it feels wrong to count on this all the time, even though it's basic knowledge.
Sure, you've got other friends.
You wouldn't want to include Maya here. Purely out of knowing what her response might be – you've got to be a little selfish here because you know that's not something you want to hear right now. Anyway, she's probably planning her wedding or spending time with Namjoon. It feels rather awkward to be reaching out just because you find yourself in trouble. By your own responsibility.
But right after Jungkook, Jimin and Taehyung came.
Jimin is someone who gives you the hard truth, sometimes even scolds you but with the greatest intention. That's not something you need right now either way.
And Taehyung?
He makes everything look easy with the way he sees the world and particular problems. There is barely any problem in his world. He says fuck it on most things with his optimistic persona. He simply just doesn't care.
Therefore, he's the safer choice than Jimin.
Luckily, once you call him and he's alone, you briefly mention the issue here. You kept it safe for your own sake or selfishness. However, you didn't have to mention anything because he questioned Jungkook's absence right after he complained about Jimin and the fact he brings his girlfriend almost everywhere.
When even Taehyung is silent, you're glad you've chosen a phone call instead of a video one.
“So, let me get this straight… you go to Hawaii together but you're about to spend it separately?”
“Well–just tomorrow afternoon. I didn't think it's such a big deal.”
“But you purposely encouraged him to–I don't even know how to call it–go and find fun somewhere else?”
You gulp, regretting now that Taehyung's words bite you in the ass. He's right though. “We met this group of girls and–I didn't want him to focus on me only. I want him to have fun.”
Okay, that's half of the truth but it works. You did more for yourself than for Jungkook, naively believing that it will be better for him. But that backfired and it seems he doesn't feel like it's better for him.
“And didn't it get through your pretty head that maybe, just maybe, he wants to have fun with you?”
“Tae–” you sigh.
“Not that kind,” You can tell he has rolled his eyes. “He just wanted you two to have fun in there. I'm pretty sure he didn't think with his dick when he wanted you to go.”
“I didn't say that.”
“I know, I'm just saying.” he hums, “Maybe he feels rejected?”
“What? You think so?”
“I think Jungkook has had a lot planned for the two of you and he imagined he would spend it with you. Not with both of you having fun with someone else, instead with each other.”
“I thought it's better this way.” you mumble.
Silence follows and you're not sure whether Taehyung heard or not, but you hear his soft sigh on the other end. “You do your thing tomorrow and he will do his. Or just spend the afternoon the way you wanted, just with each other.”
“You make it sound so easy.”
“Because it is.”
“Tae, we were invited. I was asked for lunch–or dinner–whatever.”
“So? Fuck anyone else,” There it is. “Anyway, is the girl hot?”
“What.”
Taehyung laughs, “The girl that so seemingly goes after our Jungkookie.”
“I never said she's going after him.”
“You didn't have to, babe. It's clearer than Jimin's questionable choice of a girlfriend.”
“You're being rude, leave Jimin and his girlfriend alone.”
He snorts, laughing as you join. “I would ask you to send me pictures of the girls, but I kinda don't want to. I would regret not being there.”
“Can you not think with your dick when your friend here is in crisis?” you mutter.
“You got yourself there, hun.”
“You're not helping.” you grit through your teeth, hearing him laugh.
“Look, just talk to him. You guys communicate well. Well–it's bumpy these days but you got it.”
“How's your leg?” you ask instead, listening to Taehyung's complaints while your mind is elsewhere.
When Jungkook doesn't come within an hour, you're seriously starting to get worried. He has left in a hurry, therefore has forgotten his phone that mockingly sits on one of the small tables. Even though he's a man, you're worried for his safety no matter how safe this Island seems to be.
Just as you're about to grab your things and go search for him, the door clicks open and there he is.
Head low and almost looking like a kicked puppy, you debate whether to jump on him to hug him or slap him for making you so worried. If the roles were reversed, there's no doubt that he would search the entire Island for you. And that's not exaggerating at all.
Yet, you stand there – waiting for him to look up and be stopped by the glare you're giving him across the room.
“Where the hell have you been?”
You're angry. More at yourself than anyone else, but him scaring the shit out of you comes handy at the moment.
You know that defeated look. You both hate fighting. It's crazy you've never been through such hard times in terms of fighting than you have in the past year. Sure, looking at it optimistically, you've learned to communicate better. Sometimes.
Not particularly now. And you know some of it is mostly your fault now.
Being honest means much more than just that.
However that once mentioned defeated look is long gone. As soon as that tone and words leave your mouth, he glares at you with those intense dark eyes.
It doesn't matter that you sound like a mother scolding his son for coming home late.
“I went for a walk.” he says calmly, but there's something on the tip of his tongue. And his face says it all. I told you that.
You scoff. Before anything else can be said, he simply walks past you and you watch at the spot he just stood at in complete disbelief.
“That's it?”
“What else do you want me to say?” he offers, giving you I don't give a fuck attitude as he plops on the couch and stretches his legs on top of the table.
He grabs his phone and scrolls down through his notifications. He must know he forgot it here. There's no way he doesn't know now. But there's no sight of realization or anything. He simply seems like he doesn't care.
Not about that and certainly not about you stomping to the room.
“Are you serious now?”
He looks up from his phone, moving only with his eyes and you're stunned for a second. He's waiting.
“If I stormed out like that, you would give me hell for it!” you scold him.
“I told you I went for a walk. We both needed to cool off.”
You fumble over your words and try to make sense of them.
His eyes say it all. It looks like you haven't.
“Yeah, without your phone and you were gone for an hour!”
You watch him stare at you for a moment, sighing as he tosses his phone on the couch. “I'm sorry.”
The surprise on your face is evident.
“I forgot it. Didn't realize I was gone for so long.”
Well, an hour isn't so long but yeah, it felt like it. Especially the way he left.
You relax, a soft puff of breath leaving your lips before you nibble onto them with your teeth. You come closer, your knee resting against the armrest.
“I will cancel on Gabriel.”
He frowns, almost confused why would you do that. For a split second you feel embarrassed.
“So we can spend more time together.” you elaborate further.
“You don't have to do that out of pity or whatever.” he points out.
This is stupid. You're stupid.
“I'm not doing it out of–”
“Besides, I have a few plans throughout our stay here. Starting from tomorrow.”
“What,” you deadpan, hating the weird pressure and intuition that rises every second until he proves it right.
“I arranged it with Nara.”
It's dead silence for a moment. You're letting the information sink in until you breathe out in even bigger disbelief.
“What,” It's quiet, almost painful before you glance at his phone. “Your phone stayed here.”
“Met her during my walk.”
Oh, and she so accidentally appeared right where you were, huh?
He's not looking at you, staring at nothing in particular with a distant gaze.
“So let me get this straight–” You hold yourself together so you don't burst in anger. “You make a scene for not spending this vacation together and now you just make plans throughout it without me?”
You realize it's mostly said from your point of view and you fucked up, but him accepting it is even more defeating than anything else about this.
“As far as I know, you made plans too. Isn't this a good way of meeting new people?”
He's throwing it back at you. Clenching your jaw, you painfully swallow as you nod. “I see,” you mock his words, “You're right.”
And you walk out of the room – not knowing whether you should strangle him or yourself first. Only time can tell.
It's safe to say that sometimes your intention escalates and creates a new wave of something that can hardly be described positively. A part of you blames yourself for opening your mouth, even though your own intention behind it was not wrong. It wasn't supposed to cause any of this.
Already embarrassing as it is, having to lay next to Jungkook throughout the entire night has been another level. You've been tossing around, wondering if he's doing the same whenever you fall asleep for a few minutes until you're awake again. Seems like he's not particularly doing bad, but once again, there's an argument between you that has been maybe talked about, but definitely not solved.
You stick to your plans that have been planned out for most of the day. You've gone sightseeing, fed rescued animals and even visited local museums. Basically, done activities where other people mostly talked and you both listened – you were just there. Standing next to each other, walking beside each other but if it wasn't for these facts, some might think you were strangers.
And that thought that randomly crossed your mind hurt.
But you're just as stubborn.
This is for the better. Sure, you should probably make a mend, it would definitely make things easier and better. But you will try to focus on other people as well. Being with Jungkook alone on this vacation – well, it's not like you have many opportunities to focus on anything else.
But that could change. And it can change.
It's for the best. You both got distracted. Preferably with each other.
So when the time comes, you both end up at the beach nearby the beach house you're staying at. However, this time it's for you to get separated and each go your own way. Gabriel's friends are already there, wearing their swimsuits and covering it with thin layers of clothing. And then there's Gabriel as well.
You texted him, agreeing to the dinner but proposed to meet sooner. The truth is, you couldn't be alone at the house knowing where Jungkook is. It would eat you alive to be alone with your thoughts of blame and regret.
You have no idea where you will be going, perhaps more sight-seeing but you hope Gabriel has something planned out at the last minute. Sight-seeing reminds you of Jungkook as well, since you've spent your entire morning until midday.
You have not spoken ever since you came back. You both showered and changed clothes, here you are. Perhaps you've spent more time on your make-up. Your skin is glowing, covering everything that is laying beneath much deeper.
Summer dress with slightly low cut cleavage felt like the right choice. It's perfect for day time, could be great for night time as well and most importantly, you're not trying to look overly hot. This dress is practical.
And you have no idea what's up with men and summer dresses because you feel like you attract men's eyes as soon as they can make out your figure. Gabriel is speechless, though he's grinning and doesn't fail to give you a compliment.
Before you know it, Jungkook and Gabriel's friends bid you two a goodbye. Well – mostly Gabriel's friends because Jungkook is awfully quiet and doesn't even spare you a glance as he chats with Nara.
Jaw clenched, you turn around and smile widely at Gabriel. “So what's the plan?”
“Mm, don't kill me but I thought we could get a snack or something, wait–have you eaten?”
“I have,”
During lunch time with Jungkook. No matter how intense it seems to be between you, he still made sure you've eaten something. It's hard to be mad at him. But one memory of what happened just seconds ago is enough to make your features harden, just like your heart does.
“Have you?”
“I have,” he answers, “Cool, we can go to that dinner I promised you.”
You give him a slight chuckle, both of you walking nowhere specific.
“But maybe we could go to the water park as well?”
“What,” you stop, chuckling nervously. The whole point of going out was not to be in Jungkook's presence. “The others just left.” You point behind you, pretty sure they are no longer there.
“I kinda hoped we would go there alone.”
You give him a look, causing him to grin as he shakes his head. “Nothing creepy, I swear. Is it bad that I want you all for myself?”
“You will give me creeps if you continue to speak to me like that.”
He grabs his chest, pretending it hurts there. “Ouch. Is it always so hard to charm you?”
You look away, shrugging. “Not always.”
At least you didn't lie.
Best way to distract yourself is to do something. Anything that can't help you from thinking, or even overthinking. You give Gabriel that. Even though he has no idea he indirectly helped you and made your day better, attractions are a good way to just enjoy the presence. You allow yourself and your mind to be present with him.
You laugh and nicely enough, Gabriel is sweet and keeps his hands to each other. He doesn't give you creepy vibes – you're not sure if you wanted him to. He's polite, gentleman and funny. Everything anyone would like to see in a guy you're spending time with.
You talk, filling almost every second and moment with words. And yet, still somewhere rooted inside you, you keep looking around, hoping you won't meet Jungkook. Possibly see something you don't want to. You want him to have fun.
But deep inside you feel like you've pushed him to do this. It's stupid. You proposed something. You never forced him to do anything. But just because it hasn't been done directly, doesn't mean the outcome is not the same.
And you do it again. So you go to the first attraction you see, the water ride. You take Gabriel's hand, pulling him towards it until you're seated and drenched in water. After you're done, you both laugh at each other's appearance.
“I wonder if they sell towels here.” Gabriel says, praising himself for wearing slippers instead of actual shoes. His shirt is drenched, showing some of his abs. But you're respectful, you're not looking.
“It's hot, we'll be dry in thirty minutes.” you laugh, squeezing more water from the rim of your dress. It falls down your legs.
“True–how about–”
“Gab? What are you guys doing here?”
Coming from the side, you both glance at the way where one of the girls walks with the entire group of Gabriel's friends behind her. Great.
All you hear is Jungkook, Jungkook, Jungkook. He must be around here but you don't dare to let your eyes travel further.
“We wanted to try some of the attractions too.” Gabriel answers as if it's not a big deal.
Although he's met with some confused looks from his friends, they're not overly judgy and you get them. None of you mentioned going here before.
“You could've gone with us. Oh god, did you guys just go on this ride? We went there first, you should've seen us! Actually–Nara and Jungkook just went there like ten minutes ago and–” She starts looking behind her, pointing in that direction but she doesn't have to.
Your eyes naturally find him there. Walking, unbuttoned shirt that is drenched similarly to your dress. The difference is that you can see his skin, a few droplets here and there as the sun shines on his tanned skin.
“We did–I wanted Y/N for myself, is that so bad?”
And that's when Jungkook looks up, undoubtedly catching Gabriel's words and your stare as well. Seconds pass by and someone keeps talking, but you don't pay attention. Jungkook's eyes travel down your figure before a slight frown settles on his face.
Looking down, and you hate that you do, you follow his line of vision. The outline of your breasts is visible, nowhere near explicit to the point where anything is visibly clear, but even the slightest perks of your hardened nipples can be noticeable if one truly looks there. This dress doesn't require a bra, the material around that area is thick enough.
When you were picking this dress, you weren't counting on getting it wet by any means.
Crossing your arms over your chest, Jungkook stares directly at you this time. Something about his gaze is so intense that you're not sure whether you're naturally nervous or aroused. Fuck.
“We were just about to get frozen yogurt, you guys wanna join? We'll leave you alone, I promise.” Matt, one of their friends jokes, causing all of them to chuckle just to tease Gabriel.
Gabriel is not a shy person. He rolls his eyes playfully at them, ignoring them right after before he looks down at you. He's taller than you, not as tall as the man who stands across you and you feel his eyes on you. It burns.
“What do you say? Frozen yogurt?”
Frozen yogurt is the least of your worries right now. The right thing would be to refuse and come up with some kind of excuse, maybe trying the good old I wanna try more attractions. Just so you could finally escape the burning gaze that is ten times hotter than the sun above your heads.
But the annoyance that slowly simmers inside you, followed by Jungkook's unpleasant face, changes your mind. Lips stretching into a wide smile, making sure Jungkook sees it and hears you loud and clear.
“Sure, frozen yogurt sounds great.” Delightful, you want to say.
The others cheer, clearly happy to have Gabriel join them. You see Matt throwing his arm around Gabriel's shoulders, teasing him, undeniably about you as Gabriel shakes his head and with laughter pushes him away.
“You havin' fun?”
Jungkook walks next to you, looking ahead and not giving you one last glance. His jaw is clenched and you smile, amused and pleased even.
“Are you?”
“Wonderful,” he mutters.
“Good.”
“Good.”
Scoffing, you open your mouth but before any remark can make it out of your mouth, a woosh of coldness and pressure causes you to stop in your tracks. Most of it is blocked by Jungkook whom you manage to see turning his back, facing you while he shields you from the impact before your eyes are forced to shut.
The nearby attraction has splashed you, a few more people being a victim of it as they either laugh, curse or freeze in shock. Even your newfound friends who have managed to avoid the splash, gasp in surprise as they stare at the two of you.
You're fully drenched, every inch of you covered in water as you can feel it drip down your dress. So much for being dressed nicely.
“Oh my god, are you guys okay?” Gabriel asks, walking over to you.
Though you look up at Jungkook, who stares at you before his eyes drop down to your chest. You know his stare is not an act of lust, more of acknowledgment you should make. You don't have to look. You feel it.
Your arms cover your breasts, turning to Gabriel to respond to him. However before you're able to utter a single word, you feel a soft touch of hand over your lower back.
“We have to change clothes.”
“I saw a stand with some clothes where the kids' attractions are.” Nara tries to help, pointing in the left.
Jungkook ushers you to move before you can get drenched any more than you already are. Stupidly, you let him and you hate how you enjoy his hand on you. Maybe it has something to do with Nara watching.
There are no words said as soon as you distance yourselves from the rest of the group, leaving them up to their activities while there's a suffocating air surrounding you. The burning weather has nothing to do with it this time.
You watch Jungkook pick random shirts and shorts once you get to the stand. The older man who sells it tells you that this happens pretty much often, that's why there are a lot of towels and clothes for sale. Of course, it always has a Hawaiian theme or a water park one. You let Jungkook interact with the seller while you linger behind him, offering him a soft smile in return because that's all you can do.
“There is a changing room with a restroom around the corner. It's more to the side, so it's not much crowded, in case the lady needs more privacy.” he advises nicely.
Smiling one last time, Jungkook briefly nods as he follows the man's directions and leads you to the mentioned changing room.
He forgot to mention it's a single room. You can still hear screams and laugh from the side, but it's more isolated right now. You get inside, scanning the room. It's spacious. There are hangers on the wall, a basic bin and a sink. A huge mirror is spread across the one wall, the lighting is shitty though. The light bulb weirdly glitches but there is no weird smell in here. You hate public bathrooms, especially at water parks.
Surprisingly, there's not much water on the floor. The man was right. There are not many people who use this changing room. You've seen a couple of them when you were walking with Gabriel, but you haven't thought much about it. It sort of makes sense now.
The door clicks behind you, causing you to look across your shoulder. “Umm, where are you going?”
Jungkook looks up, brows frowning as he grows slightly offended by the question. “To change?”
His own question holds an attitude and you just stare in bewilderment for a moment. But when he doesn't move an inch, stubbornly standing his ground, you frown as well.
“Can't you wait?”
“Can't you wait?”
You scoff, almost laughing how childish this situation is. When Jungkook is mad, he can get slightly childish or let you feel all the nice things he does for people, until he stops it just to get petty. Not that you can't complain. You do the same things.
However, you use your mouth much more than he does. He's more subtle with it.
“I was here first.”
It's childish, you know it, yet you still point out when you're not sure how to react in the first place. Jungkook laughs under his breath.
“I wanna get out of these clothes as much as you do. Let's turn around and not look at each other.” he proposes, thinking that's the problem.
Little does he know you could care less if he sees you naked or whatever. You hate the way the water drips down his body, the ends of his hair picking up all the water until it slowly drops and it does the same thing seconds later. You hate how his tan body peeks through the opened button-up.
He's here. Yet it seems like he's never been further since you came to Hawaii.
All of this is stupid. You've been through much worse back home and you were able to make up.
But there's a lot of stubbornness and until you get there, you'll have to get through this somehow.
“You think that's the problem?” you question, seeing him giving you a confused look as he starts taking off his button-up.
He turns around to the sink, squeezing any water access he can from it. You don't move. You just shamelessly stare as he completely unbothered continues to do what he came here to do.
How dare he? Your self-consciousness mocks you.
“And what's the problem here exactly?”
He doesn't even spare you a glance, continuing to squeeze his completely scrunched up shirt.
“Are you seriously asking that?”
“I asked, didn't I?”
You scoff, ready to pounce on him. Not the good kind.
“There's a thing that's called space.”
The double meaning sits in the air, yet he doesn't look perplexed by it. For all you know, he doesn't even notice it as he bluntly continues his task. It pisses you off.
“There's enough space between us.” he simply says.
Your chest squeezes, causing you to purse your lips for a second as you breathe out. “You can't be serious right now.”
“I'm not even looking at you,” he scoffs, “I'll just change my clothes and I'm out of here. If you wanna just stand there and wait, you're free to do that.”
The audacity of this man is beyond the words. Is this how payback feels like?
“Oh, got it. You're eager to get out of here.” So you can get back to Nara, you want to add but decide not to. You would sound like a jealous bitch.
Somehow, Jungkook seems to get the hidden meaning behind it, almost as if he could hear your thoughts from out here. He chuckles, it's just the amused look he gives you that barely lasts a second, but it leaves you breathless and all exposed.
The dress clings to your skin, you want nothing more than to take it off. You don't dare to move though.
“May I remind you it's you who wanted me so eagerly to be out there?”
It's like you speak in riddles, yet you both know the exact meaning of them. You both don't dare to say it out loud.
Getting tired of it, but mostly letting out the anger that you mainly hold for yourself, but for the man in front of you as well, you take an angry inhale of breath.
“What exactly is it that you want, Y/N?” His voice rings loudly in your head, even though there's nothing loud about his tone.
Shakingly breathing out, you quietly point out; “You can't be fucking your best friend, Jungkook.”
The emphasis on your relationship is clear, though all Jungkook does is chuckle under his breath, scoffing. He throws his shirt into the sink, walking up to you. Your breath catches, though you can't almost anticipate once he's close to you. He stops, just centimeters from touching you. You can smell his faded cologne sticking to his skin and you almost crumble.
“What if I wanted to?”
“Jungkook–”
“You always make a decision without talking to me. It is yours, I respect it,” He stops for a brief moment. He stares your face up and down. “What exactly are you so scared of?”
And the fear comes rushing to you, mainly located in your chest as your hands flinch to squeeze it. You remain standing there, not being able to look him in the eyes. His eyes are on you, you feel every inch of them, the proximity they shine.
“This is ridiculous.” You try to move past him but he stops you.
“It is,” he agrees, “Is this about sex?”
“It's not just about that!” you argue, voice hushed and almost scandalized that you're having this conversation in public. You only hope there's no one standing outside, able to hear you.
You heard Jungkook locking the door, but still – there might be people waiting.
“I know you,” he says silently but clearly. “I know there's something going on inside that pretty head of yours that you're not telling me.”
“Stop.”
“Are you in love with me?”
You gasp, “What? No!” you push him, palms against his chest but he holds you by your wrist, amused by your sudden outburst.
“So why are you so adamant on pushing me away? All of a sudden, may I add?”
He's asking all the right questions and you despise it at the moment.
“You can't be fucking me forever, Jungkook. It must've ended at some point.”
“Oh–and you just decided on it without talking to me?” he scoffs, “You just randomly pushed me onto some random chick.”
“If I remember, you're willingly spending your free time with this random chick.”
He grins, though there's nothing genuine about it. It's fueled with cockiness.
You might realize there's more to Jungkook's reaction. You suddenly start to understand why he's maybe hurt by your sudden twist of emotions. While you never came out of the wrong place, at least your intentions never did, you might understand what his problem is.
He expected you to communicate with him about it. He might be right about that, but you also had your own reasons and yes, maybe you fucked up and it didn't go as planned, but you won't take the blame for all of it.
It's hard to focus on it though, especially when there's unspoken annoyance and anger dancing around you two.
“It was your suggestion.” he states matter-of-factly.
One, you regret.
He lets go of your wrists, but not before rubbing it softly with his thumbs. It's a minor detail, one you almost don't notice but it would be a total shame if you would.
“With a good intention.”
“And what's the intention?” he asks right away, tone slightly more defensive. “Huh?”
You open your mouth but nothing comes out of it.
Exactly – Jungkook's face says it all.
“To push me away? Because you're too scared to communicate?”
Jungkook's annoyance comes mostly out of this. You've used to communicate and talk about everything. And that brings you to the point. Things have changed. There are minor details, perhaps even more minor than Jungkook's faint touch of affection he gave to your wrists just now. But in these kinds of situations you can perfectly see them.
Does he not see it?
“Fine,” you spit out, “You want me to communicate? I will.”
“About time!” he exclaims.
“I want you to meet new people. Be open to meeting new people.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” he grimaces.
“You can't be open to meeting someone when you're fucking me the entire time!” you exclaim back, chest heaving as he looks taken back.
That's all gone as his brows furrow. “That's not your decision to make. When I'm ready to meet someone, I will.”
“That's not what I meant–”
“Really? Because that's all I could gather. If I wanted to be single for years, I easily could and that has nothing to do with you.”
Ouch.
“I know–”
“Do you?” he asks. “Because to me it seems like you don't get it. If you didn't wanna have sex with me so badly, you could've just easily called it off. For the hundredth time anyway.” he mocks the last part.
That's where you gasp and come up to him, invading his space. He doesn't seem to mind.
“But you wanted it, didn't you?”
He taunts you, even though you're in his face, looking angry as ever – he remains calm and has all the control.
“A part of you still wants it. That's why you can't see me with Nara–”
“That's not about her.”
“Is it not?”
“No. I told you to meet people. That's all I wanted, don't you remember?”
He scans you for a moment. “So we're at this point where we can fuck whoever we want?”
Fuck. You did not expect him to ask this. Nor did you expect to get to this point. You led him to it. You are the reason why he's asking this. You don't blame yourself for this, it's a simple fact. It will happen sooner or later.
So why the fuck there's an answer caught in your throat?
“Do you want that?” he continues. “I promised you we would go here as friends. No sex. Anything.”
Your throat feels dry, painfully dry that it even hurts to swallow. There's nowhere to escape. There's an imaginary spotlight set on you, Jungkook's determined gaze making up for it.
“We agreed to come here as friends.”
“That's not what I'm asking.” His response comes quickly.
He stares at you, searching your face for something unknown and you shift under his gaze, causing your own eyes to trail somewhere else. You can't hold eye contact. He waits. But when he doesn't get anything in return, he simply scoffs or chuckles under his breath – you can't tell – and takes a few steps away from you.
His shorts go next, he takes them off and tries to squeeze any excess water.
“I just wanted you to–I thought it would be a good opportunity for you to meet someone new. It wasn't supposed to come out as pushy or anything.” you murmur gently under your breath.
He stops for a brief moment, not moving. “How about talking to me next time, yeah?”
You nod, though you're not sure if he sees it. He's not even looking at you. Brows pinched in together, you watch him continue with his task.
“Noted.” You drop your head low.
“If you want to fuck someone else so badly, just tell me.”
“That's not–” Your reaction comes fast. Eyes wide and mouth open, you shake your head. “You think–”
“Don't you?” he almost accuses you.
“You think I–” You make air quotes with your fingers, “pushed Nara on you because I wanna fuck someone else?”
“I no longer know what I think.”
“If I wanted to do that, I would.” You assure him, comically using the same words he has used not that long ago. It's the truth.
“Good to know.”
“Good,” you exclaim. “I guess we can both agree that we're capable of doing what we want.”
“Are we?”
Your mouth slightly opens. “Huh?”
“Are we capable of doing what we want?”
The shorts join his scrunched up shirt in the sink, knowing Jungkook will wash the hell out of it once he gets back. He loves to do his laundry. But that's besides the point.
What matters is how Jungkook inches closer to you, his eyes eating you up and noticing you haven't shredded a single piece of clothing. You catch a glimpse of your face in the mirror. Your pupils wide, an expectation screaming out of them while your skin remains wet. Trails of water trailing down between your breasts.
He follows it before his eyes slowly go up until they meet yours.
“Perhaps it's a curse or talent, but one look at you and I can already tell where your mind's at.”
He doesn't make you feel pathetic. He simply comments but finds some sort of enjoyment in it. The male's ego is never truly gone and you wish you could crash it, verbally using your mouth as you're good at it. It doesn't matter that his implication is true – it doesn't matter you both know it. You would fight and argue, just to compete his ego with your own.
It seems like you're not able to this time.
“Yeah? And where's your mind at?” you try to sound unbothered, but the way your chest slowly starts to heave up completely betrays you.
“At the same exact place where yours is. Unlike you, I'm not ashamed to say it out loud.”
He backs you to the counter, nowhere near touching you – yet he does it with a single stare and has you exactly where he wants you. The tip of your toes almost touch, his figure hovering over yours.
Gulping, you try to play it cool. “Go on then. Tell me.”
He chuckles, it's soft but holds amused darkness that's wrapped around his cords. “If you insist.”
You don't. But you play into this fake illusion of not knowing what he's talking about. Just a pure excuse to try and prove him otherwise. To be honest, you might be curious about what he has to say. Jungkook has a good judgment for a character – when it comes to you. That obviously does not apply to his exes.
“I'm supposed to be somewhere else, physically and mentally, but here I am thinking of different ways of having you.”
You stop yourself just in time not to gasp out loud, showing him a vocal reaction other than your heart picking up its pace just at the single thought of it. Let alone having to hear him confess that.
Clearing your throat, you try to straighten your posture but end up brushing against his chest. You do your best at ignoring it, staring him straight in the eyes. “And that's what I want?”
Don't lie to yourself, the little devil of your consciousness ironically laughs. Of course you know all of this, you just have this urge to prove him otherwise and crush that confidence he has within himself.
“Please, you're already salivating just from the thought of it.”
Narrowing your eyes at him, you argue: “No, I am not.”
“Tell me,” he cocks his head to the side. “Would you rather bend over the counter or sit on it?”
He sounds nothing but curious, not even feeding to your delusions of him being out of touch with reality. Only he is not.
“You're an idiot.” you breathe out, trying everything to sound scandalized or offended. You would be able to fool if it was anyone else. But not him.
“For speaking the truth?”
“You're saying it as if I would want that. Listen to what I'm saying.”
He chuckles, shaking his head lightly. “Words are irrelevant when your eyes practically beg me to touch you.”
You know he chose a lighter version of what he would initially say. He wants to be way more explicit, but you're both dancing on the edge.
“You think you know everything when it comes to me.” It sounds ridiculous coming out of your mouth. He doesn't appear to be offended because you both know how much he truly knows you.
To bring this conversation to a different topic, he chooses to ignore it and simply smiles.
“So if I were to do this–” He lightly touches the side of your neck, wrapping his hand carefully around it. You inhale shakily, not being able to control it. “Would you tell me to stop?”
He gently massages your pulse that moves under his thumb, watching goosebumps appear on your soft skin. His hand is gone before you can blink, but is soon replaced by his fingertips tracing down your neck, past your collarbone until they stop at top of your breasts.
“Hm?”
You're not able to react. Your chest heaves, a glare fixated on him but no sound comes out of your mouth. He has you. Wrapped around his fingers, proving his point. Because of his ego and confidence, you know he's proving it to you rather than to anyone else. He can be that annoying.
Close to leaning toward his touch, the tip of his fingers play with the hem of your dress, occasionally and very faintly touch your skin. His other hand goes down, playing at the fabric of where your dress ends. It goes up, fabric gathering over his wrist. You shudder, mentally begging him to do more.
As if he could read your mind, his eyes look up without having to move his head, dark sinister spark in them. When he doesn't see you protesting, merely making sure of your current state, he does not waste a second and pulls the top hem of your dress. Revealing your breasts, he sucks in breath at the perked nipples. His hold on the dress tightens and within seconds, his mouth is wrapped around your nipple.
“Fuck.” you moan, throwing your head back as you arch into him.
He's like a starving man, perhaps he is from the stupid condition you've made up, but so are you. The other hand grasps the back of your thigh, molding his fingers into your skin as if he wants to leave as many imprints as he can.
Teeth grazing your teeth, he wraps his hand around your neck once more and makes you look at him. You just stare at each other, not an ounce of shame written on your faces. Your noses touch, your mouth already opened as small gasps similar to moans escape. You beg him to kiss you.
He doesn't.
Instead, he drops down to his knees and before you know it, his hands disappear underneath your dress and shamelessly pull down your only piece of underwear. Once that's done, he hoists up your leg over his shoulder and dives in right away. You can barely grab the edge of the sink counter and balance yourself on it, before his mouth is on you.
“Jungkook–”
You swear you hear him chuckle, but you're too distracted by the shots of pleasure he's attacking you with. He shows no mercy. Fingers wrapped in his hair, you tug onto his roots as he moans against you.
Nobody does it like you.
While that thought normally scares you, now you're fucking grateful he's the one that's between your legs.
You come embarrassingly fast, trying to keep yourself silent from moaning and embarrassingly so, you have no idea whether you've succeeded or not. Jungkook fucks you through it with his mouth, stopping just at the right time as he pulls away.
Lips swollen and red, eyes drinking you up, he effortlessly stands up. “Was this anything relatively close to where your mind was?”
It was far dirtier but there's nothing to be disappointed about. When it comes to orgasm and Jungkook, he never disappoints.
“I can't complain.” you breathe out, watching how he pulls up your dress and covers your breasts to give you at least some kind of modesty.
It's a single detail, one he never had to do and you never fully noticed – but no matter what, Jungkook always looks out for you. A blunt apology wants to come out, for numerous reasons of the misunderstanding of your own fears and good intentions, but Jungkook takes a few steps back.
“Change your clothes, I will wait outside.” he says, quickly changing his own before leaving you up to it.
You turn around, not being able to let go of the counter as you grip it harder and stare at your face. He didn't even go all the way and you look like you've had the time of your life.
Once again, you and Jungkook have succumbed to your desires and broken the only condition you've had for this vacation. It should leave you disappointed and perhaps you are little, but you're definitely satisfied for the time being.
At least until you have to walk out of the door and face the storm in the form of your best friend.
Your knees and hands have stopped buckling by the time you've changed into dry clothes. Nothing screams more than a tourist wearing an oversized shirt with a huge label saying “I love Hawaii”, an image of a red heart replacing the word love. It's something you would've worn to bed to sleep in – or at the beach to cover up the least – not parading yourself in it in public.
The sense of fashion is the last of your worries or things on your mind though.
Jungkook has waited outside of the door, guarding it safely. After his sudden leave, you did not lock the door which could be a terrible mistake if Jungkook wasn't there to make sure no one walks in. Somehow, you knew he was right behind that door.
The walk toward the rest of the group is spent in silence. As if his mouth wasn't all over your private areas. The memory of it makes an excitement bubble in your stomach, even though it should probably be at least a hint of some kind of regret.
You do not regret the act itself. Mostly, it's just you being so weak to prevent it.
Maya would surely get the baggage off your shoulders, supporting this wild decision. But she just doesn't get it.
Simple walk to find your newfound friends – or whatever you would call them – makes you miss your real friends. You wonder how things would go if they were here.
Maybe it's just your stupid naivety of believing that it would be different. No matter what, it seems you and Jungkook always find your way to each other – intimately speaking.
One thing's for sure.
Jungkook has confronted you. There's truth to both sides.
Of course the man can have anyone he points his finger at. It was your foolishness to think this vacation was the perfect chance at it. Selfishly, you might've done it more for yourself than for him.
And what if you would meet someone as well?
It would certainly make things easier. The decision would be way easier too.
Gabriel is handsome. Hot and charming. Practically the perfect package for a vacation hook-up. And as much as would be leant toward maybe kissing him at least, you can't do that when Jungkook is right there.
Once you find them, the mood is sour between you and you're not even trying to hide it. Maybe it's the lack of smile and a big portion of silence that makes them notice it. No one comments on it. In fact, you don't think it's worth being commented on.
Their positivity and good mood continues to be unaffected.
“We dodged the whole frozen yogurt, heard there are these best waffles somewhere around here with fresh fruit. Wanna go there instead?” Gabriel is the first one to ask, eyes finding your figure as soon as you approach them.
In this heat, sweet food or a snack is the least of your cravings.
“I'm actually not hungry at all,” you respond, feeling guilty for not being up for this idea.
Gabriel looks confused for a moment, certainly remembering you were all up for frozen yogurt just a few minutes ago. Like the gentleman he is, he doesn't question you but you can see the questions running inside his head.
Maybe he doesn't want to do it in front of his friends.
“The heat is killing me.” you add, trying to save it.
He nods, glancing toward the man next to you who hasn't made a move to… move. “Jungkook?”
“I already had a dessert.” he comments, shamelessly staring at the side of your face.
Eyes almost bulging out, you keep your calm and try to not react. Even though Jungkook has not worded it out weirdly to give anyone a big suspicion, it's you and your guilt that makes it think it's so obvious. You wish you could glare at him, but you know there are eyes on you.
“We stopped by the fruit stand, so we had that on our way here.” you lie, straight through your teeth and even though you could be defined as the worst liar ever, this lie comes out sweet and believable. But it's Gabriel's eyes that continue to stare and watch you like you're the biggest open book.
Fuck.
“Yeah, the fruit here tastes nice.” Jungkook continues and you do everything in your power not to smack him across that bratty mouth. Mouth you wish you could have kissed.
You give him a look, but he just cocks his brow at you. “Yeah, Jungkook came up with this idea–”
“Did I?”
You glare at him, “Anyway–sorry, I know we wanted to go there together.”
“It's fine,” Gabriel laughs, “We're still gonna get it. You guys are still going with us, right?”
“Yeah, sure!” you force yourself to smile, joining Gabriel as you feel Jungkook's burning gaze on your back.
That's until you hear Nara's voice behind you, making a casual conversation between them and diverting his attention elsewhere.
Once the sun is slowly setting down, you part ways and go back to the beach house in silence. No difference happens once you're inside, just the two of you.
The past two hours spent with people you've met here felt like a torture. That's what you at least thought until you and Jungkook continued to pass by each other as you two are getting ready. Comically enough, not to go somewhere together but with different people.
He kept his word and accepted Nara's offer to go out tonight. Whether he's doing this to piss you off or because he wants to is unknown to you. Perhaps there was a slight hope that you two would just come to an agreement to cancel and go somewhere together. Even staying inside would be enough.
Once Nara asked Jungkook if their plan is still on and Jungkook so shamelessly confirmed, all the hope left as soon as it came. Gabriel has done the same with you and there was nothing other for you to do, then to agree.
It's a pure comedy. If there was a third person just watching the two of you, they would have the time of their life. Somehow you can imagine Taehyung here, sitting on the couch as he judges you two but stays entertained throughout the entire time.
After taking a shower, you end up doing your make-up in the living room with the smallest mirror you've brought on this vacation. Your previous plan of doing it in the bathroom where there is a massive mirror has failed as soon as Jungkook uttered his need to use the shower as well.
You're not sure if he's done it on purpose, but he sure as hell took his time there. You're putting on the lipstick when he finally decides to get out of there.
Both of you stop.
He's wearing an all white – button-up with shorts that reach just above his knees. Shorts you didn't even know he owns. He looks elegant, yet casual just for the hot weather even though there's a slight darkness outside. His slicked back hair definitely helps.
Jungkook's eyes fall down on your figure. You're wearing a simple short black dress but the gold necklace and red lipstick adds a pinch of sexiness to it. None of you are overdressed or could win the outfit of the year, yet you can't keep eyes off each other.
You're the first one to break it, standing up and tidying up your make-up stuff that's all over the table, but not before raising a provocative brow at him. He scoffs as he walks past you without any word, his cologne the only thing left and lingering. Out of his sight, you close your eyes and breathe out the gathered breath in your lungs.
The two of you leave at the same time, in different directions to different people.
The restaurant where Gabriel has taken you is nice and they have a variety of food on their menu. You have a nice view of the beach and sea which adds points in your imaginary review of this place. You've got to be honest – Gabriel definitely went out his way to invite you here.
He doesn't mention his friend – Nara – not even once and while you're not sure if you want to hear the reminder of her hanging out with Jungkook at the moment, you hope you won't bump into each other. You feel bad.
You listen and talk to him, but your mind is all over the place. You should've known you won't be able to enjoy tonight if there's someone you've fought with. And with Jungkook out of all people.
At least the food is nice.
After two hours of good dinner and dessert, and a few glasses of wine, Gabriel decides to walk you back to the beach house. You're not stupid to decline it, especially at night. Before that you decide to take a quick walk down the beach.
“So, what are you saying? Was the dinner that bad?”
You give him a look, chuckling. “Did it meet your expectations of getting to know me?”
Now he's the one who laughs. “Yeah,” he nods. “Kinda makes it hard for me to go back to Italy.”
You raise your brow, smirking. “So you're saying you're not going where I go?”
He laughs at your joke, “I'm thinking of it.”
“Yeah, sure.” you laugh, “One dinner is all it took?”
“You're special.”
And you're more likely looking for a hook-up, you think. You both know there's no future to this.
“I am special?” you snicker, “Is that what you say to all the girls?”
“Is it working?” he teases.
“Nah, it takes more effort when it comes to me.”
He stops in his tracks which causes you to do the same. He stares, eyes dropping down your lips and red lights flare in your mind. Knowing what it most likely means, you quickly turn away.
“Come on, I'm so full I could fall asleep.”
Cringing at yourself, Gabriel follows and doesn't seem to be shaken up from it. He continues to talk and the mood is pretty much loosen up, which has been from the beginning. You had a good time and it went better than you expected it to.
Gabriel doesn't try to kiss you and you bid goodbye with a casual hug, both of you understanding that nothing will come out of this.
The lights are on as you open the unlocked door, meaning that Jungkook is already back. It seems like he just came as he came out of the bathroom, surprised to see you there.
“How was your date?” he asks, looking away from you in a second.
“It wasn't a date.” you clarify which makes him snicker. “What? It wasn't.”
“An Italian guy wants to make plans with you, alone. You might be right, it's not about a date at all.”
You give him an offensive look, “Are you insinuating that all I'm good for is a hook-up?”
“No, don't twist up my words.” He immediately stops your mind to go somewhere his mind doesn't even get close to. “I'm insinuating that a guy from freaking Italy suddenly shows his interest in you, when you live across the world.”
You frown, watching him reach for a glass of whiskey you haven't noticed before. He's not drunk but what he is, is confidently smirking in your face as if he knows everything. Well, he's not too far off. Gabriel wants to have fun and while he seems to be a decent human being, he's not about to move to a country to be with you. You wouldn't expect him to anyway.
“But you're right,” He purses his lips, the rim of the glass almost touching it as he lets out the tiniest chuckle that's supposed to be hidden. “He's probably wanting to marry you.”
He's provocating you. The plans have not turned out the way you both wanted to – but it is what it is. Your curiosity almost kills you and your impatient-self wants to ask him about this date, or whatever it was. This is a game, you realize.
And you won't let him have that satisfaction of you asking.
“He wanted to kiss me tonight.” you inform him.
You watch him take a sip, pursing his lips right after as you slowly watch him swallow down the hard liquor. “I'm sure he wanted to do much more.”
Is that a jealousy you hear?
No one has quite peaked your interest regarding this matter. Judging by Jungkook's confidence, he knows that.
“Next time I will let him kiss me. Maybe then he will want to marry me eventually.” You give him a false smile, stopping right beside him as he wants you with a clenched jaw.
Not giving him a chance to respond, you walk away with confident steps into the bedroom. The door closes and your back meets the wood. You can feel your heart in your neck, all the facade of confidence and peace leaves and you softly bang your head against it.
What you said was completely stupid. You don't want to kiss Gabriel. In fact, the thought of it is nowhere near as exciting as one would expect it to be. Both of you know that the second part was only said to piss him off and prove a point.
The questions are…
Will you let him kiss you next time?
Did or will Jungkook kiss someone else in here?
The ongoing battle that you're in the middle of has not ended.
Both sleeping at the very both ends, as far away from each other as possible, has been a good way to start the day. It's not like you expected to cuddle during the night.
That's not what friends do, your mind wants to say. But you've crossed that line too many times. You're not the typical friends either, that ship has sailed a long time ago.
You shouldn't have pushed him away. It's too late to take it back. For a moment you think of coming to Jungkook, apologize and somehow talk yourself out of this impossible battle you're in. You're willing to take all the blame for it.
However, that's all gone as soon as you hear Jungkook calling with who you assume is Nara, his tone sweet and sounding exciting as they make plans for today. You stand there, making yourself a coffee as you try not to listen to their ridiculous conversation. How can you not?
Jungkook sits right behind you, even if you didn't want to listen – it's impossible for you not to. He knows that. He knows you're listening. You're the one who has come in the middle of their conversation.
The call ends after a minute, your coffee ready but your mind isn't when you turn around and face the devil. You've seen him from the corner of your eyes when you entered the kitchen area, but nothing prepares you for the shirtless Jungkook. His hair isn't messy, he seems to be well put and from the looks of it, he came out of the shower not that long ago.
He cocks his brow at you, questioning your stare making your features harden. “Having a date today?”
You painfully watch the way the corner of his mouth slowly lifts up as he chuckles. “Careful, you start to sound jealous.”
“Me? Don't be ridiculous,” you scoff, “Where is she from again? Doesn't she live across the world?”
Jungkook features lighten up with pure amusement as you use his words against him. “At least I can admit this is a date.”
“I simply hung out with a guy. We never stated it's a date.” you point out, knowing it sounds silly but Gabriel just wanted to get to know you. You never officially called it a date.
Jungkook stands up, grabbing his empty plate as he gives you another one of his snickers. “Be in denial all you want.”
“You know what?” He raises his brow in question, too close to you as he reaches to put the plate into the sink. “I'm not gonna spend this morning arguing with you. If I wanted it to be a date, I would make it perfectly clear to him.”
He smiles, but there's nothing sweet about it. “A date or a chance for a hook-up. I don't see the difference.”
He does. Jungkook has always been the dating type rather than the hook-up one. Your two friends have taken that label since forever. But obviously, he's not talking about himself.
Suddenly, the air becomes thick and you stare right into his dark eyes. He's hovering over you, his scent luring you in as his eyes dance across your face. “Maybe you should take your own advice.”
He pulls away, giving you a chance to breathe again as you quickly recover. “Yeah? And what would that be?”
Jungkook grabs his phone and looks at you across his shoulder. “You should meet new people.”
Your mouth opens and you stare for a moment before you scoff, “If I wanted to date, I would already have like hundreds of boyfriends. The same goes if I was looking for a hook-up.”
“Good for you.” he calls out bitterly, leaving you in the kitchen with a fuming gaze and burning heart.
But you realize one thing. How selfish you've just sounded. Jungkook has told you the same thing.
If any of you wanted that, you could've easily done so. Yet your reason for saying it to him and what ultimately started this argument, is completely different.
Jungkook is a dick.
He has left for his date or whatever the fuck it is, and has left you alone in the house even without asking whether you have plans or not. You know your relationship right now is not at its best stage, but little consideration could not hurt. Especially since he's always been caring and considerate no matter how much your relationship has taken a different turn.
It's one of the reasons why you desperately wanted to move on. Throw your past away and come back to the friendship you've known since the beginning. It leaves you agreeing that your original intention has come from a good place.
Luckily, Gabriel seems to show interest in you, still, after the little rejection you've given him after his attempt to kiss you. He comes to you a little after you come to the beach to just lay there. He's been there with his friends since this morning – at their usual spot. Nara is nowhere in sight and much to your distaste, you know who's she with.
So once Gabriel invites you to hang out with them, you agree and would rather spend your alone time in a company of many people, than to dwell all alone about your decisions in life. He keeps you entertained and busy, away from your haunting thoughts. Until…
“Nara is with your friend. You know where they went?”
You sit at a bar, drinking lemonade in this burning weather and you're thankful for the sunglasses you're wearing, so he's not about to see the tiniest roll of your eyes. “No idea. He forgot to mention.”
In the morning which is the last time you've seen him. He just left you to be with another woman, in a foreign country. You know you can call him anytime. Even now – no matter what your relationship looks like, he would be here in a second if you called and needed him. But still – you're mad he just left without saying anything. Deep down you know that's not the only thing that irritates you.
“Nara fancies him a lot.”
So? You want to say. What are you supposed to do with this information?
“Really?” You're trying to sound surprised. But even Gabriel– who had so little time to get to know you – catches onto the tone and laughs. “It's pretty obvious.” You try to save it by simply stating.
“She did ask him to go out again today. From what I know, she was never the one who asked someone out.”
“Where does she live again?” you ask, taking a sip off a lemonade trying to quench the fire inside you.
“Spain.”
“It's not like there's any future to it.”
Gabriel stays silent and just stares, while you continuously take innocent sips. “Actually, Nara has applied for some modeling jobs in Korea.”
He's definitely not talking about North Korea, unfortunately that's unrealistic.
“Oh,”
Well, fuck. This just gave a completely different turn of event.
Considering your luck, she probably applied to your modeling agency as well. Many foreigners do. You just hope no one will mention it. Not to be a bitch, but you can imagine someone asking you to help her to get in. That's beyond your competency. But you could always mention her to Junho.
Oh my god. Jungkook has worked there too. He probably has saved your boss' number. While you think Jungkook wouldn't cross that invisible line you've set, he's always trying to help and save the day.
“Listen, how about I take you out for dinner tonight?”
That's… shocking.
After the last time you ended things, you thought he gave up. But you should've known better. It seems guys like him barely give up.
“What's else for us to do?” he chuckles, not really waiting for an answer but it still comes.
“What do you mean?”
He looks at you, reaching for his drink as his shoulders relax. “Our friends are meeting with each other almost every day.”
The taste of your non-alcoholic drinks becomes bitter on the tip of your tongue, just as much as your mood does. “As far as I know, you've got other friends here.”
“But none of them are you.”
Smooth. The little smirk you give him tells him everything. He's aware of his smooth delivery of compliments. You've got to give it to him – he knows his way around girls.
It's not like you have anything else to do. Jungkook seems to be busy and does not care what you do here anymore. And Gabriel's company is nice. If it's true what he said about Nara coming to Korea, there's a bigger chance of them making future plans together. And as much as this thought leaves the most bitter taste on your tongue, you'll leave that move for Jungkook to make.
After all, that's what you wanted for him and who are you to stand in his way.
Purposely not verbally reacting to Gabriel's flirting, you shrug and lean in your seat. “Dinner sounds perfect.”
Legs resting on top of the coffee table, Gossip Girl plays in the background as you mindlessly pop grapes in your mouth. Maybe you're silently imagining it's Jungkook whom you're crushing between your teeth.
After spending almost the full day with Gabriel and then the rest of his friends, you've come to the beach house finding it completely empty. It looks exactly where it's left off and you're embarrassed to admit that you've checked Jungkook's things to see if they've moved. And perhaps he was here. They haven't, which only meant one thing – Jungkook hasn't come here yet.
Sooner than later, the door opens and there he is.
He does not seem surprised to see you there – almost as if he knew you wouldn't be anywhere else. You give him that much satisfaction of looking at him once he arrives, acknowledging his late arrival. You hate what you do but it has its own purpose. And that is the single glare you give him.
You feel like a mother, silently scolding her child for coming home late.
He goes for a shower right away and you battle with thoughts of him, erasing the traces of possible sex on his skin. He comes back after a few minutes, wearing just his boxers with wet hair. You want to scold him for walking around like that, but that would be slightly selfish for numerous reasons. Is he torturing you on purpose?
He joins you on the couch, not questioning your choice of TV show as he knows you've previously seen it. As he sits down, you can't hold it back and just come straight to the point.
“Will you help her?”
Your gaze is focused on the TV screen, but you feel his own burning the side of your face. “Huh?”
“Nara.”
He just stares which causes you to look at him and roll your eyes at him. “She applied for modeling agencies in Korea.”
“Korea is huge,” he says after a moment. “And how do you even know that?”
“Gabriel told me.” You try to not sound too proud.
“When?” he asks confusingly. “She told me just today.”
He's questioning if you've known this information sooner but never told him.
This time you inform him with a smug face. “He told me today as well.”
The revelation that you haven't spent your day here alone is out. He is unreadable. He just watches you, almost as if he wants to make sure you're not making this up. Too bad for him. You're not making anything up and this time you're not too shy to show how proud you are for it.
“What? You thought I was here all alone while you went on a date?”
It's a purposeful jab, one that leads to nothing but disaster but you don't care. You're mad and annoyed. And now he knows why. Yet he doesn't make any effort to make an excuse for himself.
“You brought him here?”
First of all – you're not sure what would be so bad about it, even if you brought him here. But then it clicks. Jungkook has his own assumptions and bringing a guy here, while you're all alone could mean different things. Your skin is moisturized and you smell like your shower gel, which means you've left the shower not that long ago.
Perhaps it could be considered as disrespectful if you indeed brought him into a house, Jungkook rented and is a space for you two. You could understand that.
If the roles were reversed and you found out he brought Nara here – well… the thought of it doesn't sit well with you. But what does, when it comes to her?
“No, he asked me out after you so kindly left me here to go on your stupid date.” you huff out, standing up and forgetting about your TV show. The controller is tossed on the couch as you leave without looking at him.
Your steps lead to the bathroom where there's a slight trace of foggy mirror left after Jungkook's shower. Mentally groaning at the scent of him dominating in the room, you reach toward the sink faucet in a desperate need to freshen up your burning face.
You don't get to turn the water on as Jungkook is in your tracks, a burning gaze aimed at you. “You seemed to have solved it pretty quickly.”
Realizing he meant your accusation of leaving you to go on a date, you scoff.
“I wasn't about to sit here and sulk, waiting like a dog for you. If that's what you were planning for me to do.”
“I wasn't planning that,” he states, even though he wants to be just as mad for some reason. “I wasn't planning on being out until now.”
“Well, you were!” you exclaim.
“Sorry.”
“Sorry? Is that all you've got to say?”
He leans against the door frame, arms crossed over his chest. “What am I supposed to say?”
“You know what? Nothing. Say nothing.” you fume, forgetting your dumb purpose in the bathroom anyway as you rush to get past him. But as soon as you get close, his hand around your wrist stops you.
The touch is electrifying, sadly not in an awful way and you hate how your body reacts to him naturally. “Did you at least have fun?” you scoff.
“Would you be mad if I said I did?”
You almost cry, like a child but the anger inside you is bigger than anything else and you shake his hold on you. “And did you have fun?”
“Lots of it.” you spit the words at him.
You both stare into each other's eyes, the anger screaming out of them and yet the question you want to ask is unspoken.
“Good.”
“Goodnight Jungkook.” you murmur, walking away and quickening up the pace before you can do something you really want to, but would regret later.
One would think that after yesterday's exchange of pitiful words, you two would have solved it or at least tried to voice the problem here. It seems there is not enough pity and when the two of you want to, you could be the biggest pity bitches.
“Milk?”
Side-eyed look toward Jungkook, having two bowls of cereal ready and awaiting your answer. “I can make myself breakfast.”
“Milk?” he asks through his teeth, causing you to roll your eyes behind his back as you sit down.
“Yes.”
Whether this is his way of saying sorry for yesterday or not is unknown and you're not about to investigate it. You mutter a silent thank you once the bowl is set in front of you and you two dig into your breakfast without any other sort of conversation.
The rest of the morning goes like this. One word communication which seems almost like a challenge. Phones are your best friend but both of you are stubborn to talk. You swim in the pool for the first time since you're here, enjoying the sun warming your skin as Jungkook goes for his morning jog and comes back an hour later.
You're playing quiet house, so it seems.
As the day goes, it's more than clear that both of you have plans tonight. Separate plans.
Jungkook's phone goes off and he goes inside to take the call, after joining you in the pool. Trying to keep your nerves to yourself, you've had to endure his presence (lack of clothed presence). You went to rest on a beach chair while he swam. PAIN.
It's close to dinner time and you both get ready. Unlike Jungkook, you spend more time in the bathroom to do your hair and make-up, which he so “kindly” reminds you every time he wants to take a shower or goes to grab something there.
The air is thick and it has nothing to do with the scent of hairspray and your fragrance.
None of you ask what's your plan for tonight. But both of you can tell. No details though.
“You done here?”
You stop in the middle of putting your lipstick on as you give him a look, “Does it look like it?”
Ignoring the attitude in your tone, Jungkook comes up to the mirror and by doing that, he moves you to the side. He almost causes the lipstick to meet your cheek and you can tell, you almost see a smirk curling his lips.
“Don't look at me like that. You've been here for a long time.” he says without sparing you a glance.
While you watch from the side with an open mouth and disbelief written on your face, he easily grabs his hair gel and starts doing his own hair. You fume, snatching your make-up bag and stomping away to finish what you haven't had the chance to – thanks to Jungkook.
By the time you're done, Jungkook has left without saying another word. You haven't even heard him leaving and you feel pathetic as you search him around the house, all while trying to look for something. Turns out there's no one here and he has left. First and again.
Luckily, Gabriel texts you not that long after and proposes a short walk. He doesn't want to reveal the restaurant location but he had to make a reservation, which already sounds fancy as it is. You're hungry and considering you're not in your best state, still fuming, you decide not to complain. First of all, it's not polite at all.
Gabriel is trying and just because you're in a mood to be a bitch, doesn't mean he's the one who deserves it. At least there's some sort of self-reflection happening.
And two, maybe it's a good idea to walk around a bit to come to different thoughts. Plus, you will eat more by the time you arrive at the restaurant.
He has cleaned up nicely, catching female eyes as you walk around for a few minutes. The walk has been short, just enough to make a casual conversation until you arrive.
The restaurant is located on a pier, waiters all wearing fancy white shirts and slacks – a difference from all the shirts with Hawaiian motifs and skin showing.
As you're led to your table, you notice there's not a single table free and tonight it's fully packed.
“What is this place?” you ask as soon as the waiter hands you menus and leaves after.
“It's the most famous restaurant on this island.”
Your mouth opens and then it closes again. “Are you insane?”
He laughs, staring at you fondly as if you haven't been too bold with your words. “This is what I like about you.”
“What,”
“Your honesty,” he hums, “It's refreshing. You don't try to woo me.”
“Why would I woo you?” you ask, genuinely curious but again, it comes out a little bluntly which causes him to laugh again.
“Ouch,” he jokes, holding his chest as you stare at him across the table. “You're in this world to punish men for their overly huge egos.”
You purse your lips, “I'm not in this world for men, first of all.”
“Technically, you are thanks to one.”
Your nose scrunches up which causes him to laugh again. “That's besides the point.”
“So is there anyone who's been trying to woo you instead?”
“Besides you, no. Not at the moment.”
He cracks another laughter, “Touché. I deserved that.”
Giggling, you shake your head at your conversation.
“So tell me–” His words drift away because in the midst of your laughter, you spot someone entering your line of vision.
The world could not be any more cruel at the moment. There they are.
Jungkook and Nara enter the pier as they're seated by the waiter, just like you were minutes ago. Jungkook, the gentleman he is, pulls out the chair for her as she giggles with a bright smile. Clearly wooed herself by the sweet gesture.
“You've got to be kidding me.” you mutter so silently, that you're sure Gabriel can't make the words out but it's enough to silence him as he follows your gaze.
He turns around and lets out a surprised, but light sound.
“Oh, I guess me and your friend think alike.”
You try hard not to make a sour expression as you clear your throat. “Let's not interrupt them. What were you saying?”
“Is there someone waiting for you? Back in Seoul?”
“I told you, I'm single.” you chuckle.
“I know, but that doesn't mean there's not someone who's ready to fight for you.”
Your fingers stop clicking and you gulp.
“So you're telling me there's no one in your life? Not even recently?”
It's like he can see there's something on your mind. You decide to come up with half of the truth. It's not like you'll see him again.
“There–It wasn't a relationship, more like a relationship of convenience–”
“So, a hook-up partner, right?”
Lips in a straight line, you hum in confirmation. “Yeah, whatever. We ended it, so it felt like a good decision to come here and just relax. Come to different thoughts.”
Cominically enough, you came here with a person you're currently talking about. The one who's sitting just a few tables from you two.
God, you sound so stupid. Of course, you're not telling Gabriel the whole truth. The purpose of coming here with Jungkook was to enjoy it, strengthen your friendship – the previous one you've had. You had an agreement.
Somehow, you end up arguing thanks to you and it gets all twisted.
“Well, I know you were supposed to come here with your friends. So I understand why you would do that.”
“It's not just because of that. We were planning this for months. It was supposed to be a friends' vacation.”
He hums in understanding and doesn't get the opportunity to speak, as the waiter comes back and asks for your order. After you've ordered your meal, Gabriel leans back and studies you for a short moment. Just before you're about to ask about his lingering gaze and its purpose behind it, he speaks.
“You're not really looking for a relationship, are you?”
Your brows shoot up at the unexpected question. For a while, you're not sure how to answer and your face says it all. In the end, you shrug and voice your confusion. “What's with the sudden question?”
“I apologize,” he smiles, “I had to voice my curiosity and I wonder if I was right.”
You lean back, fingers clicking against the table. “I'm not against it. If it comes, I welcome it.”
“Hm,” he hums. “So no hard break-up?”
“Why do you think so?”
“I don't know, there's just something about you that I can't seem to crack.”
“Sometimes some things aren't meant to be cracked.” you tell him, making him smile at the possible truth.
“Sometimes,” he agrees. “I'm sorry if I seem to be nosy.”
“No, it's okay. Trust me, I win when it comes to curiosity.” you admit with a silent laugh.
“I travel a lot, so I don't really have enough time to properly date. No woman wants a man who's ten months out of the country out of the year.”
“What do you do again?”
“Content creator.”
“Oh, so you're an influencer?”
He laughs, “Not really. I do write for a traveling blog.”
“Maybe you'll find someone you can date and travel with.”
“Unfortunately, you don't seem that kind of person.”
You laugh, “I do enjoy Seoul. It's home by now.”
It doesn't take a genius to realize that the only contact he gets through women is mostly by hooking-up. Though, by the look of it it seems that maybe he's longing for something more stable and serious.
“You know, this time I'm here for a good vacation. No work. No writing.”
“That's great. I'm assuming all that traveling is tiring.”
“It is. I enjoy it and I love my job. But I came here to maybe come to new thoughts.” he explains.
The waiter brings you your food shortly after. There's no awkward silence during eating, you keep a slightly lighter conversation as Gabriel remains nothing but a gentleman. You would lie if you said you're purposely focusing your gaze on the plate, rather than on Gabriel fearing your eyes would wander somewhere they should not.
You don't care. Maybe they noticed you and clearly decided not to interrupt you as well. Or maybe there's still that awkward awaiting of them noticing. Sipping on a drink, in a hope it will bring you to different thoughts and help you relax a little bit more.
The reason for your slight discomfort doesn't need to be named.
“You assumed, I've been through a break-up. Why?” you ask, curious as he seems taken back.
“I asked more than assumed,” he corrects. You don't seem to be buying that statement but remain silent. “At first I thought you're not interested in me, particularly. But I get a feeling you're just not interested in general.”
“Why's that?”
Yes. He might be right. You're not necessarily trying to search for someone. But you don't get a feeling as if you were against it.
“Let me be bold here.”
“Please.” you encourage him.
“There are men who can't keep their eyes off you. And I simply noticed by spending time with you.”
You give him a doubtful look which he quickly disregards by shaking his head.
“Men are men.” you simply tell him.
He makes a disapproving sound. “There are hundreds of women at the beach, but the majority of them stare at you.”
“Okay, now you're just giving me a compliment.”
“I am not,” he laughs gently, “I could but I guess it is a compliment when there are men thirsting over you.”
“Like I said. Men are men. They're thirsting over anything that wears a bikini.”
“That–can be true. But my point still stands.”
You clear your throat, “Okay. Maybe I'm not completely in a place where I'm searching for a relationship. I never hid that.”
“Of course. But that's why I just tried to prove my point why I think you're not interested.”
You stay silent for a second. He's technically a stranger but it seems as if you were having this conversation with a friend. You don't feel uncomfortable and there's no need for you to get defensive over this topic. He's wondering and that's fine.
“It wasn't a relationship. Just a hooking-up type of one and we ended it. So I just need to get things back how they were.”
And comically enough, the person who's a part of this is sitting just right over there. Even though Gabriel seems to notice quite a few things, Jungkook and your history with him seems to be oblivious to him.
Why do you care?
You've been trying to keep it a secret as long as possible until it got out. So what if he knows the truth? It's not like you'll see him again – most likely. You don't need anyone to judge you two or look at you differently. You definitely don't need any more insights into this matter than your friends have delivered.
Your own mind is a mess.
And on top of it, Jungkook and you are on edge.
The mention of him causes you to look up. And fuck. What a mistake you make.
You meet Jungkook's gaze, the intense color in them burning even from this distance as he's already looking at you. Your breath hitches in the most subtle way. While you stare shocked that he has noticed you, his brows are pinched together.
He's not exactly pleased to find you here.
Nara sits on the opposite side of the table, so all you can see is her back but she seems to be saying something to him. Jungkook reaches for the glass of wine and takes a few sips, eyes not leaving yours.
Then he's the first one to look away. That tiny detail affects you more than you're able to admit and you almost fume when the frown disappears from his face. You watch it all. His features relax as he talks to her back, obviously listening to her even though his eyes were elsewhere. Even that is kind of annoying.
Nara gently throws her head back and giggles almost so loudly, that you hear some of it. With the most burning eyes you watch Jungkook smile and let out the prettiest gentle laugh.
“Are you okay?”
You quickly avert your gaze to Gabriel. “Yeah.”
“Thought I already bore you.”
You push out a laugh, wishing Jungkook is looking. But once your eyes stupidly wander back to him – he actually is looking.
You make sure Jungkook sees the tiny provoking movement upwards of your lips. And he does. His eyes narrow, addressing the glare to you and only you.
“No, I'm starting to have a lot of fun.”
Gabriel's and yours glasses clink together comically in a synchronized way. But the only ones who seem to be on the same wavelength and having an idea – are you and Jungkook.
a/n: F-I–N-A-L-L-Y! believe it or not, nobody wanted to get this chapter out more than me! if you've been around and reading some of the asks, you probably know life got crazy and busy! as always, I'm super grateful to everyone who's been patient for me and cheering on me whether it was online or offline ♡ to every person who's been harassing me on the internet over an update, this one's not for you. I see you and I'm not interested. I've said this in one of my asks – you never know what someone goes through offline and what could possibly be the reason of their lack of activity.
on another note, this chapter should've had more scenes and so much more was supposed to happen, but from obvious reasons I've decided to post it in the end because I still think it's a good chapter. anyway, I hope you'll like it just as much as I liked it when I was writing it (no matter how much time it took me 🥴) all the love goes to you guys!
If you’ve enjoyed this chapter, please consider buying me a coffee☕️: https://ko-fi.com/personasintro ♡ Teaser for chapter 60 will be posted there!
goal: 9k notes 🌙
© 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨 (𝐧𝐨 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐝) | 𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭: @kithtaehyung
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cross that line ꕤ (l.h)
part two
pairing: Logan Howlett x fem!reader
summary: For a long time, you were content hiding your feelings, but lately, the longing for someone you can’t have has become unbearable. Despite knowing he could never be yours, you still cherished the sweet ache in your heart whenever he smiled or gave you a warm, platonic hug. Then, one day, everything changed.
genre: fluff + angst + smut (18+ mdni)
word count: 14k (14k on the dot to be precise but yeah uhm. sorry. I swear I'm normal)
warnings/tags: friends to lovers, roommates to lovers, thunderstorms, idiots in love, mutual pining, assumed unrequited love, jealous!reader, reader is described as shorter than logan, emotional!reader, miscommunication kinda, inexperienced/virgin!reader, loss of virginity, unprotected sex, piv sex, soft!dom logan, ok… just in overall bye, logan is soft for reader, sub!reader, vaginal fingering, oral (f!receiving), multiple orgasms, creampie, overstimulation, major size kink, praise kink, dirty talk, oral fixation. some daddy kink? breeding kink aaaaa sorry. I wrote this while ovulating. they’re both FREAKS. scent kink? lots of pet names. this is high key sweet and turns filthy. logan is worshipping his sweet girl ok! reader is a mutant. reader has hair, no further description though. this is not beta read sorry!
a/n: GUESS WHAT!!! user healmydesires is back with another self indulgent fic about a new blorbo! I’ve been having all random kinds of scenarios about logan in my head and I just didn’t know which type of story to go with. until I felt like there weren’t much of inexperienced/virgin reader fics for logan and tbh… that’s kinda my brand (I’m high key kidding but lowkey that’s what I love to write the most) if you’ve read my works so. I thought I’ll write what I WANT to read. so this is high key self indulgent. english isn’t my first language so pls bear with me <3 also ngl.. a lot of it is just smut 😭 I literally wrote this while ovulating… EDIT (19/09): I kinda edited it a bit because it had a lot of grammar mistakes and I'd often jump from present tense to past tense so ye
this goes without saying, but if you don't like it don't read it <3
AO3 • masterlist
Being roommates with your best friend had its perks. You were together almost all the time, sharing both the big and small moments. As fellow teachers, you could easily swap teaching tips, lend each other a hand with tasks, or offer guidance when you were feeling stuck. Your tall best friend effortlessly reached the top shelves, and you both enjoyed laughter-filled moments during movie marathons. Sharing responsibilities became more fun too—splitting chores like cooking and laundry felt easy and natural. Plus, there was comfort in knowing your best friend was always dependable, ready to support you whenever you needed it. And whenever you were in need of a hug, your best friend was probably already ready to envelop you in his warm embrace.
But it also had its disadvantages.
Especially considering that Logan Howlett, your best friend, was quite the menace.
Logan had always had a rugged handsomeness that effortlessly made people swoon all around him. It wasn't fair how pretty he was. He had always been lucky with finding partners—or rather, when it came to finding bed or sexual partners. He'd often bring those one-night stands or partners to your shared apartment only to have sex with them. Logan had never been the type to stick with one person, always preferring flings over long-term relationships. Or so you thought.
You, on the other hand, had always craved a long-term relationship. You dreamed of finding your true love—someone to share adventures with, to have fun with, and to dive into deep, meaningful and random conversations. You loved the idea of being with someone who let you be your true self, where you could spend hours talking about the most random things—discussing your favourite TV shows one minute, and passionately criticising capitalism and the world the next. You were all about affection, from kissing to being held, but you also longed to hold your partner close and make them feel cherished, just as much as you wanted to feel loved in return.
Unfortunately, you had never had the chance to experience anything like that.
It wasn't like you had never had the chance or had the opportunity to explore and possibly experience a potential relationship. You had just never been really interested in creating a relationship with a stranger.
Plus the thing was, your best friend wasn't just your best friend. You had been in love with Logan for god knows how long.
Charles Xavier was the one who had introduced you both, years ago. You remembered that day very vividly.
You had just arrived at the Xavier Institute, and the professor had offered you a two-sided job, to be a teacher at the school and be part of the X-Men.
You'd always done your best to keep your powers hidden, but being welcomed into a school designed for people like you—a mutant—felt incredibly liberating. That's why you hadn't hesitated when Charles Xavier invited you to his school. You'd always known you were powerful, with the ability to control and manipulate water, but you had kept your abilities a secret, not wanting to be treated any differently in a world that didn't really like or understand people like you.
As the professor took you around the grounds, you couldn't help but be impressed by how big and beautiful it all was.
You were so captivated by the mansion's grandeur and stunning architecture that you didn't even notice a guy casually leaning against the nearest wall outside of Charles's office. But the moment your eyes met his, it felt as if time itself stood still. Looking into Logan's eyes, you felt like you could drown in them. You had never seen anyone so effortlessly handsome.
Completely entranced by him, you almost forgot to introduce yourself. Your body heated up in the moment, and the professor definitely noticed. Logan Howlett gave you a knowing smirk, making the warmth inside you intensify even more.
That day you both became friends, though you still didn't quite understand why, given how different you both were. Logan was gruff and blunt, while you, though capable of being direct, tended to choose your words more carefully. He was passionate and strong-willed and opinionated, and sometimes he let that get the best of him. You were deeply in tune with your emotions, while he always seemed to hold back, keeping certain feelings tightly guarded. Logan was never one to be very straightforward with his emotions. He would rather keep most of them to himself, and didn't want to seem too vulnerable. Communication was something you valued and needed a lot, but Logan, by contrast, didn't seem to rely on it as much. You were an overthinker, always caught up in your thoughts, and he would often step in to ease those worries of yours.
You could say that opposites attract.
Over time, your friendship grew, and one day he asked if you'd like to move in with him into a new apartment near the institute. He craved a bit more peace and genuinely enjoyed your company. It seemed like a good idea, so you thought, why not?
You couldn't pinpoint the exact moment you fell in love with your roommate. All you knew was that one day, you were suddenly overcome by an emotion so intense, it was unlike anything you'd ever felt before. It hit you all at once. Before Logan, you'd never really had a serious crush, never experienced feelings this powerful for anyone. You often told yourself it must have started shortly after you moved in with him, but deep down, you knew that wasn't the truth. This feeling had been quietly growing from the very first moment you met him, slowly building until it became impossible to ignore.
It was funny, you thought, how life had a way of bringing you things—and people—you never realised you needed. People like Logan, who became so essential that you couldn't help but wonder how you had ever lived without them. People like Logan Howlett, who somehow managed to be both your saving grace and your greatest temptation.
✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧
A few months into your roommate arrangement, you still couldn't get used to Logan constantly bringing one-night stands to your shared apartment. It was pure torment.
As you ate cereal at the kitchen island, one of Logan's many one-night stands quietly slipped out of the apartment. You rolled your eyes, as Logan routinely walked them through the apartment to the door, their faces often adorned with sly smiles as they fluttered their eyelashes at him. A knot of anger twisted in your belly as you watched them play with the collar of his shirt, their fingers lingering while he made no move to pull away. You'd never felt such intense rage before. He responded with a grunt as they would casually give him a goodbye kiss.
You hated experiencing feelings like these. It was a gross emotion, a heavy sensation that felt thick and tar-like, clinging to your chest and making you ache with its heavy weight.
Anxiety? Sure, you were often more anxious than most mutants, but that wasn't the feeling you had at this moment. Maybe it was jealousy? You disliked how that emotion fit so easily on your tongue, leaving a bitter taste.
Each time you witnessed these scenes unfold, jealousy and frustration would wash over you. Or how you'd feel utterly awful whenever you accidentally overheard them having sex.
As Logan reentered the apartment and closed the door behind him, you couldn't help but snort. “So, what number are we up to now?”
He stared at you for a moment, before chuckling and shaking his head with a smirk. “Not sure, lost count.” He shrugged, grabbed an apple from the fruit basket on the kitchen island, and took a bite.
“What was their name?” you asked, staring daggers at your bowl of cereal.
Logan shrugged again. “I don't know, and honestly, I don't care,” he replied curtly before walking away.
You couldn't understand how he could be so nonchalant about this situation.
It wasn't just jealousy; you longed for any kind of affection or love from Logan, more than you ever thought possible. You were grateful to be his best friend and you knew it might seem foolish to hope for a chance with him, but you couldn't help yourself. Deep down, you feared you'd always feel this lonely, believing you could never fall for anyone but him. He was everything you craved and needed in life.
You felt foolish, constantly embarrassed and rejected. More than anything, you felt hurt, knowing that you were the only one to blame. It was your own feelings that had caused all this pain.
The thought of him one day falling in love with someone else made your stomach sink, but you pushed and suppressed your sadness aside daily. It didn't really matter—Logan was free to date whoever he wanted. He was your best friend, only his best friend.
One day, you'd have to come to terms with the fact that he would always be just your best friend.
You just hoped that one day it would become easier to deal with these feelings.
✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧
It was the middle of a cold winter night — the air cool against your skin, even with your large pink puffer jacket to keep you warm. The thick curtain of night enveloped the sky, painting it a deep midnight blue, with stars twinkling like the clearest diamonds. Despite the cool ambient air, you found yourself relaxing, your shoulders gradually easing.
“You see that there?” you pointed up at the starlit sky, leaning unconsciously into Logan's warmth as you both lay on the grass of the X-mansion grounds. “That's the Pleiades. People often mistake it for the Little Dipper, but it's just a star cluster.”
Logan hummed, but his eyes were focused on you, how you gazed up at the stars with an awestruck expression. A gentle smile tugged at his lips, as he enjoyed how you looked so endearing as you were so engrossed in the stars that you loved so dearly.
He glanced up at the part of the sky you were pointing to, located the cluster of stars you had mentioned. He studied it for a moment and thought he had seen something similar to the Pleiades before, but never illuminated in the night sky like this. Logan's gaze then returned to the earth, settling back on the grass where he lay beside you.
“Beautiful,” Logan whispered as he stared at you. “Truly beautiful.”
You were too busy gazing up at the sky to realise that he wasn't talking about the sky.
For as long as you could remember, you had loved the night sky, finding its dark embrace profoundly comforting. More than that, you adored the stars—coming out at night to bask in their radiance, with their distant coldness soothing your soul.
You had always felt so mesmerised about the universe, especially the stars and the moon. They appeared beautiful, glittering magnificently beside one another as they hovered in the upper stratosphere.
“Why did you bring me out here, Lo?” you finally asked, looking up at your best friend. You noticed him smirk down at you and saw a fleeting hint of hesitant insecurity in his green eyes, but it disappeared as quickly as it had appeared.
He shrugged against you, still grinning. “I know how much you enjoy stargazing, and I'm aware you've had a rough week, so I wanted to give you a chance to relax for a bit.”
You softened as you gazed up at him. Logan was right—you had been having a rough week. The children had been sweet, but the workload had been overwhelming. You couldn't help but appreciate how Logan was always looking out for you.
“Thank you…” you whispered.
“Anything for you, sweetheart.” He winked before he looked back up at the sky. “Why don't you show me another constellation?”
You giggled as you pointed out another cluster of stars, but more often than not, Logan found it hard to focus on the stars. After all, he had a bright light of his own by his side daily that captured all of his attention.
✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧
A year had passed since you moved in with Logan, and autumn was already around the corner. The temperature was gradually dropping, and the air became crisper. The trees' leaves were starting to fade from vibrant greens to tamer shades of bronze and gold. You had always loved this time of year—it was that perfect season where you could bundle up in layers when you were outside, then retreat indoors in the evenings, getting cosy with a hot chocolate and a good book.
It was during seasons like this that you found yourself wishing you could cuddle up with someone, enjoying a movie or simply each other's company. But it wasn't just anyone you wanted by your side—it had always been Logan for you.
For the longest time, you were content in just keeping all your feelings hidden. Lately, though, the longing had been getting harder to bear. Wanting someone you knew you couldn't have was starting to feel unbearable, slowly eating away at you. And even though you knew he could never be yours, it didn't stop you from savouring the sweet ache in your heart every time he smiled or when he pulled you into a warm, platonic hug.
All the stupid fluttery feelings in your stomach every time his eyes would catch yours, or the way your heart beat fast whenever you were in close proximity to him. You knew it had been years since you'd known Logan, but you couldn't help the effect he always had on you. The way he left you yearning for more. But, of course, you tried to bury those feelings down deep, reminding yourself that Logan could never feel the same way about you as you felt about him.
✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧
One lazy afternoon, with no classes scheduled for you to teach, you found yourself by the lake on the X-Mansion grounds, practising your water bending. The water flowed seamlessly around you as you moved your arms, bending it effortlessly to your will. As you went through each movement, you could feel a pair of eyes on you, observing every precise motion, your muscles tensing with each fluid shift. A light sheen of sweat formed on your brow, and your face held a fierce look of concentration as you focused on perfecting your stance and movements.
Several moments had passed, and the person watching you still hadn't spoken a word. By now, you were almost certain it wasn't just anyone—it had to be Logan. Anyone else would have said something by now, maybe greeted you or asked about your training. But not Logan. He had a way of lingering in silence, watching you in that quietly intense way of his, never feeling the need to fill the space with unnecessary words.
“Well, are you just going to stand there and stare, or do you plan on saying something?” you asked, a playful smile tugging at your lips.
Logan grunted, “I think I'll just keep watching. I quite like the view from here.”
A flush of warmth spread across your face, butterflies fluttering wildly in your stomach at his words. You hesitated for a moment, pausing your movements before he spoke again.
“Don't stop on my account, sweetheart.”
You knew he was wearing one of his signature grins, and you so desperately wanted to wipe it off his face. As you grew more flustered, a wave of frustration built up inside you—how could this man always have such an effect on you? An idea sparked in your mind, a mischievous smirk tugging at your lips. Deciding to continue your water bending practice while he watched, you let the water flow effortlessly around you, fully aware of his eyes tracking your every move.
Once a peaceful stillness settled in the air, you saw your opening. Without warning, you spun around with swift precision, bending the water toward him and drenching him in seconds.
Logan stood there, completely perplexed as you broke into a fit of giggles. He was drenched from head to toe, and you knew it wouldn't be long before he sprang into action. Sure enough, just seconds later, he smirked again, though this time it carried a sharper edge. “You think this is funny, bub?”
“Yeah, I kinda do,” you replied between laughs, unable to contain yourself.
But then, Logan's grin turned devious, and with a determined march, he began closing the distance between you. Your eyes widened in realisation, and without thinking, you bolted away.
“You're not getting away with this, princess,” he called out, his voice low as he gave chase.
He moved swiftly through the gardens, but you were quicker, slipping just out of sight every time he got close. His eyes darted around, scanning the area, frustration slowly turning into determination. You could hear him muttering under his breath, his footsteps getting louder as he searched for you. Your heart raced as you ducked behind a tree, trying to stifle your laughter. The thrill of the chase had adrenaline coursing through your veins.
For a moment, you thought you had lost him, but then he sniffed and just as you peeked around the tree, you saw him spot you from across the grove. His eyes gleamed with mischief as a smirk curled at the corner of his lips. “I got you,” he muttered before he moved towards you with renewed speed. You tried to slip away again, but it was too late—he had you cornered.
Soon enough, two strong arms caged you in, trapping you between the tree and his chest. A startled yelp escaped your lips as you tried to back away, only to realise there was nowhere to go. “Gotcha,” he murmured, his voice low and teasing, the familiar playful glint in his eyes making your heart race even faster.
You squirmed, trying to find a way out, but his grip tightened just enough to keep you in place without being overbearing. “Logan! Let me go,” you protested, laughter bubbling up in your throat despite your attempt to sound serious.
“Thought you could get away that easily, huh?” he teased, leaning in so close that you could feel his wet clothes and the warmth of his body. The heat from his proximity spread across your own, making you acutely aware of how close you were. You bit your lip, your cheeks becoming hotter as his smirk widened. The sight of your flustered expression seemed to delight him, his satisfaction evident in his playful gaze.
“Well, this is cosy,” you remarked, but your voice barely rose above a whisper. There was a tremor in your tone, one that matched the rapid beat of your heart.
“Hm, I think so too,” he responded with the same teasing tone. You gazed up at him with bright eyes as the golden hour of evening cast a warm glow around you both. It took all his willpower not to look away, not to acknowledge the tension that hung thick in the air.
You shifted against the tree, searching for a different way to elicit a reaction from him. Your touch light, almost accidental, but it sent a shockwave through him, his breath hitching in his throat. You could feel him stiffen, sensing the tension as he reacted to your contact.
He leaned in, just enough that he could feel your breath against his skin, just enough that the space between you became almost non-existent, and just enough to hear your breath hitch.
Logan closed his eyes, as he pressed his forehead against your own. Every time he tried to speak, the words got tangled up in the mess of emotions swirling inside him. All he could think about was how close you were, how your touch burned through him, how the smell of you, that unique soft scent of yours, filled his senses and made him want to lose himself in you.
“Lo—”
Before you could finish, Ororo's voice rang out, calling your name. You felt a wave of disappointment wash over you as you realised your moment with Logan was interrupted. You had forgotten about the promise to cook together with her and Jean, and your friend's timing burst the bubble of what you thought might finally be a shared moment with him.
He grunted in frustration, pulling away from you and looking off to the side. Ororo, Jean, and even Scott soon found their way to you, their presence drawing closer. As they approached, each of them wore a grin that suggested they had noticed the tension between you and Logan. The air was thick with unspoken understanding, and it was clear that your friends had picked up on the charged moment that had just been interrupted.
You cleared your throat and stepped reluctantly away from Logan, trying to regain your composure. You forced a smile as you addressed your friends, saying, “Sorry to keep you guys waiting.” You then walked away with Jean and Ororo towards the mansion, though you couldn't help glancing back over your shoulder. Each time you looked, a hint of longing appeared on your face as you cast a final, wistful glance at Logan.
As you walked away, you heard Scott remark, “You look wet.”
Logan responded with a huff, “Fuck off, Summers.”
You couldn't help but wonder what would've happened if your friends wouldn't have interrupted you.
✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧
It had been Friday evening, and you were in your office at the institute, finishing up grading the last of the papers while waiting for Logan. The two of you had plans to head home together, but he had yet to come and find you. Growing impatient, you decided to look for him yourself. You grabbed your bag and jacket before going out of your office, closing the door silently behind you. The smell of stew wafted through the mansion as you jogged down the stairs from your office to the kitchen. You quietly approached and paused when you saw him with Jean. She was chopping vegetables, while Logan leaned against the island, holding a cup of coffee.
“I don't see why you don't just do it. Everyone can see how perfect you two are for each other,” Jean had sighed.
Your eyes widened and you bit your lip nervously as you instinctively hid behind the wall. You truly hoped Logan wouldn't smell your scent while hiding, considering his heightened sense of smell. You knew you shouldn't be eavesdropping, but your curiosity had gotten the better of you. Jean's words had left you intrigued about what they were discussing.
Logan huffed, “I've already told you—” he tried arguing, but Jean cut him off mid-sentence.
“Logan, come on,” Jean said pointedly. “You keep denying it, but everyone here has seen the two of you dance around each other for years. You can't honestly tell me that you're just friends. Friends don't act the way you two do with each other.”
“What's that supposed to mean?” Logan asked, tilting his head to the side. Your stomach churned as you realised they were talking about the two of you. Silently, you pressed your back against the wall and shuffled further behind it, continuing to listen.
“It means that friends don't stare at each other longingly, or they don't flirt with each other, and they certainly don't cuddle together while sharing the same bed,” Jean said, emphasising her point as Logan began to argue. “Besides,” she continued, “you've known her for a while now. There's no one you've been more comfortable with than her. We all know you'll look after each other and be happy together. So why haven't you done anything about it? All we want is for you both to be happy,” Jean concluded.
You bit your lip at her words, feeling a mix of hope and nervousness churn in your stomach. With trembling fingers, you held your breath, waiting for Logan's response. When you heard him sigh, you felt your world begin to crumble around you.
“Yeah, but Jean, it's not like that. We are not like that. We're just friends,” Logan had replied. You had pressed your teeth harshly into your lip, biting down so hard you feared you might draw blood. It was the only thing keeping you from sobbing out loud. Logan's words replayed over and over in your mind. While you had always known he felt that way, hearing it confirmed so casually had left your heart breaking.
Not wanting to listen any longer, you silently turned and hurried toward the main entrance, trying to be as quiet as possible. Once outside, tears flooded your vision as you ran to the mansion gates, searching through your bag for your phone to call a cab. Since you hadn't brought your car and had driven in with Logan that morning, calling a cab was your only option.
When the cab finally arrived, you slid into the backseat and gave the driver your instructions. As he drove you home, you took a deep breath, struggling to swallow the lump in your throat. Your breath came in labored gasps as you fought to keep from breaking down in tears. Your mind was running a mile a minute as you tried to process his words. Silently you let the tears flow down your cheeks.
When you arrived at your building, you paid the cab and noticed your phone buzzing incessantly. You quickly silenced it as you entered your apartment, not bothering to look at who was trying to contact you.
Once you entered your bedroom, you broke down just then as you let out a choked sob while stripping off your clothes. With great effort, you managed to put on your pyjamas before climbing into bed. Soon, you would let your destructive thoughts take over. Deep down, you knew you shouldn't have eavesdropped on their conversation and jumped to conclusions, especially since Logan wasn't done speaking with Jean. But you couldn't bear to stay and listen any longer. You felt too vulnerable as you let his words echo inside your head.
You had been ignoring all the texts from your friends and the calls from Logan specifically, too drained to even hold a conversation.
Eventually, you felt sleep overtaking you, utterly exhausted from a long workweek and an emotionally draining evening.
✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧
That same night, you had jolted awake to the sound of a loud rumble. Outside, storm clouds loomed ominously over the city, with thunder crackling through them every few minutes. The storm had been raging outside your apartment, with thunder booming so fiercely it shook the windows. Curled up in your bed, you had whimpered softly, clutching a thick blanket tightly around you—not just for warmth, but for comfort and a sense of protection.
You had never liked thunderstorms, and by now, you must have tried a thousand different ways to distract yourself from them. You'd put on headphones to drown out the noise, but the knowledge of the storm outside still fed your anxiety. Thunderstorms always had a way of making you feel small and utterly helpless.
You felt a tightness building in your chest as you trembled beneath the sheets. Tears welled up in your eyes as you tried to steady your breathing and calm yourself down. In moments like these, you felt truly helpless. You knew you shouldn't feel ashamed for being this terrified, but you couldn't help it.
You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to focus on the song playing through your headphones, desperate to drown out the storm. Moments later, you felt the bed dip. Slowly, you opened your eyes and found Logan sitting at the end of your bed, his soft gaze fixed on you with a look of quiet concern. A wave of relief washed over you just at the sight of him. Part of you wanted to ignore him and continue being upset with everything that had happened earlier that evening, but you couldn't find the power to do so. After all, he probably didn't even know why you were upset and who were you even kidding, he was everything you needed.
He was sitting there shirtless, dressed only in a pair of grey sweatpants. His hair was tousled from sleep. If it weren't for the sheer terror you felt because of the storm outside, you knew your cheeks would be burning at the sight of him like this. You noticed his mouth moving and, reluctantly, you slid one headphone off your ear to hear him.
“W-what?” you squeaked, your voice barely above a whisper.
“Sweetheart,” Logan whispered cautiously into the darkness.
At the sound of his voice, the tears that had been brimming in your eyes finally spilled down your cheeks. “I'm so sorry, I feel so stupid,” you whispered, taking off your headphones and quickly trying to wipe your tears away, embarrassed by your emotions and the fact that you were terrified by the storm.
Seconds later Logan was climbing up the bed and he was lying right next to you. His strong arms wrapped around your shaking form almost immediately, holding you tightly.
“Shhh it's okay sweet girl, I've got you,” he whispered softly as he kissed your temple. Warmth spread through you at the action and you melted into his embrace.
“I hate being scared of them, Lo,” you mumbled into his chest as he squeezed you tightly.
“It's okay princess, I got you. I won't let anything happen to you.” His hands, surprisingly soft, were stroking your skin in a soothing manner as he continued to press soft kisses around the top of your head.
As Logan held you, you felt yourself slowly begin to calm down. Even though the storm showed no signs of letting up, his presence made you feel much more at ease and secure. Logan meant everything to you—he was your anchor.
“Please, stay,” you whispered as the last few tears slipped down your cheeks.
In the dark, Logan whispered your name and tightened his embrace. “I'm not going anywhere, baby girl.”
As Logan held you close, you felt your body relax gradually. He gently ran his hand through your hair, pulling the covers over both of you and adding an extra layer of warmth.
You reflected on how he often spoke to you and the way he treated you with such care. You couldn't help but overthink his sweet and gentle treatment. You knew you were more emotional and needed extra reassurance and patience, but you had never considered that he might actually have feelings for you beyond friendship. You often felt like a burden to your friends and especially to Logan. You were fairly certain you were the only one he treated this way. His teasing sometimes seemed like it could be flirting, and despite your attempts to deny it, deep down you sensed that you were somehow special to him.
But another part of you couldn't shake what he had said earlier that night to Jean. You felt deeply conflicted and confused about everything happening between the two of you. The uncertainty and mixed emotions left you struggling to understand his true feelings, unsure of how to navigate the situation.
So you did what felt best to you, which was communicating. Even if you hated confrontation so much, you hated being unsure even more.
“Lo?” your voice trembled as you whispered against him.
“Yeah, sweet girl?” He said gently.
You took a little longer to respond, lost in your own thoughts, overthinking everything. Your heart was practically beating out of your chest. Sensing your hesitation, Logan spoke up again, breaking through your spiralling mind.
“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice lingering in the air as your eyes fluttered open. His head was tilted slightly, worry etched across his face.
“'M-am fine… I just—” you stuttered, your voice cracking. Logan stared at you, waiting patiently for you to finish. “I need to talk about something, or-or it will probably eat me alive if I don't.”
Logan's brow furrowed as his concern deepened, but he remained patient, waiting for you to continue.
“I- I overheard you and Jean earlier tonight…” your voice barely above a whisper.
Recognition settled over him at your words. He sighed shortly after. “What exactly did you hear?”
“You said…” your voice faltered, cracking slightly before you took a deep breath, closing your eyes. “You said we weren't like 'that,' and that we were just friends. After hearing that, I couldn't stay. It hurt too much.” You paused, your words tumbling out in a rush. “I know I shouldn't have eavesdropped, and I'm sorry... I just—” Your voice trailed off as you buried your face in his chest, your rambling finally coming to an end.
He let out a deep sigh, pulling you closer into his embrace. One of his hands gently cupped your cheek, causing your breath to hitch at the contact. “Sweetheart,” he said, his voice steady but filled with warmth. Slowly, you opened your eyes, tears welling up as you met his gaze. Logan's expression softened, and he let out a soothing sound. “Angel, if you'd stayed a little longer, you would've heard the rest of the conversation.”
“W-what?” You squeaked, your heart pounding against your chest as you anxiously waited for him to continue.
“First of all,” he began, locking eyes with you as he spoke, “I told Jean that I couldn't tell you how I felt because I never thought you'd feel the same way. I figured you were better off not knowing how I feel about you because…” His voice faltered for a moment, a heavy sigh escaping him before he continued, “I've always believed I didn't deserve someone like you. Someone so beautiful, so patient, intelligent, caring and so sweet.”
“Lo—” It was difficult to process everything he had said. You had been so sure that he didn't feel anything more than platonic for you, so hearing that he did was overwhelming and you needed to let it sink in. “I just thought... you know, with all the people you've had over in the past, you wouldn't feel anything for me,” you said, your sadness making it hard to finish the sentence and your nerves bracing for the words you had been dreading to hear.
“I know it sounds stupid, but I kept convincing myself that if I would have meaningless sex with random people that I would get over you. That if I told you how I felt, I’d lose you,” he went on, his vulnerability tugging at your heart. “That’s the last thing I want. You mean too much to me to risk that. I love you, and the thought of losing you—even if it meant not having you the way I wanted—was unbearable.”
Tears welled in your eyes, slowly slipping down your cheeks as he poured out his heart, leaving you in disbelief. You hiccuped through your tears, “You... y-you love me?”
His expression softened further as he took in your puffy eyes and tear-streaked cheeks. Gently, he used his hands to wipe away the tears that were slipping down your cheeks, handling you with far more tenderness and care than you had shown yourself earlier.
“Of course I do,” he replied softly. “In every universe, there's no one I love more than you.”
“Logan, you deserve me. Just as much as I deserve you,” you said, cupping his cheeks as tears continued to stream down your own. “You don't have an idea how much I love you.”
Logan smiled softly before placing a gentle kiss on your forehead. His arms tightened around you as he began to pepper your face with tender kisses. You couldn't help but giggle against him, feeling the tension between you both melt away bit by bit. The tears slowly came to a stop.
As the emotional intensity of the moment subsided, you felt a sense of relief and contentment. The storm outside seemed to fade into the background as you basked in the warmth of your newfound understanding. You knew that challenges would still come, but facing them together felt infinitely more manageable now that you had acknowledged your feelings for each other.
After placing a final kiss on the tip of your nose, he pulled back, his gaze filled with such deep affection that it left you feeling overwhelmed—but in the best possible way.
Logan caressed your face with fondness as he admired you. “You’re beautiful.”
You’d feel flustered instantly. “You’re so handsome Logan.” You whispered timidly.
“Really?” He’d smile down at you.
“Yes,” you whispered, continuing to meet his gaze shyly, your heart racing as his touch lingered on your skin.
You felt his hand slip beneath the hem of your nightshirt, his fingers tracing the soft skin of your back. A shiver ran down your spine at his touch, drawing his playful gaze as his eyes glinted mischievously. Your breath hitched when his other hand brushed against your bottom lip, sending warmth flooding through your body as his touch became more intimate, exploring you with quiet intensity.
“Do I make you nervous?” he teased with a devious grin.
“I guess you do,” you admitted, biting your lip bashfully.
“And why's that?” Logan asked, leaning in even closer. You could feel his breath against your lips, his nose brushing gently against yours.
There’s a moment of silence as Logan’s face moves closer and closer to your own, both unable to verbalise just how desperate either of you feel for each other.
His hands are warm as they wander all over your back, underneath the soft fabric of your pyjamas. Your eyes flutter close as you enjoy his attention. You feel yourself get lightheaded by his affection and by the close proximity of your bodies.
As your eyes remained locked with his, the intensity between you grew. You found yourself studying every detail of Logan’s face—the small moles scattered across his skin, his beautiful green eyes, the rough stubble along his jawline. Your gaze drifted from his eyes, down the slope of his nose, until you were irresistibly drawn to his lips. His mouth looks so inviting.
How much you’ve dreamed of having them on your own.
You swallowed dryly at the intensity behind his eyes, your heart beating madly in your chest. A flare of heat rushed to your cheeks as you resolved to reveal the truth. You didn’t want to keep it from him any longer, especially with him looking at you as if he was about to devour you.
“B-because I—” you finally spoke as you stumbled over your words. You felt weak in his presence, but in the best way imaginable. Heat spreads through your body, a feverish sensation overwhelming your senses. Your heart raced, refusing to calm down, and your limbs trembled uncontrollably. It wasn’t the kind of fever that came with illness, but a warmth—tingling, like anticipation coursing through your veins. You whimpered as the same warmth settled between your thighs. “I need y-yo—”
Before you could finish your sentence, his lips crashed onto yours, kissing you with an intensity and passion that left you trembling and helpless, while soft whimpers escaped your throat. He’d tug your body fully closer against his own as his mouth claimed yours.
All your thoughts overwhelmed your brain, disabling any rational understanding of what was going on. Gradually, you leaned into Logan, melting into his embrace. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and kissed him back.
Logan groaned as he continued to kiss you with a fierce intensity, giving everything he had. You felt his tongue tracing your lips slowly. Knowing what he wanted you parted your mouth slightly, allowing him to slip his tongue inside and swirl it around yours.
You absorbed all his passion, savouring the warmth of his closeness and the sensation of his rough yet soft hands holding you tightly. You didn’t want to ask how this was happening, nor did you dare question whether it was real or just a dream.
One of his hands roamed over the bare skin of your back beneath your pyjama shirt, leaving goosebumps in his wake, while the other explored the tender curve of your neck. He held you with such tenderness as his mouth continued to move ferociously against yours.
You whimpered against him as warmth and wetness continued to pool between your thighs, your pussy throbbing as his voice rumbled with a chuckle. “You okay there, kitten?” he asked softly, his voice low as his lips brushed against your jaw.
You knew he could smell your arousal, knew he could hear how fast your heart was beating. You bit your lip, trying to stifle another sound, and you tried to bury your face into his chest, feeling the heat spreading across your face and body. Logan was having none of that, his lips quickly reunited with yours. He groaned softly, a deep rumble in his chest, as you trailed your tongue out to seek purchase in his mouth, and he opened for you without hesitation. His hands gripped at your waist and brought your body flush against his.
You wanted Logan to consume your very being. Claim you as his completely.
Soft little noises of pleasure kept leaving your mouth as he continued to kiss you. His lips pressed against yours, guiding the kiss with a gentle control that made you melt into his embrace. You surrendered completely, letting him lead as you revelled in the sensation. He was so good at kissing that all you wanted was to stay in this moment with him forever.
He pulled away after what felt like hours to breathe, his warm pants fanning across your heated face. He was still holding your face with one hand, and his thumb on your cheek moved a little, stroking your skin with so much tenderness. Murmuring against your lips, he said, “I’ve wanted to do this for so long. I love you so much.” before delving back in for more.
You whimpered as he nipped at your bottom lip, then gently swiped his tongue over it to soothe the sting. You gasped, and Logan seized the moment to explore the inside of your mouth with his tongue once again. As the kiss grew more heated, you moaned, feeling lightheaded and dizzy.
Surprisingly, you completely forgot about the storm that’s raging outside.
Logan devoured you, pouring all his love into you and claiming your mouth and kissing you with so much passion, your body shuddered with want, from the need for him. He moved his lips with yours and swirled his tongue with your own. His hand then moved to tangle in your hair as he pressed his body to yours completely.
Your hands moved to bury in his hair as well. When you pulled at his hair it was a bit rougher than you intended to and it tips his head all the way back and he lets out a loud, wanton moan that makes your whole body flush with arousal. You whined as he finally pulled away, as he left your body flush and panting and craving so much more.
His mouth then moved from your lips to your cheeks as he whispered his love for you again and again. He started trailing long, hot kisses down your jaw and neck. You whimpered pitifully as he suckled lightly on the side of your neck, tilting your head back instinctively to bare more of your soft skin to him.
“Fuck, baby, you’re everything.” He groaned as he bit down gently on the junction of your neck and shoulder. You cried out, impulsively grinding your hips against his own, desperately searching for some much needed friction against your throbbing clit. “You’re mine.” He’d growl against your skin.
You gasped, your eyes flying open when you felt his erection pressing against your pussy. You moaned as your core started clenching around nothing, begging for some attention, his attention.
Logan groaned as you continued to grind against him, grasping your hips into his hands to halt your movements. You whined in protest, as he then rolled you both over, hovering above you as he pinned your arms gently against the mattress.
“So needy.” He chuckled as a devious smile would grow on his face. “Does your sweet little pussy want some attention?” He grinned when you whimpered underneath him, before he continued. “I can always smell how much you need me.” He growled before he rolled his hips against yours again. “This virgin pussy is always begging for me to fill her.”
You didn’t have time to become embarrassed as high pitched whimpers slipped past your lips as he continued to grind against you. You’ve craved this man so bad, and now that he was yours you didn’t want to hold back anymore. He intertwined your hands together as he moved his big straining and clothed cock against your now soaked panties.
“Love those little noises you make for me, such a good girl.” He moaned against the skin of your neck as he pressed open mouthed kisses and licks across your skin.
You whined as he gave you a particular hard thrust. You could feel how massive he felt as he rubbed his cock against your clothed folds. You couldn’t deny that it made you nervous but all you could think about was that you needed and wanted him to take you so bad. More wetness would pool down your heated cunt as you fantasise about him filling your tiny pussy with more than just his cock. “Ah, n-need yo-you Lo…”
Suddenly everything became overwhelming, the temperature in the room rising quickly, the feel of his thick cock thrusting against you, the feel of his touch as it wandered all over your skin and the fact that you were going into a foreign but intimate territory with your best friend had you feeling hot all over.
His features softened as he took in how overwhelmed and flustered you looked. He slowed down his movements and one of his hands would move to hold your face as he slowly leaned down to peck your lips. “You’re okay baby girl, I’ve got you. I will take good care of you.” He whispered against your lips. His low voice sent a new wave of arousal down your body. “Tell me what you need, kitten.”
“You, I need you, Logan. I've always only needed you,” you whimpered against his lips as you reconnected them. His hands gently caressed your thighs, and your mind became hazy with intense lust and overwhelming love for him. Your brain instantly turned into mush as you continued to kiss each other passionately.
The kiss then increased with an intensity that had you gasping for breath. You rolled your hips into his, rubbing your throbbing clit against him for some friction against your core. You moaned into his mouth as you rubbed against him. The front of his sweatpants strained as he moved along with you.
As you kept losing yourself in the kiss, you felt his hands wander up your thighs up to the hem of your shirt. His fingers brushed delicately over the sides of your ribs, moving up and down your skin repeatedly, his fingertips mapping out every dip and curve as they wandered all over your skin.
“You're beautiful,” he whispered against your lips, admiring you, making you glance up at him shyly from beneath him. He pulled away just slightly only for him to hold the hem of your shirt, and you could tell what he was about to ask before he opened his mouth. You bit your lip and nodded vigorously, causing him to chuckle breathlessly. “You want me to take this off?” He questioned as he tugged at the fabric gently.
You nodded bashfully, unable to use or trust your voice during that moment.
He smiled softly, his hands gently brushing under your shirt before hooking his fingers into the fabric. Slowly, he lifted it, and you raised your arms to help him slip it off.
You felt heat rising on your skin the way his eyes roamed all over you, taking in every little detail. The way Logan was looking at you, eyes filled with nothing but love, adoration and lust, made you feel so alive.
He discarded the piece of clothing to the side and began mouthing along your collarbone with affection. You trembled underneath him as he showered you with his attention. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered repeatedly as his mouth travelled all over your exposed skin.
His large hands moved to the curve of your waist where it met your hips and clutched it, holding you tight as he littered damp kisses and nips to your shoulders and any skin along the way down to your breasts. You whimpered as he traced the tip of his nose over the swell of your breast.
He smirked as he looked up at you, breathing in through his nose as he inhaled your scent and you couldn’t help but shiver when he exhaled warmly through his mouth and onto your nipple. “Fuck, baby girl, you’re so hot.”
Then, he wrapped his lips around one nipple, teeth just skimming your skin as he sucked and licked with passion.
“L-Lo,” you mewl as you try to grind your hips against him, your cunt seeking friction as it throbs with need.
“Feeling good kitty?” He quipped back as he grins up at you. You felt your skin flush with heat as you just stared down at him. Lust was written all over your face and he had no trouble reading your expression. So he resumed licking, long, lavishing licks with the flat of his tongue over your pebbled nipple as the other hand which was occupying your other breast, travelled all the way down to your panties.
As his fingers slipped underneath the band of your lacy underwear, down to where you needed him the most, his mouth fell open to unleash a loud groan onto your nipple as he felt your wetness, sliding his fingers between your soaked folds.
He explored your wet cunt patiently. Heat overwhelmed your senses as Logan continued to litter soft kisses all over your chest. Your hands found his head, running your fingers through his hair as his mouth continued to wander all over your naked skin.
Logan’s lips moved slowly down your body, kissing every little place he could find on your skin while his hands traced along.
Soon, he would retreat his hand from your heat, leaving you a whimpering mess. He then leant forward, his face meeting your sex, breathing in the smell of your pussy, running his nose against the damp patch on your underwear. You whimpered as he inhaled your scent. “Fuck kitten,” he growled as he couldn’t seem to stop smelling you. “This pussy smells so good, I can’t wait to taste ya.”
A devious smile played on Logan’s lips as he looked up at you through his eyelashes. “I am sure you taste just as good as you smell, if not better.” He groaned before taking your underwear between his teeth, while pulling it off your legs slowly. A shuddering breath left your lips, speechless as you watched him take off your lacy panties, becoming needier the longer you watched him. Logan kept looking at you as he slid down your body, pulling it off of you when it reached your ankles.
Once he took them off completely he gently pushed your legs wide for him, whimpering as the air hit your wet slit. He took a moment as his eyes took over you, your glistening centre clenching around nothing as he continued to stare at your wet hole. The man between your legs would moan at the sight. Not much later, Logan smirked as he kissed all the way up to your leg, taking his sweet time to give your body the attention you deserved. He pressed soft kisses from your ankles up to your knees, his hands moving along with his mouth, caressing the insides of your thighs as he gradually moved up your legs.
His lips lingered on your thighs, licking and sucking some kisses on your soft skin, Logan’s lips were so close to where you needed him the most yet he felt so far away.
“So pretty,” he murmured as he guided your legs over either of his shoulders.
You were about to beg as his lips detached from your thigh, only for moments later to feel him nuzzling against your pussy, smearing your juices across his lips and opening you up to his skilled tongue.
You gasp and squirm at the contact of his wet tongue.
He then pulls back for a second, “pussy tastes so good,” he moaned before his fingers moved to spread your outer lips for him. “But I think I'm gonna play with my girl for a bit.” Logan smiled as he slid a finger inside of you, watching the way your body squirmed at the sensation, moaning against the pillow next to you as you tried to muffle yourself.
You moaned as he moved his thick and long finger inside your tight walls. “So wet for me baby girl, you’re literally dripping on my finger,” he said before he pressed some kisses on your pubic bone, making you buck your hips in response. “Easy, kitty, we have all night.”
“L-Logan, please please I need more. Need your mouth and just. More. Pleaseeee need you so ba—” your whining got cut off the moment you felt his lips wrap around your clit, sucked it into his mouth, coaxing a loud but broken moan out of you. “F-Fuck!”
You felt like screaming, you didn’t know what to do with your hands, feeling so lost and overwhelmed with the pleasure Logan was giving you already. He dove between your legs, licking a stripe up through your folds and teasingly dipping his tongue into your entrance along with his finger before he travelled up to your clit, spreading your lips with his wet appendage before sucking your button into his mouth.
The whine that came out of you only drove Logan to seek out more of those heavenly sounds. As his one single digit pumped in and out of you, you couldn’t help but appreciate that his fingers felt so much more pleasurable and thicker than your own. As bliss overwhelmed your senses, you felt your whole body start to tremble.
Your core began clenching around his finger, begging for more. He pumped his finger in and out of you at a leisurely pace. Instinctively you tried moving your hips, slowly, grinding against his hand and mouth as he moaned. He gave you an intense look as he continued to fuck you with his finger. His eyes couldn’t seem to stay in one place as he admired how beautiful you were underneath him.
You were panting heavily, barely able to think straight, your mind turning hazy as he slowly slipped a second finger inside your tight channel.
Logan moved them slowly at first as your pussy tried to adjust to the addition. The stretch was overwhelming but oh so satisfying. Little whimpers left your lips as he fucked you with his fingers. He moved his face back to meet yours, engulfing you in a passionate kiss, swallowing all your little mewls.
You gasped, his tongue slipped inside your mouth, kissing you with so much passion, giving you everything he had to offer. “That feels good doesn't it, princess?” Logan groaned as his thumb made contact with your clit. You bucked your hips and nodded quietly. “Use your words pretty girl,” he taunted while he curled his fingers inside you as he played with the sensitive spot inside you.
“Yes, please please Lo, feels… so good.” You moaned loudly.
Soon his lips travelled all the way down your body as whines and whimpers left your trembling lips, silently begging for more — all while he was still finger fucking you.
Logan inhaled your scent as soon as he leaned forward, but didn’t let you wait in anticipation much longer. He wet his lips before his head dipped between your legs, warm tongue licking a slow stripe across your outer lips, all the way up to your button.
“Ah, fuck!” You cried out, your hips bucking off the mattress.
Squeaky, senseless noises bubbled up from your throat wantonly. Your hips stuttered against him and he just sighed like there was nothing in the world he'd rather do than this, eating you out on your bed.
You were a mess of his name, chanting and stuttering over and over again like a prayer. Your eyes squeezing shut to the point of tears, his mouth licked up your clit, as he continued to finger you while one of his other hands was holding your hip, pinning you to the soft sheets as you bucked into him, trying to urge him to do more.
The way he build up your arousal by pumping his fingers in and out of you, curling up ever so slightly to find the spongy spot inside of you. The familiar coil in your belly continued to build up as Logan suckled on your sensitive bud. Your abdomen tightened as he began quickening his pace again, his fingers hitting into that sweet spot with precision, had your toes curling as you clenched your thighs around his head.
Logan was lapping at you with determination, moving his fingers continuously as he slowly got you to the edge.
“Oh, my—”you whimpered, trembling digits sinking half into his brown hair and the other against your teeth, as you tried to silence yourself. “Fuck, aahh Logan, f-fuck…”
He moaned against you as his lips sealed around your clit and you bucked your hips at the action. Warmth spread throughout your whole body as he began talking you through it. “Fuckin’- you taste so good. Feels so good. You’re just… everything.”
You whimpered as he continued. “Come on,” he grunted as he pumped his fingers faster in and out of you. “Come on baby, cum for me.”
“Ah, d-daddy,” You gasped loudly as your whole body trembled even more, the hot familiar feeling continued to spread all over your body, your body tingling, your hips moving at their own accord against Logan’s hand and face. Totally unaware of the word that slipped past your lips as your body tensed as he called you ‘a good girl’ and shortly after you came against his mouth and around his fingers.
“That’s my girl.”
Your whole mind felt like exploding and all you could see were stars. You felt so overwhelmed by the amount of pleasure and emotions you were experiencing. Your body still trembled as you felt yourself come down from your high.
As you slowly came back to your senses you felt him gently pull his fingers out of your pulsing hole. But you still felt Logan’s mouth on you, licking and sucking at your pussy and it didn’t feel like he was gonna stop any time soon. You whined as he moaned against you while he licked against your tight entrance, licking up your release, his tongue prodding your slick hole.
“‘S too much.” You whimpered at the overstimulation.
Logan ignored your pleas, moaning against your heat as he continued to eat you out. The man you adored so much between your legs kept sliding his tongue up and down your sensitive slit. Your little mewls and other noises of ecstasy spurred him on, to move his lips back up to your clit, sucking the nub softly between his lips.
“You love having daddy eat your sweet pussy don’t you?” He smirked, looking up at your flustered and embarrassed face as he continued licking your soaked cunt. “No need to be embarrassed, baby. I like it.”
The walls of your pussy clenched furiously, the empty feeling inside you intensifying with every lick, and as your wetness trickled out of you, your core practically begged him to fill it up.
“Oh sweet girl.” Logan tutted as you began grinding your hips against his face as moans kept spilling from your lips. “You’re so sensitive, kitten.” He chuckled as he pressed a kiss to your clit.
Eventually he leaned down, finally slipping his tongue into your entrance, he curled the muscle upward to brush your walls, the sight of your fingers bunching the fabric of the sheets in a tight grip encouraged him to do it again and again.
Writhing below him, you felt him lick up and press against a sensitive spot inside that had you seeing stars, while your hips bucked against his face uncontrollably. Your fingers moved once again, gripping onto his dark hair rather harshly as you pushed your hips against his face shoving his tongue deeper inside your hole.
“Please,” you begged. “‘M close.”
“Please what?” He taunted as he continued to lick your heat.
“P-please,” you stuttered and paused before finishing timidly. “Daddy.”
“Good girl,” he said before plunging his tongue back inside you as his thumb came up to press against your little bundle of nerves. Moments later, the tension snapped inside your lower tummy, cumming with a loud whine, your hips stuttered as your vision blurred. You cried out his name, your voice unable to remain steady.
Your hips stuttered until the final waves of aftershock pass. As you slowly came back down to reality again while you tried to catch your breath, you heard him praising you softly while he continued to lap at your wetness gently. You whined and nudged him away with your leg, only to react with a chuckle.
“Taste so good, baby. Could eat your sweet pussy all day.” He grinned as he licked the wetness off his mouth. Logan smirked, holding eye contact with you as he brought his glistening fingers to his mouth.
You giggled as he licked his fingers clean, feeling slightly embarrassed by the action. Trying to hide your flushed face, you lazily raised your hands to cover it, but Logan wasn’t having any of it. With a gentle smile, he placed tender kisses all over your hands, pulling them down slowly. Then, he leaned in closer, pressing sweet kisses to your nose, your forehead, and both your cheeks before finally capturing your lips. Each kiss was playful, filled with warmth, as laughter bubbled softly between you, his grin widening against your mouth.
He pulled away with a satisfied sigh, a warm smile spreading across his face as he reached to touch the side of your neck, tracing his fingertips up and down.
You exhaled as you melted at the feel of his touch and kissed his thumb as it came to trace across your lips. Your shaky legs wrapped around his hips, and with a playful gleam in your eyes, you gave his thumb a tender lick, holding his gaze as you rubbed your still sensitive heat against his clothed cock.
“F-fuck, you can’t just do that kitten.” He groaned as his hands came to hold your hips, stilling your movements.
You whined, pouting as you looked up at him. “Why not?”
“It’s hard to control myself around you.” He grunted as he started grinding his cock against you. Your gaze wandered downward, following the line of the vein near his V-line as it disappeared beneath his grey sweatpants. You couldn’t help but whine underneath him as he continued to grind his covered cock against your growing wetness. You gasped after giving you a particular hard thrust, that’s when you realised and felt he wasn’t wearing any underwear underneath them. He felt massive. “I’ve been trying to control myself for years. I think I’d have to control myself a bit longer.”
“W-why?” you hiccuped as he kept rutting his hips into yours.
“Don’t wanna hurt ya.” He mumbled, as his cock strained against his sweatpants.
“But I know you won’t.” You said, your voice steady, filled with all the confidence you could summon. You watched as his jaw clenched, his grip tightening slightly as he held himself back, resisting the urge to just take you like he always wanted.
“How are you so certain?” His breath hitched when you tightened your legs around him.
“I-I, because I trust you.” You continued to stutter as you both rolled your hips against each other. His eyes darkened with desire, but you could tell he was trying to restrain himself, fighting against what he truly wanted, even though the tension between you was nearly unbearable. Still, you held his gaze, unwavering. “Because you love me.”
Logan groaned, his eyes squeezing shut as he fought to keep control, every muscle in his body tense with the effort. You could see the conflict etched across his face, the battle between what he wanted and what he was trying to hold back. His grip on you tightened slightly, a sign of the restraint still lingering in him, though it was slowly slipping away. His breathing was ragged, and for a moment, you thought he might give in. But then, he swallowed hard, forcing himself to stay still, clinging to the last shred of restraint that hadn’t left him yet. “You don’t know how hard this is,” he muttered through gritted teeth, his voice thick with desire. “How difficult it’s been, every day since I met you, trying to hold back while being around you.”
“I think I do, Logan,” you whispered, gazing up at him. “Maybe not in the exact way you feel it, but I’ve struggled too, convincing myself daily that I could never have you. And now, realising I could’ve had you from the start—it’s almost unbearable.” You bit your lip, noticing how his expression softened. “That’s why I don’t want us to hold back anymore. I don’t think I can endure it any longer. Please, I need you, Logan. I love you, and I’ll always want you—”
Your words were cut off as Logan surged towards you, cupping your face as he kissed you passionately. His lips moved fervently against yours, as if he was trying to make up for every moment of restraint. Making up for any lost time. The intensity of his kiss made your head spin, your heartbeat quickening as you melted into his embrace. His hands then started roaming around your body, his hold on you tightening occasionally, pulling you closer, while his breath grew heavy as you felt every emotion as he kissed you. You clung to him, pouring out every feeling and emotion out with every heated kiss.
“I love you,” Logan murmured between tender kisses, breathlessly whispering your name.
Your own hands began wandering all over his body and eventually down his solid chest until your fingers met his abdomen, slipping momentarily underneath the waistband of his sweatpants. With a mix of urgency and desire, you tugged at them while whimpering underneath him as you continued to kiss him deeply.
“Just relax, baby. I’ve got you,” he whispered softly after pulling away from the kiss. He eventually took it upon himself to slowly peel back, shuffling a bit to rid himself of the last piece of fabric on his body. He tossed it aside, fully exposing himself to your hungry eyes.
Your breath hitched, your eyes wide. Fuck, he was massive. Long and thick in all the right ways. Just as you thought, the vein between his V Lines moved down to his cock. A spark of heat shot down to your pulsing core as you imagined how he would fit or fill you up. But it was also accompanied by a twinge of nerves.
Logan chuckled as he moved closer to you, his lips chasing your own as he enveloped you in another sweet but deep kiss.
The two of you kissed languidly for a moment, treasuring the heat of each other's bodies as your lips slot together with ease, but soon enough the kisses become deeper, more frantic and hands start to grip tighter and legs tangling together.
It's like you're both starved, this insatiable hunger for each other.
You couldn’t help but roll your hips against his to feel his thick cock. You whined as it turned slick as you kept grinding yourself against him, and he had no trouble gliding his hips against you and rutting it into your clit.
You gasped openly into his mouth, desire growing quickly. You were so wet. Logan swallowed your whines with his lips against yours, hips rolling against you. He kissed you full with fervour, his grip on you intensifying heatedly.
He held his length in his hand as he kept rubbing the head of his cock from your entrance, up to your clit, circling until you were squirming underneath him, and back down. The thought of his thickness finally entering your pussy made you wetter by the second, turning you more on. Logan swallowed your little mewls with his mouth, his hips rolling with yours.
You were trembling against him, full of anticipation. His body covered your whole body with his. You writhed against him, wishing he was just in you already and filling you up and consuming you with pleasure once again.
“P-please, Logan.” You stuttered, your body trembling underneath him as you waited for his next move.
Logan hummed as he concentrated while circling your clenching hole teasingly. You arched your back slightly as you whined, silently begging to finally fill your pussy the way you’ve always wanted him to do.
“Relax, baby girl.” He whispered after he licked and kissed underneath your ear.
“Please d-daddy, I-I need you.” You whimpered in anticipation. Logan would grunt loudly before nudging the tip of his cock against your soaked hole. Your legs trembled underneath him, a mix of nerves and excitement. “Want you to fill this little pussy. Need you t-to fill it with more than your cock. N-need your cum.” You whispered seductively against his ear as his last bit of restraint snaps.
At your words, Logan gradually put more pressure on your entrance making you whimper underneath him, once he finally slid his tip inside you, a gasp elicited from the both of you.
You’re aware this was just barely the tip of him, but you couldn’t help but feel the stretch burn already. Logan slid in so slowly it was agonising. You cried out as he gradually pushed more of his pulsing cock inside your own clenching hole. He was so big.
You tangled your fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck, pulling slightly as you whined underneath him. He panted along with you, his warm breath fanning over your face while he kept his forehead pressed against yours. The stretch stung, but his pace kept it bearable. He guided himself a centimetre further, then another, another, until you were digging your nails into his scalp, a gasp spilling from your lips.
His hips stilled instantly once he heard the pained noises falling from your lips. Tears began to prickle at your waterline, a combination of discomfort and the overwhelming feelings that were coursing through you.
“Doing so good for me baby,” he praised as he peppered your face with gentle kisses. “You’re doing so good for me.”
“Please,” you whimpered as your eyes fluttered close.
Logan continued to move almost painfully slow, letting you adjust to every centimetre of him. After a couple of seconds you were able to relax more into it. You whimpered, clutching his shoulders at the stretch, the heat in your abdomen growing as your walls fluttered around him, pleasure beginning to bloom in your stomach.
“So full…” you whined.
“Such a good girl,” he grunted softly. You think there wasn’t a possibility to get more wet but as he utters those words you felt your heat get even more wet. He leaned down as he kissed your lips gently, as he filled you up bit by bit. He hoped the sweetness of his embrace would soften the sting.
You’re trembling as you canted your hips up, begging for him to fill you to the brim, while you gripped the bedsheets between your fingers. “Please Lo, need more. I can take it, daddy.” You whimpered as you involuntarily and repeatedly tightened around his thick cock.
He groaned at your desperate whines, losing his composure momentarily as he thrust the rest of his length all the way inside your tiny hole. The head of his dick kissing your cervix once he bottomed out. You cried out as you were trembling underneath him, trying to adjust to his size while your pussy kept pulsing around his cock.
“Fuck, so fuckin’ tight.” He hissed as he let you adjust to his cock.
His lips came to press soft and tender kisses all over your face as he let you relax. Tears brimmed at the corners of your eyes as you continued to adjust around him. You felt so full, as if he was made for you, and only you. The feeling of him filling you up so completely had you seeing stars and digging fingernails into his shoulders. You felt one of his hands finding your hand, lacing them with yours as the other one reached up to your face.
His breathing was heavy as you squeezed his cock repeatedly. Small whimpers left your lips as you squirm underneath him.
You needed more.
You hadn’t even realised your eyes had drifted shut until you slowly opened them, gazing up at Logan with a soft, pleading look. “Please, Logan.”
“What do you need, sweetheart?” he murmured, his voice a low rumble that vibrated deep in his chest.
“Need more.” You whispered.
“Aww, does my sweet girl need me to move?” he teased, tilting his head with a playful smirk.
“Need you, please.” You begged as your pussy clenched around his thick cock rather hard which made him groan above you. “Please, I need you to fuck me so bad.”
His breath hitched as he exhaled shakily, before nodding quietly. Slowly, he started moving inside you, gentle but deep. One hand reached down to play with your clit, while the other one went to intertwine your fingers together, holding your hand tightly.
The sting hurt for a while, but it easily morphed into a more pleasurable feeling as he moved against you. You’re so overstimulated from all your previous orgasms that the sensation he was giving you was mixed between pain and pleasure.
He grunted as he dropped his head to your ear to kiss and lick at the sensitive skin just below it. Soon enough the pain would completely disappear and all you could feel was pure bliss.
Slowly, you were getting used to his girth, anticipating it every time he pulled out of you before moving forward. Your legs are splayed open on either side of his hips as he ground his cock into you. The angle was so good, gradually he would pick up his pace, leaving you a whimpering mess underneath him. As he fucked into you in languid strokes, the sound of slick skin and your noises of pleasure could be heard in your bedroom.
“How do you feel?” he whispered against your ear.
“Feels so good.” You moaned as you tightened around his cock, this time voluntarily.
You whimpered as he picked up the pace, angling himself in a certain way inside you. He finally leaned down to wrap his arms around you, the action elicited a gasp out of you as you grab at the sheets around you, as he fucked you harder and faster.
Every time he’d thrust inside you, his pelvic bone would drag along your throbbing clit, making you cry out his name in pure ecstasy.
“You’re taking me so well, sweet girl. Doing so so, good for me.” He whispered against your skin as he moved to nuzzle his face against your neck.
Soft grunts fell from Logan’s lips whenever he hit a specific deep spot inside you. You whimpered as his lips moved back up to your lips, enveloping them in a heated kiss. You melted completely against him, holding you close to him as he fucked you. He snaked one of his hands down between your conjoined bodies finding your clit as he rubbed two fingers over the sensitive nub.
At a certain point you felt him slide into a pressure point in your core and coupled with the way his fingers circled your clit, it had you clenching like a vise around his dick. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head from the pleasure he was providing you. The whimpers that fell from your lips became higher pitched as he picked up his pace.
“Feeling good, kitten?” He groaned, as his lips curled into a mischievous smile as he admired the way your face twisted in pure bliss. Too overwhelmed by the new experience. Filth and praise continued to come out of his mouth as he fucked you. “This pussy was made for daddy.”
His mouth covered your own instead as he swallowed all your little noises of pleasure, you could feel the tightness return in your belly, the tight coil that pulls tighter with every movement and every touch.
Your whimpers, gasps of pleasure and pants increased as ecstasy and warmth overwhelmed your senses.
“Taking daddy’s cock so well, baby.”
His hands couldn’t get enough of you, sliding around your hips and lower back, wanting to feel all of you, touch you everywhere. You whimpered at the feeling of his speed, feeling another orgasm coming so close, eyes tightly shut and legs locked bruisingly around Logan’s hips. He could feel it too, in the way you clenched and squeezed around his length, and he began to drive even harder into your pussy as he tilted his hips gently, searching for the one place that he hoped would blow your mind.
“Ah, daddy—” you hiccuped as he fucked you so good you felt like a blabbering mess. “Need you to come inside my pussy...”
“Is that what you want?” He growled as you pulsed around him. “Can’t believe it… it’s your first time and you’re already begging for me to cum inside. So filthy. You’re close aren’t ya?”
You nodded furiously as your arms trembled as they wrapped around him, your nails digging in his back as he moaned on top of you. The feeling of the coil tightening in your belly, was tingling down to your legs, ready to snap at any moment.
“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, cursing under his breath when you purposefully tighten your walls around him. “Bet you’d look even prettier with my cum inside your pussy. All full and messy.”
“Please…” you moaned as you thought about him filling you up. “Please Lo, baby, daddy… please fill this pussy up.”
He grunted as he buried his face into your neck as he fucked into you, making the whole bed rattle at his force.
“You want to cum pretty girl?”
You nodded frantically at his words while your eyes fluttered close as you bit your lip harshly. You were bucking up beneath him, nails digging into his skin even more as his hand moved back to your clit as another came to intertwine your hands together, pinning them to the bed. He rubbed your clit with enough pressure to ensure you’ll cum around him.
“Cum for daddy.” Logan demands softly.
And when he finally nudged against that spot inside you coupled with his deep voice– you were exploding, shattering, and detonating all at once, as you cried out his name. Blood was rushing so wildly in your ears that you couldn’t possibly hear the way you wail and sob as he crashed his lips onto yours, swallowing all your noises. Your head lolled back, your back arching violently as you twist and contort in pleasure underneath him.
“That’s it, good girl.” Logan moaned in your ear as your walls spasmed and pulsed around his cock, begging him to cum inside, desperate for him to fill you up the way he promised.
“Fuck,” he groaned, pushing himself up as he thrust deeper into you, the head of his cock hitting your cervix repeatedly. “You want me to fill this pussy up? Make it all messy?”
You were still in a daze but you were able to understand him so you nod vigorously at his words, whining even more at the sensitivity. Your pussy squeezed around his cock in anticipation. “Please…”
“Fuck, take it baby.” It washed over him instantly, hips stuttering into you as he grew desperate, eyes squeezing shut when he felt his cock throb inside of you before hot spurts of his seed splashed along your walls, painting them in ribbons of white. The warmth of his seed filled you up and spread inside your pussy. The feeling made you whimper, limbs limp on the bed as he shallowly thrust into you, making sure you took every last drop.
His warm cum filled you up deeply, the mild heat of it settling deep inside you and causing you to squirm under him. Logan panted as he let his body slump against yours. He rested on top of you, trying to steady his breath. His cock was still nuzzled deep within you, still half hard as it kept his cum from leaking out.
It was a blurry haze when you came back to your senses, your whole body was aching whilst simultaneously feeling the most relaxed you've ever been, equally as exhausted as it was energised, and you didn’t bother trying to question why. Just pure contentment.
Once both of you caught your breaths, Logan leaned his forehead against yours before kissing you tenderly.
“That was…” He breathed, smiling tiredly at the complete dopey mess he's made of you; hair all over the place and eyes lidded heavily, heated skin glowing and your lips looking swollen from all the kisses you’ve both shared.
“Oh yeah, that was mind blowing.” Your voice came out hoarse, still recovering from the height and volume it had gone, and you cleared your throat gently before you smiled up at him.
“I love you.” He whispered before he captured your lips in a deep and lazy kiss. You could feel his soft mouth smiling against yours as you whimpered against him. You felt yourself melting against his embrace as he wrapped his arms around you.
“I love you too.” You whispered back against his mouth.
You shifted slightly when you felt that he was still hard inside you. Biting your lip, you squeezed purposely around him at the realisation. Logan groaned at the feeling, his large palms sliding up your sides in a soothing manner.
“Don’t do that.” Logan grumbled but you saw a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“Why not?” You giggled as your hands trailed through his hair.
“Makes me wanna fuck you again.” Your boyfriend mumbled.
“Hm, that’s kind of the point.” You continued to giggle.
Logan chuckled as he pulled his head back, looking at you with a mirthful smile.
Before you knew it, he pulled out only to man handle your body in the position he wanted you to be. Manoeuvres your body until you’re on your tummy. His hands came to hold your hips, pulling them up, your ass in the air for him.
He kneads the flesh of your cheeks before spreading them apart for him. Your body slumps slightly forward with exhaustion but Logan is quick to grip your hips, holding you in the same position. “Oh kitten, I’m not done with you yet.” He tutted.
Your cheeks flushed with heat as you prepared yourself for a long night filled with passion.
thank you for reading 🩷🩷🩷
#logan howlett x reader#logan howlett smut#logan howlett#wolverine x reader#wolverine smut#logan howlett imagine#logan howlett x you#wolverine fanfiction#logan howlett fanfiction#logan howlett fluff#hugh jackman#hugh jackman smut#hugh jackman x reader#deadpool and wolverine#wolverine#wolverine x you#my writing
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LOVER'S QUARREL
- fushiguro megumi x reader
“i can't do this anymore.” you and megumi are just too different; he's stoic, you're bubbly, he prefers solitude, you love being social. it starts with fights, words you don't mean, and ends with an event that would haunt him for a long time to come.
genre/warnings: angst, breaking up, post-breakup feelings, mentions and description of injury and blood, hurt/comfort, fluff in the end (you make up!)
note: dear god i’m finally getting this out of my drafts. loosely inspired by real life events i’ve seen around my friend’s relationship sooo it might hurt a bit 🤏🏻 but who can say no to angst to eventual fluff? tagging @lees-chaotic-brain and @kasumitenbaz (as per request in the ask!), you two are always here for my megumi works, thank you!! :3 and thank you for dropping by for the event!
a part of 1K MILESTONE EVENT
general masterlist
Everyone pointed it out as a joke, that you liked him way more than he did you.
And you used to never let it ruffle you. To you, Megumi’s sternness and silence meant that he was comfortable with you. You never wanted him to change his ways just because now you were seeing each other.
But when you thought it over now, as you stood before him with an aghast expression and knives stabbing your kind, soft heart, you couldn’t help but do a double-take.
You were the one who confessed first. Most of the time, you were the one who initiated dates. You always texted him first, asking about his day, and even when he brushed you off, you would keep being this ball of sunshine and wished him a good day.
You never realized it before… that through everything, it has always been you. Unfailingly.
So how dare he spout this now?
“I can't do this anymore.”
"You... can't?" you spat out, feeling the first tendrils of anger course through you. "What exactly it is that you can't do? What do you even mean?"
"Look," Megumi stared at you squarely, and you thought now, that it was the coldest of eyes, straight and true. "It's always been like this between us lately. It's only right that we end this."
This, he said. He didn't even want to define your relationship anymore.
You scoffed. "And why do you think we always end up this way? Have you ever considered, even once, that it's because you make no effort at all?"
"I'm trying," Megumi quickly replied, almost in a hiss, and you almost recoiled. "But I just see that we'll end up nowhere, that's why I'm bringing this up now."
Oh, that freaking hurts. You boyfriend had just told you that this relationship would go nowhere. Right in your face.
Your eyes stung with tears, yet you fought to hold them back, fixing your gaze on the lamp overhead and inhaling deeply.
"You're... selfish," you stated, filled with ire. "You're always walking around eggshells around me, never telling me what is it that you really want—"
Megumi's unclouded eyes fixed on your trembling form. "We just disagree on a lot of things. You know it and it bothers you. It bothers me too. Rather than forcing our relationship, I think it's better—"
"It's always me!" you yelled then, lips quivering and eyes watering, unable to hold your emotions back any longer. "All dates, lunches—everything!" you locked your eyes with him, in mocking disbelief. "How can you say you're trying when, in truth, I'm the one putting in so much for us?!"
In that very second, Megumi thought that he hated seeing you like this. You were supposed to be the cheerful one in this relationship, and when he agreed to go out with you, he made an unspoken commitment to himself that he would at least not make you miserable.
And yet...
"...I'm sorry."
Came his reply, and you were sure that this was it.
And to rub the salt in your wound, he added, "I can't lie to you and say I haven't thought this for a while too."
As tears welled within you, you wondered and questioned what you lacked that led to this. However, the overwhelming sense of betrayal consuming your thoughts ultimately prevailed over any other emotions.
Now he could've appeared before you as a stranger and you wouldn't bat an eye, as the cold steel in his tone said, "And if blaming me is what it takes to make you feel better, then so be it."
You couldn't pinpoint the source of your sudden boldness, but in the next hot minute, you marched past him, your shoulder harshly colliding with his in a deliberate, almost spiteful manner—which, indeed, was your intention—and then you ran.
Which led to the next scene: you found yourself bawling your eyes out in the girls' lavatory.
Yuji and Nobara saw everything unfolding right before their eyes. They hadn't meant to eavesdrop, but you and Megumi were literally breaking up right the middle of their shared classroom, and it was hard not to follow the discourse until the end.
"Are you okay?" Nobara had come to your side, ensuring privacy by locking the restroom door out of your consideration. You were a sobbing mess, attempting to wipe the overflowing tears away while letting out all your emotions.
"He's..." Your voice faltered amid sobs as you gazed at your steadfast friend, your throat clogging up. "He said... he's been wanting t-to... break up with m-me..."
"That's okay, that's okay..." Nobara brought you to her arms, patting your back in reassurance. "Fushiguro is insensitive like that... don't cry over him now. He's just a wimp, okay?"
"Why is it me?" you asked her, voice brittle, still shaking with tears. "I t-tried everything! Being the supportive girlfriend..."
"If he can't appreciate what you did, then the problem lies with him," your friend stated, traces of irritation brewing in her resolute gaze. And as she firmly grasped your wrist, her next words resonated. "Not you."
. . .
"Do you really have to break her heart like that?" Yuji fidgeted with his hoodie, staring at his best friend with a blend of confusion and sympathy.
Megumi sighed, finally ruffling his hair into a mess, as if expressing his own state of mind. “This is for the best.”
Yuji’s eyebrows visibly creased. “How is this ‘for the best’? She’s miserable, and you…” he assessed him, scanning him from head to toe, “it doesn’t seem you’re faring any better too.”
“The longer she is with me, the unhappier she will be.” Megumi glanced at the bathroom’s direction. “She can deserve better.”
He was always too quiet, too boring, not able to match your energy too. He couldn’t fault you for expecting more, whereas he was just not exactly built for your expectations.
Megumi really thought he wanted it to end. At one point, it even felt like a chore, but…
How strange. Why did it feel like something was clawing at his chest?
Time heals. Megumi knew that by theory, but he really did see it firsthand when he saw you all giggling and happy again three weeks after he initiated the breakup.
With Hakari.
“Yo, what are you glaring at?” Panda asked, but Megumi didn’t pay him any mind.
An upperclassman, Hakari Kinji, was naturally cool and talented. He was laid back, knew how to have fun—all in all, a total opposite of Fushiguro Megumi altogether.
Three weeks. It’s only been three weeks since then.
“Megumi?”
Wait… Aren’t three weeks too fast to get over your ex?
“Megumi!”
“Huh?” he turned to the sentient panda with a jerk. “Oh, what is it?”
He looked at him with a concerned gaze. "Why do you look so scary? It's almost as if you're about to punch someone..."
But who was he to argue? He had no right to be upset now.
"Is it Kinji?" Panda gasped, finally putting two and two together when he followed his line of sight. "Oh Megumi... but you—"
"Just shut up, please," he blurted then, a hint of annoyance in his tone. With that, Panda didn't pursue it further, leaving him with his thoughts.
From where he was at the field, he could clearly see your radiant smile for Hakari. It was clear that the two of you shared a degree of friendship, but Megumi never knew that you two were that close.
...huh?
Why did the sight irritate him so suddenly? Why did his chest twinge again?
What a fool. You're the one driving her away, you idiot.
Suddenly these memories popped up one by one—
Of you suddenly hugging him from behind in an attempt to surprise him.
How he pressed his lips on the crown of your head when you fall asleep on his shoulder.
How you would give him that dopey smile when he pulled you close.
But on harder days after missions gone wrong, he’d ignore you altogether— the slight disappointment in your smile then. How your expression fell when he told you to go. How you slumped and looked back in hopes of him changing his mind.
“Haaaah.” Megumi turned away, unwilling to keep watching you any longer. Why? Why hadn’t it occurred to him before now?
Why did he long for you now? Why not before, when you were still his?
They were right. It seems people tend to desire what isn't meant for them.
What could have been more painfully awkward than being sent into a mission with your ex-boyfriend?
You would kill Gojo for this. Or at least give him the lowest possible score in his teaching evaluation for the year. How could he? Your breakup was an infamous public spectacle, so this setup was undoubtedly intentional!
You were losing your head over this, and yet your ex-boyfriend...
"Keep your guard up," Megumi reminded curtly, in a warning tone. He looked as vigilant and straight as always, as if he wasn't even bothered.
You threw him a dirty look, offended. "You don't have to tell me twice."
This just cranked up the discomfort to an excruciating level. The mix of unresolved tension and memories—okay, you might be an emo, but how were you supposed to be cool with all of these hanging in the air?
Your site of exorcism was an abandoned warehouse, and the cursed spirit in question was supposed to be a grade 3. You two were grade 2 sorcerers now, so you were a perfect fit to exorcise it. But there was indeed this unease in the air that you couldn't put your finger to.
"Isn't it awfully too quiet?" you unwittingly muttered, staring at the darkness of the wall. You couldn't feel any cursed energy belonging to any possible malevolent entity, and that was what unsettled you the most.
Megumi frowned at your line of sight. "It is. Stay close."
You blinked at what he said, and before you knew it, the familiar scent of him being near to you made your entire body burst with this equally familiar warmth. When you looked up to him, seeing the solid sharpness in that dark eyes of his and his jaw set, dead butterflies in your chest rose back to life again, against your heartbreak and better judgement.
Stay close, he said... So he is worried...
And in an attempt to hide how flustered you were, you looked down.
You walked a few good steps, when suddenly he asked, "So, are you with Hakari-senpai now?"
"Huh?" You spun around, your expression a mix of surprise and confusion.
"You two seem close."
Seem close? Seem close... wait, so Megumi had noticed...?
Suddenly, you felt incited and it made you angry. "That's none of your business," your voice carried a sharp edge, hissing. And you knew you were being a bit mean by adding, "You broke up with me, so why do you even care?"
In that moment, Megumi could've sworn his chest throbbed. Your cutting tone pierced directly into his heart, lodging itself there.
You had all rights to be annoyed, and he knew that. Why did that question even slip out of him?
"Nah, nevermind," he mumbled in response, looking away.
Awkwardness lingered afterwards. You hated this, but no, you weren't above being petty. He had broken your heart and it still stung even now. If your intentionally biting words did to him even a fraction of what he made you feel, then you would find a small sense of satisfaction in it.
But you weren't able to ponder about your mess of feelings further when Megumi abruptly yanked your arm, his voice soaking with urgency, "It's here!"
Sure enough, the grotesque cursed spirit with the shape of a giant bee broke through the walls with a bang. The two of you immediately readied your fighting stance. Megumi was ready with his divine dogs, while you with your cursed weapon.
For a while, you engaged the cursed spirit with all you had. You were trying to focus on the enemy, but you couldn't help but notice the way Megumi always looked at you every few seconds, checking for any signs of injury or harm.
Frankly speaking, he trusted your strength and knew that you were a capable sorcerer. You had been paired in a mission before and he knew both your potential and shortcomings. It was just there was something about this place that had his senses on high alert.
And his fears were proven true when you yelped and were flung onto the grimy floor. "Y/N!"
"I'm fine!" you shouted in a rush, scrambling to your feet. However, as you spun towards him, your scream tore through the hall as you caught sight of the bee lurking behind him. "Megumi!"
He got distracted. The bee quickly latched onto him and almost stung him, until he wrestled it off and summoned Nue and exorcised it.
You went to his side that instant. "Are you okay?!"
"I am." But then he winced and almost fell on his knees if you didn't have a secure grip on him. He savored your touch and breathed a sigh of relief, thinking that now you two were safe.
"Megumi! Oh god!" Panic surged through you as you pulled him close. His side was bleeding, and you widened your eyes at the sight.
"I'm okay, I promise," he rasped, looking you in the eyes. "What abo—"
Then you saw it, the flicker from deep from that corner of platform, and suddenly, you grasped the source of the unease that had been lingering within you all this time. It wasn't the bee Megumi had just exorcised—
At that moment, there was no room for thought, one thing was certain: you didn't want him to get hurt more.
He didn't manage to finish his sentence when suddenly you pushed him away with so much force he never thought you had. Everything crashed so suddenly, he didn't have the time to brace himself or grab you with him, as another cursed bee appeared out of nowhere and—
Reality flashed before his eyes as he stared at you in sheer horror. At how the cursed spirit tore your body, sinking its hollow stinger in you.
You didn't really know what happened next. Everything was muffled—the frantic movements around you turned into a blur, along with Megumi's yells. Otherworldly pain coursed through your entire being and your ears rang, then everything in your line of sight became distorted and faded, along with your consciousness. Next and the last thing you knew was Megumi's battered face, a final imprint before you succumbed to the void.
Megumi had exorcised the remaining cursed spirit and staggered to his feet—falling a few times, but he made his way towards you through gritted teeth. You are hurt. He forced himself to get to you and pull you into his arms.
And suddenly, suddenly, nothing mattered anymore as overwhelming terror consumed him upon seeing you. Blood streamed from your abdomen so much that it made a continuous pool.
"You stupid—!" He choked out, voice hitching. You were no longer conscious and it devastated him even more. "Hey, hey? Wake up—hells—"
You, who did everything you could to save your relationship. You, who cried tears for him when he blatantly broke your heart. And you, who put himself first—and now facing the consequences.
It crashed upon him in that very second, the clarity. What was he thinking back then? He still loves you.
"If you die on me, I won't forgive you."
Megumi scooped you in his arms, pressing you close to his chest, the blood seeping from his wound be damned as he looked at your serene face. His heart shattered in the worst way possible and he almost wheezed at the sticky sensation of your blood—and how lifeless you felt in his grasp—but he willed it away.
"Don't," his broken rasp echoed the walls as he took each step to get both of you out of this hellhole. He winced and hissed at his own injury, chewing his lip in frustration, at how helpless he was.
"Don't leave me."
It was like a distant, hazy memory.
Was it a memory though? No. It seemed far too real for that.
The throbbing headache pounding through your skull and shivers that wracked your body pulled you back to reality. There was a heavy pressure on your abdomen and any movement sent sharp pain shooting through you.
You gradually opened your eyes, squinting against the brightness. You were in a hospital gown, an IV was injected on your arm, and the sterile scent made your stomach twist, as nausea creeping through your guts. Your vision was still blurry as you tried to look around to find someone who waited for you. As you slowly turned your head to the side, you saw him, sitting in the chair right next your bed.
Megumi was sleeping in such uncomfortable position, his head resting on the edge of your bed. He appeared peaceful, almost childlike, devoid of his usual stoic demeanor.
Your heartstrings were tugged at this rare sight. He also sustained injuries and yet... he was waiting for you to wake up, here.
Your chest swelled with warmth, which was quickly followed by a sting of heartbreak. Still, you two broke up...
You jolted, and the inadvertent movement sent a wave of pain that seemed to paralyze your nerves, causing you to whimper. The noise woke Megumi from his slumber, as he shot his eyes open in alarm, catching your hand in his.
"Hey... Are you okay?" Megumi worriedly looked down at you with a visible frown, and the grimace of pain on your face, accompanied by trembling lips, was enough of an answer. He hastily scrambled out in slight panic, "I'll get Ieiri-san."
When Shoko came and got you the painkillers, your pain receded somewhat. Through it all, Megumi stood there, casting concerned glances in your way.
"Bedrest for the week," Shoko stated firmly, assessing your wound with a no-nonsense expression. "Your injury isn't minor—it's serious enough that you're strongly advised against excessive movement."
You could only nod in response. Megumi bowed. "Thank you, Ieiri-san." Once the doctor departed, silence settled over the room once more.
“Why did you do that?” he quietly asked then, referring to what you did for him. And when you turned to him, you saw it clearly.
He looked pale, and there was this haunted look in his eyes. It broke your heart a little.
"You were hurt." Your voice came out dry, and you realized firsthand just how parched you were. Seeing Megumi looking down never quite sat right with you. He was meant to be an unwavering presence, someone strong enough to sway your convictions.
However, a pang struck when he countered with stern eyes, "You didn't have to do that."
...he was right. You didn't have to. What he didn't know was that you were still holding on these stupid feelings, which drove you to shield him. It made you ponder: if your roles were reversed, would he not step in to protect you at all?
"Why are you here?" You weren't sure if the bitterness in your tone was evident, but you continued anyway. "You don't have to be here either."
"Don't have to?" His gaze bore disbelief, as if not believing your words. "I'm—"
"If it's because I saved you, Megumi—"
“Do not even think, even for a moment, that I won’t be concerned over you.” His voice, deep and hoarse, struck you to the core, silencing your words. “Never. I always, always want you to be safe.”
Your mind became a blank slate. Suddenly, all that mattered was his voice.
"Don't you realize how terrifying it was? Seeing you like that?" Megumi spat, his green eyes shining with intensity, teeth gritted and fists clenched. "How could you even think that I wouldn't be here—" his breath hitched, and then his lips trembled slightly, "—for you?"
You blinked quickly, a feeling stirred within you—stemming from that cursed, fragile heart of yours to be exact, evident from the rapid thumping in your chest.
You dumbly uttered, "But we are—"
"Oh, Goddamnit." Megumi cursed, and honestly you were taken aback. It wasn't really in him to swear, so this really bugged him. He ran a hand through his hair in frustration, and despite the situation, your heart skipped a beat at the sight. Even a mess in a hospital gown, your ex-boyfriend was still undeniably attractive.
He stared at you squarely in the eye, unflinching, steadfast and true, the very image of Fushiguro Megumi you admired from afar and fell in love with in the first place half a year ago. "You don't have to... say anything, if you don't want to. Right now... just hear me out."
And the things he said next... all of them, you could say, caught you entirely off guard.
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry for not trying hard enough, and—damn it, for making you sad. I never, ever wanted to see you that upset."
Megumi drew in a sharp breath, averting his gaze. "And for days, I've wondered if you and Hakari-senpai are now a thing... and you know what? I hate it so much. I know I have no grounds to feel this way, after what I did, but..."
And like a train wreck, his final words hit you hard. Tears welled up in your eyes in immediate response.
“I'm a loser, and a coward too, maybe,” he shrugged, a tinge of self-deprecation in his tone. “And I suck at telling people my feelings, but I love you. I still do.”
A sob slipped out of your throat and you hastily pulled the blanket over your face, much to his surprise. He thought he had worsened things, with the way you were turning away from him.
But then, from beneath the blanket, in a croaky voice, you proclaimed, "Fushiguro Megumi, you're a complete and utter idiot."
And Megumi didn't know that he had been holding back his breath as he chuckled heartily, relieved that you would still take his ass back after this prolonged mess. He knew he still had a lot to make up for and was determined to show it through his actions.
"Maybe I am, yeah."
"That's possibly the longest shit you have ever spouted in one breath."
"Yeah..."
But he got his chance back, and he knew that you would be alright. Both of you are.
On one sunny day...
"Hey, are you alone?"
Megumi glanced up from his phone, only to be met with a random girl standing in front of him, batting her eyelashes with an ambiguous intent. He blinked at her curiously.
"No. Can I help you?"
The girl twirled her hair suggestively. "Ah, you see... I see you all in your lonesome and I think you're quite cute—"
The hell? Megumi frowned, and he was really about to give this bimbo a piece of his mind when—
Oh, oh. Forget that. Megumi's attention snapped to you on the opposite side of the crossroad. All pretty and dolled up with that crop tee and miniskirt he once mentioned would look great on you by a slip of tongue—that accidental comment earned him your teasing quips for weeks already.
"Sorry, I'm here for my girlfriend. Bye."
Abruptly dismissing the girl, he didn't catch how comically offended she was for being turned down in a span of 20 seconds. He took big strides towards you, as you crossed the street, and you immediately beamed when you caught the sight of his face.
"Megumi!"
Ah, this is going to be a good day, he thought. As he gazed at your pretty face, and caught your hand in his, clasping it tightly, reveling in your scent and the warmth of your presence beside him—
He was content, and once again it dawned on him, that he likes you so, so damn much.
"Let's get started on our date, shall we?"
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