#to help make up for the fact he practically ignored you the entire day

[potionpeddlerpatchy]

My darling wifey patchy♡♡♡

I love a mood board and beach hc of me and Kuroo going on a double date with you and bokuto ♡♡♡

Mar! My darling sweet, so happy you could come to my beach party! Just would not be the same without you! And I am glad you brought Kuroo, because he will keep my Bo happy and occupied as I spend all my time with you~ 😉💛

Unfortunately, because you are at the beach, there is only one thing that comes to Kuroo's mind and that is volleyball. Despite getting it mostly out of his system in his younger days, he still gets a craving for it! And what better place to do it than at the beach!?

So, expect lots of his old (and current) buddies to be tagging along on your day out.

But you can't complain, at least not too much, because not only will you still have company *cough cough me cough* but you'll get to see your beloved all glistening in the sun as he gives it his all in the fake volleyball tournament they started 😏 Of course, you'll have to be close by to properly cheer and motivate Kuroo as he plays.

Of course, when the day moves on, and everyone is tired of playing, he'll take you on a few strolls to enjoy the beautiful scenery and cool water!

And, when the sun sets in the sky, you KNOW he has a dinner reservation waiting for you both at the nearby marina so you can enjoy a lovely date night after~

Also also! Please enjoy your moodboard! 😊💛

come join my beach party~ 🔮

[the-raindeer-king]

(A/N: prt 3 of Mama Riley! One use of pronouns but it's nothing too gendered. Ignore any spelling error. I wrote part of this half asleep.)

Silence stretches out between you and Mama Riley. She's dropped an absolute bombshell of information so casually, as if it was like talking about the weather. And she's so confident in her statement, leaving no room for argument.

You're not entirely sure how to respond. But you manage to squeak out, “Is that so?” which is such a bad response. You can't help but cringe at yourself.

It makes Mama Riley laugh though. She really does like you. You're a firecracker, in her opinion, and she thinks you'd be good for Simon. But she promises that if you don't want to date him, that's okay. You two were friends before Simon caught feelings, and she won't let anything change that. She tells you to at least consider it.

You spend the next week considering it. Looking back over your interactions with Simon, knowing how he feels, it feels almost obvious. He's tense around you because he likes you. He keeps bringing you gifts and remembering your favorite drink because he likes you.

But where do your own feelings lie? You hated him in the beginning, and gradually warmed up to the mountain of a man. But do you have feelings for him? The thought process makes your head spin, and there's a weird feeling in your chest. The question is no closer to being answered.

Not until he returns from deployment. He's got a new scar on his ear, and there's a limp in his walk. Caught a knife in the side, just barely missed anything important, he informs you and his mum. And your heart clenches at the thought.

Before you can really think about it, you're scolding him for being so casual about being injured. He's got people who care about him, he can't be so flippant about these things. He has a reason to come home, so he needs to act like it. If not for his own sake, then for you and his mom.

Despite the fact that you're chewing him out, there's this tender look on his face, affection in his eyes. He quietly huffs out a ‘yes ma'am/sir’, and the warmth in his eyes is reflected by the warmth growing on your cheeks.

There's a pause, something heavy in the air. Simon opens his mouth, ready to say something, but the moment is broken when Mama Riley comes bustling into the living room, dinner plates in hand. Her eyes dart between the two of you for a moment, a knowing smile on her face. But she doesn't comment on anything, just passes out dinner and settles down on the loveseat.

Over the next few weeks, you and Simon have a lot of tense moments, ready to finally admit your feelings to each other. But each time is ruined by some interruption. Mama Riley interrupts, your phone rings. Once, the kids down the hall came running past, shrieking about the upcoming snowfall.

Poor Simon is trying not to totally lose it. This is the closest he's gotten to admitting his feelings, to have you finally, and every time something interrupts you. He doesn't want to mess this up. It needs to be perfect because, in his head, that's what you deserve, that's how he's going to win you over. Unbeknownst to Simon, he's already won your heart. He just needs to ask you out.

Once again, it's Mama Riley to the rescue. You three have a tradition: the days leading up to Simon's next deployment, you all spend the night at Mama Riley's flat together. Now, Simon's on leave for the next few weeks, but she can't bear to watch the two of you struggle like this.

So she invites you both over, insisting that it'll be nice to have you both over for something fun instead of sad. And then she conveniently remembers that she's got a book club tonight, and she leaves, telling you two to get comfy, watch a movie. She'll be back.

Now's a better time than never, especially since Mama Riley's practically given you the chance. She's gone all of two seconds, before you whip your attention onto Simon, blurting out, “Your mom told me you're in love with me. Is that true?”

[kookslastbutton]

Guilty Pleasures ༓ jjk, kth (m) | chapter v

✑ Summary: Three years of being Seoul's power couple earns you nothing but a big fat divorce settlement and your face plaster on every gossip column around town. You're angry, hurt, and desperately want to move on, but worst of all? You're still in love with the man who started the whole mess, even though the most he can ever see you as is a friend. The renowned actor you've hired to be your company's new endorser seems to have a soft spot for you though. He's easy on the eyes, you'll admit, but who actually wants a divorcee like yourself? It's unrealistic really.

pairing: ex-husband ceo!jungkook x ceo!reader, actor!taehyung x ceo!reader

genre/AU: angst, smut, fluff, loverstoexesto ?, coworkers2?, unrequited love

Word count: 14k+

Warnings: oc and jk are both 30, Taehyung is 32, swearing, tornado of emotions, morally grey characters, mentions of toxic relationships, mentions of broken home/families, mean relatives, mentions of therapy, struggles of self-blame, regret, guilt, denial, self-deprecating in some areas etc., mentions of alcohol consumption, mentions of sexism in the media and business world, there is one scene depicting some physical violence (tame) , finally some fluff!, and I won't spoil any more

playlist: Unkiss Me, Apologize, Hate That I Love You, etc.

a/n: OMG....ignore the fact that this is releasing a month after ch. 4. 🫠 i'm sorry. On the bright side, I'm VERY excited to share this with you AND this actually isn’t the last chapter. There’s one more after! I hope you enjoy 🥰 ALSO, this is GP!Taehyung in this chapter (....😮‍💨)

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"This can't be right," you mutter to yourself for the umpteenth time, eyes heavily fixated on your laptop screen. You've been scrolling through the latest press releases all morning, a cup of tea growing cold beside you.

Ever since Jimin’s text last week, rumors about your ex-husband stepping down from his position at JeonX practically spread like wildfire, with nearly every journalist adding their individual spin on the matter—some suggest personal issues, while others hint at possible disagreements within the company.

Despite the influx of information, however, it all remains too vague and inconclusive. An official statement from the company directly would help clear up speculations, but it’s been crickets. Their silence only makes you consider the validity of the rumors even more.

Why would they make such a critical leadership change right after their newest product launch though?

This question, among others, continuously swirl in the back of your mind and you find the entire predicament ironic. You used to be one of the first to know the ins and outs of the company, easily able to distinguish the truth. Now, you're left in the dark like everyone else, dependent on the media for answers.

Before your eyes have time to skim the next group of articles on your screen, your phone rings.

It's Taehyung.

“Hey,” you answer casually, momentarily forgetting the significance of the call.

“Morning!” His voice is gravelly yet carries a cheerful tone. He seems quite upbeat for a foggy Saturday at 8 a.m. “Are you still okay to carpool to my parents' place today? Tan and I are on our way over.”

Dammit. Of course, this isn’t just any old Saturday—it’s the day of Taehyung’s family gathering. It had slipped your mind that you asked to ride together a few days prior. Given that it would be a five-hour long commute, driving separately seemed less convenient and enjoyable. Besides, you’d miss out on having Tan on your lap, his head poking out of the passenger-side window.

“Yeah, I’m good to go,” you reply, trying to sound more confident than you feel. “I’ll be ready when you get here.”

“Great! See you soon.” Taehyung hangs up, and you put your phone down with a deep breath.

To be blunt, you're still extremely nervous about the affair. Surely his family knows who you are and has seen their fair share of articles about you. So how will they react when you show up next to Taehyung at their family function? He says they’ll like you, but it's hard to accept.

Nonetheless, you know how important this family gathering is to him and how much he wants you to be there. Not only is it a family event, but it’s also a celebration of his recovery from a motorcycle accident that could’ve been much worse.

As you pour your cold cup of tea down the sink, you try to push away the unsettling mix of thoughts, focusing instead on the next task at hand— how you should dress. Prior conversations with Taehyung advise you that something polished would be ideal for the occasion, as his family appreciates a touch of elegance, yet your mind blanks on a tangible option. Surely, there’s something in the back of your closet that would do the trick. Right?

Well…you’re right-ish.

Upon searching through rows of hangers, arms growing tired, you finally find a somewhat suitable sundress. You’re hoping it won’t look too casual, but you don’t seem to have a better alternative with your closet currently overtaken by work clothes.

Wasting no further time, you quickly slip the dress over your head and observe how it fits in the mirror. Not bad, you think, before deciding on a few complimentary jewelry pieces. The saving grace of this choice of clothing is that it can easily be dolled up, which is exactly what’s needed today.

Soon, you hear the muffling of an engine and when you peek through your bedroom window, you’re unsurprised to see Taehyung’s car pull into the driveway with a very excited Tan poking his head out from the backseat. A small smile forms on your lips at the sight.

Sparing one final look in the mirror, you slide into your shoes, toss your bag over a shoulder, and head outside to meet them.

“Hey!” Per usual, you're met with a warm smile as you hop into Taehyung's car but before you can return the greeting, Tan bounds onto your lap, tail wagging eagerly. “God, I’m so sorry about him,” Taehyung reaches for his dog, but you quickly reassure him it’s alright.

“I’m happy to see you too, Tan,” you laugh, petting him affectionately. Your focus then shifts over to Taehyung, "Thanks for coming to get me."

“Of course,” he replies, smile widening as he watches Tan settle into your lap. “I’m really glad you’re coming with me," he continues, pulling away from the curb. "My parents are looking forward to meeting you.”

You nod, trying to calm your fluttering nerves. “I’m looking forward to meeting them too.” This time, when you glance his way, you take in his attire—a crisp white button-up shirt, sleeves rolled to the elbows, and black dress pants. It’s a classic look, yet it seems oddly refreshing on him. It's not like you expected Taehyung to look bad or anything; far from it, but did he always have to look this good? A queasy feeling soon settles in the pit of your stomach...maybe you should have worn something else.

Before you're able to fully turn away from him, Taehyung speaks up. “You look really nice today,” he says softly, eyes lingering over your face and down your body before shyly refocusing on the road. “That dress is beautiful on you—it really suits you.”

“Oh, thank you,” you reply with a shy smile of your own, unexpectant of his comment. “You don’t look half bad yourself.”

Something about the subtle exchange of compliments stirs a bundle of nerves in both of you and even with averted eyes, neither of you finds it entirely unpleasant.

The rest of the drive is long, but luckily, soon fills with lighthearted conversation and laughter. It's become easier and easier to be around Taehyung, you think.

After more than a few bathroom breaks—mostly due to Tan’s persistent whining—you finally catch sight of Taehyung’s parent’s house.

It’s even more picturesque than you imagined, with its charming architecture and well-tended garden. In the distance, the ocean glimmers, tying the scene perfectly together.

“I meant to mention earlier, but my parents have an oceanfront view,” Taehyung says casually, pulling up to the house. “We can go down there later if you’d like. It’s private access.”

“Really?” You glance over at him with anticipation, your excitement clear. You can already taste the saltiness of the water. “If it’s really okay, I’d love that.”

“It’s more than okay,” he assures with a smile. “In fact, it’s a done deal. The best time to go is in the evening. We can even use the excuse that we need to take Tan for a little stroll if necessary. Family bonding can get a bit overwhelming without a few breaks.” He lets out a chuckle but stops when he notices your slightly demure expression.

“Hey,” he turns to you with gentle eyes. “Everything okay?”

You blink, momentarily pulled from your thoughts. “Oh, yeah, sorry. I was just thinking it’s been a while since I’ve gone to any kind of family affair. They know I’m coming, right?”

Understanding your apprehension, Taehyung shifts the gear into park and places a light hand on your arm. “Absolutely, and please believe me when I say they’re more than ready and excited to meet you. They’ve asked about you so many times—I’m pretty sure I’ve lost count. I’m really happy you’re here with me too, so I hope you don’t feel like you’re intruding because I promise you’re not at all. And if at any point you need a moment to yourself, take it. I want you to feel as comfortable as possible, and I’m confident my family will want the same.”

With his hand on your arm, you find yourself wrapping yourself in the comfort of the gesture, nerves slowly easing in the process. “Thanks, Tae,” you reply, feeling a tad lighter than before.

“Are you ready?”

You nod, signaling him to remove his hand to take the key out of the ignition. As his hand leaves your arm however, you feel a subtle, unexpected shift—wishing the warmth of his touch could linger just a moment longer.

But hold up.

Since when did he affect you like this?

Dwelling on it further proves to be futile because before you can blink, the house’s front door swings wide open, revealing an older, petite woman with a kind and inviting smile. You both step out of the car immediately, Tan happily trotting around the yard confidently.

The woman pulls Taehyung into a big hug once close enough, and it’s all the evidence you need to deduce that she must be his mother.

“We were wondering where you were!” she starts. “Everyone’s here except you.” It’s a light scold, not that Taehyung minds from the giant grin spreading across his face.

“Forgive me, Mom. I guess we’re fashionably late,” he replies.

Mrs. Kim looks up and down her son with adoration, hands still gripping his arms. “Look at you,” she coos, as if proud. “My son is so handsome. I’m so happy to see you here, healthy and well.”

“Mom, this is __.”

Her eyes then shift to you, standing somewhat awkwardly beside them. If possible, her warm expression brightens even more, taking you by surprise.

“My goodness, I’m being so rude," she says, stepping toward you. "It’s wonderful to finally meet you, honey. Are you okay with hugs?”

“Sure.” You offer a sincere smile and embrace her. When you do, you feel a sense of peacefulness that you hadn’t ever before, soothing any lingering tension. You can’t help but assume that many of Taehyung’s qualities must come from her.

“I’m so pleased that my son brought you today,” she says, pulling back from the hug. She takes in your clothing as well. “You're absolutely lovely, my dear. Doesn't this color work wonderfully on her?” She glances at Taehyung, who merely nods in agreement.

“You’re the one who looks beautiful, Mrs. Kim,” you return the compliment, feeling a tad embarrassed by all the praise. “I love your earrings by the way. Are they jade?”

She nods, pleasantly. “Thank you for noticing. They’re indeed jade. My husband gifted them to me for our anniversary last year. I told him he didn’t need to get me anything, but that man is so persistent. Speaking of which, you should come inside and meet him.” She turns around at once and ushers you and Taehyung into the house. He allows you to go first.

As you follow Mrs. Kim up the steps, Tan bounds ahead excitedly. The aroma of delicious food fills the air the further you walk, and soon you’re greeted by a cozy, homey atmosphere.

Finally, you find Taehyung’s father in the kitchen, washing his hands at the sink. “Honey, Taehyung’s here and he brought __ with him.” Upon hearing your name, the man quickly dries his hands on a towel and extends a friendly hand your way, eyes twinkling.

“Hello, __! I’m glad you could come today. We’ve heard so much about you.”

“Likewise,” you reply, “Thank you for welcoming me into your home. It’s gorgeous in here.”

“Well, we have our son to thank.” He directs his attention to Taehyung, reaching out and patting his son on the back with a proud smile. “He bought this house for us after all. He’s a good son.”

What?

You glance at Taehyung in surprise, intrigued to learn more about this new bit of information. However, seemingly flustered by the comment, you decide it’s better to save it for another time. His mother is quick to step in.

“Taehyung, dear, why don’t you show __ around and introduce her to everyone?” she suggests smoothly. “They’re all in the living room. We’ll gather everyone to have lunch soon.”

Taehyung nods at the suggestion and begins leading you through the house, until you reach the living room at the end of the hall. The room is even larger than you anticipated upon entering, its high ceilings finished with a delicate glass chandelier. A grand piano sits in the far corner as well where a number of children huddle together, each taking turns playing a few notes.

One by one, Taehyung starts introducing you to his relatives and despite your initial apprehension, each person you meet greets you with nothing but warmth and kindness. Not even a single person shows discomfort towards you or makes a dig into your personal life (though you’re certain they’re well aware of who you are). It’s no wonder Taehyung boasts about his family so often—they truly are a close-knit and respectable group of people.

At least, that’s what you think until Taehyung asks, “Where's Auntie and Uncle? I haven’t seen them yet.”

One of Taehyung’s cousins looks a bit hesitant before replying, “Oh, Tae, I’m sorry, but we haven’t heard anything from them so they might not be coming today. Maybe they had last-minute plans. It’s a bit of a shame, really.”

An odd silence settles over the room at this, conversations lower in volume, and a few knowing glances are exchanged among relatives. The abrupt shift seems to throw a wrench into your previous statement of closeness since, evidently, the absence of Taehyung’s aunt and uncle casts a dark shadow over the cheerful gathering.

Sensing an awkward lull, Taehyung tries to lighten the mood with a bright smile. “Well, I’m sure we’ll still have a great time. I’m just happy to see everyone here.” He gently redirects the conversation to something more upbeat, attempting to remedy the unusual tension.

Just then, a small figure bursts into the room, capturing everyone’s attention.

A little girl, no more than six or seven years old, runs straight toward Taehyung with arms outstretched. “Taetae!” she shouts, using the affectionate nickname as she latches herself around his legs.

Taehyung's face breaks into possibly the happiest grin you’ve seen in response as he kneels to lift her up effortlessly, holding her close as she giggles. “Hey, sweetheart! I missed you!” His voice is filled with affection, though there’s a hint of shock as well.

Eagerly, the little girl secures her arms around his neck. “I missed you too! Mommy and Daddy said we might not be able to come, but here we are!”

“Well, I'm so glad! Have you been a good girl for your parents?” he asks with a playful tone.

The little girl nods vigorously. “Yes! I’ve been helping Mommy with so much lately.”

“Good job!” Taehyung says, giving her a high five.

You’re unsure exactly how the two relate, but the longer you watch the interaction unfold, the more evident it becomes that Taehyung’s a natural at connecting with children. His playful demeanor and patience make it clear that he has a special way with them. It’s heartwarming to see, quite honestly.

“Taetae, who’s she?” the little girl asks suddenly, her big, curious eyes setting on you.

Taehyung smiles and gestures for you to come closer. “This is __. She’s my friend.” He looks at you and adds, “This is my little cousin Eun-ha. We’re quite close.”

“Hi, Eun-ha,” you greet with a soft smile. “It’s so nice to meet you.”

She doesn’t return your greeting, but rather leans into Taehyung’s ear and whispers something you can’t quite hear.

Taehyung chuckles softly, though it does little to conceal your curiosity. “No, Eun-ha,” he says, shaking his head. “We don’t kiss like in my movies. But yes, she's very pretty.”

Though you wish otherwise, your surprise is barely hidden as you process the revelation.

“Why not?” Eun-ha asks, puzzled. “You kiss lots of pretty people in the movies.”

Flustered, Taehyung clears his throat. “Who’s letting you watch my shows? You’re a little young for those I think.”

“She likes to watch them when she can’t see you,” a new voice interjects.

Following the voice, you see two adults entering the room– Taehyung’s aunt and uncle. Their expressions are clearly stiff and somewhat distant, a stark contrast to the warmth of the rest of the family.

“Well, I guess it’s okay then,” Taehyung responds, maintaining his usual beaming smile. “Auntie, Uncle, it’s good to see you.”

His aunt and uncle offer polite but somewhat curt greetings.

“Glad to see you’re alright, Taehyung,” his aunt says, her tone lacking warmth.

“Hello,” his uncle adds, his expression neutral. “I see you’ve brought a guest.” He nods toward you.

“Yes, this is __,” Taehyung introduces you, “She’s a friend of mine and a colleague as well.”

The pair glance at you briefly, their eyes betraying a lack of interest.

“Nice to meet you,” his aunt says, though the thickness in her tone suggests otherwise.

“Likewise,” you respond, trying to match their formality with a friendly smile.

“You know, when I heard my nephew was bringing a guest, I wasn’t quite sure what to expect,” she continues, though the implication is unclear.

“I’m sorry?” you ask, trying to grasp her meaning.

“My apologies. I work as an editor for a journalism outlet, so I’ve come across your name before,” she explains. “It’s always interesting to see people in person after reading about them. I can’t say I ever imagined having the opportunity today.”

“Oh,” you say, trying to keep your composure. “I hope the coverage has been accurate.” You know they haven’t been, aside from a couple of progressive news outlets. Based on her rigid stare, you don’t think she belongs to either of them.

“They’re accurate most of the time,” she replies, her eyes narrowing slightly. “Although, there are always…different perspectives on such matters.”

You offer a polite, tight-lipped smile in response. Despite your best efforts to remain composed, however, your hands unconsciously clench into fists at your sides, indicating your bubbling discomfort.

“Well, I’m sure those articles are just one side of the coin,” Taehyung chimes in, attempting to smooth over the conversation. “I’m of the mindset that you really don’t know a person until you spend time with them. And I can assure you, those overpriced tabloids have it all wrong.” He shoots you a reassuring look.

In the midst of it all, Taehyung’s father steps into the room, oblivious to the tension. “Alright everyone, it’s time to eat!” he announces, his voice carrying a cheerful note. “Let’s gather around now.”

Neither you nor Taehyung’s aunt speak another word to each other as you follow his father into the dining room. You take a deep breath along the way, an attempt to steady yourself.

As lunch begins, Taehyung’s father stands at the head of the table, a broad smile on his face as he raises a glass.

“We want to thank everyone for being here today to celebrate Taehyung’s recovery,” he begins, his voice filled with heartfelt sincerity. “We’re grateful for this family and for the love and support that has carried us through. To Taehyung!”

“To Taehyung!” everyone echoes, lifting their glasses in a unified cheer.

From then on, the meal progresses smoothly, with conversation gradually returning to pleasant topics. Dishes are passed around, and laughter helps lighten the mood. Taehyung’s parents share stories of their journey together, their voices rich with wisdom and nostalgia. As you listen, you get a glimpse of the morals that have shaped their family. It’s so different from your own upbringing, and you feel honored to be a part of it today.

Yet it's still difficult to ignore the lingering heaviness in your chest from your earlier interaction with Taehyung’s aunt. Even now, her sour expression is directed your way, though she seems to withhold her remarks, perhaps due to Mr. and Mrs. Kim’s presence.

Don’t take this personally, you repeat in your head. There’s likely some underlying history or traditional views being projected onto you. This isn’t really about you…don't take it personally.

Midway through the meal, Taehyung’s mother intrigues everyone by pulling out a collection of old photographs. She begins sharing the backstories of various childhood photos of Taehyung, the corners of her eyes crinkling with joy and amusement as she recounts each memory. Taehyung, visibly flustered, tries to hide his blush as his family teases him.

“Oh, look at this one!” his mother exclaims, holding up a particularly old photo of a much younger Taehyung with a hilariously exaggerated hairstyle. “He was so determined to be a rock star!”

The room bursts into laughter, and Taehyung grins sheepishly, his cheeks rosy. “Is this really necessary? I mean __’s here…”

“Come on, Tae, it’s cute!” you say with a smile, giving his arm a playful shove. As you do, Taehyung’s aunt’s eyes widen slightly. Her gaze shifts sharply between you two, and a flicker of disapproval crosses her face. You stop your playfulness upon first notice, finding it hard to ignore.

“It’s embarrassing,” Taehyung retorts, unaware of his aunt’s reaction.

“Oh hush,” his mother replies with a warm smile. “Let a mother indulge in the memories of her children. You’re all grown up now, and with your busy schedule, I hardly see you anymore.”

“Alright, fair point,” Taehyung concedes. “Carry on.”

When the meal winds down, Taehyung’s aunt clears her throat and speaks up. “Is everyone ready for dessert? I’ve baked a homemade cake,” she announces, tone carrying a hint of forced cheerfulness. Turning to you, she adds, “Would you mind assisting me in the kitchen, __? I could use an extra hand.”

Taehyung immediately offers to help, but his aunt insists on speaking with you alone, masking it as an opportunity to get to know you better.

Once you’re in the kitchen and away from prying eyes and ears, Taehyung’s aunt’s demeanor shifts abruptly. She returns to her previous blunt and unreserved nature. “I need to be honest with you,” she begins, her voice low and steely. “I don’t think you should be here.”

Her words sting, yet a part of you can’t help but wonder if there’s some merit to them.

“I know this is a family event, and I’m sorry if it seems like I’m intruding. Taehyung invited me.”

“No, that’s not what I meant,” she dismisses, venom lacing her tone. “I mean, you shouldn’t be here with Taehyung.”

“I’m not sure what you’re referring to—”

“Oh please, don’t pretend I don’t have eyes, Ms. __,” she interjects sharply. The use of your formal name sends a chill down your spine. “You may be friends now, but I can see there’s more going on beneath the surface. Unlike the rest of my family, I won’t just stand by and let it happen. So, if you think you can charm your way into my nephew’s life just like you did with that ex-husband of yours, then you’re mistaken. I won’t allow you to ruin his life.”

Ruin his life? You ruined Jungkook’s life and now you are about to ruin Taehyung’s? Confused and hurt, you finally realize the root of the matter–she's convinced you’re a gold digger.

You’re stunned by the accusation, struggling to find words as she continues. “There’s nothing you can say to change my mind either. Even if the articles aren’t exactly true, you still have a past, and Taehyung deserves better—someone without all these complications. Don’t you agree? Maybe if you hadn’t been married before and were ten years younger, things might be different. But honestly? A woman your age should already have a family of her own.”

Silence falls heavily in the kitchen after her final words, the only sound being your labored breaths. Your throat goes dry and your hands clammy as some of your deepest insecurities take root, striking right at your core.

It’s true—you’re 30 years old, divorced, and without children. It’s a stark contrast to your peers.

You’d always imagined your life turning out differently, but here you are, alone and without any kind of companionship. You weren’t expecting to be reminded of it all today.

“I think you’ve made yourself clear about how you feel,” a voice speaks up, and you think it’s yours, until you realize it’s much too deep.

Taehyung’s aunt looks momentarily stunned to see her nephew standing in the doorway, his expression a mixture of shock and anger. But she quickly regains her composure. “Taehyung, I was just—”

“Please don’t,” he interrupts, voice firm. “If I had known you were going to be this cruel towards someone I deeply care about, then I’m sorry I invited you.”

He steps closer, his gaze unwavering. “You have no right to judge someone you don’t know based on rumors and assumptions.”

His aunt’s face softens, though her disapproval remains. “I’m only looking out for you. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I don’t need you to protect me from my own choices,” Taehyung replies, his voice calmer. “I’ve made my own decisions, and __ is a part of that. If you can’t respect that, then maybe you should reconsider how you approach these situations.”

Taehyung’s aunt stands silent for a moment, her gaze shifting between Taehyung and you. She seems to weigh his words before finally nodding and turning back towards the dining room, her displeasure still evident.

Taehyung turns to you, his face etched with worry. “Are you alright?”

You hesitate, unable to give a clear response. “I… I think I need some air,” you finally say.

“Maybe it’s time we take that walk down to the beach,” he suggests gently. “What do you think? Of course, if you’d prefer to go solo, that’s completely your call too. I’ll understand either way.”

You nod, appreciating the idea. “I’d like you to come with me.”

“Let me grab Tan and we can head down,” Taehyung says with a reassuring smile.

The sound of the waves grows louder as you approach the ocean, providing a soothing backdrop to your racing thoughts. It's even more beautiful up close, you think, observing how the sun reflects off the water.

As you walk along the shore, Tan runs ahead, chasing the waves and barking playfully. The sight of him brings a small smile to your face, easing some of the heaviness in your chest.

Taehyung walks beside you, his presence peaceful, though neither of you are quick to speak.

Finally, after a few minutes pass, he breaks the silence.

“I’m really sorry about what happened back there," he says quietly. "My aunt's always had more traditional perspectives, but I didn’t know how rigid they’d gotten. Regardless of how she might've made you feel, I want you to know that you’re very important to me and I couldn't care less about what the public says. The rest of my family seems to love you too so far."

You take a deep breath, the salty air filling your lungs. “It’s not your fault, Taehyung. But thank you.” You pause, your face visibly conflicted. “To be honest, I’ve heard variations of it before from other people. I just didn’t expect her to be so… direct.”

He nods, turning to you with sincerity. “I know it was hurtful, and even though I didn’t hear everything she said, you didn’t deserve it. It's not true, either.”

You manage a small, tight-lipped smile, but it hardly matches how you feel inside. “Well,” you begin, continuing your walk, “some of it's true, I think.” Taehyung looks at you with concern, though you struggle to hold his gaze.

“Wanna sit?” he suggests lightly, gesturing to a spot on the beach with a clear view of the waves ahead. "Tan'll be fine to roam around on his own."

You nod slowly in reply, a gentle breeze caressing your face and feathering against your legs as you move.

Once you reach the area, you tuck the skirt of your dress beneath your thighs and take a seat on the soft sand. Taehyung sits down beside you.

“So,” he starts again, his eyes never leaving your face, “what’s true?"

You take a moment, watching the waves crash against the shore before forming a response. “It’s just…” Your voice falters as you search for the right words. “I’m 30 years old. The natural course for someone my age is to have a family, a couple of kids, and of course, be married. Or at the very least, have a reliable romantic partner.”

“Instead,” you take a short breath, “it feels like I’m living in a completely different reality from everyone else. Divorced from a big shot CEO, without children, and painted as some kind of spinster or gold digger for the media to exploit. Being a woman, there's really no in-between which makes it that much harder to overcome."

Upon finishing your thought, an unmistakable nervousness bubbles up within you. Had you just overshared? Were you too honest? Although unsettled, everything in you hopes that you didn't just overstep your boundaries with Taehyung, as the two of you hadn't had this deep of a conversation before. You find yourself holding your breath as he replies.

"To have all that unnecessary pressure placed on you is unfair,” he says quietly. “I can’t imagine how tough it must be to feel disregarded and reduced to so little. I'm so sorry, __. I'm sorry that we gets so fixated on image and what’s deemed proper that we often forget the real meaning behind things. I know it might be hard to believe, but there’s more to your story than what others see or say. More than even you might think, too."

As if inevitable, your vision goes misty and a tear spills down your cheek upon hearing his words, though you're quick to wipe it away. It's not that the words themselves are monumental, but rather, they confirm the closeness of your relationship. Few people have ever understood or cared to understand you, so you had stopped expecting it altogether, especially after your divorce. Yet somehow, Taehyung always surprises you, being one of the few who truly does.

Feeling a bit more comfortable, you admit, "I know it's probably an overstatement, but I can't help but feel like I'm alone in ways that are hard to escape. Some days I just don't know what to do with it all. Does that make sense?"

“Sweetheart,” Taehyung says softly, taking the hand you used to wipe your tears and lacing his fingers with yours. The warmth of his touch sends a comforting spark through you. He’s never called you that before, and it feels unexpectedly intimate—almost domestic, if you didn’t know better.

“It makes complete sense, especially given what you've gone through and still are. You don’t ever have to feel alone anymore though,” he continues. “I’m here for you. You have Jimin and Namjoon too. And the three of us? We’ll always have your back.”

Your eyes soften as you meet his gaze. He’s looking at you with such warmth and innocence, yet he hasn’t fully grasped the weight of your words.

“I appreciate it,” you say gratefully. “It’s not all one-dimensional, though. When I say I feel alone, I mean relationally as well because, given my age and marital status, it's unlikely I'll find any real companionship. I’m just considered ‘used goods' after all.”

“Used goods? Who the hell said you're used?” Taehyung’s voice rises, not in anger but in genuine offense. Amid his reaction, his hand slips from yours.

“Our entire society?” you retort, raising your voice before lowering it again, realizing he means well. You pull your legs up to your chin and hug them. “I’m divorced, Tae. I’m no beauty queen. Just used goods, as I said.”

You both stare out into the distance, falling into a brief silence.

“Well, I for one think you’re very gorgeous,” he says softly, still gazing ahead. “So please, don’t call yourself used. You’re definitely not.”

“Tae—”

“Do you wish you were still married?” he interjects gently, eyes returning to yours, searching for the truth. He wants to add, To Jungkook? but keeps it to himself, not deeming it his business.

You take a moment to process his question before responding.

“Some days I do,” you admit. “Not just with anyone, though. I’ve already learned my lesson the hard way. Jimin tried setting me up with a few of his coworkers a while back, but I declined. They’re so far away that I doubt anything would work out. Plus, not to be harsh but who in their right mind would risk it with me anyway?”

“I mean...I would,” he replies almost immediately, insistence in his voice. There's no trace of bluff at all and for a moment, your heart feels like it's doing about a hundred somersaults in your chest. Taehyung's seriousness makes it seem like he means it in a deeper way, but it can't be—he’s merely speaking figuratively because of your closeness.

“Of course you would,” you reply, grabbing his hand again and smiling gratefully. “Because you love me, right?”

You pose the question playfully, feeling your mood lift slightly, but Taehyung’s expression turns stunned, like a deer caught in headlights.

“I do,” he finally murmurs, deep and meaningful, a soft glimmer in his eyes. “I really do.”

"Hu-" you choke on your words, still trying to process his. You never finish, though, as Taehyung suddenly moves to stand up, a newfound cheekiness taking precedence over his face.

“Come on,” he says, “on a warm day like this, we should find a way to enjoy ourselves. Dance with me.”

“What?” you ask, though to be honest, you're not surprised by his spontaneity. “Dancing is a no, Tae. You know I have zero rhythm.”

He doesn’t reply to your argument but instead draws his phone from his pocket, tapping around until light jazz music starts playing. He turns up the volume as loud as he can before placing it on the ground beside you.

“What are you doing?” you watch as he begins swaying his body from side to side, snapping his fingers when the beat feels right.

“I’m dancing by myself since you refuse to get up.”

You laugh, “I happen to like it this way. You can be my source of entertainment.” You adjust yourself so your legs are stretched out in front of you, feet crossed as you lean back on your arms.

He chuckles and continues dancing in small circles. You feel a little guilty the longer you watch. But then...

“__,” he calls your name, low and raspy. He steps over towards you and leans down until he's face to face with you. You like the way the sun glows down on his face, and the thought crosses your mind—he looks incredibly handsome. “__,” he calls your name again, and you realize you've been staring a little too long.

“Sorry,” you reply. “Sun’s making me dazed.”

He gives his usual boxy smile, and damn, why are you feeling so affected by him today? It’s not usually this much.

“Will you please dance with me? I don’t mind dancing by myself, but I prefer a partner.” He pouts and you know you’re done for.

“I’m not going to be good though,” you reply, reluctantly rising from your comfortable seated position. Taehyung pulls you into his hold the moment you’re on your feet. It's a little rougher than he meant, and your bodies accidentally collide in the process.

“Shit, my bad,” he says, taking a small step back.

“It’s fine," you assure, doing the same but not before catching a whiff of his cologne. You can't quite place the scent, but it’s nice...really, really nice.

As the music continues to play, you both sway gently to the rhythm. Taehyung’s touch is warm and steady as he guides you through each simple step. You feel a strange sense of comfort and safety in his arms, and for a moment, it feels like the rest of the world fades away.

“I didn’t realize you were such a good dancer,” you start. “You’ve been keeping secrets from me.”

He spins you gently, and you let out a surprised laugh, the sound mingling with the soft notes of the jazz music. “I had to take ballroom dancing lessons for a role I played years ago,” he replies smoothly, “but I enjoyed it, so I kept it up.” When you come back to him, he holds you a little tighter, and the closeness feels more intimate and special than you anticipated.

“You’re doing great, by the way,” he whispers, his breath warm against your ear. "Even with barely any practice."

“All thanks to you,” you reply, a shy smile tugging at your lips. “I guess it’s kinda fun.”

“See? Not so bad,” he says with a triumphant grin.

You glance towards the ocean, feeling a rush of spontaneity yourself. “The water looks so inviting. We should go in.”

He quirks a brow, taking in both of your more formal attire. “Dressed like this?” he asks.

You don’t answer. Instead, you slide out of his hold and run towards the water, laughing and splashing him once he’s close enough behind you.

“Hey! This was expensive!” he shouts, but there's no threat in his voice, only amusement.

“Well, you shouldn’t have worn it around me then!” you tease, splashing him again.

Now nearly drenched, Taehyung huffs and bends down to scoop water into his palm. “You’re gonna get it…” You back away quickly, but he follows after you. “Come here, I have a very special gift for you __,” he says mischievously, water spilling from his hand as he chases you.

You both end up playing in the water for the next ten minutes, splashing and laughing until you find yourself regaining confidence. At some point, Taehyung unexpectedly tackles you from behind, his arms wrapping so tightly around your waist that no amount of movement would free you.

You find yourselves too lost in amusement to notice your closeness until small droplets of water begin falling from above.

"Was that rain?" You stop all movement, but his grip doesn’t loosen. "Tae?" You call his name when it seems he doesn’t register your question, twisting your head over your shoulder to peer at him.

“Oh…um, sorry,” he finally stammers, a faint blush rising to his cheeks as he realizes the tight hold he has on you. His body flushes against your back.

“No, it’s okay…” you struggle to conceal a blush of your own, the warmth of his embrace a little overpowering. "So, I think we should head back. I'm pretty sure it's raining."

He nods and slowly unwraps his arms from around you. "I agree, but where's Tan?" His eyes frantically scan around the beach. "Tan!" he calls, and soon, two fluffy, slightly damp ears pop out from behind a rock.

"Aww," you exclaim, bending down to pick up the little dog when he trots over. "Look at him. We neglected the baby."

Taehyung snorts at your remark. "He'll be okay. It barely started."

You pretend to cover Tan's ears and shoot Taehyung a faux alarmed expression. "He can hear you, you know."

Taehyung chuckles and gently cups Tan’s face while he nestles in your arms, planting a soft kiss on the top of his head. “Sorry, buddy,” he says with a grin. As he looks up, he catches a prolonged gaze in your eyes and raises an eyebrow. “What? You want one too?”

“Oh, uhm, no,” you laugh, a bit nervously, shaking your head. “It’s just nice to see you so endearing.” You think back to how Taehyung had interacted so sweetly with his younger cousin, Eun-ha, earlier. It’s a side of him you're finding increasingly appealing.

Taehyung's gaze softens as he replies, “I like to take care of those I love.”

Love, you repeat quietly to yourself. It sounds so different when he says it.

You smile and, side by side, head back to the house.

The faint drizzle of rain quickly turns into a downpour, with a flash of lightning illuminating the sky and thunder rumbling in the distance. Despite the potential inconvenience, Taehyung’s parents insist that it would be better for both of you to wait until morning to drive back.

"It isn't safe," his mom advises, fluffing a pillow in the guest bedroom. "The two of you can stay here for the night. I’d offer the living room sofa too, but some of your cousins are staying over as well."

"Thanks, Mom," Taehyung replies, and when she leaves the room he casts a brief glance your way. “I’ll sleep on the floor.”

“What? No, you can sleep in the bed with Tan." You pause, eyes scanning the room for an alternative spot. “This chair looks pretty comfortable. I’ll grab a blanket and make do.”

"Okay no, I’m not letting you sleep on that old, dusty chair and risk waking up with a giant kink in your neck.” Taehyung places his hands on his hips, his tone firm. “Why don’t we just sleep in the bed together? For some inexplicable reason, my parents chose to put a California King in here so there should be plenty of room. I’ll even sleep on top of the covers.”

“No, it's fine. Tan needs his space."

“Sweetheart." There it is again, that same petname from earlier. Why do you not seem to hate it? "Tan is so tiny he’ll literally curl between us," he argues, though it does little to convince you.

“Tae, I told you it’s—”

“Alright, I’ll take the chair then-” Taehyung starts to move toward it, but stubbornly, you block his path. There's no way he's sleeping on a chair when you're the guest here.

“You will do no such thing!" Naturally, you place your hands on your hips. “This is your home—well, your parent's home and I won't be subjecting you to sleep on something that small. Seriously Tae, I'd fit much better on it than you would given our height differences.”

A small, frustrated sigh escapes him as he counters, “I'd really rather you be comfortable, especially in an unfamiliar environment. So can we please stop arguing about this? It’s really unnecessary. Either I take the chair or we both find a way to share the bed. You can’t tell me you and Jimin never shared a bed before, and he’s your friend too!"

“Yes, but that’s different,” you insist. “Jimin and I have been friends for years! There’s a strong trust built between us.”

“What do you mean by that? You don’t trust me?” His face mirrors that of a sad, puppy-dog.

“Tae, it’s not that at all,” you say softly, trying to sound reassuring. “I do trust you. It’s just… I guess I just meant that Jimin and I have a long history together. We’ve grown very comfortable with each other in ways you and I haven’t yet.”

Taehyung’s brows furrow in concern. “What are you really worried about, __?”

You shrug, feeling a bit flustered. “Nothing…”

Your mind immediately drifts back to the beach—how he listened, held your hand gently, the way his eyes crinkled when he laughed, and what it felt like to be held so close under the rain. Everything felt so genuine, warm, and openly vulnerable.

You share similar feelings with Jimin, but they have limits as you are definitely only friends… best friends, to be precise. With Taehyung, you figured it would be the same; however, after today, you're realizing more and more how unsure you are of where the limits are (or where you want them to be), and it startles you.

But it’s not this alone that fuels your apprehension tonight— there’s something else.

“You know I won’t do anything right?” Taehyung asks, his voice earnest. “I sleep with five pillows!”

You raise an eyebrow, a faint smile tugging at your lips despite yourself. “Five? What the hell, Tae? Are you a princess?”

“Yes,” Taehyung says, more nonchalantly than expected, “but stop deflecting. It sounds weird and a bit kinky, but why won’t you sleep in the bed with me?”

Should you tell him?

Your expression grows serious as you explain, “Because it can be very intimate,” you murmur softly. “Maybe I'm overthinking it all, but the last time I shared a bed with someone it...uhm...it was…”

“...with your ex-husband,” Taehyung finishes for you, his tone gentle with understanding. His eyes soften as he looks at you.

“Yes…” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. “It’s silly, but I haven’t done it in a long time. Even Jimin and I haven’t shared a bed in years.”

“I’m sorry…” Taehyung says, his voice filled with genuine regret.

“Tae, you don’t have to be sorry,” you say, shaking your head. “It’s my own issue. I’ll just sleep on the chair, alright? It’s only one night.”

“Not happening, you’ll take the bed with Tan.”

“Seriously,” you start to protest, but he’s already moving toward the foot of the bed with determination in his eyes. He grabs the blanket from the end and rushes over to the chair with haste. You run after him, pulling at his arm, and both of you end up laughing, the tension gradually breaking.

“It's been a very long day and I'm quite tired, __. How about turning off the lights, please?” He spreads out the blanket and settles into the chair with a satisfied sigh. Then, there’s a loud creak followed by a distinct cracking sound.

“Fuck—” Taehyung swears as the chair suddenly collapses under his weight. He rises from his seat, grimacing at the broken chair. “I knew it was old, but damn, I didn’t think it was that old.”

“Shit, please tell me this wasn't a family heirloom or something.”

“Uh… I don’t think so?” Taehyung scratches his head, looking sheepish. “I’ll let my mom know in the morning. It’ll be fine, okay? No worries. But, um, I’ll sleep on the floor instead.” Taehyung then grabs a couple pillows and a blanket and starts forming a makeshift bed on the floor. While you watch him, your heart softens despite your exhaustion.

“Alright, enough,” you sigh, exasperated. “If we keep this up, we’ll just be going in circles all night. Let’s just share the bed, Tae. It’s not worth you being uncomfortable.”

Taehyung looks up, concern written over his face. “Are you sure? I don’t want you feeling uncomfortable either. I’m happy to—”

“I’m sure,” you cut him off, doing your best not to overthink it. “You're the one who'll be driving for five hours tomorrow anyway, so let’s just get some decent rest. It's okay, really.”

After a good long pause, you both end up climbing into the bed, each taking your own side as Tan curls himself at the foot of the bed. Taehyung reaches over to turn off the light, but despite the calmness of the room, you find yourself unable to sleep right away. You’re unaware he feels similarly until he unexpectedly breaks the silence.

“Are you warm enough?” he asks quietly. “We have more blankets if you need them.”

You turn slightly toward him. “I’m okay for now, but thanks for checking.”

He gives a soft, reassuring smile. “Alright. Just let me know if you need anything. Sleep well.”

“Thanks, Tae.” You roll back onto your side and close your eyes. “You too.”

As the night deepens, the storm outside continues its relentless drumming against the windows. At some point, Taehyung jolts awake to a faint but unmistakable sound.

He blinks groggily at first, adjusting to the dim light filtering through the curtains. Then he notices your restless movements and hears you murmuring softly in your sleep, a note of distress in your voice.

"__?" he asks quietly, still half-asleep. "Are you okay?"

When you don’t respond, he shifts closer, concerned by the unease on your face. Seeing your share of the blankets has slipped off, he gently tugs them back over you, making sure they cover you comfortably.

Amid the movement, a muddled groan escapes your lips—something between a whimper and a sigh, "Mmm… no…"

It doesn't take a genius to figure out you must be having a nightmare of some sort. “It’s just a dream,” he whispers soothingly, brushing a stray hair from your face. “You’re safe here with me.”

He gently takes your slightly trembling hand and holds it gently in his. “I’m right here, __,” he sighs softly. “No matter what happens, I’ll always be here.”

Taehyung isn’t sure how much time passes before your restlessness stops, but he stays awake, hand clutching yours until it does. Eventually, assuming you’ve finally entered a more peaceful sleep, he releases your hand and rolls onto his side.

What he doesn't expect is for you to unconsciously follow him over, your body snuggling against his back. The warmth of your body against his is comforting, but he knows he can't let you stay there and risk any awkwardness in the morning. So with the utmost care, he rolls over to face you and gently adjusts your body until you're lying comfortably on your back again.

"I hope you'll be able to sleep better now," he whispers, his voice barely audible above the storm. "Goodnight."

Following the reunion, you and Taehyung part ways with mutual thank-yous and promises to see each other soon.

Time seems to vanish afterward as you find yourself increasingly buried under an endless pile of work projects. Apparently, over the weekend, a notable investor reached out to your company with hopes of setting up a meeting.

Namjoon is nearly tripping over his words when he relays the message to you.

"Can you believe it?" Your secretary stands within a foot from your desk, excitement evident in his voice. "They want to meet with us! This could be huge for our company."

You share his enthusiasm but your need to remain holistic in the matter tempers your ability to feel overly zealous. Meetings with investors always carry significant opportunities; however, there's no guarantee a deal will be struck. Truthfully, it depends on a number of factors, their level of interest outweighing them all.

Plus, every meeting requires extensive preparation—late nights where you tirelessly hunch over your computer, perfecting every detail of the pitch and this one promises to be no different.

"Did they happen to mention a time or date for further discussion?" you ask, matter-of-factly. Namjoon nods, pulling out his phone.

"Yes, they suggested next Wednesday at 10 AM.”

You weigh the proposal in your mind. “That should give us enough time to get everything in order, then,” you conclude. “Please put it in our calendar and let them know we’ll be ready to meet on that day.”

From then on, the remainder of your week unfolds exactly as you anticipate—relentless preparation, long nights, and meticulous planning until the small of your back aches for relief. One might say it's an exaggeration, but the only breaks you can afford are for primal necessities like eating, sleeping, and using the bathroom.

Even your weekend is spent within the walls of your home office, a far cry from previous weekends when you used to visit the book café or meet up with Taehyung.

Speaking of which, you haven’t really gotten to see each other since his family gathering and though it was only a week ago, the lack of his presence leaves you feeling a bit disheartened. He replied to your text yesterday, but even so, it was brief—something about a new project or talk show interview was keeping him busy as well.

By the time Wednesday arrives, your neck is so riddled with the stress of the upcoming investor meeting that you can barely focus on your proposal notes. Everything in you hopes that the investors will be impressed enough to partner with you, but thinking about it does nothing except heighten your nervousness.

In search of some kind of solace, your mind wanders to Taehyung instead. The memory of the small dance you shared with him on the beach is once again vivid, as if it happened just moments ago—the soft sand beneath your feet, the sound of the waves, and the way his gentle hands gripped around your waist.

But why does this memory, out of all the possibilities, feel so soothing?

You've been struggling to come to a plausible conclusion since the day it happened, yet deep down, you know it’s not as trivial as it seems. You miss it, your subconscious hums, you miss him.

Just then, Namjoon pokes his head into your office, signaling that the investors have arrived in the conference room. You send a curt nod in reply and gather your notes, refocusing your mind on the task at hand; everything else will have to wait.

Turns out, you might have been a bit too pessimistic about the investor meeting. They’re surprisingly pleased with your plans and proposals, nodding along to each of your points. However, their request for a day or two to reach a final decision catches you a tad off guard.

Rather than grapple with the uncertainty though, you decide to mentally prepare for whatever comes next... starting by decompressing at the bar downtown, a glass of their strongest alcohol in hand.

At first, finding a seat proves to be a challenge as you navigate through a sea of sweaty bodies. But luck, seemingly on your side, provides you with an empty chair at the far end of the bar. While you sit and order your drink, you can't help but wonder what Taehyung might be doing tonight. Should you text him to see if he’d join you, even if only for fifteen minutes?

Slipping your phone from the side pocket of your bag, you curse silently at your apparent haste. Your subconscious was right—you really have missed him, damn.

All at once, your thoughts are put to an abrupt stop when you take a quick glance around the bar, your gaze unprepared to land on two familiar silhouettes at the opposite end—Namjoon, with Taehyung next to him, drinks in hand. You don’t know how you failed to notice them before. They’re laughing, clearly enjoying each other’s company, and for a moment, your face lifts into a smile.

But that smile quickly fades when you catch sight of two women sauntering over to join them. Your initial joy is swiftly replaced by a sharp sting of jealousy and you chastise yourself for the feeling. Who are you to react this way? Taehyung can do whatever he wants—why should you care who he’s out with?

Forcing yourself to shake off the feeling, you take a sip of your drink, but your gaze keeps drifting back to the group. It’s obvious that the taller of the two women, arguably as stunning as Taehyung, is laser-focused on him, her hand brushing his arm lightly as she laughs at whatever joke he’s just told. Probably a dumb one, you think bitterly; it's obvious she's not just there for the humor and booze. It's strange to witness, as you've only known Taehyung to allow a few, select women to touch him so openly—his mother, his onscreen cast members, and you.

Okay __, stop, you scold yourself. This is a bad idea; you’re getting too involved for your own good. Hastily, you finish your drink and head out of the bar, the cool night air brushing against your skin. If Taehyung goes home with her, it’s none of your business.

You're barely a few feet outside the bar's door when you hear commotion echo from a nearby alley. Alarmed, you whip towards the noise, your eyes widening in disbelief. There, in the dim light, you see your ex-husband doubled over, clutching his stomach, while a shadowy figure stands in front of him, fist clenched.

You’re not sure where the courage comes from, but within seconds, you're springing to action, racing towards the scene with a surge of adrenaline. “Hey!” you shout as loudly as you can. The attacker glances back, frazzled, then bolts into the night, leaving Jungkook hunched against the alley wall.

“Oh my god, are you okay?” you ask frantically, rushing to his side and helping him to his feet. He flinches away from your touch initially, his face a mix of panic and agony. “It’s me, Jungkook. It's __. Can you hear me? It’s okay, I’m here,” you reassure him the best you can, hoping to ease him.

Jungkook takes a few shaky breaths, body still weak as he struggles to hold himself up against the wall. His eyes are glazed, and he seems disoriented. “I… I didn’t expect you,” he mutters, his voice strained.

Offering him an arm, you help him steady himself. “Let’s get you out of here, okay?” He nods weakly, and as you guide him towards the parking lot and into the light, you ask, "What happened back there? Do you need me to take you to the hospital?"

Jungkook sighs, wincing slightly. “No, it’s... I’m fine. He was just a kid—no more than 21. Angry, probably a little drunk, and accused me of being the reason his father got fired. At first, I was confused, but then I vaguely recognized him as being one of our employee’s sons. Pretty sure it was my dad who fired his—I was probably just an easier target."

You both fall into a contemplative silence as you continue walking. Of course Jungkook's father, the chairman of the company, would be behind this, you think. Previous times spent with him had shown you how ruthless he could be when it came to the "well-being" of his company. Whoever the kid was, he probably had a right to be angry, but physically taking it out on Jungkook wasn’t justifiable by any means.

“You sure you don’t need a doctor?” you ask, glancing at him with concern.

He shakes his head dismissively, "Don't worry about me," he replies. "A couple of punches to the gut won't kill me. I think it's about time I head home though."

You nod in agreement. “Where did you park?”

He points to a spot on the far left side of the parking lot, and you nearly groan at the sight. “Did you have to bring your bike tonight?” you ask, a hint of exasperation in your voice.

Jungkook gives a weak smile, understanding the inconvenience of the situation. “Thought I’d ride it in case I needed to get somewhere fast,” he replies, his voice strained but with a touch of humor.

"Come on," you say, walking him toward your car instead. "We might not be married anymore, but there’s no way in hell I'm letting you ride your bike home in this condition. You can pick it up tomorrow."

Jungkook chuckles weakly. “Damn, and to think we were about to ride it together for old times’ sake. You used to be pretty good with my motorcycle back when you were my girlfriend, __." You roll your eyes, patience thinning. If this is another one of his sexual advances, you’re long over it.

"Yeah, well, that was before Taehyung’s accident scared me half to death," you retort. "And for the record, I was never your girlfriend. We went from work partners straight to I do." You open the passenger door and help him into the seat, giving him a gentle shove. "Now sit tight and no more motorcycle talk."

Jungkook leans back and raises an eyebrow with a playful smirk. “Well, what are we gonna talk about then? It’s a twenty-minute drive to my place.”

You slide into the driver’s seat and start the engine, giving him the go-ahead to enter his address into your car’s GPS. “Are you really whining already?”

As Jungkook taps away on the GPS, you’re suddenly reminded of a series of past car trips you shared with him. It’s almost like déjà vu.

“Seriously, __,” he starts, allowing his playful demeanor to fade. “Thank you for doing this for me. I know we… well, we aren’t exactly on the best terms.”

From the corner of your eye, you observe the way he aimlessly stares out the window, unsure whether to meet your gaze.

"We may not be in the best place, but that doesn’t mean I’d just leave you there," you sigh, gripping the steering wheel tighter. A long pause follows afterward until the question that's been gnawing at you finally slips from your lips. "How's everything with the company?"

Seemingly unfazed, as if he’d been anticipating the question, Jungkook replies, “I’m guessing you’ve heard the rumors.”

“Hard not to,” you say, keeping your eyes on the road.

He takes a deep breath before continuing, "Well, it's um... it's a sabbatical. I know it's probably a shock, right? My father isn’t too thrilled about it, so he’s delayed the official announcement until we reach a final consensus. But things have been... complicated. Our newest product launched recently, and it’s doing well, but now I think I need some time for myself. To take a step back.”

Well, shit.

Even with all the rumors, you never would have guessed in a million years that the truth of the matter was an impending sabbatical. Jungkook has always been the type to work himself until his hands bleed, so this is the last reason you expected to hear.

“I’m glad to hear you’re finally letting yourself have a break, but honestly, it doesn’t sound like you at all. Feel free not to share, but what do you mean by ‘complicated’?” The way he frames it sounds almost ominous.

“You really want to know?” He finally glances at you for the first time since getting into the car, his eyes carrying a hint of vulnerability.

“Only if you want to share,” you reply cautiously.

He looks down at his hands, gathering his thoughts. “So, remember when we last saw each other a few months back? Well, I’ve been reflecting a lot on our relationship since then. I know I wasn’t fair to you, __, and I really wish I could take it all back. You never deserved any of it. I was incredibly selfish and I’m truly sorry.”

You remain silent, thrown off by how quickly everything circles back to your fragile past together. Still, you allow him to speak.

"Before we parted ways, you suggested I see a professional, and… I thought I'd finally take your advice for once. It’s strange because I’d never gone before, but…”

He pauses, searching for the right words. “I’m starting to understand a lot about myself—why I react the way I do and how I handle things. It’s been tough, but I’m trying. I guess I’m taking this sabbatical because I need to figure myself out, away from work, so I can be better and stop hurting people around me."

For the first time in a long time, as you listen to your ex-husband, you realize he's beginning to sound genuinely mature. If it's true that he's been seeing a therapist and taking a sabbatical to prioritize his well-being, then you're extremely proud of him.

Yet, a small part of you remains stubborn, wishing he had made these changes earlier—imagine where you might be now if he had.

“Thank you for being open enough to share this with me," you respond slowly, careful not to misspeak. "Though I’m still a little surprised, I have to say I’m really proud of you for seeking help. I’ve been seeing someone as well, and it took me some time to settle in too, but I suppose that’s part of the healing process—being uncomfortable to an extent. We’ve had our share of challenges with one another, but despite everything, I’ll always wish the best for you, Jungkook—including your health and mental well-being.”

As you pull into the driveway of his house, parking the car near the front door, Jungkook takes a deep breath and turns to you, visibly affected. "It means a lot that you'd say that, __," he starts hesitantly, hands fidgeting in his lap. "I know I've made a lot of mistakes, and I understand if you can't forgive me completely. But I want you to know that I am sorry. I wasn’t fair to you and I'm not proud of my behavior at all."

You nod in response, a small, tight-lipped smile forming. His remorse for the past is finally sincere, yet even now, as he looks at you with those hopeful eyes—the same ones you carried for months on end—you know he's searching for more than just your forgiveness.

But this time, you don’t think you can offer him more than that.

Because while you grew fond of him during your marriage, you've come to realize how unearned and misplaced that affection was. He broke your heart not once, but twice. And although you can never hate him, deep down, you can't ignore the lingering sting you feel when you're around him.

It's both sobering and eye-opening.

So, rather than reversing into old emotions, you simply say, "I believe you, Jungkook, and I think with time I'll be able to forgive you. If there’s ever a time when you’re in dire need of help, like tonight, I’ll do my best to be there. I’m afraid that’s as far as we can go, though."

It’s written all over his face that it’s not what he was hoping to hear, but respectfully, he doesn’t press further.

"I understand," he says, fingers reaching to for the passenger door handle. "Thank you again for being there for me tonight, and for driving me home. Please feel free to reach out if you ever need me as well. I hope for the best for you too, however and with whoever you choose."

The two of you exchange a brief look of gratitude before he finally pulls the door open and steps out of the car, making his way to his front door.

"Have a good night, and rest up," you call out to him. He smiles, gives a wave, and heads inside.

As you slowly back out of the driveway, you sigh, leaving only one person ruminating in your mind: Taehyung.

Then, inevitably, images of the stunning woman at the bar with him intrude your thoughts, stirring a deep, unsettling emotion within you.

Does it really matter that much who he's out with?

Are you really that jealous about it?

Mentally, you go back and forth as if plucking petals from a large sunflower… Yes. No. Yes. No. Until—Silence.

You can't seem to give a straight answer. It's like the closer you and Taehyung grow, the more undefinable and knotted your feelings become. Yet, the further apart you are, the more unnatural it feels...

Well, your indecisiveness doesn’t get any better by Friday because, finally, after what feels like an eternity, you and Taehyung have plans.

You’re heading out for dinner at a restaurant of his choosing tonight, as he insisted you go somewhere new. Where could it be? You have no clue, and while surprises aren’t usually your thing, his enthusiasm when you confirmed plans earlier has left you intrigued. There’s also this faint, inexplicably giddy feeling in your stomach that won’t go away, coinciding with a slight nervousness.

With such a seemingly important occasion, you find yourself in front of your bedroom mirror, twisting from side to side in what’s probably the fifth outfit you’ve tried on. But nothing seems to fit quite right. You’re feeling especially frustrated to be frank, as something that usually takes you twenty minutes is turning into a whole hour.

You end up tossing one final dress over your head—a bit more elegant for the occasion, but it’s one of the few items you own that accentuates your body down to the last detail. The dress hugs around your waist and falls just above your knees, its rich color perfectly complementing your skin tone. But isn’t it a little revealing? The neckline dips down further than you remember.

Crap—the alarm on your phone suddenly chimes, reminding you that Taehyung's arriving in ten minutes. You're running out of time.

"You’re being ridiculous. It’ll be fine,” you reassure yourself, smoothing down the skirt of the dress. “You're just friends. He won’t care.”

“Friends” stings more than you anticipated, leaving a bitter aftertaste and a deflated feeling in your chest.

Nevertheless, you give yourself one last look in the mirror, apply a quick swipe of lipstick, and head downstairs. Just as you finish slipping on your shoes and grabbing your purse from the coat rack, the doorbell rings, causing your heart to leap from your chest.

Deciding to rip it off like a band-aid, you toss open the door, and there he is—standing on your doorstep with his signature boxy grin and gently tousled raven hair. Taehyung's dressed in a tailored blazer and matching slacks over a crisp white t-shirt, and you find yourself at a complete loss for words as if you’ve forgotten what it’s like to be around him.

Maybe it’s something in the air, but he appears equally stunned, looking you up and down with wide eyes. His gaze soon softens into admiration as he takes in your entire appearance. “Wow,” he chokes, clearly impressed. “You look amazing.”

You feel a rush of warmth at his compliment and muster all your strength to keep from looking away flustered. “Thank you,” your voice wavers slightly. “You look pretty great yourself.”

Tongue in cheek, he replies with a playful smirk, “I was hoping you’d say that,” which prompts you to lightly punch him in the arm.

“Don't be arrogant.”

He chuckles, rubbing his arm with a grin. “Shall we head out?”

You nod and step outside, locking the door behind you.

The drive to the restaurant is a brief one, and you're immediately struck by the charm of its exterior when you arrive—stone walls, covered with vines of ivy and warm glowing lanterns. Inside is even more beautiful, with wooden shelves lined with old books and bottles of fine wine wrapping around the room. You're starting to understand why Taehyung was so insistent on bringing you here; the place perfectly reflects his taste and, unexpectedly, yours as well.

One of the hosts leads you to a deep mahogany table after confirming your reservation. The closer you get to it, the more you notice the crisp white linens and small tealight candles that sit on top, setting a romantic scene. If you had to describe the feeling, it would be as though you’ve been transported straight to a quaint corner of France.

"So, what do you think?” Seated across from you, Taehyung looks at you with bated breath. His fingers fidget with the edge of the table, nervously anticipating your verdict.

“Honestly? It’s so charming,” you reply, glancing around in awe. “I didn’t even realize we had a place like this around.”

At this, his demeanor relaxes, and a pleased smile spreads across his face. “It’s a bit hidden, but once I found it, it quickly became one of my favorite spots.” He pauses, then adds, “This is actually the same restaurant I wanted to take you to months ago, before my accident.”

“What? You’re serious?” you blink in shock as the realization slowly sinks in. You take another look around the restaurant—the rows of books, the bottles of wine, the elegant dining atmosphere—and suddenly, it all makes sense. How did you miss it before? “I’m sorry we didn’t come sooner,” you say softly, regretful of having turned down his offer before.

“It’s okay,” Taehyung's quick to reassure you, reaching out to lightly touch your hand. “What matters is that we’re here now. And honestly, I’m just happy to finally share it with you.” He gives you a warm smile, and immediately, you feel a small lump form in the back of your throat.

“Thank you for bringing us here tonight,” you say, “It’s wonderful, and I’m really glad we could make it up.”

“Of course,” he replies, “I thought it was a place we’d both enjoy.”

Everything about his responses seems to carry a heightened level of endearment and attentiveness, as if there’s more hidden beneath them.

Perhaps selfishly, you also sense there’s something uniquely special about this night—something you believe only exists between the two of you. So, when Taehyung retracts his hand, you feel a fleeting instinct to reach out and grasp it again, but you stop yourself short.

What are you thinking? This isn’t a date.

Needing a distraction, you grab the menu and start scanning the options.

Taehyung sees the way your gaze drifts and tilts his head, a concerned expression on his face. “Everything alright?” he asks gently.

You nod, forcing a smile. “Yeah,” you reply, trying to sound casual. “I'm just getting pretty hungry with all the food I smell.”

He chuckles, "Same here," then picks up a menu of his own.

The two of you sit in silence for the next few minutes, fixated on the food and wine list. You find yourself stealing glances at him from time to time, and unbeknownst to you, he does the same.

After the waiter takes your orders, Taehyung leans forward, resting his chin on his palm. “How’s everything at work been? I’ve been meaning to ask.”

Your face lights up at this. “Highs and lows," you reply, voice brightening, "but we got some exciting news today. I met with a potential investor earlier this week, and they’ve agreed to partner with the company. It’s a big win for us!”

Sharing your enthusiasm, Taehyung raises his wine glass, implicating you to follow suit. “This calls for a toast,” he says. “I know it must have meant long nights for you, but I’m so glad they recognized the value of you and your work. Seriously, __, you should be incredibly proud of this!"

You clink your glass with his, a light chuckle escaping you. There's something uniquely satisfying about sharing even the smallest things with him.

The conversation flows more comfortably from there, with Taehyung eagerly asking about the details of your new partnership. You reciprocate by asking about his current work projects, and soon, you both get lost in discussion, naturally causing your conversation to grow increasingly spontaneous. By the time your food arrives, the two of you must have easily covered fifty topics.

With the evening gradually becoming one of the most enjoyable you’ve had, the initial butterflies you felt at the start almost fade away... almost. That is, until you near the end of the meal and Taehyung looks at you with a seriousness in his eyes.

“I’m really glad we could do this tonight," he says, "We’ve both been so caught up with work lately that we haven’t had much time to spend together… I’ve missed it."

"Missed..." The simple six-letter word echoes in the back of your mind in a hushed murmur. It feels nice knowing you aren’t the only one affected by the recent distance.

“Me too,” you reply, more breathy than intended. Before you can fully process your words, you find yourself adding, “I’ve missed you a lot myself.”

A flush of embarrassment twists in your stomach the moment the words leave your mouth. You shouldn’t have said it like that—it almost sounded like… pining? God, you can’t even blame it on the alcohol at this point; you barely had one full glass of wine. Contrary to what you'd expect, Taehyung looks at you with a hint of shyness.

“You know,” he begins, briefly eyeing your dress, “you really do look great tonight. I’ve been a bit worried these past couple of weeks, seeing how much you work and how little sleep you get. But now… I'm relieved to see you looking so well.”

You blush. If only he saw you before tonight—greasy hair, bloodshot eyes, and oversized sweats on, you think. Evidently, tonight was an exception.

"I guess I've been worried about you too if I’m being honest,” you admit, shifting slightly in your seat. "The last time we saw each other was at your family reunion. It feels like it was ages ago for some odd reason."

“I know what you mean,” he says softly, gaze lingering on yours a moment longer than usual. “It’s strange going so long without seeing each other. It feels…unnatural.”

All at once, you pause, unsure if you heard right. Did Taehyung really say "unnatural"? It’s exactly how you’ve felt about the distance this entire time, but you hadn’t expected him to feel the same. Your mind struggles to process the sheer coincidence and its possible implications—was there something more to your relationship than you had realized?

While you try to make sense of it all, Taehyung’s raspy voice pulls you back to the present. “Well, uh, we should probably head out,” he suggests lightly, breaking the silence. You nod in agreement, though it does little to deter you from your thoughts.

You find yourself fidgeting with the hem of your dress the entire drive back, occasionally glancing at Taehyung in silence. His hands grip the steering wheel tightly, eyes focused on the road, yet you could’ve sworn his mouth parted at one point as if he was about to say something. But then, he held back. You wonder what he might’ve wanted to say, but you’re no better—hesitant to breathe a word yourself.

Why are neither of you speaking all of a sudden? It feels tense and unfamiliar.

In what feels like a blink of an eye, you're standing at your front door again, Taehyung close beside you. The space between you feels smaller this time, with unspoken words still lingering, but it’s clear that despite having your keys in hand, neither of you are ready to part ways just yet.

“__?” He speaks first, voice barely above a whisper.

“Yes?” You respond, turning to face him fully.

Taehyung takes a deep breath when you do, his usual warmth replaced by a heavy, unreadable expression. “There- there's something that’s been on my mind,” he begins, voice trembling slightly. “I've been going back and forth tonight on whether or not to tell you."

“Okay, what is it?” you ask, pulse quickening.

“It’s about us..." He hesitates, gnawing on his bottom lip slightly before continuing. "Earlier tonight, when I said I've missed being able to see you, I wasn’t lying. If anything, it was likely an understatement because, no matter how busy I was, I kept thinking about you—our time at my parents' place, and how you always came to visit me when I was in the hospital."

He pauses, his fist clenching nervously.

"I’ve realized since then that maybe the reason why is because somehow…you've always been more than a friend to me,” he confesses softly.

Searching your face for a reaction, Taehyung mistakes your blank expression for discomfort. Little does he know, however, that your stillness is merely due to shock, as every nerve in your body threatens to awaken. It feels surreal, you think. Sure, you had a small inkling that tonight felt different and Taehyung was sweeter than usual, but eighty percent of you chalked it up as nothing more than overthinking or projection.

Now, you realize how short-sighted you’ve been, convincing yourself that you could only ever be friends and denying the rest when it's been quite the opposite.

“I’m sorry," he adds sheepishly. "It must be a lot to take in. I don’t want to lose you or our friendship, but with my feelings growing, I think I’ll always want more. I thought it would be better for you to know.”

You see the sincerity in his eyes as he speaks, and though he patiently waits for your response, you’re unsure where to start. It’s not that you question Taehyung’s genuineness or intentions, or that you don’t reciprocate his feelings—you haven’t shared such a deep connection with someone in a long time, if ever.

Rather, it’s the years of a mostly apathetic marriage that leave you feeling wary.

What would a relationship with Taehyung be like?

Would you truly love each other?

For how long?

What startles you most is the possibility that if you and Taehyung really do this and it doesn’t work out, you’ll be left even more devastated than before.

When you finally speak, your voice wavers slightly. “To tell you the truth, a big part of me is relieved that you told me all of this,” you admit slowly, your hands clammy. “I thought I sensed a shift between us at your parents' and again this evening. But I also thought I was reading too much into things, convinced it was just us getting closer as friends do."

"I guess what I’m trying to say is that I was wrong because I've been wanting more with you too," you continue. "It's like the further away we are, the worse I seem to feel, and I can't help but wonder what it would look like if we were more than friends. The thought scares me as much as it excites me, though…for reasons I'm sure you already know."

You're uneasy about how he'll react until, all at once, his eyes fill with warmth and his hands gently reach for yours, thumbs rubbing soothing circles on the backs.

“Do you remember when we were at the beach and you asked who’d risk it for you?” Taehyung asks. You nod, recalling the exact moment. “You also asked if I loved you, and I agreed to both that day. I didn’t realize how much those words would come full circle, but I meant it then, and I mean it now. I will love you, __, in the way you've always meant to be. I'm pretty sure I'm at least halfway in love with you already, and not just because we're friends."

Wordless, you stand facing each other, your hands still held in his, eyes steady in the brisk night air. His gaze then drifts from your eyes to your lips and back again. The movement is subtle, but in that brief moment, you let your eyes fall to his lips as well.

Taehyung’s waiting for your answer, but you can’t stop thinking of what would happen if you just…

Adrenaline takes over from there, and before you fully process it, you’re leaning in to close the distance between you, pressing your lips to his. The sudden touch catches Taehyung off guard, but he quickly responds with gentle, tender kisses. A soft smile tugs at his lips as he deepens the embrace, one hand finding its way to your face while the other rests on your back, pulling you closer.

Sooner than you realize, he begins deepening the kiss as well, eliciting small, breathy moans. At this point, you can feel the tent forming in his trousers, but he makes no move to grind into you yet. Rather, the hands that grip around you tighten, not enough to hurt, but enough that your body pushes further against his firmer chest. You suspect your back will meet the hard surface of your front door within the next three seconds, allowing your entire neighborhood a show, but before then, you're interrupted by a subtle stirring in the pit of your stomach.

"Wait, I'm sorry-" you suddenly break the kiss, a rush of nerves returning. It’s been a long time since you’ve shared such meaningful kisses with someone, and the intensity of it has you feeling overwhelmed. "I'm so sorry," you repeat.

When Taehyung sees you aren’t backing away but rather standing completely still, he settles his hands around your waist, gently drawing you further into a soft embrace. "You don't need to apologize," he assures. "I'm the one who took it further than I should've when I want this to be comfortable for both of us.”

You take a small breath, "You didn't do anything wrong, Tae, I'm just a little nervous due the newness of everything. I think I’d be best if we wait before going any further tonight….but I’m also not ready for you to leave yet. Is there any way you could maybe come in for a bit? To lounge?”

Taehyung nods, “I completely understand wanting to wait. The last thing I want to do is rush anything.” Concerned about possibly pressuring you, he adds, "Are you sure about me coming in though? It's getting late and I don't want to keep you up."

"Please," you murmur, "just for a little while, if you can.”

“Okay," he agrees, thumbs brushing lightly against your sides, "I can stay."

a/n: ajdfhg, TYSM for reading!! Love you all 🥰

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no reposting, copying, or translating my work– © kookslastbutton

[praisethegabs]

HATE THAT I LOVE YOU

leon kennedy x f!reader

synopsis: Leon can't stand seeing you around him. You know how much he hates you and you like having fun with it. Things get worse when the two of you get lost during one mission, with no comms to call for help. Leon blames you for everything, until he revels something he shouldn't.

warnings: ENEMIES TO LOVERS. descriptions of injuries, reader taking care of leon, comfort, fake marriage, descriptions of nudity, leon drunk and and reader teasing him. small reference to call of duty characters as part of reader backstory.

word count: 10k +

a/n: heavily inspired by "death of me" by wizthemc. cover from laughingwallaby on x/twitter. it isn't necessary to listen to the song, but I highly recommend it.

"he’d set fire to the world around him but never let a flame touch her" senlinyu

Leon Kennedy hates you more than anything else in this world. 

He hated the fact he was obligated to be your partner, hated the reckless way you always managed to finish a mission practically intact, and hated the way you always succeeded in something, no matter what it was. He hates you entirely, even your perfume is enough to get him on his nerves. 

He hates you ten times more because he knows you know he hates you, and you seem like you don't care about it at all. 

It all started three years ago, when he discovered he would be your new partner. Your name was pretty famous, and so were you. Not that he envies your success, but he never thought he would be under the shadow of someone like you. At first, Leon was very impressed with your skills and the way you work, but two weeks later, he started to despise you, and this feeling turned into hatred. 

You ain’t stupid, you can even feel all the hate he has towards you, and things get better because you have this masochist side of yours that makes you feel happy seeing how angry he can be at you. 

Although you don’t care about the reasons he hates you, the thing is, you can’t deny how attractive Leon can be, and having him as your partner makes every other agent jealous of how lucky you are. It’s Agent Kennedy, the one and only. The guy who rescued the president's daughter and basically did other significant things for the government. 

But, despite the Leon you know at work, his entire life is a blank page. You know absolutely nothing about him, and he doesn’t care about sharing his personal life details with someone he hates. You noticed a while ago that you are the only person Leon ignores and despises completely, and he avoids talking to you as much as he can, only when it is necessary. And when he opens that pretty mouth of his, it usually contains hateful words. 

At this point, you just do your job the way you see fit and come back home safely, not caring about Leon’s arrogant ass. 

“You could have killed us!” Leon snaps at you, his entire demeanor showing stress. He can’t avoid grabbing you by your arm and squeezing it tightly, which makes you groan.

“Well, golden boy, at least your ass is intact and here. I’d like to hear a nice ‘thank you’, how about it?” You smirk and tilt your head, and in response, his entire face turns red with anger.  

“You’re so fucking immature. Do you think you’ll be lucky for the rest of your life?” He raised his voice, his hand on your arm getting tighter by the second. The expression on your lips didn’t make things easier. “One day, you won’t be that lucky, and you’ll probably drop dead somewhere. I won’t be there to pick up your pieces. Do you want to risk your life? Go ahead, I don’t fucking care, but don’t drag me into your bullshit again. I’m your partner, not your babysitter” 

“I’m really surprised you consider me your partner, Kennedy,” you smirk again, and that smirk was enough to infuriate Leon more than he already was. 

Leon was on the verge of yelling at you, but the cold expression that quickly went up on his face was enough to make your smirk disappear. You have never seen him like that, it was weird. 

“Maybe I should change that,” he hissed with cold and dead eyes, finally letting go of your arm.

“Good luck with that, Kennedy,” you coo, crossing your arms over your chest as you speak. 

After saying that, the smile you gave him was enough to make Leon livid. He wanted so badly to take that ironic smile off of your lips, he wished that right now you were a man, so he could definitely teach you a lesson you wouldn’t forget so soon. However, you are the same annoying opposite gender that he hates so much. So, instead of beating the living shit out of you, he just watched you leave, turning in the opposite direction to calm himself down before he did something stupid. 

The last mission was very simple: locate and terminate a bioweapon. As you two went there to find the said bioweapon, the entire area was drowning in chaos. The area was isolated to prevent the bioweapon from running away, and alongside you and Leon, there was the entire squad ready to follow your lead. 

It should be simple, right? Here's the part where Leon thinks you're completely reckless. Instead of following the standard protocol, you thought it would be best to use yourself as bait and literally explode the entire block. Your stupid plan really worked, and the bioweapon died in the explosion; luckily, you were left with a few scratches and a bleeding ear — which the doctor said wasn't something serious, although you would be “deaf” for a few days from your right side. 

So, when you got home, the first thing you actually did was take a nap, which turned out to be deeper than you expected. You slept for twelve hours with your phone in airplane mode so that no one could disturb your sleep. The only thing you weren't counting on was waking up to the distant sounds of someone practically wanting to take your door down. Wearing your cat pajamas, your hair a complete mess, and your face swollen after so many hours sleeping, the last person you thought you would see was Leon. 

And he was right there. 

“Do you know I’m out of the clock at the moment, right?” you asked him, with a big yawn seconds later. His face wasn't one of the most friendly you've seen. 

“Yeah? Do you think I’m here because I want it?” Leon rolls his eyes, sounding annoyed and bored. 

“Well, golden boy, if you’re here to yell at me about what happened earlier, I suggest you wait until tomorrow. I’m definitely not in the mood for you,” you said, already closing the door, when Leon suddenly stopped you. “I always thought you were a weirdo, now I’m sure of it. What do you want?” 

“Get ready for our new assignment. And try to dress in something more... elegant.” Leon gave you the file from the next mission. Surprised, you started to read the file, and out of nowhere, you started to laugh in disbelief. 

“Recently married couple on their honeymoon? Is this some kind of sick joke?” You glanced at him, still laughing nervously at your new disguise with him. 

“Trust me, I asked the same question, and unfortunately, that's our new disguise. So, get your ass ready. We’ll be leaving in three hours, Ms. Kennedy,” he said with his Stoic and cold expression as always, giving you a ring made of white gold, which made you think how expensive it was. 

“I’m pretty sure our agency wouldn’t give us this type of accessory,” you said to him, taking a good look at the ring he gave you. White gold, with a beautiful sapphire and diamonds carved around the blue stone. 

“Don’t be late,” Leon said, ignoring your last commentary. “I’ll be waiting at the airport” 

Leon left without looking at your confused expression. You had to read the file at least three times until you finally understood the mission. Leon and you were going to pose as a recently married couple enjoying their honeymoon as you two investigate a famous billionaire that made its own wealth by selling bioweapons in the market. You sighed with the sudden stress, walking towards your room to prepare your bag. After finishing your bag, you caught yourself glancing again at the ring. You were sure the agency wouldn’t give this ring to Leon for a fake marriage. It was something else, but what? 

So, one hour later, you drove to the airport. At least this time, you weren’t late, and Leon wouldn’t be making a scene over it. You found him distracted, wearing sunglasses with his leather jacket, his hair shining in the sunlight. Leon seemed very focused on the book he was reading, and it was a big surprise to see him like that, especially because you knew nothing about him. 

“So, dear husband, are you ready to go?” you ask, seeing him put his book aside. He looked very beautiful with those sunglasses. 

“Yeah, sure.” He nodded, his voice sounding calm instead of the coldness you were used to. You noticed he was wearing his own wedding ring. 

“Will you tell me where these came from?” You started to walk next to him, referring yourself to the ring he gave you, hoping it would be a real answer. 

“Why do you care? It’s just a ring,” Leon replied, avoiding the subject as much as he could. 

“I don’t think it’s just a ring. It has some marks on it, like it was used before.” The egocentric smile on your lips made Leon take a deep breath. 

“It was from my mother, okay? It’s the last thing I had from her and my dad before they died. Satisfied?” Leon harshly replied to you, and you knew you had screwed up. You didn’t know about his family, and the way he replied made you realize it was a hard subject. 

“I’m sorry, Leon. I didn’t know,” you hissed, feeling your entire face burn with shame. 

“Like you care,” he replied in a cold tone, walking away from you towards the airport. 

The rest of the flight was absolute silence. Leon didn’t speak with you and had no intention to do so. You felt terrible, but you decided not to show him any feelings; the guy literally hated you, and showing how you felt was the last thing he would believe. So, thinking about all the years of free hate, you decided it was for the best to pretend you didn’t care.

Naturally, pretending that everything was fine was one of your best qualities. You were so good at hiding your own feelings that no one could read you or decipher your emotions. 

At the hotel, hours later, you were ready to follow Leon and finish the job. Deep down, you were expecting his coldness and his famous Stoic expression, along with his grumpy humor. However, you were caught off guard when he suddenly took your bags and smiled at you. He was, indeed, a full mystery. 

“C’mon, darling. I’ll take your bags for you.” When he said that, you noticed the “recently married couple” game was on. You glance at him and smile broadly, then kiss his cheek.

“Oh, babe, you’re so sweet to me. Thank you,” you said, giving him your bag and walking in front of him like you were some kind of model. Two people could play this game, right? 

After the check-in, you two walked between fake laughs until you reached the master bedroom. Leon could pay, and so could you, but you decided to let him play along since it was his mission, and you were just his annoying partner. 

“Such a cliché… having one bed,” you sighed at the sight of the master bed in the center of the room. 

“We’re married, it should look like that.” Leon rolled his eyes, leaving your bag close to the bed as he analyzed the entire room. 

“No, we’re not married. We’re pretending to be,” you said, sitting on the edge of the bed and smirking ironically at him. “And besides, why me? You said you wanted to leave. You could have asked for any other agent”  

“Who said I didn't ask?” Leon replied with the same ironic smirk on his lips, sitting on the armchair in front of you. 

“And what did they say?” Suddenly, you sounded more upset than your usual sarcastic demeanor. You hope Leon didn’t notice. 

“Unfortunately, they can’t give me another partner. Guess I’m stuck with you for God knows how long” He sounded annoyed for a moment, but you chose to ignore it completely. 

You decided you needed a bath. You took a few clothes from your bag and decided to “play” with him. Not only that, but you removed your clothes in front of him, sensually, trying to get some reaction from him. When you glanced at Leon, he was hard.

“What are you doing?” he asked, and you noticed he was breathing heavily. Now he was nervous, and it wasn't anger. 

“We are married. I guess this is what wives do in front of their husbands.” You wink at him, making your way to the bathroom wearing nothing but your lingerie. 

Leon was completely speechless. You could see him swallowing harder, his Adam’s apple going up and down faster. The devilish smile on your lips didn’t make things easier for him, either. It took a lot of strength from him to look anywhere else but you. Leon was clearly uncomfortable and nervous. 

“You know, if you want this mission to succeed, you must pretend you don’t hate me. And for that, you need to trust me, Kennedy. I know you despise my methods, and I know you’re anxious to get rid of me, and honestly, I don’t really give a shit about your teenage behavior,” you said from the bathroom, wrapping your now naked body around a white towel and opening the door again so you could see him. “So, I promise I’ll try my best to not screw everything up. Just try not to act like the asshole you are usually whenever you’re with me” 

“Oh, I’m the asshole now.” Leon finally seemed to wake up from his own trance, and his expression suddenly changed from Stoic to aggressive. "You've acted like a complete jerk since the first day we started to work together, and according to you, I’m the asshole here? You should look at yourself in the mirror, sweetheart” 

“Then why did you stay here with me this entire time? You could have split a long time ago, golden boy,” you say, crossing your arms in your chest, not intimidated by his behavior. 

“I told you. They won’t put me with another agent. I’m stuck with you, and trust me, I wish I could have left a very long time ago,” Leon replied coldly, his blue eyes almost icy with the way he was staring at you. 

But instead of your silence, you caught him off guard.

“I know you’re lying. If you snap your fingers, they will do everything you want. You just have to ask, since you’re their golden boy. They freaking love you, Kennedy, and there’s nothing they wouldn't do to please you. Don’t bullshit me,” you said, walking slowly towards him and hissing, your eyes shining with sarcasm. 

But Leon didn’t give you an answer. Instead, he took his leather jacket and left the room without saying something. You decided to calm yourself down and go straight for a bath, enjoying the candles and their arousal. After what seemed to be a long time in the tub, you left the tub and wrapped the towel around your body; the room was still empty, and you couldn't care less about Leon. If he wanted to act like a pampered kid, that was his problem, not yours. 

You enjoyed the time alone to do your skin care routine, and decided to take care of your own body as well. It was almost eight when the phone inside your room started to ring. 

“Ms. Kennedy, I’m sorry to interrupt, but your husband seems to be causing quite a scene in the hotel bar. I might have to ask you to pick him up; otherwise, I’ll have to ask security to take care of him,” the person on the other side says to you, and immediately, you sighed. 

“I’m sorry for the inconvenience, I’ll go get him right now. Thank you,” you said, forcing the most sweet tone of voice you could at the moment.  

You left the room thinking about ending Leon. He could definitely jeopardize the entire mission with his behavior, and this was unacceptable. When you found him in the bar, he was, indeed, causing a big scene. Leon was screaming and scaring the rest of the guests, and there were at least three security guards next to him. 

“Leon, darling, come on. You've had enough,” you said, approaching him and touching his shoulder softly. 

“Are you his wife?” one of the security guards asks you with a serious expression. You couldn’t blame the man, he was only doing his job. 

“Yes, and I am really sorry for my husband. I guess he’s just too carried away…” you said with the calmest tone of voice you could, trying your best to hold him tight. 

“Ma’am, you need to control him. He made a lot of mess in the bar.” The other looked severely at you, with an angry expression. 

“I’m here, aren’t I? Don’t worry about the trouble, we can pay for the inconvenience,” you replied in a harsh tone. Suddenly, Leon threw up, and his vomit fell on the floor. “And we can pay for that too”

“Suck on that, fuckers!” Leon smiled before you dragged him back to your room. 

In the silence of the hallway, Leon had a lot of difficulty walking properly. He was stumbling on his feet and saying incoherent things in your ear. You never saw him like that, and it was pretty weird being his babysitter. You wanted to kill him, but he couldn’t even stand, and possibly wouldn’t remember a thing the next day. 

“I hate you,” you muttered, dragging him across the hallway towards your room. 

“Why do you hate me?” Leon asks, his mouth smelling of alcohol and his words confused. “Am I not good enough?” 

“Where is this coming from?” You raised both of your eyebrows in visible confusion. Finally, you reached the room and unlocked the door, dragging Leon into the bathroom. 

“I tried… to be enough… I know I’m an asshole, but… I’m scared of being hurt again, and… I push people away from me… but you’re so different…” he says between drunken hiccups, which is almost funny, but completely unexpected. “I've liked you since the first time I saw you, and… and…” Leon throws up again in the toilet, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, before looking at you again. You were completely speechless. 

“I think you need a bath,” you muttered, still shocked by his words. Your hands were shaking, and for a moment, you had no idea what you should do. 

“No… I… I need to finish this because I don’t know when I’ll have the balls to do so again…” Leon grabs you tightly, not wanting to let go of you. Biting your lower lip, you nodded. “I know I said I hate you, but… but that’s not true. I only did that because… because I was scared and thought you would reject me… so I started to act like an asshole… I’m so sorry” 

“It’s okay… I should be sorry too, I didn’t make things easier for you since day one” you said to him, sounding more kind than you usually are. He won’t remember this conversation, you are sure of it. 

“I feel complete trash… I should’ve just… asked you instead of acting like an asshole…” Leon said this between other rounds of drunken hiccups. He’s pretty wasted. 

And before this conversation could end in another way, you decided to give him a cold bath. You didn’t remove his clothes, and he complained a lot when he felt the cold water on him. After that, you had to change his clothes, and when Leon saw you touching him, he turned hard again, although he was too drunk to even be ashamed. You had trouble laying him on the bed, but he didn’t struggle against you. 

“I love you,” he whispers before falling asleep. 

The next morning, you decided to leave Leon alone for a while. You couldn’t explain to him what happened the night before because you were too shocked to say something. “I love you,” he said, and his words made a home in your head. How was that even possible?

Leon Kennedy, the guy who hated you with his entire being, said he loved you. He was drunk, and he probably didn’t mean any of those words. Maybe he was just playing a game with you, maybe that wasn’t true. However… drunk people tend to say things they usually wouldn’t say. So, there was a remote possibility that he was, indeed, telling the truth. How could you believe him? 

“Fuck… what happened?” Leon asks you when he woke up, squeezing his eyes. He had a terrible headache. 

“You got drunk last night and caused a lot of trouble in the bar,” you said, throwing at him a small, transparent bag with painkillers. 

“Shit, I can’t remember anything. My head hurts like crazy.” Leon looks at you, and you can see the effects of the hangover on his face. 

“Glad one of us has commitment to the job,” you said, sounding harsher than you wanted to be. Leon looks at you again, but completely confused this time. 

“What did I say?” he asks, and then, as you can notice, he sounds more desperate. If it were at another time, you would definitely take advantage of it, but his words echoed in your head again. 

“Nothing important. Just regular drunk stuff,” you say, shaking your shoulders, avoiding the subject that was hammering your head. 

"Fine.” He nods his head and stands up, walking to the bathroom. 

His words were floating in your head, and it was hard not to think about what happened the other night. At this point, you had no idea how you would finish the mission. Not with his words hammering in your head, penetrating your chest, and making you feel things you really don’t want to.

You hate Leon Kennedy and everything he made you feel.

He comes out of the bathroom, and he has a towel wrapped around his waist. The sight you had of him, all muscular, his body sculpted by the gods, walking like that in his own glory. It made your stomach twitch. You felt your face burning, and right now, you wanted to dissipate from the earth. 

“We have a meeting in one hour.” You had to find a lot of strength inside you to not stare at his chest when you spoke to him. 

“Can you go alone? I’m not really in perfect condition.” Leon sits on the bed, looking at you. He seems to not realize what’s happening. You, in response, shake your head. 

“No, I can’t. Since we’re married, you need to come with me. It sucks, huh?” you replied with a cold smile, looking at him with dead eyes. 

“Jesus, you’re really a pain in the ass,” he says in a deep breath, reaching for the painkillers. 

You decided to ignore his commentary and get ready for the day. According to your new schedule, the man you two went to investigate would be in a meeting and then head to the restaurant. It was the perfect opportunity. You decided to wear a short black dress, making your thighs visible, and a V-neckline, showing a little of your breasts. 

"Fuck” Leon mutters when he sees you, and you can notice he’s a little nervous. Maybe he’s starting to remember what he did last night.

“What?” you ask him, raising both of your eyebrows.

“I can’t find my phone,” he replies angrily, looking the entire room over to find his phone.

“It’s in the drawer.” You rolled your eyes, finishing with the makeup and your hair. Leon sighed in relief when he finally found his phone. “You’re welcome”

He took a few minutes until he finished getting ready. Leon was wearing a navy blue shirt, black shorts, and sunglasses, the same ones he was using at the airport. He was looking very beautiful, but you decided to keep your thoughts to yourself.

“Ready?” he finally asks you, looking at you with some curiosity. You nodded, grabbing your purse and walking next to him outside the room.

The hotel’s restaurant was filled with the clinking of cutlery and the low murmur of conversations. Leon and you decided to sit across from each other at a small, intimate table, your gazes scanning the room for any sign of your target.

The aroma of freshly brewed coffee and the soft jazz playing in the background provided a calming facade to the tension that lingered between them. Leon, with disheveled hair and a pair of sunglasses that only partially hid the evidence of a rough night, rubbed his temples and winced.

"Ugh, I think I might die. I can't believe you dragged me into this after last night. I swear, my head is splitting." he muttered, pretending to be reading the menu.

"This is a mission, Leon, not a vacation. You knew what you signed up for when you took that last shot. Now, pull yourself together. We need to find our guy, and your hangover isn't helping." you shot him a withering look, your eyes sharp beneath a cascade of your hair

"I just don't get why we couldn't have rescheduled this. I mean, who plans a stakeout the morning after an undercover party? It's like the universe is against me." Leon leaned back in his chair, wincing at the light filtering through the bistro's window.

"We don't have the luxury of rescheduling. This is our best chance to catch him off guard, and we can't afford any mistakes. Your lack of professionalism could jeopardize the entire mission. So, get over yourself and focus." You clenched your jaw, your frustration evident.

Leon sighed, realizing he had hit a nerve. He straightened up and took off his sunglasses, revealing bloodshot eyes.

"Fine, fine. I get it. No more complaints. Let's just eat and keep an eye out for our guy. Maybe the food will cure this hangover from hell." he said, waving his hand at the waitress.

"Good. We need to stay sharp. Our target is slippery, and we can't afford to miss any signs. Just remember, we're a married couple on a lunch date. Act natural." you nodded, your stern expression softening slightly.

As the minutes went by, the restaurant was an oasis of calm, its subdued lighting and plush furnishings a stark contrast to the pounding headache Leon was nursing.

Besides his mood and his complaints about the headache, you were the one who maintained a professional demeanor. However, your patience was wearing thin. The clinking of silverware and muted conversations formed a backdrop to your undercover mission.

"Can we make this quick? My head feels like it's about to split open." Leon winced, massaging his temples after minutes in silence.

"You brought this upon yourself, Leon. You can't let your personal life interfere with the mission. We have a job to do." You shot him a disapproving glance.

"I didn't expect last night to turn into a frat party. It was supposed to be a simple gathering." Leon sighed, regret etched on his face.

"Well, you should have thought about that before you started to behave like a pampered kid. But guess what, Kennedy? We can't change that now. We're on a timeline, and we can't afford mistakes. So, suck it up and focus." your eyes narrowed, your tone of voice sounding angry. I love you, his words, still echoing in the back of your head,

As he perused the menu, Leon's eyes flickered across the room, and he stiffened.

"There he is," he muttered, nodding discreetly toward your target who had just entered the restaurant.

"Perfect timing, Leon. Just what we needed." your gaze followed Leon's, and you cursed under your breath.

You two ordered quickly, your argument temporarily set aside as you two maintained the appearance of a normal, albeit slightly disgruntled, married couple. The target settled at a nearby table, engaged in conversation with an associate. As your food arrived, Leon's hangover-induced irritability resurfaced.

"Can we at least eat in peace before we tail him? I'm not in the mood for this undercover drama." he complains again.

"Your mood doesn't matter. We need to catch this guy. Finish your food quickly, and we'll tail him discreetly." you shot him a stern look.

Leon grumbled but complied, glancing over his shoulder at the target. The argument simmered beneath the surface, waiting for the opportune moment to erupt. As the two of you left the restaurant, the hangover weighed heavily on Leon, intensifying his annoyance. You kept your voice low as you two trailed the target through the hotel's corridors.

"Leon, I don't care about your hangover. We can argue later. Right now, we need to focus on the mission." you sharply told him in annoyance.

Leon shot back, his tone sharp, "Well, maybe if you were a bit more understanding, we wouldn't have to argue at all. This headache is killing me."

You shot him a pointed look but decided to let it go for the moment as you two approached the front desk to inquire about your room. The target was believed to be staying on one of the upper floors, and obviously, you two needed to gather information without raising suspicion. As you stepped into the elevator, Leon swayed slightly, earning a disapproving glance from you. The elevator doors closed, and Leon muttered:

"I'll be fine. Let's just get this over with."

The doors opened to a corridor adorned with plush carpeting and dimmed lights. You and Leon maintained their cover, acting the part of the honeymooning couple as you two made your way down the hall. Just as the both of you reached the door to the suspected target's room, a sudden chill crept up Leon's spine.

A group of imposing figures, undoubtedly the target's security detail, emerged from the elevator behind you. Your eyes widened as you discreetly tugged on Leon's arm, directing his attention to the unexpected threat.

"Leon, we've got company," you whispered urgently.

“Well, sweetheart, you won’t like this” Leon said, turning himself to you.

“What-”

Before you could even speak, you felt his lips crushing against yours. Something about his kiss made you feel something inside your chest. The taste of alcohol mixed with mint, the way his tongue danced inside your mouth, it was something you never felt and tasted before.

Leon tilted your chin upward, creating the perfect illusion of a stolen moment between two infatuated lovers. The security guards, momentarily thrown off by the unexpected display, hesitated in their approach. You felt him break the kiss, your eyes meeting with a shared understanding.

“That was close” he whispers, holding your hand as you two walk together in the corridor.

But you were left without any words. His kiss caught you completely off guard and for some stupid reason, you felt your legs were failing you. Something about the way Leon's lips pressed against yours sparked an internal conflict. His kiss was not one of disdain; it was fervent, almost desperate. In that moment, the line between pretense and reality blurred, and you found yourself torn between the mission and your own conflicting emotions.

As you walked in silence next to him, the tension between you two became palpable. Leon, ever the professional, maintained his stoic expression, his eyes scanning the horizon for any potential threats, even with the hangover state. You, on the other hand, couldn't shake off the unease that accompanied you every step. You stole a glance at Leon, his features carved in light of the hallway.

Suddenly, the tranquility of the night shattered as a series of sharp cracks pierced the air. Bullets whizzed past you two, sparking against the cobblestone streets. You and Leon instinctively dove behind the cover of a wall as the realization hit — you two were the targets now.

"Move!" Leon shouted over the chaos, grabbing your arm and propelling you forward.

The rhythmic staccato of gunfire followed you two, echoing through the maze of narrow alleys. The assailants were relentless, shadows in pursuit, fueled by an unseen vendetta. You two sprinted through the labyrinthine corridors, your breaths mingling with the desperate echoes of your footfalls. Leon's mind raced, analyzing escape routes and potential hiding spots. You, feeling your heart pounding, cast glances over your shoulder, your instincts sharp as you matched Leon's every move.

The honeymoon facade shattered as the two agents sprinted down the corridor, bullets whizzing past the two of you. Panic and urgency replaced the hangover-induced haze in Leon's mind. You two reached a stairwell, taking it two steps at a time, the footsteps drowned out by the chaos unfolding behind you.

As you two burst onto a lower floor, you spotted an emergency exit. Without hesitation, you burst through the door, finding yourselves in a garden. The adrenaline-fueled escape continued through the green labyrinthine surrounding the hotel, leaving the luxurious facade behind as you and Leon navigated the maze, chased by both the consequences of the cover being blown and the remnants of the security detail.

It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.

Apparently, the said billionaire found out about the two of you, and now, Leon and you had to run somewhere else safe, leaving all your belongings in the hotel. There were gunshots everywhere, and you had to fight for your dear life, protecting you and Leon with a marble statue as a form of barricade to prevent being shot.

“This isn’t how I expected my honeymoon to be,” Leon muttered, shooting one of the security guards.

“This isn’t a honeymoon either,” you replied, firing your gun at the guard, killing him with a perfect headshot. “We are not even married”

“Well, this isn’t how I imagined it, anyway. We need to get out, Ms. Kennedy,” Leon said, offering his hand to you, which you took without thinking twice. You started to run, with Leon covering your back.

You could hear the security guards running after you, two more gunshots. Likewise, you ran for your life, not daring to look behind you, knowing Leon was right behind you, making sure you were protected, which was very odd, considering the history between the two of you.

At the moment, it's the last thing you're worried about. After a few minutes of running, you managed to escape the guards and find a place to hide. You were breathing heavily, and shaking.

“Are you okay?” Leon asks you, looking at the direction you two came from.

“Why do you care?” you simply replied, coughing a little as you tried to catch your breath.

“Do you think I don’t remember what I said last night? C’mon, I might be a drunk asshole, but I don’t forget things easily.” Leon glanced at you, which was more sympathetic than usual.

“This isn’t fair. You can’t say things like that after treating me like garbage for years,” you snapped at him, finally letting your feelings go without any shame. “You can’t say you love me, and the next day you can’t barely look at my face. You can’t say you love me when the only thing that comes from your mouth is hate and disgust. This isn’t fair, and you can’t play like that with me”

After saying that, you decided to walk yourself out and leave Leon alone. Who the hell did he think he was? He had no right to play with your feelings like that. You were so angry at him for throwing that on your shoulders with no responsibility.

Besides, you had important things to deal with, not his bullshit. Your hands were shaking like crazy, and you realized that you had no control over your feelings, and this was very dangerous, especially in your line of work. You needed to calm yourself down, and you needed to do it fast.

Hours later, everything was quiet. Leon was nowhere to be seen, because you didn’t notice when he went missing in the first place, and you couldn't care less about him. It was obviously a stupid idea to try to get back to the hotel, knowing it would be heavily secured after what happened earlier. But, somehow, you felt something very wrong.

The gunshot noises out there were exactly what you didn’t want to hear. You heard screams and loud voices, and immediately, your hand fell to your gun. You heard footsteps, and by the sound, you knew this person was supporting his body weight on his left leg, and was limping heavily. When you were about to attack, it was him.

“What the hell?” you gasped in shock, seeing him limping and, of course, injured.

“I tried to get our comms back” he whimpered almost quietly, as you helped him sit down. He was breathing heavily, his hand pressing tightly on his ribs. “But, as you can see, it didn’t go well.”

“And you say I'm reckless, right?” you muttered, trying to see the size of the damage on him, although he whined again. “You could've died in there, asshole”

“Now I understand why you do things this way,” Leon chuckles, but then he groans in pain, his grip on his ribs getting tight. “It’s way more fun”

“Fun? Are you out of your mind, Kennedy?” you snapped at him. If Leon wasn’t injured at the moment, you would definitely beat the living shit out of him. “I don’t do things like that for fun!”

“Keep your voice down, sweetheart. I don’t want to get back home inside a coffin,” Leon said, as he pressed his hand on your mouth to keep you quiet. In the sudden silence, you were able to hear more footsteps, and Leon kept pressing his hand on your mouth. A few minutes later, everything went silent again.

“I’m not… okay” he mutters, and his eyes meet yours. Blue like the ocean. And then, you finally see the blood spot on his shirt — the same spot he was trying to hide from you. “I’m sorry”

“I swear to God, if you dare to die on me, I’ll personally kill you, Kennedy,” you replied, and then you started to press his wound to prevent him from bleeding to a certain death.

But he smiled. It was a faint smile, but he was really smiling at you. You saw him raise his hand, and he touched your hair, moving the strands that fell on your face. The way he was looking at you, so sad and weak, it was like he was saying goodbye.

“You look so... beautiful.” His voice seems weak, and his breath starts to become more shallow. “I guess… this is what angels look like”

“C’mon, Leon, don’t you dare die on me,” you said as you noticed yourself getting more anxious by the second.

He smiled again and kept looking at you with those beautiful blue eyes. Slowly, he started to close his eyes, and his breath got more shallow, indicating he was losing consciousness. The more you tried to keep him awake, the more he seemed lost. You were slowly losing him.

“Condor One! Condor Two,” someone called you two. It was your squad.

“We’re here” you shouted at them, your hands filled with Leon’s blood as you waved at your squad. “He’s injured and losing a lot of blood”

“Don’t worry, we’re taking you two,” the leader said as the team approached you with medical equipment.

You couldn’t describe the stress you felt with everything that happened in the meantime. Did you two succeed in the mission? Was it over? You couldn’t know. Not until you were sure Leon was safe and sound.

From the helicopter, you could see the sirens, the local police, and the agents from the government. It was almost unbelievable, but it was true. The operation was a success, after all. You glanced at Leon. He was sleeping, or at least he seemed to be.

You tried to rest, but it seemed unreachable. Your body was electric, filled with constant energy that prevented you from closing your eyes. You wanted to sleep badly, but your concern about him was enough to keep you awake. When the helicopter finally landed at the hospital heliport, Leon was immediately taken into surgery. As for you, you had no other option but to wait.

Hours later, you had no news about him, and the anxiety was eating you alive from the inside. At this point, your body was less tense than before, and the first signs of stress and tiredness were finally showing up. You were sitting in a chair, in an empty white hallway, waiting. The hours seemed to slip through your fingers, slowly.

You sighted a kid playing with a purple teddy bear, and for a moment, you started to wonder about the life you led. The choices you made and how you ended up in your job. It was weird to think that while other people had normal lives, you had to risk yours every day, to make sure they would live in a safe world.

It sounded selfish to think like that, but you had every reason to do so since you couldn’t have a normal life. That word didn’t exist in your dictionary. Nor in your days.

Then, you see yourself playing with Leon’s mother's ring on your finger. For a brief moment, you imagined how your life would be if you were married and raising kids. Then, you push away these thoughts; motherhood isn’t your style, not even a married life.

“Ms. Kennedy?” you hear the doctor call you, and the sound of Leon’s surname addressed to you like you were his real wife makes your heart ache.

“Is he okay?” Your voice sounded more hoarse than you thought it would, a small consequence of being silent for so long. The look on the doctor’s face said there wasn’t good news.

“Your husband has lost a lot of blood, but we managed to stop the bleeding, and the surgery went well. Our main concern is with his brain injury…” The doctor pauses for a brief moment, wondering how to tell you the next news. “But, unfortunately, he’s in a coma.”

The news came at you like a violent wave. Suddenly, the world around you stopped, and you couldn't hear anything else. Your eyes were wide open, your chest was burning and aching, and for some stupid reason, you didn’t want to believe those words. How could Leon be in a coma? It was your thing to play reckless, he had no right to leave you like this.

You saw the doctor talking to you, but you couldn’t hear anything; everything around you was running slowly. What the hell was he saying? His lips moved slowly, just like the rest of the entire world, but you managed to understand: he was asking you if you were okay or if you needed something.

You felt like you were drowning, unable to reach the surface, surrounded by darkness. You wanted to scream and cry, but you couldn’t. You felt trapped by an invisible force, holding you tight and keeping you shut.

It was the sight of Chris that made you turn back to reality, and finally, the scream that was trapped in your throat came out from the core of your lungs.

“It’s okay, I got you,” Redfield said quickly as he held you before you fell to the ground. Your legs were shaking just like the rest of your body. “It’s okay”

“It was my fault, Chris.” Your voice was muffled by desperate chokes and sobs. “He’s in a coma, and it’s my fault”

“It’s not your fault, okay? It could’ve happened to you or him. Leon knows what he does, and I’m sure he did that to protect you" Chris tries his best to comfort you, although it seems impossible at the moment. He still holds you tight, for which you are very grateful, because you know you’ll fall if he lets you go.

Leon had no one in his life. You knew that the moment he told you about the ring. The “family” he had consisted of Chris and Claire, Jill, and Rebecca. You had no room for this. Leon made that pretty clear years ago, but now everything is different. You had to tell everyone what went wrong, how he got injured, and why it ended like that. You had to describe the entire mission, you had to remember everything. Now you were sitting again, with Claire holding your hand, while Jill and Chris were talking with Rebecca. Your eyes were locked on your hands, still stained with his blood. You were completely shocked, with no reaction or words.

“He’ll wake up, I know he will,” Claire whispers as a way to comfort you and give you kind words.

“He said he loves me,” you managed to say, although you doubted Claire would hear it. You wanted to hold onto something real, that would help you deal with what was happening.

“He always did, I’m glad he finally told you that,” Claire said, and you were a little surprised she heard you. More surprised to hear something you thought would never exist.

“But I don’t think that’s true. He always hated me.” You finally look at her, your eyes seeing something different from the dried blood in your hands.

“Do you think Leon is capable of hating you? He’s so in love with you, he can’t even hide it,” Claire said, and then she smiled largely while holding your hands.

But you find it hard to believe those words. Your mind was conflicted between what Claire was saying and what Leon said before he fainted. You wanted desperately to believe it, but deep down, you weren't sure. You finally received authorization to see him, with the benefit of being his “wife” and a government agent, but when you stepped inside his room, seeing all those loud machines around his body and a giant bandage on his ribs, his clothes were perfectly folded in the chair. His skin was pale and cold to the touch. He was almost lifeless, and seeing him like that made you sob again.

“I’m sorry… I never wanted to see you hurt,” you muttered, hoping he would hear it. You held his hand, praying he would wake up. “If you can hear me, then come back to us... I miss you fighting with me”

But there was nothing — not even a small squeeze on your hand. You were trying to convince yourself that he heard you and that he was coming back to you, and that was the lie you were desperately trying to believe. How silly you were. How desperate and pathetic you felt. It could be days, weeks, months, or years, how could you possibly predict when he would wake up? It was up to him.

“You won’t get rid of me that easily, Kennedy,” you said last, as a single tear fell from your eye. You wanted to be brave for him.

And as an answer, he squeezed your hand weakly.

Three months later.

“Goddammit, this hurts!” Leon groaned angrily at you when you tried to remove the bandage from his ribs to clean it.

“Stop moving, asshole,” you said back, glancing at him and then rolling your eyes. “Then it won’t hurt”

“You’re so fucking gentle,” he muttered, taking a deep breath. You waited until he stopped moving so you could change the bandage.

“Hey, I’m not the one with open wounds,” you teased him, then finished removing the bandage, being extra careful with the stitches on his skin.

“How does it look?” Leon asks with a soft voice. You noticed that he never actually looked at the wound.

“Terrible, but healing,” you smiled kindly at him, cleaning around the wound with the antiseptic and the wet cotton. You saw his skin chilling, and soft groans coming from his mouth.

Leon hated seeing his scars. He hated having them; he hated knowing what caused them, which was why he barely sees himself in the mirror; he avoids his own image. One month ago, Leon woke up from his coma, and although he was very confused, at first, due to his brain injury, he had no memories of the mission or what happened before he got hurt. Chris had to explain everything to him like he was a toddler learning how to communicate.

“So… that was it,” Chris tells him, after explaining why he was in a hospital bed with a huge wound on his ribs.

“Shit… I’m tired,” Leon muttered, closing his eyes for a moment and trying to relax his beaten-up body on the bed. “Two months?”

“Yep. You slept like a baby,” Chris chuckled, making fun of the situation to lighten up his mood.

“Where is…” Leon started, as it seems pretty obvious that you weren’t there with Chris.

“Oh…” The smile on Chris’s lips disappeared slowly, and he became more serious, sitting more appropriately on the chair. “Well, um…”

For some unknown reason, Leon was anxious. He didn’t know why, but he felt eager to know why you weren’t there with him; he was sure he heard you say you missed him fighting with you, but at this point, he wasn’t sure if it was a dream or reality. And the way Chris kept looking at him made his heart beat ten thousand times faster. When Chris was about to tell Leon about you, someone knocked on the door, and when the person came inside, Leon felt disappointed to see it was a nurse with his medication.

“Mr. Redfield, you’ll have to leave now. The visiting hour ended a few minutes ago, and the patient needs to rest,” the nurse says, leaving the tray with Leon’s medication on his bedside table. Leon sighed, glancing at the window, while he laid his head on his pillow to rest.

“Before I go… I want you to have this,” Chris said, getting closer to his bed with something in his hand. Leon glanced back, curious. When Chris opened his hand, Leon saw his mother’s ring, and he felt sad. “You know, she was here with you the entire time”

“Then why is she not here now?” Leon asks, holding the ring in his hand and avoiding Chris’s gaze.

“Give time to time,” Redfield said before leaving his room.

Leon hated being in the hospital with different wires connected to his body. Nurses checked on him constantly, asking a lot of questions, taking him through thousands of exams to see if he was doing better or worse, and doing physiotherapy. They said the brain injury had damaged his body, and, besides the wound on his ribs, Leon had broken his arm and would have a disability in walking and doing normal things. Of course, with the proper therapy, he would walk again and have a normal life, but he needed to cooperate.

Leon had already convinced himself you didn’t care, but on the third week after he woke up, he was taken into another exam. One hour later, when he came back to his room, he found you asleep on the chair, wrapped around your jumper, seeming tired to the bones. The nurse helped him lay back on his bed, and he remained silent, just watching you sleep. He wanted to keep every detail about you, even the small ones. Suddenly, you moved on the chair and woke up, yawning. Nothing he had rehearsed in his head prepared him for this moment.

He had given up on hope, he thought you would never see him again. Maybe you had found another partner, or maybe you had moved on with your life. Perhaps you just didn’t care about him. Maybe and more maybe…

"Hey,” you said, noticing he was too shocked to even pronounce a word. “How are you?”

“Fine, I guess,” he managed to say, and he wanted to punch himself because he sounded very rude. “That’s not what I meant…”

But, to his surprise, you just smiled. Chris told you about his amnesia, he told you that Leon wouldn’t be able to walk for a long time because of the damage to his brain from the injury. You were hoping he didn’t remember what happened before he fainted that day. It would be easier for both of you.

“I came here because Chris told me you woke up, I wasn’t in the country, so…” you said, feeling your cheeks blush a little. He nodded quietly, and the expression on his face told you he was sad. “I had to finish our last mission. Do you remember anything?”

“Not so much, everything is a little messed up, and every time I try to remember something, my head hurts,” he says, taking a deep breath and laying his head on the pillow again. “I remember me in front of your apartment telling you about our mission; I remember giving you my mother’s ring; and the fight we had at the airport… I remember a few things from the hotel we were at, but nothing more… Sometimes I have a few flashbacks. I remember getting hurt trying to get our comms back, breaking my arm, but..."

“It’s okay, don’t force yourself. You know you’ll remember eventually,” you said to him, trying to give some comfort. “You’re alive and recovering, that’s all that matters now, Leon”

“It sucks being here… I want to go home, but people keep telling me I’m better here and that medical bullshit,” he sighs, then he looks outside his window again.

“About that… I’m here to offer something,” you said to him, already thinking it would be a terrible idea.

“What would that be?” he asks you, raising both of his eyebrows in a slightly curious tone.

“Come live with me…” you simply said, shaking both of your shoulders like it was the most normal thing in the world. “Until you recover, of course”

At first, having him live with you proved to be a difficult task, mostly because Leon thought he was a burden and strongly avoided his appointments. In his head, he could treat himself alone, he could take care of his wounds and do the chores in the house. However, he could barely leave the bed, and he complained every time you tried to convince him to attend his appointments. Even Chris tried to coax him into getting out of the house, but Leon refused like a pampered kid. It was very difficult.

“You know I can’t do everything on my own, right?” you asked him after finishing changing and cleaning the wound on his rib.

“I know, but… I’m sorry,” he says with a deep sigh, looking at you with guilt. “I know I’m making this more difficult than it should be…”

“It’s not your fault, but I really need you to understand that sometimes even the toughest agent needs help. You can’t avoid medical care forever, Leon,” you said, looking straight into his eyes.

“I’m an asshole, right?” He managed to smile a little, then he looked at you. “I never thanked you for taking care of me”

“What can I say? You didn’t make things easier, either.” You smiled at him, looking into his blue eyes.

“I have something I need to tell you,” Leon whispers, then bites his lower lip and avoids your eyes.

“Shoot me”

“I… remember what happened… before the coma. I remember the mission,” he says, finally taking the courage to look into your eyes. You decided to stay calm, but not cold. “I was scared, I never thought I would almost die… but then you were there with me, and I felt at peace”

“Why did you give me your mother’s ring?” you decided to ask. You needed to understand.

“Because it was personal, I wanted you to have something personal from me… I knew one day I would come close to death trying to get your ass out of danger, and I thought you would feel better having something mine,” he explained, and then, everything made sense. He truly cared about you.

“You’re such a fucking idiot, Kennedy.” You smiled at him, then you laughed.

“Hey… what’s wrong? Are you okay?” you asked after knocking on his door. He glanced at you, his eyes swollen after crying for God knows how long.

This entire month that you took care of him was enough to learn how to read him. Before, he was pure mystery — the person who hated you the most. Now you know when he’s happy, angry, or uncomfortable. You know how to decipher him, read his face, and understand how he feels.

Leon still sleeps in the guest’s room, but sometimes you can hear him wince and cry, and sometimes you can hear him sobbing. You woke up to the sound of him crying and decided to finally ask. You had been wondering for weeks, thinking he wouldn’t talk about this subject. But you needed to try it, anyway.

“I… it’s nothing, I’m okay,” he said, quickly wiping the tears from his eyes.

“C’mon, you can talk to me. We’re friends now,” you say again, sitting on the edge of his bed and smiling.

“It’s just a silly nightmare…” Leon whispers softly, looking at his arm plaster. You had signed your name on it, followed by Chris, Claire, Jill, and Rebecca. “It’s Raccoon City. The same night over and over again”

“You were there? I’m surprised,” you said to him, and he smirked slightly.

“I was a rookie cop, late as hell on my first day. I had recently graduated from the Police Academy,” Leon explains, gazing at the ceiling, then at you again. “I survived that night, met Claire, saved Sherry… then, they forced me to work for them, and here I am”

“Forced? What do you mean?” You raised your eyebrows, confused.

“It was a deal I made to keep Sherry safe… I never told this to anyone,” Leon whispers, and you imagine how cruel it was for him to be forced to work all those years for the government. “How about you? How did you end up being an agent?”

“Before the government, I was in the army. Special Forces. I worked with Task 141 across the earth, until I decided to leave before things went to shit” you tell Leon, which makes him glance at you completely surprised. “I miss my buddies Price, Roach, Soap, and Ghost”

“It’s so weird to think how our lives were different… I was forced to join the government, you decided to do it for yourself…” Leon whispers, analyzing his own choices in life. “Now I can truly understand why you work the way you do…”

“I made a lot of bad choices, I’ll admit that. But after everything I did in the past… you actually get used to your own method of working,” you say to him, hugging your legs. “Maybe that’s why I do things the way I do. I like the adrenaline and danger that come with it”

“I’m sorry for calling you reckless,” Leon said after a brief moment of silence.

“That’s okay, trust me. I've heard worse things before,” you chuckled.

Leon seemed more calm, although his eyes were still red and swollen. You heard the first drops of rain hitting his window, and the noise of the lightning outside announced the rain. For a moment, there was only silence between the two of you.

“I hate this stupid arm plaster,” Leon suddenly says, and then you laugh.

“But there are our names signed on it. And I made a drawing when you were asleep” You showed him the drawing you made. It was a cat and a few flowers.

“Flowers? Really?” Leon frowned, glancing at you.

His last appointment provided good news. His ribs seemed to be healing, and soon he would be able to remove the arm plaster. After the appointment, you drove Leon to his physiotherapy session, and for the first time after he woke up from the coma, he finally decided to cooperate with himself. For some unknown reason, he wasn’t grumpy today.

“What? They’re cute!” you protested while laughing at his reaction. “But I’m serious, you need to sleep now. Tomorrow you have that physiotherapy session and an appointment”

“Well, if you keep doing home exercises, soon you’ll be fully recovered,” the doctor tells him, sitting in front of you two.

“Home exercises?” Leon asks, looking briefly at you, knowing you would definitely force him to do his exercises.

“Yes. It’ll help ease the pain and help with your mobility.” She nods, noting something on the paper. “And, most important, you can’t avoid your appointments, Mr. Kennedy”

“Yeah… I’ll keep coming,” he said, his entire face red as a tomato.

When you drove him back home, he certainly wasn’t expecting a surprise from your little family. Claire, Rebecca and Jill decorated your entire apartment, while Chris went to buy food and drinks. Because of the thousands of pills he was taking, Leon wasn’t allowed to drink any alcohol, which you gladly thanked him for. He was better sober than drunk.

The smile on his lips and the way his eyes were shining were more than he could put into words. You noticed that Claire even bought party letter decorations that were hanging from your ceiling, with the sentence ‘Happy Birthday, Leon’ in blue and yellow.

“Come on, you guys gotta be kidding me” he laughs with happiness, hugging everyone carefully.

“What? You really thought we would forget your birthday, golden boy?” you tease him, drinking soda and giving him one cup.

“This is… amazing” Leon seemed lost in his own words. “I don’t deserve you guys”

After singing him the birthday song, you guys celebrated his birthday with those blue birthday hats and a special cake the girls baked for him. Chris was talking to him, while you and Rebecca were chatting about types of coffee. Jill and Claire seemed to be very focused on their own conversation about TerraSave.

“Guys… I wanted to thank everyone. I know sometimes I’m a pain in the ass, but after everything that happened to me in the past three months, I have a lot to thank for… especially you.” Leon glances at you with shyness. “You took me into your home, took care of me, and had to hear every stupid joke I made, even my grumpy humor”

“That was the hard part, believe me,” you say, winking at him, which makes everyone laugh.

“I know. I was a jerk, and we had a lot of arguments with each other, but recently I found out that…” he paused for a moment, certainly thinking about what to say. “Life can be shitty sometimes, and bad things can happen to us… and this last mission made me see things I thought would never happen to me. I nearly died, but I got a second chance, and I don’t intend to waste it”

You knew exactly what he was talking about. Living with him for the past three months proved to be an interesting task. You knew him, and that was enough. Hours later, it was only you and him, sitting on your couch as the rain struck against the window. The fireplace gives off a warm temperature inside the living room, and, despite the silence, you two are more connected than before.

“I must say, there’s one thing I’m sure won't change,” Leon laughs, looking at his hands, after a long time of silence. “Being almost killed truly made me see things…”

“Such as?” You lifted your head to look at him.

“First, I actually never asked to be reassigned to another partner. I only told you that because I wanted to see how you would react” he said, looking at you. “And…”

“What's the second?” You laugh at his confession, mostly because you knew that a long time ago.

“The second is… I really hate the way that I love you”

[sandwhitches]

hii! can i have a cherry popsicle abt suna confessing to the reader but he’s super nervous?? thanks so much! feel free to request smth from me if you’d like to do a little exchange:)

a/n: u must be a mind reader because i’ve LITERALLY been working on this exact prompt omg!!! it’s longer than a drabble (lowkey really long so i just formatted it like a fic☠️) because i already had most of it written when u requested so enjoy :3!! also u BET im gonna send u a request yay!!!

𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐒 (𝐟𝐭. 𝐒𝐮𝐧𝐚 𝐑𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐨)

desc: suna is an idiot and seeks the help of an unlikely (and annoying, in his humble opinion) ally to help him confess to you

content: fem. reader, language, suna’s little sister guest star!!!!! (i love that he canonically has a little sister; she’s like middle school age in this ughhhh suna as a big brother makes me want to combust), suna pining for you like a big stupid idiot

wc: 1.5k

this is a part of my summer writing event!!! please feel free to send some requests my way :3

Suna Rintaro knows two things for certain: firstly, he’s absolutely in love with you, and secondly, he hasn’t a clue what to do about it. It was easier for him to come to terms with the latter, seeing as he’d spent most of his teenage years rolling his eyes at mushy displays of affection and taking the piss out of his friends who seemed to have traded all necessary brain function in exchange for falling in love. 

To him, falling in love this early on in life was as worthless and cheap as the chocolate he watched be gifted every Valentines Day; eventually, they’ll eat what they like and throw what they don’t in the trash, he’s seen it done countless times before, and he’d be stupid to let something like that happen to him. 

Still, here he is, knee-deep and sinking even deeper as the moments go by, he thinks falling in love might be like being pushed into quicksand. As odd as it is for him to admit it to himself, he doesn’t mind it at all.

There’s a certain giddiness that can’t be awarded any time other than when you talk to him. He spends the rest of the afternoon and evening thinking about your conversations, wondering if he said something wrong, thinking of all the ways he could have prolonged the exchange, and smiling fondly when he remembers he managed to make you laugh three times (a new record for him).

“What’s with that face?” Atsumu had interrupted Suna during one of the breaks at volleyball practice, his idiotic grin on full display in Rintaro’s face. Had he really been smiling just from thinking about you?

Suna had mumbled something that sounded like an awkward mixture of shut up and fuck off, quick to storm away in hopes that Atsumu didn’t catch the violent reddening of his cheeks. This is not good, he thinks, love can’t really be this hard to ignore, can it?

He’s put up a hard battle against this exact scenario, and he’s afraid you might have unknowingly thrown a wrench right into his fine tuned machine of a brain. If this really was a battle, he’s fine raising a white flag in order to get to make you laugh more often, for the slight possibility of getting to know if your lips really feel as soft as they appear, and the hope that one day he might forget all about what it was like not to be entirely in love with you. 

This is the nail in the coffin, his final surrender. Being in love really must make people stupid, because he’s nervously tugging his collar as he knocks on his younger sister's door. She chirps a surprised “Come in!” and Rintaro struggles to actually reach for the door, consumed with the reality of the fact that this really is where he’s ended up in his life. Great.

His sister gives him an incredulous look when she realizes it had been him who knocked, eyeing him suspiciously, “What do you want?” She mumbles in confusion, setting her pencil down. Suna parts his lips, mouth running dry, then sighs loudly, shaking his head. 

“What is it?” She inquires, sudden agitation laced in her tone. Rintaro looks at the ground, too embarrassed to see the inevitable shift in her expression when he asks, “What’s the right way to ask out a girl?” 

A silence follows that isn’t long enough in Suna’s opinion, quickly cut off by a loud bark of laughter, “No way! You’re asking me for advice?” 

Here’s another thing Suna Rintaro knew for certain, there’s no word that describes the extent in which his younger sister is the bane of his existence. 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Suna mutters self-consciously. This probably was a bad idea in theory, but as much as it pains him to admit it, this is his last resort. He knows next to nothing about how to be normal about talking to you, let alone confess; something is better than nothing in this situation, and he swears to himself that he will make sure he never has to ask his sister for advice like this again. 

Love, when it comes to you, has to be a one and done thing. He’s sincerely praying to whoever is watching over him that he never has to feel the terror of confessing to anyone else again. It just has to be you. 

That’s why he’s here, standing about as stiff as a marble statue as he pushes a shaky finger to your doorbell, drawing his hand back swiftly as if it burned him. In a spurt of unexplainable confidence, Suna had asked if you wanted to hang out on Saturday, conveniently leaving out the part where he desperately wished for it to be more than just a hang out.

Earlier that morning, he’d been so close to chickening out that his sister, of all people, angrily dragged him to the nearest grocery store with a scowl.

 “Don’t get her roses, it’s way too soon for that kind of flower!” She snapped, swatting Suna’s hand away from the bouquet.

“Daisies? Seriously? Are you a serious?”

It would be an utter lie if Suna did not admit that he had no idea what his sister was talking about. If love really is this complex, maybe he’s not the right person for it. Still, he finds himself lingering on the face you make when you laugh, the way you’re the first person that he never got sick of texting into the early hours of the morning, and how you’re the only person that could ever make him reconsider that puppy love and crushes might mean something more than he’d given them credit for.

After all, the way he felt for you is what people call love, isn’t it?

Suna grips the assorted bouquet of colorful flowers that his sister had deemed good enough, listening to the sound of your front door clicking open. He’s doomed, this is a bad idea, and yet it’s the only thing he wants to do. 

How’d you get to be so beautiful? Suna wonders that a lot, in fact, it makes him angry that you’d just waltzed into his life like you did. It’s absolutely unfair, he was a dead man before he could even put up a fight. Falling in love with you was unavoidable from the beginning, but he seems to be just okay with that. 

“Oh!” Your eyes go wide, nonplussed by the bouquet in his hands, “Flowers for me?” You snicker, your laughter is probably the worst thing that could possibly happen right now, it makes everything ten times harder to do.

“Yeah, um-” Rintaro sputters, nervously darting his eyes around for the answer to your question. He knew the answer. You knew the answer.

Hastily, he holds it out for you to take, which you do without hesitation, “What’s the occasion?” 

Suna Rintaro knows two more things for certain: firstly, he’ll die if he doesn’t tell you how he feels, and secondly, you’re smart enough to have already surmised exactly what the occasion is. 

Everything his sister told him, advisories of “That’s too creepy!” and “Don’t be so blunt about it!” all fly to the back of his mind in exchange for the only things he can really manage to say. 

“Well,” Suna starts, cringing at the way his voice cracks, he knows this is about to be the world’s worst confession. 

“I, um, I got these for you because I think you’re really pretty,” you watch in bewilderment as his cheeks gradually saturate into a bright red, “but, that’s not just it!” Suna blurts, “You’re also really smart, and funny, and you’re probably the only person I could sit and talk to for hours without getting annoyed by-” Now, Suna is blatantly breaking the third piece of advice his sister had given him, don’t ramble.

“And, I really look forward to talking to you, even if it’s about boring stuff, I still want to hear you talk all day. Which, saying that out loud is really embarrassing for me, but, not because I’m embarrassed of you, I’m just embarrassed that I’m so-”

“Suna-” you interrupt, the cellophane wrap of the bouquet you held crackles as you lower it to see him better. You watch, partially in amusement, while the boy across from you struggles to comprehend everything he just said. 

Suna is done for when it comes to you, this was priorly understood, so why is it so hard to put it into words if it’s all he ever thinks about? “I like you a lot…is that okay?” He finally sighs, pale green eyes flickering up to search for a silent answer in the faltering of your expression. 

“That’s okay.” You nod, dumbfounded by the sudden declaration, each word was spoken with more confidence than anything you’ve ever heard him say before.

“Cool.” Suna nods dumbly.

“Cool.”

[blkkizzat]

JJK Men x Black!Reader Bonnet Headcanons - fluff, 18+ only

Nanami is thoughtful. He would make sure his sweet girl would never have to worry about protecting her hair. 

Once you explain to him why you wear a bonnet to bed Nanami is the type to surprise you by sewing (of course Mr. Domestic can sew!) silk into the lining all your hats, caps and beanies. He makes sure the sheets and pillowcases are silk as well. 

Nanami also starts lounging in silk PJs (that hang low on his hips showing off his deep cut v-line) because he also knows how much you like laying your head in his lap when the two of you relax in front of the TV just in case you don't actually feel like putting your bonnet on just yet.

Choso is an insomniac so when he can't sleep he watches over you. 

Like a protector, if he notices you shifting and a braid, lock, coil or curl escapes your bonnet he will reach over to gently tuck it back in before giving you a chaste kiss on your forehead or nose. In fact, if he can manage without waking you up, Choso will even tighten or re-tie your bonnet as well. 

And if your hair is straightened, on hot nights when you start to sweat he will turn on the fan, turning off oscillation in favor of directing it all to cool you instead. Choso knows you hate sweating out your new silk press.

You don’t know any of this though, you just know ever since you started sleeping over at Choso's you’ve never woken up with your bonnet off or your hair sweat-out.

Suguru is practical about it. He is the type that once you explain why you wear your bonnet and how it keeps your hair healthy and protected he starts wearing bonnets too so his long locks can stay smooth. 

Not only does he wear bonnets with you he buys matching ones for you for the both of you to wear to bed. You never worry about forgetting your bonnet now when packing an overnight bag to stay at Suguru's because he always has dozens of them for you to chose from. 

Suguru even has dedicated an entire drawer for you in his closet for all your collective bonnets. In fact, best to just leave yours at home because he will pout hella bad if y'all ain’t going to bed matching.

Toji is a bit of an asshole. If you’re mad and ignoring him he will definitely snatch your bonnet off when you brush past him just to get your attention. Toji would much rather have you cussing at him than the silent treatment. 

You could try to take it back from him but n!gga is big as fuck and if he plays 'keep away' you know you ain’t getting that shit back until he's ready. You sigh relenting and stand on your tippy toes to give him a kiss, the silent treatment finally broken.

Satisfied, Toji immediately returns your bonnet. He places it back on your head and adjusts it to as it was before. He kisses you again and apologizes for upsetting his 'sexy mamas'.  

You would have made him work for it a bit more before giving into him so easily, snatched bonnet or not but you don’t trust him alone with your bonnets. You once walked in the bedroom to find him jack!ng off into your favorite bonnet because 'all your panties were in the dryer'.

Gojo is over the top about it. He goes out of his way to order you designer bonnets. Fendi doesn't make actual bonnets? Well they do the fuck now. 

Money is absolutely no object and only the best quality silk goes on his baby girl's head. Gojo once even flew you to Paris so Chanel could take your actual head measurements in their showroom (which he shutdown just for you ❤︎).

All of this is fine and all but you do still love your trusty $2 beauty supply store bonnets. Gojo know's this and tbh he loves them on you just as much too. You know he does because once in a while you will come back home and instead of his blindfold he will be wearing one of your beauty supply bonnets pulled down over his eyes.

Gojo whines that he missed you all day and this helped him feel closer to you.

Sukuna appears indifferent to your bonnet. In fact you might even be a bit self conscious at first that he doesn’t like when you wear one. 

However, all those worries dissipate when you start to notice how attentive he is to the fact of making sure you actually do wear one. You binging your fav Netflix drama and decide to lay down on the sofa without putting on your bonnet first? Nah.

Your vision will be blocked when Sukuna drops a fresh bonnet on your face. A simple order to 'put it on brat' is given before he leaves the room. He does this often. If you question him why he does this? Sukuna will grumble and say he wont want you bitching or taking longer to get ready later because you forgot to wear your bonnet and now your hair is too messed up. 

Although Sukuna truly couldn't give a fuck if you didn't do your hair and just wore your bonnet when you both do go out. You look fucking hot to him either way. One time Sukuna even laid a n!gga out flat on his back in the streets. Some random dude made a comment about you being 'ratchet' under his breath for wearing your bonnet outside the house and learned to mind their fucking business that day. Safe to say Sukuna is very much pro-bonnet.  

blkkizzat © 2024 - do not steal/repost.

a/n: I said I would write drabbles but these headcanons popped into my mind and I had to share. Hope y'all enjoyed!

*runs back to the fifty-leven fics i am currently procrastinating on*

Reblog (because tumblr isnt showing this for some reason 😭) and let me know which one was your fav but likes and comments are just as appreciated!

[cup1dz]

JUST A FRIENDSHIP GIFT (g/n reader x floyd leech) ★ you buy floyd a friendship gift. fortunately, he likes it! unfortunately, the gift could be misinterpreted for a love confession in the coral sea... where floyd leech was born.... uh oh! ★ fluff! tbh can be read as platonic or romantic ★ 2k words, mild cursing, not proofread, reader is called 'shrimpy', open ending :)

floyd leech is your friend. 

or at least, you think he is. he clings to you like you’re his life support, always leaning on you like you’re his personal armrest. you’ve grown accustomed to the loud call of “shrimpy!” whenever he sees you, always mentally preparing yourself for when he starts dragging you away to be part of whatever new hobby he’s picked up. you’re also no stranger to his bone-crushing hugs, the ones that lift you slightly off the ground and quite literally take your breath away.  

you thought that eventually he’d get bored of your presence and find someone else to pick on. he’s pretty open about the fact that he’d drop azul if he got boring. but it’s been a while now, and he still won’t leave you alone. in fact, you’re pretty sure he’s gotten clingier, if that’s even possible. 

you used to try and run, but you quickly found out that you cannot escape from floyd leech. a terrifying concept, but, well, he doesn’t seem to mean harm. most of the time, that is.  

nonetheless, floyd leech is still your friend. ignoring his occasional sadistic nature, he’s nice enough. he cheers you up whenever you’re sad, even if his methods are a little unorthodox. he’ll drag you away from classes, proclaiming that he can always go through the material with you later, and make you help him practice his basketball skills or recount the time he squeezed someone so hard their eyes were almost bulging out of their skull. and he’ll back you up in an argument, glaring down the person slighting you and telling them off with only a few words.  

(but he’ll make fun of you all he wants. you’ll excitedly tell him something new you learned and then he’ll laugh at you for not knowing basic twisted wonderland history even though you are from a completely different dimension.) 

you’re pretty sure you and floyd leech are friends. so, it was really no surprise when you did what any good friend does, and you gave him a gift that reminded you of him. 

it was this cheap matching set of phone charms that you picked up while buying your groceries at sam’s. his charm consisted of small, glimmering beads mimicking gold and ivory pearls leading to a shiny off-white seashell that dangled at the end of the charm. your charm was similar in design, but the gold beads were replaced with baby blue ones, and the beads led up to a seastar.  

you thought it was cute. you thought floyd might find it cute. so why... why is he just staring at it? 

“do you, like, not like it?” you laugh nervously, watching as floyd, for the first time ever, remains completely and utterly still. you don’t get it. did you offend him in some way with the charm? do eels not like phone charms? does he not like the seashell? does he not like the color gold??? 

suddenly, he breaks out into a fit of laughter. it does nothing to ease your anxiousness, or your confusion. 

“oh, man. you’re so funny shrimpy!” he grins, revealing his horrifyingly sharp teeth, “you have no idea what this means, right? man, i forget how dense you are sometimes!” 

okay. ouch. you take time and money out of your day to give him a gift and he calls you dense. 

“well, what’s wrong with it?” you ask, offended, “did i accidentally curse out your entire bloodline in eel language or something?” 

“nah,” he says brightly, picking up the charm to examine it closer. the beads gleam in the sunlight, making their pearl act look much more convincing. you still don’t get it.  

“look at it shrimpy,” he continues, “it’s shiny, pretty, and it’s part of a matching set!... still don’t get it? i’ll spell it out for you, ‘kay? listen closely... it would check all the boxes... for a love confession in the coral sea!” 

oh. 

oh. 

“so i’m asking you out,” you say dumbly. 

“so you’re asking me out!” he affirms happily, “awhh, you’re so cute shrimpy, asking me out in such a traditional way! i accept!” 

“wait-” you sputter out, “wait! it’s not a love confession- why did you say yes so easily?! it’s a friendship gift! because we’re friends! it’s not part of a courting ritual!” 

floyd laughs in your face again. you suddenly have the urge to either punch floyd leech or take away the phone charm and burn it. but you don’t. thank the sevens for your great impulse control. 

“it’s okay, shrimpy! no need to be embarrassed!” he teases between giggles, swinging the charm in front of your face, “c’mere! i’m gonna give you the biggest squeeze of your life!” 

“wait-” 

but floyd leech does not wait. he immediately tackles you with the force of a truck. you feel your feet lift off the floor as floyd hugs you so tight you feel your bones struggle to stay intact.  

“ow! owowow!” you squeak out, writhing hopelessly in his grasp. you try to form coherent words, but all you can make out are gasps of pain. 

just as suddenly as he grabbed you, he drops you on the ground and makes a bolt for the door. 

“wha- where are you going?!” you yell out. he grins at you from over his shoulder, swinging the door open and prancing through. 

“what does it look like? i’m gonna show off to everyone!” he yells back, turning the corner. you hear his cackling gradually getting quieter as he runs off. 

“wait- floyd! floyd!” 

you scramble to your feet, wincing at the ache in your ribs. you try to rush out the door after him, but it’s too late. floyd leech is gone with the wind. 

sevens save you. your reputation is going to take a nosedive straight into the mud. 

you’re so done for. 

you’ve been on edge the whole day. 

you’ve gotten wind that yes, floyd did attach the charm to his phone, and yes, he did flaunt it to everyone. and while he didn’t outright say it was from you, he did say it was from “shrimpy” and everyone put two and two together pretty quickly. of course, nobody thought anything of it at first, you gave him a charm, so what? while it is unusual giving a gift to someone like floyd, it’s not really a big deal in the end. 

that is, until floyd had apparently offhandedly said that such a charm, shiny, beautiful, part of a matching set... would totally be considered a love confession in the coral sea. 

and then everything went to hell. 

every few minutes some student runs up to you and starts yelling at you, telling you that you’re insane for asking floyd out. and then you must correct them, telling them you meant it as a friendship gift. of course, nobody believes you.  

to put it simply, it’s been a rough few hours. 

“you!”  

you jolt, thoughts suddenly interrupted as you see ace sprinting towards you, and you have half a mind to start sprinting yourself back where you came from. 

he skids to a stop in front of you, hands on his knees as he breathes in and out heavily. 

“you asked out floyd leech?!” he yells between heaves. you wince.  

“no, i didn’t,” you insist, crossing your arms, “it was a friendship gift. a friendship gift! great sevens, how many times do i have to say it?!” 

“that’s not what floyd said.” 

“you’d believe floyd over me?!” 

“listen,” ace takes in a huge breath of air, straightening himself, “i didn’t think it was possible, i mean floyd? getting a partner before me? no way. so i asked him who it was from, and he was like, ‘shrimpy gave it to me!’ i didn’t even register it at first, like, who the hell was shrimpy? but then i realized, great sevens, it’s you.” 

you groan in embarrassment. you’ve gone through this scenario multiple times today, but it’s even more humiliating going through it with someone you’re close with.  

“look, it was a friendship gift,” you try explaining, “how was i supposed to know it meant a love confession where he was from? i didn’t even know what beanfest was!” 

“yeah, yeah,” ace waves off, “i’m surprised i even found you. thought you’d hole yourself up in your room or something.” 

“you were looking for me?” 

“duh! bet some other people are too. i wouldn’t put it past some of the octavinelle students to try and get the scoop,” ace sighs in exasperation, “sevens, i keep telling you to leave him alone and you just don’t listen, do you?” 

“to be fair, he’s the one that’s been following me.” 

“well, why do you encourage him to keep following you?!” 

you don’t really have an answer to that so you clamp your mouth shut. why do you keep encouraging him? 

“you’re such an idiot,” ace groans, “forget it. i’m leaving. i don’t want to get caught up in whatever mess you’re dealing with.” 

“weren’t you the one looking for me first?” 

too late again. ace walks away, and you still want to curl up in a hole and die.  

no! you can’t think like this! you’re mentally stronger than this, you’ve gotten past multiple overblots and lived and you’re not going to let one scandal ruin you! let’s see, your next class is... 

oh. it’s the one with floyd. 

so much for being mentally strong.

you walk into the classroom, and immediately all eyes turn towards you. you scan the free spaces, and... 

...great sevens. the only free one is near floyd. 

“shrimpy!” floyd says loudly, gaining the attention of the entire room. you see a scarabia student share knowing looks with the heartslabyul student next to him. great. floyd beckons you over, and you groan internally. 

the sevens hate you. it’s the only logical explanation. you slowly slide into the seat next to him, and he quickly takes out his phone. the charm is attached, just as you had feared.  

“i still have the charm you got me!” he exclaims, showing you that seven-forsaken charm. it glimmers in the sunlight. you really wish it didn’t. 

“yeah,” you respond back awkwardly, not sure where to look, “uhm. just by the way...” 

“hm?” 

“...you know it wasn’t meant to be a love confession, right? it really is just a friendship gift.” 

“huh?” he says, “yeah. i know.” 

...? 

“wait,” you sputter out, “but you’ve been telling everyone-” 

“yeah! that you got me something totally snazzy!” his gaze shifts to the phone charm, and he plays with the seashell at the end, sporting a goofy grin. “it’s like, totally cool! i’m gonna treasure it for life!”  

“no- why did you tell everyone it was a love confession?!” 

“wha?” he looks at you, clearly shocked. you gape at him. why is he the one who’s shocked?! you should be the one who’s more surprised! in fact, he should be groveling for your forgiveness right now! 

 “i never said that,” he denies, pouting, “you makin’ up lies about me, shrimpy?” 

“you-” you bury your head in your hands, groaning, “didn’t you tell them it was a love confession?” 

“i didn’t,” he insists, “all i said that it was funny how you didn’t know this charm could be considered a love confession! never said it was one. not my fault people assume, shrimpy!” 

you can feel everyone staring at you and floyd. you look up and make eye contact with the heartslabyul student who you saw before, and he hurriedly looks away. 

“dammit...” you whine, “this is all your fault!” 

“huh?!” floyd cries out, “how is it mine?!” 

“silence!” professor trein interrupts loudly. he must’ve come in while you were busy dealing with floyd. the class’s attention is diverted towards the front of the board, and you have never been gladder for professor trein’s presence. 

you open your textbook, breathing out a much-needed sigh of relief. thank the sevens that you’ll have a few moments of peace! 

...that is, until floyd waves his phone in front of your face, the charm swinging back and forth. the nerve! he’s making fun of you! you shoot a glare at him, and he meets your gaze with a smirk. 

“leech. phone away,” professor trein demands.  

“awhh. okay.” 

note: in honor of me getting my second floyd leech ssr. was gunning for his basketball card but got his dorm uniform instead... ITS OK. ITS A FLOYD CARD ALL THE SAME. (i wanted ace) also the open ending isn't because of like some master writing idea it's actually just because i didn't know how to finish it.

[inotakumagf]

a skater boy’s dream girl

✶ ino takuma x reader

word count ✺ 2K

summary ✺ ino takuma is a hopeless romantic, but that never hurt anyone

warning ✺ none! very cute, very fluffy jujutsu college au. title insinuates fem reader, but the actual fic is gn!

Ino Takuma is tired. He spent his entire evening in Jujutsu University's massive library, working on a research paper that his professor had assigned in one of his stupid required courses. He feels useless when it comes to research papers, because it’s impossible for him to put all his jumbling, complicated thoughts into a neat essay. And Takuma knows he’s smart. He’d just rather show it through his actions instead of his words, because he’s always had a hard time with those. 

His degree advisor, Professor Nanami, has been helping him by editing his papers and guiding him through the research process. But the two have realized that Takuma’s ADHD is tricky to accommodate. Takuma is just lucky that his advisor cares so much to help him anytime he needs. Except for tonight.

Professor Nanami apologized to him earlier in the day about it, pushing his glasses up and citing “other preoccupations for the night”. If someone asked Takuma to bet money on it, he’d say his mentor has a date. Not that he’d ask, but he’s so stoked for his professor that he’d assured him he’d be fine making progress on the paper all on his own. And even as he laments his lackluster writing session, he’s glad Nanami is enjoying his personal life away from the university. 

It’s on his way out of the library that he bumps into you for the first time. He practically runs into the elevator, pressing hard on the button for the first floor. He hears you call out for him to hold the door. Despite the fact that Takuma is half-dead on his feet, he’s not the kind of person to stare at someone as the elevator doors close. So he sticks his arm out and holds it until you hop in. You have a stack of binders and books in one arm and a laptop bag slung over the other shoulder. 

You gasp out, “Thanks. These elevators take forever to come back up.”

Takuma hums in agreement and scoots to the edge of the elevator to give you space. His stomach is doing a million kickflips at the sight of you. He’s never seen you on campus before, there’s no way he has. Because he would definitely remember someone as attractive as you. He ignores his stuttering heart and stares down at his feet. He really needs to get back to his dorm without making a fool of himself. 

The elevator stops again, and a girl walks in. She seems to recognize you, because the two of you start talking about a shared class. Takuma has no idea what kind of class this is, but he’s admittedly kind of obsessed with you already so he pulls his phone out to Google it. He pouts at the fact that this course is just about the opposite of his own major. So there’s no chance he can see you more often, not unless he stalks you.

The elevator starts going up, and Takuma has to hold in a groan. He really, really just wants to get in his own bed tonight. It takes them up three floors for the girl’s stop. Once she’s out of the elevator, Takuma leans forwards to spam the first floor button a couple of times. It’s silent the rest of the way as the ancient elevator takes its time going down. 

“Think I’ve aged a couple years in here. Would’ve been faster to ride a tortoise down the stairs,” Takuma says, only slightly regretting the nonsense he spouts. 

But you laugh softly, and he thinks he’d do anything to hear it again and again. The elevator stops at the second floor, and you shift your stack of material. You give him a small smile and slight incline of your head as you step out of the elevator. 

There’s a moment where he pauses, like he’s trying not to overthink what he’s gonna do next. As the door starts to close, he sticks out his arm and steps out so that he can talk to you and maybe ask you out if he pulls together the confidence. He looks around the hallway of this floor, peeking into each of the windowed rooms and looking down different halls in hopes of spotting you. But it’s like you’ve disappeared into thin air, because he can’t find you at all. He deflates and decides to call it a loss before he starts to feel like a creep, taking the elevator back to the first floor so he can finally head back to his dorm where he’s supposed to be.

He knows he shouldn’t, but he returns to the library around the same time every day for the next two weeks, hoping that he’ll see you again. But he has no luck, and each night brings the same feeling of disappointment. He wants to kick himself for not just talking to you when he had the chance laid out so perfectly for him. He considers finding the building that your class is held in, but he has no idea what day or time you would be there. It makes him feel like too much of a pathetic loser, so he’s given up hope completely. 

Even Nanami had asked him about his change in mood over the last few weeks, and Takuma doesn’t want to admit to his advisor that he’s this much of a hopeless romantic. He blames his behavior on all of the Julia Roberts rom-coms he’s been binge watching lately. 

He must not be watching enough rom-coms, though. Because Takuma doesn’t think that he would be running you over with his skateboard if this was a rom-com.

But it happens as he’s skating in the grassy square on the main campus, on one of the cobbled pathways that connect the many class buildings that surround the square. He has his headphones on, so he doesn’t notice when you run perpendicular across his path all of a sudden. You don’t notice him either, because clearly you’re rushing somewhere. 

The two of you tumble onto the patch of grass beside the path at the impact. It takes a few moments for the both of you to sit up and separate your tangled mess of limbs. Immediately, you start apologizing at the same time. Takuma’s hand twitches as he thinks of helping you up, but you cross your legs and don’t look like you want to get up right away. So he folds his legs and just enjoys your presence.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats. “I really should be better at looking where I’m going. Nanami tells me all the time I’ll knock someone over with how I skate, and it looks like he was right as always.”

You shake your head. “No, it was my fault, I shouldn’t have been running like that.”

Takuma’s heart stutters as he tries to work up the courage to ask you out. He should say something, because he might never get the chance again. But his mouth is embarrassingly dry right now.

It’s okay, because you fill the silence when he can’t. “You have Professor Nanami? Ugh, you’re lucky.”

Takuma perks up. Now this is a topic he’s good at. “Yeah, He’s the greatest! He’s been my mentor for a year now, and I’d be toast without him. There’s not a single professor that can come close to his level.”

“Sounds like you have a crush on him,” you tease. 

The tips of Takuma’s ears turn red at your words, and you laugh at the effect your words have on him. 

“It’s okay,” you assure him, “everyone has a crush on Professor Nanami. It would be weird if you didn’t.”

“Even you?” He regrets his words as soon as they’re out of his mouth, and he pulls his beanie over his head in hopes that the ground will mercifully swallow him up. 

But you just laugh and say, “Yeah, he is pretty attractive. But he’s not really my type.” 

Takuma nods absentmindedly, feeling a bit dejected. If Professor Nanami—who is the most attractive man ever in Takuma’s opinion—is not your type, then any chance he had with you is six feet under.

 “Oh,” he says, still stuck in his thoughts. 

When you don’t say anything, he looks up at you and his heart spikes when he finds you staring at him intently. You brush some stray strands of hair away from your face and tug your bottom lip into your mouth to chew on, almost…nervously? Takuma isn’t an idiot, and the realization of your words and your behavior hit him like a truck. 

“Oh! I–hah.” He feels like a blubbered, blushing mess, but you pout a little (so cute, he can’t help but think) and stand up shakily. 

You brush off dirt from your knees and say, “Well, anyways, sorry about that.”

Takuma’s brain starts working a second after, and he stares at you in horror when he realizes you think he’s rejected you. He reject you? It’s absurd, and yet he’s staring at your retreating form. 

He grabs his board off the ground and rushes after you. “Wait!” 

You turn to look at him. He pants and waves his hands around as he tries to explain. “I, uh, can I take you out for coffee? I sort of owe you after nearly mowing you down back there,” he tries to joke. 

But that adorable frown still graces your lips. “You don’t owe me anything, it’s fine. I should have looked where I was going.” 

Takuma would be banging his head against a wall if there was one nearby. He's never been smart with his words, and it’s biting him in the ass. “No, no, no. I–sorry, I’m really bad at this. Shit.” He rubs his hands over his face and lightly slaps his cheeks to reset himself. 

“I think you’re really pretty and I’ve been thinking about you, like, all week. I’ve even been going back to the library to see you and I thought I never would, but here you are! And I’m ruining it by being stupid. But–but I really do like you, and I’m not doing this ‘cause I have to, I just really, really want to see you again. I–oh, sorry.” 

He finally catches himself mid-ramble as you stare at him with an unreadable expression. “I ruined any chances I had with you, didn’t I?” He pouts and slumps a little, looking down at his scuffed Vans. 

You tilt your head sideways so that your face returns to his line of sight. “No, I think it’s adorable.” 

Takuma’s head peeks up hopefully. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. And I’d love to get coffee with you.”

Takuma grins and pumps his fist. “Sweet! I mean, yeah that’s–that’s cool. I’ll see you then?”

You laugh at the very terrible job he does of hiding his excitement. “Are you gonna ask for my number? So that we can make these plans of yours?”

Takuma tucks his head in embarrassment. “Uh, yeah. Here, I can put my number in your phone.”

You smile softly at Takuma when he does. “Text me?”

Takuma nods, paying attention only in part. He’s way too distracted by your smile and the way you look at him and the way you play with your phone. He’s distracted by just about everything about you. He rubs the back of his head and turns his head away slightly to alleviate his embarrassment.

You coo at the way he shows his embarrassment. “I have to get to class now, but I’ll see you soon, yeah?”

Takuma blinks slowly at your words. “Yeah, I’ll see you soon.”

He kind of just stands there even after you wave and continue on your way. He only blinks to attention when he gets a text notification on his phone. He thinks he blacks out when he sees your message.

i think you’re really pretty too :)

[fresitasmoribund]

What Ifs and How It Was

-`♡´- pairing: Poly!Wolfstar x Fem!Reader

-`♡´- summary: A late-night conversation with your best friends—Sirius and Remus—leads to playful confessions. The three of you assume enough time has passed for any romantic feelings to fade. But the awkward silence that follows suggests otherwise.

-`♡´- contains: confessions, kissing

-`♡´- word count: 3.9k

You’d never believe the whole “friends-of-the-opposite-gender-can’t-exist” nonsense. It always kind of seemed like an excuse. A way for people to justify turning casual friendships into something way more complicated than they needed to be. In fact, you hated hearing it. You always brushed it off with a sigh or an eyeroll. After all, you had plenty of friends who didn’t fit into those narrow definitions. Until that one night.

You weren’t much of a pub-goer, but that night, something strange pulled you there. Maybe it was the dull hum of the city that night. Or maybe it was the promise of a drink you didn’t have to make yourself. Either way, you found yourself tucked into a corner of the first loud, dimly lit place you could find. You nursed a glass and enjoyed the atmosphere, staying just close enough to any brawls for free entertainment, but safely away from getting hurt.

During your little adventure, you stumbled upon a very drunk man, and his very apologetic friend. Actually, it was more like he had stumbled into you – literally.

Sirius Black was an intoxicated mess of long, unruly hair and had the kind of energy that could ripple through the air like static electricity. One minute, you were sipping your drink, minding your own business. The next, you were knocked sideways by a body that practically materialized out of nowhere. You tried to catch your balance but only ended up stumbling backward.

“Shit! Sorry! I didn’t—” His own laughter interrupted him as he tried to untangle himself from you.

Before you could even process the situation, another presence appeared – calm, collected, and letting a string of “sorry”s fall from his lips. Remus Lupin, his sober friend, helped both of you up with a surprisingly gentle grip.

“You alright?” Remus asked, his voice soft but sincere. His eyes roamed over your face with a mix of concern and just a mild amount of amusement. You found yourself nodding before you could even stop yourself.

Sirius, meanwhile, was still rambling apologies, his words tumbling clumsily over each other in a way that made it clear he wasn’t entirely control of his brain at the moment.

“I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean to—” He paused, staring at you with wide, doe-like eyes. “But, hey… you’re alright. You look alright. Maybe even better than alright.”

You blinked – slightly confused – before shaking your head with a smile.

“It’s fine. No harm done.” You straightened, brushing yourself off.

He turned toward his partner, his attention already shifting to something else.

“Moony,” he slurred, nudging his shoulder. “Get the beautiful thing a drink, yeah? It’s the least I can do after practically throwing her across the pub.”

Remus gave him a pointed look with a raised eyebrow, but he didn’t object. Instead, he reached into his jacket pocket for some cash. A small laugh bubbled up from your throat. The absurdity of it all made you suddenly realize how amiable they both were together.

As Remus went off to grab the drinks, Sirius took a step closer to you. Thinking back on that moment, it had been a little too close, but it felt… oddly natural. He grinned, still a little wild-eyed. You could tell that despite the graceless introduction, he exuded a sort of warmth that was impossible to ignore.

“So,” he started, as if you’d known each other forever, “Why are you at a place like this by yourself, gorgeous?”

It was cheesy, and it was a clear attempt at flirting. You’d find out that the drunker Sirius got, the worse his flirting was. You never let him live it down from that day on. But in that moment, there was something about it – the light in his eyes, the tilt of his head – that made you grin.

Before you could respond, Remus returned with drinks in hand. He was a little bemused by Sirius’ antics but was clearly used to them.

“You alright?” He asked, handing you your drink with a small smile.

You accepted it gratefully, still processing the oddness of the situation. “I think so. I’ve survived worse.”

Remus chuckled softly and stepped back, more comfortable now that the initial awkwardness had faded. Sirius, however, was still standing a little too close to you. His smirk widened as he took in your drink and then glanced at Remus.

“See?” Sirius said, raising his glass. “I’m not completely abysmal.”

Laughter passed between the three of you, the unexpected bond sinking in quietly.

Even then, you still had the firm belief that you could strictly stay platonic with friends of the opposite gender. They couldn’t count, right? For starters, there were two of them. And, you quickly learned, Sirius Black and Remus Lupin were an inseparable package deal.

Okay, maybe you did have a crush on both of them at one point. But it was almost like they actively tried to make it impossible for someone not to be at least a little infatuated by them. Remus had a quiet charm—the kind that lingered in his soft-spoken words and surprising wit. His pensive gaze always carried an air of controlled intensity. It felt like he was trying to understand you down to your very soul – but never in a way that felt invasive. He carried himself with a reserved elegance, shoulders slightly hunched. If you ever had the pleasure of picking up on a mumbled retort of his, you were sure to laugh. The scars that crossed his face only added to the enigmatic air of mystery around him. He was always your source of calm – perfectly balancing Sirius’ chaos.

Sirius was a natural flirt – his beauty so striking it was almost cruelly unfair. He carried himself with a confidence that tipped toward arrogance, but never quite fell over. That was thanks to the way he could charm the socks off anyone in a heartbeat. He tended to look at people like he could eat them alive if he wanted to – in a violent and sexual way. Everything about him was larger than life – his laugh, his humor, his confidence – and it was hard not to be swept up in his orbit.

They didn’t shy away from touching, either. Sirius didn’t seem to know the meaning of personal space – always draping himself over the nearest friend he could find. He’d sit too close, his thigh squished against yours. Or he would lean in too close to make a point, lips quirking into that devilish smirk whenever he noticed your cheeks flushing. And Remus, although more reserved and respectful, was the kind of person who would grab your hips to gently move past you. Or he’d kneel in the middle of the pavement to tie your shoe before you even realized it had come undone.

There were loads of times that you could have justified having a crush on them.

Like that one time you’d walked straight into a pole, and while Sirius was laughing his ass off, Remus wore a worried look on his face.

“You alright, love?” he whispered, his hands tentative as they cupped your face, tilting it gently to inspect for any damage. His touch was warm, and for that brief moment, the whole world seemed to fade away. You hadn’t realized how badly you needed the comfort until it was there.

But it wasn’t just his hands or the softness of his voice. It was the way his brow creased in genuine concern for you, his amber eyes scanning yours as though searching for something deeper than a bruise.

“You had me scared for a second. Can’t have you broken just yet, can we?” His lips curled into a smile, his thumb gently brushed against your cheek.

You managed a sheepish laugh, waving him off with a dismissive, “I’m fine.” But even as you spoke, he remained. His hands fell from your face to your shoulders, steadying you. Sirius grinned, striding over to you both.

“Oi, let me coddle her too.” Before you could react, he slung an arm over your shoulders and pressed his cheek to the side of your head. “You’re alright, love, aren’t you? Say it’s so, for my sake.”

Or that time you’d brought Sirius a drink at a party.

He was talking someone’s ear off when you found him – gesturing wildly as he launched into a tirade. It wasn’t unusual for him to dominate a conversation. His voice was always a little louder than necessary, and his laugh could cut through the room like a knife. He was magnetic, in that way only Sirius could be.

You didn’t even think about it as you grabbed his empty cup and swapped it for a fresh one. You slid it into his hand so seamlessly that it took him a moment to notice. But he always notices when you do something.

When it seemed he finally did, he stopped mid-sentence. He glanced at the new cup and then at you with a look of exaggerated delight, like you’d just handed him a winning lottery ticket. Without missing a beat, he grabbed your face – careful not to spill his drink on you – and planted a big, dramatic kiss on your cheek.

“Oh, I just love you, darling,” he beamed, eyes sparkling with mischief.

And then, just like that, he turned back to his conversation. He picked up right where he’d left off, as if nothing had happened.

How could anyone not be totally, madly in love with them?

… Definitely not you. That’s for sure.

Your feelings seemed to die down when they began dating each other about a year into the blossoming friendship the three of you shared. It was only a matter of time for them, and you knew that. They shared a longer history, and, truthfully, you had assumed they were already a couple when you first met them. You had even offered advice to both men on how to approach the topic with each other. You were happy for them, and despite the coupling, there was never a time the three of you weren’t together. The dynamic didn’t change much, either. Well, aside from those moments when you’d step out of the room for only a second and come back to Sirius practically devouring Remus’ face.

The soft, creamy glow of the table lamp illuminated a small portion of the room they had designated as yours after purchasing a flat together. Sirius is sprawled casually on top of Remus, his chin resting on his folded arms. You are next to them, propped up on your side, a pillow tucked beneath your elbow.

While Sirius casually leaned into teasing you as he often did, Remus just… was. The way his hand subconsciously finds its way into Sirius’ hair, twirling a lock between his fingers, spoke volumes without either of them acknowledging it. You knew them both like the back of your hand – their habits and quirks as familiar as your own heartbeat. But in those quiet moments, you’d find yourself wondering what it would’ve been like if the timing had been different. What if you were a little braver?

No. You are grateful for what you have now.

“Remember our first impressions?” Sirius asks suddenly.

Oh, that’s right. The anniversary of that night was coming up. The three of you had been friends for three years now – three years since that night at the pub. Three years of shared moments and laughter.

You glance at him, raising an eyebrow. “Yeah, you tripped over me and nearly knocked me out cold.”

Sirius grins, eyes sparkling with mischief. “That’s not how I remember it. I’m pretty sure I was just making a graceful entrance, and you were too starstruck to see me coming.”

You roll your eyes, and Remus chuckles beneath Sirius, the heat of his hand still resting in his boyfriend’s hair.

“You were a drunk and clumsy fool,” Remus says tenderly and full of affection.

Sirius shrugs melodramatically with a sigh. “Alright, maybe I was a little clumsy. But I’m glad we did have our little run in with each other. I’m pretty sure you were already in love with her by then.”

You freeze.

Remus stiffens, but Sirius is undeterred.

“Moony and I have talked about this, and I think enough time has gone by for this to not be as awkward, but…” He pauses for dramatic effect, turning his head toward you, a sly grin on his face. “I actually had a crush on you.”

Your eyes widen slightly, and you fight to keep your jaw from dropping. You were certainly caught off gourd by the sudden confession. You chuckle, brushing it off with a teasing shake of your head.

“Oh, come on. You’re just messing with me.”

Sirius’ grin stretches wider, and he looks like he’s not going to back down.

“I’m serious,” he insists, though the humor still sparkles in his eyes.

“Not this again.” Remus groans.

But Sirius only looked more pleased with himself. “Oh, don’t act like you weren’t gone for her too, Moony.”

Your breath catches in surprise. The comment he made about Remus being in love with you after the first meeting – you thought he meant it as a joke. Your eyes flick toward his face, where he held an unreadable expression.

“What? You’re telling me you had a crush on me too?”

“Oh, you definitely had him wrapped around your little finger.” Sirius raises his head from his arms to narrow his eyes at you before turning to Remus. “Remember that time—early on—when she fixed your tie for you?”

Remus closes his eyes briefly, silently begging a higher power to take him away as his face turns red. You fight the urge to bury your face in your hands.

“You remember that, right? I saw you. You practically turned to stone when she did that. That was the moment I knew.”

“Sirius, please…” Remus lets out an exasperated sigh, but you can see the edges of his lips twitching upward.

You can’t help but smile at the easy camaraderie between the two of them. It was one of the things you love most about being with them – how natural and effortless it all felt.

“Alright, fine. Maybe I did.” He finally looks at you before returning to stare at Sirius. “Can we move on now?”

“That’s so crazy,” you say, fighting back a big smile. “I remember having a little thing for you two as well.”

The laughter that followed filled the room, the three of you lost in the silliness of the confessions. But as the laughter gradually fades, a sudden silence blankets the space. It wasn’t uncomfortable—quite the opposite, actually—but it carries an undercurrent of something deeper.

When what you revealed finally sinks in, you think you must have misheard yourself. What you said was a joke you hadn’t realized you were about to make, right? You weren’t sure if the sudden heat in your cheeks was from the admission or the way the air in the room had shifted so subtly that it was almost imperceptible. It was as if the past three years of friendship, of teasing, of little moments like these, had all been stripped of their platonic certainty and were now clouded by scrawls of “What if?”

The silence is so thick you can almost hear your heartbeat echo in your ears. The room feels suffocating with the weight of unspoken feelings – as if the walls themselves are holding their breath.

You exchange a glance with Sirius. He’s not looking at you with the usual carefree glint—there’s something else buried beneath it now. Something that makes you think twice before meeting Remus’ gaze. He’s looking at you too, but his eyes are softer, more searching than you’ve ever seen before.

In the stillness, you can hear Sirius’ fingers drumming lightly against Remus’ shoulder. Then it stops, and the sound fades to be replaced by the thrum of your own pulse in your throat. Remus’ breathing slows, and you can see the way his chest rises and falls with a rhythm that seems too deliberate than it should.

Your gaze flits between them. Back to Sirius, then Remus. The question hovers in the air, and even though it’s unspoken, it’s painfully palpable. It’s a question you’ve been trying not to ask for the past few years. It’s one that lingers in the corners of your mind every time they look at you like this.

Then, just as the moment stretches taut and thick, Sirius breaks the silence in the only way he can. His voice is casual – too light – almost too loud for the moment.

“Well, that’s enough emotional exposure for one night!”

He rolls off Remus, flopping onto the bed and causing the springs to protest. His hair spills across the pillow, messy from where he had been lying on top of Remus. The tension that has been building up snaps like a rubber band that’s been pulled too tight. It’s broken—but not completely gone.

You can’t help but notice how Sirius’ cheek is flushed with something more than just playful exhaustion, his lips curling into a mischievous smile. He stares at the ceiling in contemplative wonder before he distracts himself by kicking his feet up into the air.

Remus’ gaze is still on you. He looks at you, a beat too long, like there’s something he wants to say but can’t find the words for.

Before either of you say a word, Sirius is already pulling him back into the moment. With a theatrical sigh, he drops an arm around Remus’ chest, yanking him into an easy, lighthearted conversation again. The three of you move on as if the confessions hadn’t resurfaced feelings you thought had vanished a long time ago.

The room is dark, save for the weak glow of the moon filtering through the windows. You can’t sleep. The silence is suffocating, its heaviness too distracting to lull you into sleep. You’ve been staring at the ceiling for far too long.

You can’t take it anymore.

You throw the blanket off you with a frustrated huff and slip out of bed. The cold floor grounds you slightly as you head for the door. Maybe a glass of water – or two – could satiate the drought in your throat.

 You pad carefully toward the kitchen, instinctually trying not to wake them, knowing both are probably already asleep in their room. The hallway feels endless, your footsteps muffled against the cool wood beneath you. But as you pass their door, something stops you.

A voice.

You freeze, eyeing the light that filters from the space between the door and the floorboards, because maybe your ears were deceiving you. The voice is low, almost too faint to make out. I shouldn’t eavesdrop, you tell yourself – but your feet betray you. You move before you can stop it, drawing closer, until you’re standing close enough to hear. Your heart is racing in your chest.

“Pads, it’s not that simple,” Remus’ voice comes, steady and low.

Sirius huffs from the other side of the room, the sound of the sheets rustling in the quiet.

“It’s exactly that simple, Moony. We just… we tell her.”

Remus sighs in a way that tells you the weight of his thoughts—of this apparent proposition—is pulling him down. “At two in the morning? I think she’d appreciate not being woken up to… this.”

“Because we’ll keep putting it off otherwise!” Sirius’ voice rises before hushing again. He’s trying to gather the right words, being left frustrated but determined. “I can’t keep doing this, Remus. I can’t keep looking at her and pretending like I don’t want—like we don’t want…” His voice trails off, the vexation lacing every word, the quiet desperation in his tone is unmistakable.

Your stomach flips. They’re talking about you, aren’t they?

“I hate it.” He continues. “Feeling this way and not saying anything. It’s like it’s going to rip me apart, and I know you feel the same. Don’t you?”

Silence takes place again, then Remus’ voice breaks the quiet.

“Of course I do, Pads. But what if…”

Your chest tightens. What if? What if what?

There’s a creak of the bed. Then Sirius’ voice intensifies again, louder now. “No. No more of this. Let’s just go talk to—”

“Sirius, it’s the break of d—”

The door swings open.

You don’t have time to step back. You freeze – caught – and there he is. Sirius. Standing in the doorway, his hair tousled, his grey eyes widening as they meet yours.

With no warning, he steps forward. His hands find your face as he pulls you into him. His lips crash against yours with a fierce intensity that you’ve come to expect from Sirius Black.

The kiss is sudden, messy, and it knocks all the breath from your lungs. It feels like lightening, sending a jolt of heat straight to your core. His lips are demanding and desperate, with an undeniable tenderness guiding them too. He sighs against your mouth, his shoulders relaxing as he leans into you. You can’t breathe – can’t think. Everything is buzzing, spinning, and all you can focus on is Sirius.

When he finally pulls back, he huffs in satisfaction.

“There,” he says, as if he’s finally put everything to rest. His hands fall from your face, but his gaze lingers.

Behind him, you can hear Remus groan. He rubs a hand over his face in exasperation, through there’s a subtle smile tugging at his lips. “Well, I guess we’re doing this now.”

You blink, still standing there and completely speechless. You’re sure you must be dreaming right now as your mind races. You open your mouth to say something – anything – but Sirius doesn’t give you the chance. He turns his head to glance over his shoulder at Remus.

“Oh, don’t act so surprised,” he says. “You wanted this too.”

Remus raises an eyebrow, attempting to keep his composure. He rises from the bed and steps forward, closing the small gap between the three of you.

“I’d have gone about it differently,” he teases. He pauses, his gaze locking with yours, his smile widening just a fraction. “But… I supposed he’s not entirely wrong.”

You’re nestled between them, the quiet warmth of their bed wrapping all three of you like a cocoon. Sirius’ arm drapes lazily across your stomach as his fingers trace patterns and shapes on an exposed bit of skin. Remus’ hair tickles your jaw as his head rests against your shoulder. Sirius shifts slightly, propping himself up on an elbow to look at you. His stormy eyes flicker with something almost boyish.

“You’re finally ours now,” he says with a satisfied grin.

The words hit you square in the chest, sending a flurry of fluttering wildly in your stomach.

Remus huffs. “Couldn’t have put it more poetically, could you, Pads?”

Sirius snorts and rolls his eyes. “Excuse me for not wanting to keep pretending like we haven’t been living in a ridiculous tension-filled love triangle for the last few years.”

“Can’t argue with that,” Remus mutters while you laugh. He glances at you, his amber eyes softer than you’ve ever seen them.

Sirius leans in with zero hesitation, catching your lips in a kiss. It’s playful but loving, and your lips curve into a smile against his. Pulling back, he flashes you one of those grins that causes your face to heat up. He tilts toward Remus next, with the kiss being slower, and filled with the same easy intimacy that’s always existed between them.

When they part, Remus raises his head from your shoulder, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. He moves, placing another kiss to your cheek, then your temple, his breath warm against your skin.

“Goodnight,” he whispers against your hair.

Sirius’ arm tightens around your waist as Remus’ fingers lace with yours.

[grimm-writings]

chomp

…ft! boothill x gn! reader

…tags! fluff, silly, biting, arguing (petty and not serious), reader is significantly shorter than boothill

…wc! 612

…notes! hiiii guess who’s alliiiiiveee. um advice for anyone out there do NOT become a teacher it will take up all your energy haha!! here’s something to prove i am in fact still living!!

“Youuuuu little… SHIT!”

Boothill turns on his heel to face you, expression blank.  He looks left, then right, then points a finger at himself, as if there were any other little shits of note.

Meanwhile, you stand in front of him, practically steaming with rage.  If you were a kettle, you’d be whistling at a pitch high enough only dogs could hear.

“...I get the feelin’,” Boothill starts, placing his hands on his hips and preparing for a lecture, “someone is mad at me.”

“Oh!  How intelligent!  Should we call the Genius Society?  Nous THEMself?”  You bat your eyelashes, but the smile you plaster on your face makes you look more like a monkey ready to pounce.

Boothill rolls his eyes, his hands held up in surrender.  “Alright, alright!  I get it.  I forked up—”

“Oh, you forked up, you say?”  You interrupt.  “Yes, that’s what I call pulling me out in the middle of a road when there was oncoming traffic then suddenly letting go of my hand!  Yes, what a fork up!”

Boothill’s eye twitches at your outright mockery of his censorship.  “I’m sorry, ‘kay?  I know it was a jerk move, but it’s not like I shot ya!”

You can only bite your lip to suppress your scream, instead letting out a loud grunt in frustration.  As you pace, you reach up your two hands and approach Boothill briefly, they shake in the air as if pantomiming the great strangle you’re going to give him later.  You drop your arms and began to pace once more, continuing your berating.

Boothill doesn’t do anything except stand there and take it.  By now, he’s used to your scoldings.  In one ear, out the other.  In fact, if he just ignores what you’re saying, he could even say you look just adorable right now.  Yeah, look at you, trying to look all intimidating when you can barely reach his neck.

He could just eat you up.

“And another thing!”  You exclaim, continuing your lecture with Boothill none the wiser.  You stop in front of the cowboy once more, thinking of another thing to criticise with your finger held up in the air, just below his chin.  Boothill goes slightly cross-eyed following it.

“You are just—”

Chomp.

You stop short of what you’re doing, jaw slack as you look up at Boothill.  He has leaned down, and his shark-like teeth are now enclosed around your finger.

And he’s smirking up at you.  Bastard.

You begin wiggling your arm around like a crazy person as soon as you process the slight pain of the bite, like Boothill was a rabid dog you were trying to shake off.  “What the Hell?!  I’m trying to have a serious talk with you!”

Boothill replies, but his teeth are still latched onto your finger, so it comes out gibberish.  In fact, you think his grip only got tighter.

People are definitely staring now, but what’s more grating to your senses is how much fun Boothill seems to be having.  This isn’t fun– this is you trying to reprimand him!  Why does he have to be so…?!

Once you finally get him off you, he cackles as you cradle your poor, poor finger.  Those teeth marks will be there the entire day…  People are going to ask so many questions…!

“Sorry, darlin’,” he says, ruffling your hair as you mope.  “I tried to hold back, but I just couldn't help myself.”

You look up at him weepily and he smirks back.  He tilts his head in a way that makes him even more handsome from your angle as he gazes down at you.

Frustratingly charming.  That’s what he is.

[2amriize]

𖹭.ᐟ RIIZE as love tropes ༉‧₊˚.

ᡣ𐭩 masterlist

⭑.ᐟ shotaro . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ friends with benefits You and Shotaro had been friends for a long time, but your relationship changed one night at a party while playing a game with friends, you ended up having to kiss. Both of you were surprised at how much you enjoyed it. Though you met up to talk about it and decided it wouldn’t happen again to avoid ruining your friendship, you couldn’t help but break that agreement. Since then, every time it happened, you promised it would be the last, but you both knew it wouldn’t be.

⭑.ᐟ eunseok . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ brother’s best friend You had known Eunseok for years; in fact, he’d watched you grow up. He had been like a second brother to you. But the way you saw him completely changed as you got older, starting to develop a crush on him. It wasn’t just because you found him attractive but also because of the way he treated you, always trying to make you nervous and winking at you when your brother wasn’t around. You’ll never forget his expression when you stole a kiss in the hallway. From that moment on, you both decided to keep a secret relationship, trying to keep your brother from finding out.

⭑.ᐟ sungchan . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ fake dating When your neighbor Sungchan asked you to pretend to be his girlfriend at a work event, you couldn’t have been more confused. It wasn’t required to bring a date, but Sungchan really just wanted a coworker who kept asking him out (even after he had turned her down multiple times) to stop. It was odd for you to have to act like Sungchan’s girlfriend since you only knew him from running into him in the elevator. You couldn’t help but get nervous whenever he placed a hand on your waist or looked into your eyes with the sweetest gaze you’d ever seen. How was he so good at this? Even though it was a one-time thing, you couldn’t stop thinking about him after he dropped you off at home.

⭑.ᐟ wonbin . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ enemies to lovers He was too perfect to be real; everyone idolized him and wanted to be close to him, but all you could feel was anger and resentment when you saw him. Wonbin felt the same way about you, and everyone knew the tension between you every time you ended up in the same dance class. You both wanted everyone’s eyes on you, so you did everything you could to improve and capture everyone’s attention. While you got along with everyone else in your dance group, neither you nor Wonbin could even look at each other, and if you were in the same conversation, you’d ignore each other entirely. Things got complicated when you were paired up for a couple’s dance; your instructor had assigned the partners, and the entire class fell silent when your names were called. Neither of you imagined that the hatred you felt would change because of this dance.

⭑.ᐟ seunghan . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ soulmates It always felt like fate that you and Seunghan met. From the first time you met, you connected deeply, and somehow, even when your paths drifted apart, you always found your way back to each other. You had so many things in common—practically everything—that talking to him always felt natural and easy, like speaking with someone you’d known all your life. You were friends for a long time until finally, after years without seeing each other, you met again in the same place where you’d first seen each other, and you both accepted that you wanted to be together forever.

⭑.ᐟ sohee . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ friends to lovers For years, you and Sohee had been friends; you had practically grown up together. You’d spent all of your adolescence together, met each other's partners, fought, and even stopped speaking for months. But in the end, you were always there for each other as friends. After spending an entire night catching up, talking about the old days, and updating each other on what was new in your lives, you both realized, after exchanging glances for a few moments, what you had truly felt for each other all those years. Without fully realizing it, you and Sohee had held feelings for each other for a long time, though you’d never accepted it until that day.

⭑.ᐟ anton . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ rich x poor Anton was the son of one of the most important corporations in the world, while you were just a student. Your family had never had much money, so for years, you focused on your studies to secure scholarships and provide a better future for your family. You never expected to meet Anton in an elevator at one of the companies where you were interviewing. He asked to see you again. Things became complicated when Anton’s father found out about your relationship, forbidding him from seeing you again because you were not of the same social class. Even so, Anton would be willing to give up his wealth just to be with you.

ᡣ𐭩 masterlist // taglist: @regularsuh @gacktsa @totheseok @kkumistars @taroddori @enhacolor @ladylilith @electric-hearts @astrobymarwa @layluv123 @sunflowers1610 @nctrawberries @synkjellies

[tongue-like-a-razor]

There Are Limits

Pete "Maverick" Mitchell x F!Reader

Summary: Maverick's new female friend brings out your spiteful nature. And seeing you with a new man is harder on Maverick than he'd like to admit.

CW: age gap, student/instructor dynamic, swearing, drinking, and did someone say bring on the angst?? Because you know I can deliver..

WC: 4000+

This is Part 5 in the There Are Rules universe.

“Captain?”

Maverick looks up when you step into his office. He’s sitting on the edge of his desk and there’s a woman standing between his legs, so close, she might as well be in his lap. When you enter, she steps away half-heartedly, looking slightly annoyed that her conversation with Maverick has been cut short.

Maverick’s cheeky grin falters when he sees you, and he clears his throat as he hops off his desk.

“Lieutenant,” he says. “How can I help you?”

You stare at him in shock, not sure how to react. The last several weeks haven’t been easy; in fact, you and Maverick have barely spoken since your mutual decision to terminate your romantic relationship. But seeing him with another woman is a whole new level of difficult.

“Lieutenant?” he says, lifting his eyebrows worriedly. He doesn’t bother to introduce his companion, with whom he is obviously very familiar.

You swallow around the lump in your throat and exhale slowly. Maverick isn’t the only expert in self-regulation. It’s a skill that’s proven quite useful, if not invaluable, during your tenure in the navy. And, although it’s always come naturally to you, recent events have seen that you receive plenty of practice. “Sir,” you say promptly, saluting Maverick in an entirely professional manner, as if you’ve never even had his tongue down your throat. “It’s about next week’s squadron dinner,” you say.

It's true that you meant to speak about the dinner – about how you were planning on skipping it to avoid an ever vigilant Cyclone who's been watching both you and Maverick like a hawk. Moreover, the less you see of Maverick these days, the better.

But the scene before you has severely shifted the trajectory of your plans. And the next thing that comes out of your mouth is hideously unrehearsed. “I was wondering if we were allowed a plus one,” you blurt out, your eyes darting pointedly between Maverick and his female friend.

Maverick stares at you mutely, as though it’s taking him a minute to process your request. “You want to bring a date?” he then asks, his eyes widening and subsequently narrowing in a matter of milliseconds.

You feel like you might sweat right through your uniform with the way he’s staring you down, but you stand your ground defiantly. “If I may,” you respond unemotionally; the way you’d address any other superior.

Maverick nods slowly, glancing at the woman who’s currently rifling through some papers on his desk. You ignore how comfortable she seems in his office, like she’s been here plenty of times before. “I don’t see that being a problem,” he says. “Who’s the lucky…?” His voice trails off and he lets out a nervous laugh. “Should be fun,” he finishes, giving you a wide, artificial-looking grin.

You smile back at him. “I agree.”

…

“Boyfriend,” Maverick says, his eyebrows shooting upward for a moment before he checks himself and pulls at the collar of his jacket as if it’s suddenly an uncomfortable fit.

You try not to acknowledge his reaction and instead introduce your date to some of your squadron mates. You’re not sure why Sam has decided to put a label on your relationship at this exact moment, but you’re not going to argue semantics in front of the one person you wouldn’t mind buying into this spectacle.

“It’s new,” you hear Sam blurt out, presumably cowering under the scrutiny of Maverick’s gaze.

You make a point not to look Maverick in the eye because you’re still upset about walking in on him last week when he was clearly otherwise engaged. But when Sam walks ahead, busy conversing with the other aviators, you feel a finger brush gently over the back of your hand. You pull both hands behind your back and square your shoulders to face your instructor.

Maverick is watching you solemnly. “This is good,” he whispers, although the tilt of his eyebrows says otherwise.

You can’t express how much it hurts to hear him referring to this situation as good, and yet, you nod, grinning rigidly. “It is,” you say, pausing to give him an opportunity to come clean about his own blossoming relationship.

But Maverick does nothing of the sort. Maverick is as unreadable as ever.

You’re about to walk away when the woman you’d seen in Maverick’s office appears from behind him. She nudges him on the shoulder to get his attention and shoots him a brilliant smile.

Maverick gives her a polite nod before turning back to you. “Lieutenant,” he says. “I’d like to introduce you to an old friend of mine.”

The woman beams at you and holds out her hand. “I’m Charlie,” she says.

You shake her hand and return her smile. “It’s nice to meet you, Charlie,” you say. “Are you an instructor at Top Gun as well?”

She chuckles, throwing Maverick a flirty glance. “Not for a while,” she responds, looking back at you. “Not since this one made me rethink that particular career choice.”

Maverick drops his head with a laugh. “Sorry about that, by the way,” he says.

Charlie shakes her head. “Don’t be,” she replies. “It all worked out.”

Maverick nods, looking at her affectionately. “Charlie went on to bigger and better things. And by bigger, I mean she went on to design rockets.”

“Wow,” you say, both impressed and jealous of the woman who seems to hold a special place in Maverick’s heart.

“And look at how far you’ve come,” Charlie says to Maverick.

Maverick grimaces. “I’m right back where I started,” he remarks. “Full circle.”

“You’re right back where you’re meant to be,” she says earnestly. “And I’m proud of you.”

Maverick shifts his weight uncomfortably, hooking his thumbs through the belt loops of his jeans. “We better grab a seat before Cyclone has an aneurysm,” he says.

You turn to see Cyclone watching the three of you with an irked expression from the table reserved for your group at the restaurant. He shakes his head ominously as you make your way toward the others. When the three of you arrive at the table, he mutters, “How gracious of you to join us.”

Maverick glances at him with a slight smirk but doesn’t say a word while Charlie lets out a small chuckle, taking her place beside Maverick at the table.

You lower yourself into the seat next to Sam, right across from Maverick and Charlie. Cyclone is sitting to Maverick’s right, aggressively perusing the menu.

“I hear the fish tacos are good here,” Maverick notes when Cyclone lays his menu down on the table in frustration.

Cyclone gives him a sour look. “Not a fish person,” he responds tartly.

You stifle a laugh, exchanging glances with Charlie, who is also snickering.

“There are non-fish tacos as well,” Maverick points out.

Cyclone nods grumpily. “Yes, I saw the entire section devoted to the various tacos they serve. I can read.”

Maverick bites the side of his lip to contain a grin. “Enchiladas,” he continues quietly, as if to himself. “Quesadillas, chiles rellenos…”

“I want a burger,” Cyclone declares, flipping through the menu anew.

Maverick shoots you an amused glance. “Let’s start with drinks,” he suggests, sliding a draft beer menu in front of his superior.

“Good idea.” Cyclone sighs theatrically, rolling his shoulders to loosen some tension.

“Hey, d’you want to share a couple of dishes?” Sam offers, tapping you on the arm to get your attention.

You glance over at him quickly, having almost forgotten he was there. “Sure.” You nod enthusiastically, even though it’s the last thing you would ever think to do.

Once all the drinks and food arrive, and you and Sam awkwardly try to allocate your respective shares of the dinner, Charlie pipes in. “How long have you two been together?” she asks, gesturing at you and Sam.

“It’s new,” Sam, the self-proclaimed boyfriend who has yet to work up the nerve to even kiss you, reiterates quickly while you chew on a quesadilla.

You wipe your mouth with a napkin before confirming, “Not long.”

Maverick’s eyes rest on you for a split second before he returns his attention to the ceviche in his bowl.

Meanwhile, Cyclone regards you with a dubious expression. “Where did you meet?” he asks gruffly.

“Through some friends,” Sam responds excitedly, as though it’s the most fascinating fact of the evening.

You take another bite of quesadilla and avoid looking directly at any of the three people sitting before you.

But Maverick cuts the silence short. “Is it serious?” he asks, and both you and Cyclone shoot him threatening glances. Charlie looks up from her plate, trying to interpret yours and Cyclone’s abrupt reactions.

Sam, meanwhile, is smiling blissfully to himself as he pokes at the contents of his fajita before rolling it up. “I’d say it has some potential of getting there,” he says.

You nearly choke on a pepper upon seeing Maverick’s expression transform from mild amusement to unequivocal displeasure. His jaw muscles contract as he forcefully stabs at his dinner with a fork.

Sam clears his throat nervously and speaks in a noticeably higher pitch, “Of course, I can’t predict the future.”

You roll your eyes and put a hand on Sam’s shoulder. “It’s none of his business, anyway,” you say.

To Maverick’s left, you see Charlie’s jaw drop slightly in her shock at your informal – bordering on impolite – addition to the conversation with your superior officer.

Cyclone chuckles quietly, finally appeased by your interaction with Maverick. “At last, something we can all agree on.”

Maverick smiles politely. “I was just making small talk,” he says, laying his fork down without finishing his meal.

Cyclone gives him a flat look and leans forward to address his friend. “Charlie, how long are you in town?”

While Charlie and Cyclone engage in conversation, Maverick catches your gaze inquisitively, as if he’s trying to figure you out. His eyes are so penetrating, you feel like he can see right through you. He must know that your relationship with Sam isn’t even close to being serious. He must know that you’re probably going to break it off that very evening. He must know you only brought him because you were hurt and you wanted to hurt him back. Because Maverick has reconnected with someone of significance and is involved in something meaningful.

You tear your gaze away from him irritably. You’re about done letting Maverick stir up your emotions without so much as saying a word. You’re about done caring for a man who’s done nothing but cause you pain.

You rise from your seat and excuse yourself, heading for the bathroom near the back of the restaurant. No sooner do you break through the door, than you collapse onto the nearest sink and break down. You don’t even care that your mascara is leaving streaks down your cheeks, or that the tears are clouding your vision. You don’t even care that your hands are gripping the basin so tightly that your fingers are cramping.

You glance up at your reflection in the mirror; pathetic. How did you let yourself fall this far? This hard? This fast? You run the tap and dab some cool water on your skin, patting at the trails of makeup that your crying spell has left behind.

You take a deep breath, staring at your glistening face with a scowl, preparing yourself for the remainder of the evening. But just as you make your way for the door, it opens, and Maverick enters.

You jerk back in surprise, despite his history of showing up in places he isn’t supposed to be.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

You panic. He knows. He knows that you ran away to cry. And this makes you furious. “I’m fine,” you respond curtly. “You shouldn’t be in here,” you add, gesturing to the door behind him.

He pulls his eyebrows together like he isn’t quite convinced. “You’re not okay,” he says.

You grit your teeth in anger. He can’t just ignore you for weeks and then try to comfort you like he gives a shit about your feelings. “Why are you here, Maverick?”

Maverick presses his lips into a thin line and breathes out steadily. “I was worried about you.”

You scoff resentfully. “Don’t be.”

Maverick sighs and lowers his head. “I can’t help it.”

You attempt to keep your voice even despite all the shaking your body is doing. “You better go, Captain,” you say spitefully. “Before Cyclone finds us. Or Charlie.”

He watches you soberly. “You asked me to stay,” he reminds you.

You stare wistfully into his eyes. He’s right, of course. You’re the reason he’s still here. Your relationship with him has been strained but civil since the incident on the carrier. There has been a mutual effort to avoid unnecessary encounters, and an unspoken understanding that, while romance is out of the question, it will take some time for both of you to move on completely. Obviously, you did not expect him to move on by moving in on someone new. Or old, in the case of Charlie, because the two of them go way back, apparently.

You struggle to remember why you’d wanted this – wanted him to stay despite knowing that nothing would ever come of it. In the moment, you were desperate not to lose him. But watching him carry on as though nothing ever happened between the two of you is absolute torture. You’d rather not witness just how little you actually meant to him.

You shrug. “Error in judgement, I guess,” you respond coldly, echoing his words from the night Cyclone had caught the two of you in the parking lot of the Hard Deck.

Maverick nods. “Been there,” he says pensively before turning to walk out. Just before he does, however, he glances back at you and adds, “I’ll wait out here until you’re ready.”

“Don’t,” you say.

Maverick meets your gaze with a weary look. “I’m not leaving.”

“What’s Cyclone going to think when the two of us come back together from the bathroom?”

Maverick shrugs. “I have no control over what Cyclone thinks.”

“What’s Charlie going to think?”

Maverick pauses in the doorway. “What’s Sam going to think?”

You roll your eyes. “He won’t even notice.”

Maverick watches you quietly for a moment, then says. “I doubt that very much.”

You lick your lips as a fresh round of tears threatens to obscure your eyesight. The fact that Sam isn’t here to check on you but Maverick is has not escaped you. “Go, please,” you whisper.

Maverick wavers slightly on the spot and, after a brief interval, holds his hand out to you. You glance down at it hesitantly as your stomach flips violently at the though of touching him again. Clearly, you’re angry with him, but the part of you that loves him always wins.

Slowly, you step forward and place your hand in his. He pulls you in the moment you make contact, wrapping his arms around you as he releases the door to the bathroom. He lets his face drop, pressing his mouth to the top of your head.

After a prolonged – mostly silent – embrace, you detach yourself from his arms and give him a nod. “I’m ready,” you say.

Maverick nods back without a word and then opens the door for you.

…

It’s past midnight when you hear the knocking, followed by some irregular footsteps and a string of quiet – but still audible – curse words. After a moment of hesitation, you unlock the door.

“Captain?”

Maverick is standing in the corridor before you, although calling it ‘standing’ might be a bit of a stretch. He’s not exactly stable on his feet.

You glance up and down the hallway to make sure that no one has seen him. “What are you doing here?”

Maverick is watching you with a squared jaw, as though he means to keep the purpose of his visit to himself. He breathes his frustration out through his nose before veering right into the doorframe.

“Sir!” you exclaim, grabbing a hold of his arm like you might have any chance of keeping him upright were he to topple over.

“Sir?” he murmurs, and you could smell the liquor on his breath. He catches your gaze now that you’re closer and, in another moment, his eyes begin to slip down your face before they finally close. “I told you,” he says, his mouth twitching as he grimaces. He pushes past you into the room.

You quickly close the door behind him, hoping nobody heard the commotion. Praying he’ll have the sense to keep his voice down.

But Maverick, it seems, isn’t nearly as concerned as you are about disturbing your neighbors. He rounds on you with a resentful expression and shakes his head. “I knew this would happen.”

You blink at him in confusion. “What?” you say. “What happened?”

“You happened,” Maverick says defeatedly. He takes a step toward you, his eyes flitting between yours as if he’s checking to see if you can relate.

But it’s a weekday and you had just drifted off to sleep when he’d started drumming on your door, so you’re not exactly following. You furrow your eyebrows. “I happened to what?” you ask.

Maverick watches you miserably, taking a step back now, as though he can’t decide which is worse: being closer or farther away from the source of all his troubles. “You two make a fine pair,” he manages to say, but not without a break in his voice.

You purse your lips, looking away from him. You’re not going to comfort a man who’s standing in his own way. After all, it was his decision not to be with you. Besides, Maverick brought his own date to the dinner, so you aren’t feeling overly sympathetic.

Maverick tears his gaze away from you and smacks a hand over his face. “What am I doing here, Lieutenant?”

It’s a fair question, to be sure; one you wouldn’t mind knowing the answer to, yourself. But you’re more immediately concerned about the consequences of Maverick’s unsanctioned visit to your quarters than the reasons behind it. “Maverick, it’s the middle of the night,” you say, shocked at how firm you sound despite the tremor travelling through you.

Maverick’s eyebrows converge and he shifts his jaw as his eyes well up with tears. “Yeah,” he whispers, nodding slowly.

“And you’re drunk,” you add when he takes a step toward you again.

“I am,” he admits, still in a whisper.

You ignore the stutter of your heart as he nears. “You can’t be here,” you warn.

He watches you wretchedly, giving his head a subtle shake. “I can’t,” he agrees.

You can hardly breathe when he finally stops before you, his soft eyes trailing down your face. His hand is coasting up the side of your neck before you even know what’s happening, and by the time his fingertips are hovering at the nape of your neck, you’re so lost in his gaze, it’s a miracle you’re still standing. Unsurprisingly, you aren’t in the state of mind to respond.

“I lied,” he says with a slight rasp despite the effort he’s exerting to steady his voice. “I think he’s terrible for you.”

You blink at him, taken aback. “Excuse me?”

“Sam,” he says. “He’s not the one.”

You pride yourself on your patience and understanding, even in trying circumstances; you’re not an unreasonable person by any means. But even you have limits. And, tonight, Maverick is testing every last one. “Are you the one?”

Maverick stares at you, his eyes swimming. Slowly, he shakes his head. “No, I’m not.”

You breathe out forcefully, astonished at his audacity. There is only so much you can let this man get away with. “Then, respectfully, shut the fuck up,” you hiss, pushing past him aggressively. You whip around sharply and point at the door. “Get out.”

…

The following afternoon in the briefing room, Maverick reviews the morning's flight footage with barely a look in your direction. He doesn’t even comment on the impulsive maneuver you pulled that left your partner confused and resulted in an uncoordinated hustle to regain momentum, costing your team valuable seconds that could have ended in tragedy were it a real dogfight.

Once the briefing is finished and the room begins to clear out, Maverick approaches your desk. “Can I have a minute, Lieutenant?” he asks in a subdued sort of tone.

You glance up at him grudgingly but don’t respond until the last of the pilots have left the room. “Is it about the Cobra Climb?” you ask monotonously.

“What?” He quirks his head in confusion before briefly closing his eyes and shaking his head. “No,” he says, and then adds, more emphatically, “No.” He lets out a heavy sigh and lifts a leg over the chair in front of your desk, sitting on it backwards to face you. “I want to apologize to you.”

You groan. “Not again.”

Maverick steals a glance at the door, ensuring that the two of you are still alone, and then he lays a hand over yours on the desk. “I’m sorry about last night. Showing up at your place – less than sober.” Maverick lowers his gaze with a disappointed frown. “I – I had no right. I have no right,” he says, looking back up at you. His eyes flit between yours imploringly, burdened with all the guilt he carries.

“Stop,” you say assertively, pulling your hand out from under his grasp. You can’t listen to another word. This entire relationship has been a series of failures in self-control, each one a ‘mistake’ in Maverick’s eyes for which he subsequently has taken full responsibility. You rise from your seat and gather your things mutely.

“Y/N,” he says hoarsely, standing up after you.

You shake your head. “I don’t need another apology, sir,” you say bitterly. “I just need some space.”

Maverick nods. “Of course,” he says. “And I’ve been denying you that – and I apologize –”

“I said, stop!” you exclaim, shooting him a threatening look.

Maverick trails you as you make your way to the door – the exact opposite of your request. You rush out of the briefing room, and he follows, not far behind. Thankfully, there’s no one in the hallway because he’s behaving irrationally, to say the least. He reaches for your arm and pulls you around to face him.

You gulp, staggering the moment you meet his gaze, the aching in his eyes undermining your determination.

“Let me finish,” he pleads in a whisper.

You exhale sharply. “Finish, then.”

Maverick slowly lets his hand fall away from your arm now that you’re no longer a flight risk and, this alone, hurts, because you want him to hold you forever. Even when you’re fuming, even when you’re yelling, even when you hate him.

“Seeing you,” he says slowly, evenly, as though he’s trying to compose himself as he’s talking. He takes a breath and tries again. “With another man –”

“Come on.” You scoff, even though your heart is already buzzing at the thrill of making Maverick jealous. “You can’t expect me to not date –”

“I don’t expect that,” he says. “Doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt.”

You think about the way you felt seeing him with Charlie and you’re instantly sorry for causing him that much pain, regardless of whether it was intentional or not.

“I was angry,” he says quietly. “At myself, mostly…” he trails off, moving his head to the side and lowering his gaze. “But also at you. And I blamed you for the way you make me feel.” He pulls his bottom lip under his teeth and grimaces. “But that’s not your fault,” he whispers shakily. “That’s on me.”

You bite into your lip to keep it steady. You wish you could look away because the devastation on his face is undoing you, but you aren’t strong enough. You take a step back and take a shuddering breath. “Please don’t look at me like that,” you say, your voice unsteady. You can barely get a grasp on his words because you’re too absorbed in his eyes.

Maverick’s eyebrows lift inward, as if your request has him concerned – or confused. “Like what?”

You roll your eyes – as if he doesn’t know like what. “Like that!” you respond as he takes a step toward you in alarm. “Just stop!” You sigh in frustration, unable to articulate your thoughts because his eyes are still commanding all of your attention.

“Where am I supposed to look?” he asks, agitated.

“It’s the way you’re looking at me,” you explain angrily.

“Are you listening to what I’m saying?” he asks urgently. “I need you to hear me.”

You shut your eyes and shake your head. “Enough, Maverick!” you exclaim.

Maverick stills immediately, watching you uneasily.

“You’ve been tiptoeing around me, treating me like I’m injured or in need of assistance –”

“I’m not –”

“You are and I’m tired of it. Why didn’t you call me out on the Cobra Climb?”

Maverick stares at you like you’re unhinged. “You want me to reprimand you?”

You let out a heavy sigh. “If you’re going to be my instructor – just my instructor – then instruct me. It was an idiot move and I shouldn’t have done it.”

“You were distracted –”

“You’re making excuses for me! Why?”

“Don’t question my teaching methods,” Maverick says in a low voice.

You scoff, shaking your head. “You’re afraid of confrontation so you’ve been avoiding me. You didn’t even think to give me a heads up about Charlie!”

Maverick narrows his eyes. “What about Charlie?”

“Whatever,” you grumble. “Just don’t stand here and proclaim that my bringing a date to the squadron dinner somehow threw you for a loop.”

Maverick studies you silently so you boldly meet his gaze. His jaw is set but there’s a tenderness in his eyes that nearly draws you in.

“Stop coddling me,” you say firmly.

You watch his Adam’s apple rise then fall as he gulps down whatever retort he decides to keep to himself. His jaw muscles contract once more as his eyes settle over your face.

You tear your gaze away. “And quit looking at me like you…” You sigh, unsure how to describe the inimitable combination of exasperation and affection you see in his eyes.

“Like what?” he asks, his voice rising in volume. You can tell that he’s becoming increasingly defensive as your blows continue.

You’re annoyed that he’s annoyed and you blurt the words out before you can stop yourself. “Like you’re in love with me or –”

“I CAN’T LOOK AT YOU ANY OTHER WAY!” he roars.

You freeze. Stunned by the volume of his voice. Stunned by the emphatic delivery. Stunned at his words.

He turns away in a huff, placing one hand on his hip while the other is balled up into a fist at his mouth.

“This was your idea,” you say quietly as he slowly turns back to look at you. You aren’t the one who refuses to even try, and he needs to acknowledge that.

“I know,” he whispers, his eyes brimming with tears.

You clench your teeth to keep your mouth from trembling. “Then stop,” you implore.

He shakes his head, pulling his lips into a rigid line. “I don’t know how.”

Tag List:

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@gingerbreadandpaper

[wolfish-chan]

More of my batfam headcanons since you guys liked them

- After Dick moves out, Alfred finds Bruce in Dick’s old bedroom staring aimlessly

- Sometimes, especially in the beginning years as Batman, Bruce has days where he can’t stand to look in the mirror because those aren’t his eyes staring back at him — they’re Martha’s

- There’s a lullaby that all of the family knows because Alfred would sing it to them on their hardest nights, even when they were adults

- Alfred has made the habit of becoming fluent in all the languages his family speaks

- Bruce tries to do the same, but he’s not nearly as fluent. There’s still a lot of proper pronunciation he can’t get right and the kids make fun of him for it constantly

- Alfred speaks with them in their preferred language as often as possible, but usually sticks to English when they’re all together

- Everyone is a polyglot, except Cass, who currently only knows English and ASL

- Cass doesn’t speak often, as she’s still not used to having the ability to, but she wants to become a polyglot eventually, too. Her brothers help her practice

- It’s become a running joke amongst Bruce’s kids that whenever Father’s Day rolls around, they make cards for Alfred instead of Bruce

- Alfred keeps every single one

- No one has any idea what Alfred’s room looks like. Stephanie is convinced he doesn’t have one and that he sleeps in the cave (“I’m telling you guys! He sleeps upside down like a bat!”)

- Bruce is impossible to sneak up on, unless it’s Cass. She likes jumping out from behind corners and spooking him.

- He doesn’t react aside from throwing whatever is in his hands into the air. One time he threw an entire cup of hot coffee in his own face without so much as blinking

- Tim absolutely despises Country music, but Kon listens to it non stop and it’s drives Tim crazy because it’ll get stuck in his head for weeks on end

- Dick and Wally love going to haunted houses together, but only the intense ones where you have to sign a waiver

- They tried to take Starfire with them once, but she knocked out one of the employees when they jumped out at her so she now has a permanent ban

- Dick used to keep those alphabet fridge magnets at his apartment, but he kept finding them rearranged to spell swears and he still has no idea who was doing it

- Tim has a photographic memory which he uses to spout off random facts when someone annoys him

- Bruce: “try that again and I bench you” 13-year old Tim: “well did you know pigeons can be trained to tell the difference between Picasso and Monet paintings” Bruce: “okay”

- All of the younger bats think Jason was the problem child, but it’s actually Dick. Bruce tells them this constantly and they never believe him

- Jason doesn’t visit the manor often, but when he does, he always makes sure no one’s home. He’ll sit in his childhood bedroom that Alfred has kept immaculately clean with all the lights off for hours. He slips out as soon as he hears someone come home

- Jason chooses to ignore that his bedsheets are always newly washed because he knows Alfred is doing it in case he ever decides to come home

- He doesn’t know that Alfred used to do it when Jason was dead, too

- Alfred only ever lets Duke wash dishes because he’s the only one he can trust not to break them

- Dick is ridiculously good at juggling

[gohyuck]

you&i

image from user themightyjen on twitter

pairing: jeno x reader and they are exes but they get back together sort of (i mistakenly used a previous work of mine’s earlier pairing when i first posted this!)

genre: angst, fluff

word count: right under 1.5k, this was a quickwrite

notes: liam payne died so i started listening to one direction again and you & i just had me Thinking long and hard... also f1 mentions lol

It is a bizarre cliché, really, and you wish you could laugh at Jeno’s outstretched hand as he wordlessly begs you to follow him out onto the fire escape. Your building is not at all up to code, and you have to force yourself through one hardly-cracked open window to make it out to where he is, having climbed up from the outside. In a completely unsurprising move, he has an overloose black leather jacket on, though it doesn’t stay that way for long — he ignores you ignoring the hand he’d put out to help you through the window and instead puts it to use shirking the leather off and throwing it over his shoulder like some two-bit greaser. 

He dangles a Corona bottle — yeuch — from his other hand, and he treats it quite gingerly. Jeno’s projecting his feelings onto the delicate glass, because of course he is. He’s a shrink’s wet dream. Not too troubled, not too troubling, but still itching to hurt and be hurt. You expect that Jeno’s “fixable,” but neither you nor him expect you to be the one to go about doing any fixing. 

“Want some?” He anticipates that you’ll shake your head, can visualize the peach moscato in your fridge door at this very moment, practically tastes how too-sweet it is. You so badly want to grab the bottle from his hand and take a swig of what really is dry bready water just to spite him, but you can’t justify the assault on your taste buds. 

You shake your head, already dreaming of the peach moscato in your fridge door. That’ll be a treat after this whole thing. You, of course, are pushing your emotions away — your psychiatrist will love and hate the debrief that’s coming to her within the next 24 hours. 

“We’re like day and night.” You want to expand on your thought, but it seems impossible to verbalize beyond this vague utterance. Fuck your life. Jeno nods, bites down on a corner of his mouth before taking the kind of swig you’d briefly daydreamed of. When he puts his other hand down right by yours, your breath catches on impulse, but only for a second. 

“They bleed into each other sometimes.” He tells you this as if you’ve never experienced the sunset. You wish you could laugh at him, but that would be cruel, unusual, and untrue. Jeno, for all his pompous exterior, is the day in this make-believe situation. Of course, the two of you are more similar than you are different. Of course, if one of you actually acknowledges this fact, the other will refute it. Maybe you’re projecting now. His leather jacket and building climbing and Corona drinking self is such a caricature that he circles back to being unequivocally real to you. Unequivocally yours. 

“They’re broken up in the same way we’re broken up.” You try your resolve. 

“Are we broken up?”

“We could probably make it if we try.” You fold a corner of your lower lip into your mouth, tucking it gently between the harsh rows of your teeth. This is a tell, though of what, you remain unsure. Jeno thinks you’re being honest when you say this, but there’s something inherently duplicitous to even having thought it. Do you mean ‘making it’ as in ‘making it as a pair of exes’ or in some other more ephemeral way? He tries his luck. 

“Do you think they ever fight like us?” 

The reason for your most recent break up is, of course, some fight over something that must have been extremely important to both of you in completely separate ways, but neither of you can genuinely recollect the entire experience. For one, he’d been high, and you’d been drunk. Neither of your problems are too far gone to kick, but everyone relies on something or the other to get them through particularly rough weeks. It was rare that your vice intersected with his; it was rare either got out of hand. 

And yet. A joint may be the only thing conspicuously missing from him at this very moment, actually, but you don’t doubt that he has rolling papers in his back left pocket even now as he leans his ass against your building’s run-down brick walls. 

“The day and the night? I think they can’t stand each other.” You reach for his beer, and he gives it up with ease. He’s nothing if not giving. Your chest hurts, there’s a reason you don’t smoke. Jeno reaches around and puts his jacket over your shoulders as you take the tiniest of sips, and you settle into it like you’d slip into conversation with an old friend. Jeno’s pinky finger extends, and you feel the dull coolness of his faux silver ring press almost imperceptibly at the bottom of your own fifth finger’s second knuckle. 

He pulls a pack of Golds from his back pocket — you’d been wrong about the weed stuff, it seems — and you pull a cigarette out when he flips it open. Jeno’s eyebrows pull together, but every feature of his drops simultaneously when you simply turn it upside down and put it back in. The designated final smoke, for good luck. Your ex — ex? — pulls it together quickly enough, and you do him the service of pretending. 

“You can’t stand me?”

The defiance mingled with disbelief, confusion, genuine apprehension all come together into the kind of cocktail that can only break your heart. Jeno hasn’t even fished out a cigarette yet, his brilliantly red lighter undoubtedly still in his jacket. He really wants a straight answer from you. 

“Two Ferrari wins in a row, in the double header,” You just say, every other word tamped down on by an impenetrable force. “I still haven’t canceled my F1 TV subscription.”

“You’re really into it, no matter what you say.” He’s certainly right, but you refuse to let him know just how often Forza Ferrari Siempre really comes into play for you. Jeno, with his head in your lap as you take a swig of absolutely horrendous Big Red from a mug he’d made on a pottery date (“it’s good luck” your ass). Jeno, pacing around his dining table while he mutters about how Charles Leclerc suffers more than Jesus. Jeno, pulling you into his arms after you give him a Ferrari-red lighter on a whim. 

“I just like watching car crashes.”

“I still have the lighter you gave me.”

Both of you speak at once, stunned immediately into confused silence. A sob gets caught in your throat early enough to where it becomes a snicker, and Jeno sniffles into a snort of laughter, and suddenly you’re face-first in his chest and he’s giggling into your hair. He says something about being incapable of remembering what your fight was about, and you whisper that you know he’s smoking cigarettes so he stays off of weed and off of paranoia. You appreciate him. 

“We could switch vices,” He gestures towards the beer that’s in your hand. “Ever think about lighting up?”

“I’d rather die.” Your eyes turn up with the corners of your lips.

“We could make it if we tried.” Jeno shrugs, and his hand finally settles onto yours, a weight you’d sorely missed. Stupid, stupid argument with very real implications. 

“You and I?

“I can more than stand you, if that’s what you’re asking.” His tone of voice is jovial but his gaze is steady. His implicit question hangs in the air, the begging of reciprocity only unbecoming if verbalized. You turn your hand over under his and lace your fingers together, jagged and messy. 

“With all this teen angst in our twenties, we should probably start sitting down instead.” Jeno isn’t going to get too far through your general sense of levity, but he knows that you’ll murmur apologies and promises to him later tonight. You’ll make good this time, and so will he. 

“I’ll pour out your moscato if you put on the highlights from last week’s race.” He tilts his head towards your open window, and you set the Corona down at your feet, knowing full and well that neither of you are finishing that now. He’s made some amends though — you’ll work on the cigarette smoking, but at least it doesn’t affect how he treats you — and you recognize that you need to do the same. Jeno is sound to your silence. 

“Pour it into the sink, if you can.” 

Your boyfriend seems stunned, comically so as he pauses to look back at you while only halfway into your apartment. You follow up with some rib about how you still have Big Red in your fridge, stifling a laugh at his own wince, but his overarching surprise reigns supreme. He doesn’t even have to ask if you’re sure — his eyebrows do it for him. You nod, knowing all kinds of questions deserve answers.

“We can make it if we try.”

[supernovafics]

𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 (𝟐)

PART ONE | PART TWO

pairing: singledad!steve harrington x divorcedmom!fem!reader

word count: 15.9k words

summary: in which you hate him and he hates you— and that mutual disliking is perhaps the only thing you and him manage to agree on. you make it your mission to avoid and ignore steve at all costs, and nothing more or less than withering stares and annoyed eye rolls are shared among you both whenever you have to see each other, which luckily isn’t that often. but when your son and his daughter end up in the same first-grade class and quickly become friends, it forces things to change between you two. it means that you and him also have to be friends, or, at the very least, tolerate each other’s presence. which is something that is much easier said than done

warnings: modern!au, enemies (to friends) to lovers, steve and reader are in their late 20s/early 30s, bestfriend!eddie, mentions of cheating/an affair (reader’s ex was an absolute asshole), mentions of trust/abandonment issues, some angst, platonic fluff (at first), smut (18+)

author's note: the second and final part! not much to say except enjoy enjoy and happy (almost) new year🫶🏾🫶🏾🫶🏾🫶🏾

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

“Do you like Maddie’s dad?”

Hearing that abrupt question fall from Oliver’s lips confused you so much that all you could do was initially answer with a bewildered, “What?”

You were used to Oliver always asking random questions that felt as if they came out of absolutely nowhere; it was especially one of his favorite things to do during any sort of car ride, and this Saturday morning drive to the soccer field for practice was apparently no different. But, you fully did not expect to hear that question from him. 

“Are you guys, like, boyfriend-girlfriend?” He asked, and that follow-up question further confused you, or maybe it more so startled you.

“No… No, we’re not,” You answered and glanced at him sitting in the backseat through the rearview mirror. He was dressed in his dark green soccer uniform, wearing everything except for the cleats because he liked to put them on right before he ran out onto the field with the other kids. “What made you think that?” 

“I don’t know…” You could practically hear him shrug. “But, I think it would be cool if you guys were. Maddie thinks so too.”

You weren’t entirely sure what to say to that. “Oh, okay… But, I don’t think that will happen, bud. We’re friends. Just like you and Maddie.”

“Okay.”

It suddenly felt like perfect timing that you were pulling into the gravelly parking lot next to the soccer field. You helped Olly put on and tie up his cleats before he ran over to Maddie and the other kids already on the field. You grabbed the two coffees that were sitting in the cupholder and then headed to the silver metal bleachers, immediately spotting Steve among the other parents.

He gave you a quick wave and smile and you only nodded and smiled back at him since your hands were full and you couldn’t match his wave. It still felt the tiniest bit insane to you that what you had said to Oliver in the car wasn’t a complete lie; you and Steve were in fact friends, and had been for the past month. 

Just days after you two had the moment in your kitchen where the “enemies” hatchet was finally buried, he and Maddie came to the coffee shop sometime in the afternoon. For the first time ever, you didn’t feel like you needed to pretend to be nice to him. Instead, you found yourself actually wanting to be nice and you were glad about this surprise playdate. And that was when you knew that you two were friends, or at the very least, quickly getting there.

He and Maddie stayed for hours. With Maddie and Oliver sitting and playing games in a two-person booth, and Steve standing with you at the front counter. You two talked about random things— the kinds of things that you had a feeling you both would’ve learned about each other during your first-ever conversation if you two had actually been nice to one another— and then you let him try a new drink recipe that you had been playing around with because he was interested, and that became a sort of routine.

“Hi. Morning. Here.” You handed him one of the cups in your hand before taking your spot next to him in the middle row of the bleachers. “It’s another new thing I’m thinking about adding to the menu for the rest of Fall and maybe Winter too. Tell me your thoughts.”

He took a sip of the drink and then nodded. “This is good. Not as insanely sweet as the last thing you made me try.”

“Okay, I know you hated that latte that I gave you last week, but it’s actually been a big hit so far,” You told him. The sweet drink quickly became popular among the high schoolers that would frequent the coffee shop, and you were glad that you listened to Jude— one of your employees who was also a part of that younger demographic— and put it on the menu. “Oh, also, I think you and I might be getting parent trapped soon.”

“Should I be scared?” Steve asked, looking at you with a confused expression.

You stopped mid-sip of your drink. “Wait, have you not seen The Parent Trap?”

He shook his head. “No.”

“Jesus, wow, you need to watch that movie, it’s a classic,” You told him, the shock you felt was evident in your tone. “Anyway, though, what I mean is that I think Olly and Maddie are gonna try to get us together. He mentioned in the car ride over here that they both think it would be cool if we started dating.” 

“Oh.”

“I already told him that that wouldn’t happen and we’re just friends, so hopefully that idea will blow over soon,” You said to Steve and then took a long sip from your drink. 

“Knowing our kids, I kinda doubt that will happen,” He responded, and you actually couldn’t help but agree with him. The way Maddie and Olly had managed to convince you and Steve about the playdate thing after a week’s worth of pestering proved that they wouldn’t let go of anything easily. Thinking about it now, you kinda admired how persistent they had been during then.

“Well, in that case, it’s good that they don’t look alike so they can’t try to switch places. But, we need to make sure that we stay away from boats and camping trips.”

Another confused expression crossed Steve’s face. “I really think I need to watch that movie.” 

“Yes, you do,” You said with a nod as you met his eyes. “As my friend, you need to promise me that you will watch that 1998 classic.”

He laughed a bit. “I promise.”

You turned your attention back to the soccer field and shook your head. “I never thought I’d say that.”

“What?”

“That we’re friends,” You said, looking at him again. “But, it’s nice, though.”

Steve nodded at that and gave you a small smile. “Yeah, it is.”   

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

Over the past year, you’d come to savor anytime after 9pm. It was the only time of the day, well night, that you were able to have complete peace— no worrying about Oliver because he was asleep, and no worrying about the coffee shop because it was closed. 

On this particular night, long after Olly’s soccer practice and time spent at the coffee shop, you were in your bathroom, washing your face and putting on pajamas; which simply consisted of a random oversized t-shirt and shorts. You decided that you’d curl up in bed and spend the rest of your night watching a shitty reality show because it somehow always felt nice watching other people’s drama. 

Right as you were slipping on your t-shirt, your phone started ringing on the counter, which stopped the music that you had been playing from it, and you looked down to see that it was Steve FaceTiming you. 

This had happened a handful of times over the past month— him calling you, you calling him. It was usually to get quick answers to questions that either of you two had, but sometimes it was also just to talk about random things whenever a simple text didn’t feel like it would suffice. 

“Hi,” You said as you turned off the bathroom light and shut the door before heading to your bed. “Great timing. Oliver went to sleep about fifteen minutes ago.”

You noticed that Steve was also sitting in bed. He pushed a quick hand through his hair as he spoke. “I learned that if I’m gonna call, I should only do it after nine now.”

The last time he FaceTimed you, Oliver had been sitting next to you on the couch. When he heard Steve’s voice, he immediately asked him where Maddie was, and then she heard Olly’s voice from where she was playing in the living room. Barely a second later, your phones were immediately taken by the kids and they talked for an hour. 

“Great thinking,” You told him with a small approving nod. “I hope that whatever you called to talk about is good because I was just about to watch a very riveting reality show about these housewives taking a trip around Europe.”

“Wow, that sounds very fun,” Steve said, and you could hear the sarcasm in his voice.

“Mhm, it will be. I can’t wait until they get to Paris. According to the trailer, some huge argument is gonna happen when they’re at the Arc de Triomphe,” You responded, matching his sarcastic tone.

“Now, I’m really intrigued,” He joked. “Anyway, though, I called to tell you that I just finished watching The Parent Trap.”

You smiled at that. “I’m glad you did your homework early. Did you like it?”

“It was actually pretty good. Maddie watched some of it with me too, but she fell asleep not even halfway through.”

“She’s too young to understand the cultural importance of The Parent Trap just yet. She’ll come around soon.”

“Also, right after practice, she mentioned the dating thing to me. She said that she and Olly think it would be nice if you and me got together.” 

You let out a small sigh. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Steve nodded. “She was very persistent too; asked if I thought you were pretty, and said that I should bring you flowers the next time I see you. Apparently, Oliver told her that your favorite ones are daisies, so I should make sure to get those for you.”

Your eyes widened a bit at his words. If you weren’t so shocked, you were almost certain that you would’ve laughed at how much thought your kids were putting into this whole idea. “Oh, wow, they’re relentless.”

“Are daisies actually your favorite?”

“Yeah,” You answered and then sighed again. You weren’t even entirely sure how Oliver knew that. When you two first moved into your house in Hawkins, you would buy fresh daisies every week in an attempt to make the place feel like a home because you barely had any furniture just yet and there weren’t that many decorations up either. But you couldn’t remember the last time you bought any flowers for the place.

Steve let out an amused sound. “Wow, yeah, Maddie and Olly are good.” 

You dating someone was the farthest thing from your mind, but it surprised you that it was the main thing on Oliver’s. You thought that you’d have a longer time before you’d have to worry about that; before you’d have to think about him really wanting some sort of “dad” or “father figure” in his life. Eddie was the closest thing, but Oliver didn’t see him as often anymore since his California move. 

You thought that the little family that you and Olly had, just the two of you, was enough— more than enough, even. 

“I didn’t think that this would happen this soon,” Steve said, pulling you out of your thoughts. “It’s only been a year since her mom left, so I really didn’t think that she’d want me to start dating, get married, whatever, whatever, anytime soon. And I’m too busy to even think about trying to look for someone.”

You agreed with him completely. And then there was also the fact that you simply didn’t want to date anytime soon. You despised the thought of finally having to start over; even though you knew that eventually one day you would. Maybe. 

As cynical and depressing as it sounded, you couldn’t really imagine it happening for you again— falling in love or just simply falling, deeply liking someone. And a part of you would just rather wholly avoid the possibility at all costs. 

You knew that how things ended with Oliver’s dad was not your fault at all, but that didn’t change the fact that you still felt stupid about everything; for being so blind to the affair and for believing his lies for as long as you did. And the thought of all of that potentially happening again— loving and trusting someone just to have them break your heart and fuck you over in one of the worst ways possible— terrified you. 

You could’ve said all of that to Steve, but you felt like that would’ve been way too long-winded and melancholic, so you decided to just simply nod instead. “I don’t know if we should just get used to them trying to get us together, or talk to them and say that us being anything more than friends is never gonna happen.” 

“If it becomes too much we probably should talk to them,” Steve said, and that made sense to you. “But now I’m glad Maddie fell asleep halfway through the movie because it probably would’ve just given her ideas.”

“Have you seen Freaky Friday?”

“No. Is that another movie that can relate to the situation we’re in right now?” 

“No, it’s just a really good movie. Another Lindsay Lohan classic,” You briefly explained. “You should watch it.”

Steve was quiet for a moment, as if he was really thinking about whatever he was about to say. “How about right now?” 

You laughed a bit before mock gasping at his question. “You trying to get me off the phone, Steven?”

He smiled at your fake offended look. “No, I meant that we could watch it right now. Together over the phone.”

“Oh,” You said, trying to hide your surprise at the suggestion. Watching a movie together was technically a friendly thing to do, but it did feel the tiniest bit intimate; like the two of you were crossing into a slightly altered territory of what your friendship was. That still didn’t make the idea necessarily sound bad to you, though. It sounded fun, a better way to spend the rest of your Saturday night than what you had originally planned on doing. “Okay, yeah let’s watch it. I guess I’ll just have to watch the housewives go to Europe at a different time.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

“How’s it going so far?” Was the first thing you heard Eddie say when the call connected, and you couldn’t help but smile into your phone at how excited he sounded. It made you happy that you impulsively decided to call him when you stepped into the back room of your coffee shop; the kitchen area that felt equivalent to a second home for you. “It’s great, right?”

You nodded even though he couldn’t see you. “Yeah, it’s been really good, honestly.”

The “it” that you both were referring to was the open mic night event happening at the coffee shop right then. Eddie had been the one to suggest the idea nearly a year ago, around the time when the shop finally opened.  

“It would make so much sense,” Was the beginning of his spiel. “This place is the perfect size to set up mic stands and speakers in the front by the window. Pretty much any sort of ‘starving artist’ would love to have a space where they can perform, and most people enjoy live music, so doing this will bring in a ton of business.”

You loved the idea and you agreed with Eddie’s points completely, but then he moved to California and it didn’t feel right to do the idea without him. But, he said that he wouldn’t let you not do it. Because no other place in the small town was doing something like this— and that very valid statement was the reason why tonight was already such a success. A part of you wished that you had done the event sooner, instead of continuously putting it off for months and months. 

The setup of it was simple— anyone with any sort of “talent” that they wanted to share was welcome to perform, and after a particularly awkward magician, the majority of the performances were musical, and almost everyone that decided to go up and sing or play something so far were pretty good. You had even teared up at a brother-sister duo that performed a self-written instrumental piece on the guitar and violin. 

“I would say an ‘I told you so,’ but I love you too much to be that much of an asshole right now.”

“Yeah, and another reason why you shouldn’t say any kind of ‘I told you so’ right now is because I’m still slightly mad at you for bailing at the last second and not being here tonight,” You responded, letting out a small sigh. You leaned against the metal table in the middle of the kitchen where a sheet of freshly baked cookies sat next to you. Eddie was also supposed to be sitting next to you at this moment, sneaking a cookie off the sheet, and then you getting playfully annoyed at him for doing so.

“I know, and I’m still really sorry. My publicist decided to set up something early tomorrow that I can’t get out of,” He said, re-explaining what he had already told you earlier that morning. Of course, you weren’t truly upset with him; he was doing what he loved out there in California, and you were doing what you loved right here in Hawkins. “Is Steve there yet?”

“Yeah, he got here like ten minutes ago. I’ve been so busy, though, so I haven’t gotten the chance to say much more than a quick hi to him.” 

Eddie hummed in response. “Has he fully replaced me yet?”

“Oh, shut up. Steve could never replace you, Munson,” You told him, your words a thousand percent true. “You’re more than just my best friend at this point, you’re like my fucking family. You cannot be replaced, and that also means that you can never get rid of me either, so I hope you understand what you’ve gotten yourself into.”

“I wouldn’t dream of getting rid of you,” He said, and you could practically hear the smile in his voice; you really missed him being only a ten-minute drive away.

“Thank you. I feel honored. Truly,” You said playfully.

“Oh, also, are Oliver and Madeline still trying to play matchmaker for you guys?” Eddie asked and you rolled your eyes at how amused he sounded. 

Somehow, your attempt in the car that Saturday to shut the dating idea down by telling Oliver that you and Steve were just friends, seemed to go in one ear and out the other. Olly would continuously remind you how much he liked Steve, how cool he was, and how he’d always have the best snacks whenever the kids were having a playdate at his house. Oliver even went as far as to tell you to wear more blue because that was Steve’s favorite color. 

And pretty much the same thing was happening to Steve but with Maddie. According to him, she gushed about you all of the time— perhaps actually convincing Steve to get her a fish only aided in that— and she continued to pester him about buying you flowers. 

But, their antics started calming down over the past few weeks, though, because of every gentle reminder you said to Oliver about how you and Steve were solely friends. It was way too hard to be stern about it because you hated disappointing him and you just really wanted him to be happy. But, before Steve came around, you thought that he was really happy with how things were. 

When you verbalized that thought on the phone to Eddie right then, he simply told you, “Just like you want him to be happy. He wants you to be happy too.”

“Why does he think that happiness comes from Steve?”

“Maybe he and Maddie see something that you two don’t see yet.”

You thought about his words. For a second, you wondered what the kids could possibly see that you and Steve seemed to be oblivious to. 

“Okay, and on that note, I’m gonna go. I’ve probably been gone for far too long. I told Jude that I was just going to grab the cookies that had been cooling for a few minutes and bring them out,” You told him as you took a quick glance at the mix of chocolate chip and sugar cookies again. “I’ll see you in less than a month for Christmas. Oh, and about that, you really didn’t need to buy me and Olly first-class plane tickets.”

You heard his playful scoff. “You guys are my family. Of course, I’m gonna get you first-class tickets.”

“Thank you, and this spoiling treatment is exactly why you’ll never be able to get rid of us,” You said and smiled when you heard Eddie laugh. “Anyway, I’ll talk to you soon.”  

“Bye.”

When he hung up, you slipped your phone back into the back pocket of your jeans. You grabbed the now cooled cookie sheet and exited the kitchen, going back behind the counter with Jude. Since things had somewhat simmered down compared to how lively it had been an hour and a half ago, you told her that she should finally take her break for the night and she happily accepted the offer.

Steve walked up to you as you started placing the cookies in the display case. “Hi.” 

“Hey, thanks for coming.”

“Yeah, of course, I wouldn’t miss it,” He said, and hearing how genuine his words sounded made you smile. 

“It’s probably too late for coffee, so do you want a hot chocolate?” You asked and looked at him once you finished putting the last few cookies in the case. “It’s free. Friend discount for the night.”

“Wow, that’s a really good discount,” Steve said playfully.

“I like to be very generous to the people I care about,” You told him, matching his tone and smiling. “And I don’t have that many friends, so I’m actually not losing out on a lot of money.” 

He smiled back at you. “Now I feel even more honored that I’m one of them.”

You poured some hot chocolate into the blue mug that you would never admit out loud but was pretty much designated as Steve’s at this point. For some reason, you found yourself always making sure to use it for him whenever he wasn’t getting something to-go, and once you learned from Olly that Steve’s favorite color was blue, it felt even more right to use it for him. In your mind, you saw it as a small gesture that didn’t really mean too much, but maybe that wasn’t entirely true. And that was another thing that you’d never admit out loud. 

“Thank you,” He said as you handed the mug over to him. The small smile he gave you let you know that he recognized the gesture and probably had been for the last month and a half. 

Instead of acknowledging the mug or the hot chocolate or anything else, you nodded your head in the direction of the makeshift “stage” area that you had set up earlier with the help of Jude. 

“Any secret talents you want to go up there and share?” You asked, only slightly joking with your question. “There’s a full waiting list, but I can move you to the top, and I promise I won’t tell anyone.” 

“No, it’s okay, I’d rather not cut in front of everyone that was here before me. Next time, though,” He answered and it was easy to hear the sarcasm dripping from his voice.

“I will definitely hold you to that next time,” You said, playing along with him. “So, what’s your talent? Something tells me that you’re killer at the guitar. Ooh, wait, actually the triangle!”

Steve only gave you an unamused look and you tried your hardest to hold back your laughter.

“I’ll take that as a no to the triangle.”

“I’m gonna change the subject now,” He said, and you nodded, deciding to allow it to happen even though you had at least three more triangle jokes ready to go. “Can you please not let me forget to get some cookies for Maddie before I leave? She’s at my parent’s house for the night, but I promised I’d have some for her tomorrow so she can have them right after the soccer game.”

“Of course, I’ll put some to the side for her,” You told him. “I know the chocolate chip ones are her favorite. Same as Oliver.”

“Where is Olly?”

“At home with a babysitter— this super nice eighth grader that lives next door to us. She texted me half an hour ago that he finally fell asleep after watching Finding Nemo two times.”

“Maddie’s current movie obsession is Monsters Inc.,” Steve said with a small laugh. “We’ve been watching it at least once a night for the past week.”

“That’s a great one. She has good taste,” You said and Steve nodded.

You wanted to keep talking to him, but the sound of the music quieting down and soft clapping pulled you out of the conversation. 

“I’ll be right back. Gotta go announce the next person going up. Are you sure you don’t want it to be you?” You asked him teasingly.  

Steve only shook his head and rolled his eyes at you as you started walking away. 

You went up and introduced the next person, a middle-aged guy with a guitar who started playing the acoustic version of a song that you vaguely recognized from the radio. 

Steve was still standing right where you left him, lingering by the front counter and drinking from his mug, and you headed back to your spot behind the counter. He mentioned the PTA meeting last night that heavily talked about the Winter Carnival happening next week and Leslie, the head of the PTA, told everyone what their jobs would be— Steve was assigned to the popcorn station and you were put on the ring toss game. You and Steve already made plans to take the kids Saturday night since the First Grade parents only had to “volunteer” on Friday. He laughed at a joke you made right then about being surprised that you weren’t being forced to “volunteer” Friday and Saturday to make up for the fact that you didn’t help out last year.

Things went like that for the next hour— you two talking and laughing with one another, and some people coming up to order teas and hot chocolates and the occasional latte— until the time hit nine o’clock and the night came to its end. After giving a generous round of applause to the final performer and you announcing the end of this first open mic night, everyone slowly started heading out. 

A few people came up to you, telling you how great the night was and saying that you needed to do this again. You made a mental note to text Eddie later and once again thank him for this idea, and you’d maybe even let him finally say an “I told you so.”

You bagged up three chocolate chip cookies for Madeline and were about to hand them over to Steve, who was now sitting in an empty booth, and say your goodbye to him when Jude came up to you. There was a look on her face that resembled a cross between annoyance and slight worry. 

“I’m so sorry. I just got a call from my brother. He broke his arm while at his friend’s house and he’s at the hospital right now. And my parents are out of town for the weekend, so I’m the only “adult” around who knows all of the insurance stuff and everything, so I have to go. I’m sorry.”

The look on her face immediately made complete sense to you right then. Ever since you hired Jude eight months ago, you became very used to hearing her teenage rambles about her ten-year-old brother who she would constantly describe as the “bane of her existence.” Therefore, the fact that she was annoyed about this incident wasn’t surprising, but it was also a little heartwarming to see that you could tell that she was also, at least, the tiniest bit worried about him. 

“Yes, go. I completely understand. I hope he’s okay.”

“He’s an idiot, but he’ll be fine,” She responded as she joined you behind the counter for a second to grab her jacket that was hanging on one of the hooks and then started heading to the front door. “I’m really sorry again.”

“Don’t worry, it’s okay. I promise. Go, go,” You told her and she nodded. The bell chimed as she opened the door, and chimed again when it fell shut. 

You went over to Steve, sitting down across from him and handing over the bag of chocolate chip cookies. 

“Thanks,” He said, giving you a small smile. “I can stay and help you clean up if you want.” 

“I hope you really mean that because we’re past the point in our friendship where I would politely decline that offer to be nice. I’d actually really love some help right now.”

Steve laughed a bit. “I do mean it. And I owe you for the free hot chocolate and cookies.”

“You don’t owe me at all because that was the friend discount, but I will still accept that reasoning,” You said and smiled at him before slipping out of the booth. 

It was second nature for you to silently go into the routine that you were so used to doing at the end of every night— clearing mugs and small plates off the tables and tossing empty cups into the nearby trash can— and Steve followed suit.

Your mind almost immediately traveled to thinking about tomorrow, already going through and planning out what the day would look like— Oliver’s soccer game was in the morning and then you’d be back here for the rest of the day with Olly taking his spot in his favorite booth and proceeding to work on homework and then playing games, and you’d be at the cash register or in the kitchen working half of the day with Kyle, another one of your employees, and then the other half with Jude. You were then reminded that you would need to check in with her in the morning about her brother and see if she’d even be able to come in tomorrow. 

Your never-ending thoughts should’ve been taking a break for at least an hour or two, it was late and you were exhausted. But, whenever you were here closing up for the night, it was hard not to think about everything that could technically be deemed as “morning problems for tomorrow.” The relief you’d always feel about one day going really well would oh so quickly be replaced with the stressed need to make sure that the next day also went well, which made it completely impossible to not think about it. 

You weren’t sure how long things had been quiet, but when you heard Steve break the silence and softly say, “You okay?” you became aware of how long it had been since either of you had said something. 

“Oh, sorry, yeah, I’m just thinking a lot, I guess. Running through a million things at once,” You told him as you cleared one of the last tables, grabbing the mug full of a half-drunken latte and crumb-filled plate. 

“Okay, yeah, that’s what I thought. You kinda get this certain look on your face when you’re thinking really hard.”

You let out a laugh. “Does it resemble a deer in headlights? Because Eddie’s told me that one before.”

Steve coughed, which you knew was him just trying to hold back his laugh, and you playfully rolled your eyes at him as he spoke. “I feel bad saying yes, but yeah he’s right.”

“Just so you know, you also have a very uncute serious face.”

“I didn’t say yours wasn’t cute.”

You weren’t entirely sure what felt more unexpected; Steve’s words or how immediately affected you felt by them. Any quip or teasing joke you had on the tip of your tongue vanished in a matter of seconds, and your mind effectively became a flustered pile of mush; almost embarrassingly so. 

You were glad that Steve couldn’t see you right then, and you were especially glad that you two were on completely opposite sides of the shop at that moment— you putting the dirty mug and plate in the sink, and him clearing off the final table and tossing a coffee cup and random wrapper in the trash— because that distance meant that there was no way that you could read too heavily into what he just said, and he couldn’t pick up on how awkward and confused you immediately felt because of it.

A forced laugh fell from your lips, and you hoped to God and the universe and whatever else was out there that it didn’t sound completely fake. 

You walked over to the front window, where the makeshift stage area was, and grabbed the mic stand and wooden stool and Steve grabbed the two now unplugged speakers and followed you to the storage closet in the back. Once all of that was put away, you would just need to prep the cookie dough for tomorrow, and then the night would be done. 

“How are your baking skills, Harrington?” You asked him. You met his eyes for the first time in the past few minutes, it felt easier to do so now since your mind was back to only thinking about work.

“I’ve never baked anything before, but I’m good at following instructions.”

You smiled at that answer and it was what led you both to the kitchen. After washing your hands, you grabbed two metal bowls and the ingredients that would be needed for the cookies. And Steve was telling the truth, he was good at following instructions— you did the dough for the chocolate chip cookies, and you told him what to do for the sugar ones since they were a little bit easier, and it was all finished faster than you had expected. You put some plastic wrap over both bowls before placing them in the fridge.

“Thanks for all of the help tonight,” You told him. You both were now washing your hands at the sink that was full of the dishes that were the actual final thing you’d have to do before leaving. “If you’re ever in dire need of a part-time job, you’re hired.”

“Is the employee discount as good as the friend discount?” Steve asked as you turned off the water. He ripped off a paper towel and handed it to you and then grabbed one for himself. 

“It’s twenty percent.”

“I think I’ll just stick to being your friend then.”

That time you did entirely read into his words, as playful as they were. Just friends. That was exactly what you wanted and needed from him. You weren’t in the right headspace to consider being anything else with him, and you weren’t sure you ever would be. 

And besides, you liked being friends with him. It had been completely unexpected, but you liked talking to him, and you liked hanging out with him during Oliver and Madeline’s playdates that now felt like they were playdates for you both too, and you liked watching movies on the phone with him some nights before you went to bed— just last night you’d watched the first Tobey Maguire Spider-Man movie, as per Steve’s request. 

You were perfectly okay with being just friends with Steve, and as you continuously told Olly, it was the only thing that you two would ever be.  

You looked at him right then and he almost immediately met your gaze. 

“I don’t know how I’m just now noticing this, but you got some flour on your forehead,” You told him. Before he could say anything, you stepped closer to him and reached up to brush the white substance away with the damp paper towel in your hand. 

He gave you a soft look and there was a small smile on his face. “Thanks.”

It was obvious what sequence of events should’ve happened next— you should’ve told him that you just needed to clean the dishes in the sink and then the night would officially be done, and he didn’t have to stay for that. You should’ve finally said a goodbye and see you tomorrow to him.

However, right then, neither of you moved, and instead this sudden close proximity and the look and smile on his face made you get hit with the abrupt feeling that you wanted something more to happen, something more than just a friendly goodbye that was maybe followed by a simple hug. 

It was an insane idea that contradicted everything you had just told yourself. But, deep down you knew that the reason why you felt the urge to kiss him right here in this moment was the same reason why you always used the same mug for him every time he came here, and why you refused to admit it out loud. And right then, you still refused to dissect exactly what that all meant and what it would come to mean in the long run. 

Just for a second, you didn’t want to think about anything. You wanted to turn your brain off and simply focus on this moment that somehow felt so fucking right.  

And maybe Steve could read how much you wanted this to happen through the enamored look that you were certain was written all over your face, and that was why he let his hand come up to meet your cheek and why he leaned in closer, which made your eyes fall shut in anticipation. 

There was such a huge part of you that wanted this to happen, that felt as if you needed it to because maybe it had always been inevitable.

However, it didn’t take long for the existential dread to creep into your mind and prick right at the forefront of it. The reminders of why you’d been so scared of something like this happening with anyone for the past three years hit you like a freight train. Once you thought about all of that, you couldn’t force yourself to think or not think about anything else. Your mind was now on Oliver’s dad and what that entire situation with him changed for you— how it made you think about and see everything involving love so differently. 

And it was that painful reminder of what you were now terrified of that made you pull away from Steve and turn your head at the last second.

“I… I’m sorry.” 

Your gaze was fixed on the floor because you couldn’t bear to see what look was written across Steve’s face right then. 

“It’s okay.” His voice was soft when he spoke, which somehow made you feel worse.

“It’s just…” You wanted to say something, but you couldn’t pull your thoughts together fast enough. Your mind was moving in a thousand different directions and you still couldn’t even muster up the courage to simply look at Steve right then.

“You don’t have to explain. It’s okay, really,” He assured you again and you felt like he was being way too nice to you when you felt like the shittiest person.

“No, I wanna explain…” You told him, finally meeting his eyes. It was hard to read what he was thinking or feeling right then. “It’s just… I can’t– I don’t know.” You shook your head at yourself for being at such a loss for words at that moment. “I’m really sorry.” 

“No, don’t be sorry. It’s okay. Let’s just pretend this never happened,” He stepped away from you then, and you let him, deciding not to say anything else— you could no longer trust your voice, anyway. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning for the soccer game.”

You nodded quickly because you knew that there was nothing else to do. “Mhm, yup, yeah, see you tomorrow.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

Oliver gave you a look that he knew you wouldn’t be able to deny— there were puppy dog eyes and a pout that actually made your heart hurt. He was good. And you were weak.

“Okay, you can finish this episode, but then you’re starting your homework, bud.” 

He smiled and leaned back into the couch, turning his attention back to the cartoon that was playing on the television in the living room. “Thank you.” 

“You’re welcome,” You told him. You were completely okay with giving Olly some time to relax after school before starting his homework, but somehow you were almost always convinced by him to turn the thirty minutes into an hour— and maybe you shouldn’t have been surprised that this Wednesday afternoon was no different. 

It was also, overall, a surprisingly calm afternoon. There weren’t a thousand tasks on your plate right then; the calls you had to make and orders you had to place were already done. You had been at the coffee shop the entire morning and some of the afternoon before you had to pick Olly up from school, and Jude and Kyle would be closing for the night. Essentially, you would be free for the rest of the evening and night.

Instead of attempting to find anything to stress about at that moment, you were sitting on the small loveseat in the living room with your laptop balancing on the arm of the chair as you scrolled through the pictures taken during the open mic night.

Having a photographer for the night had been Steve’s suggestion, and it made sense coming from him given that he was in marketing, and he said that posting some on social media would be a good way to promote the event if and when you decided to do it again. You also thought it could be a nice idea to frame some and hang them up in the coffee shop. 

For most of the night, you’d forgotten that there had been a photographer there because of how discreet Shelby had been the entire time. But now you were looking at the edited pictures she emailed you earlier that morning of everything she’d taken barely a week ago, and you were already blown away even though you’d only looked at the first ten so far. 

There were a bunch of shots of people sitting at tables and booths happily enjoying their drinks and food, and there were also some of the people who decided to go up and perform. As you clicked through each of the photos and made mental notes of which ones you’d maybe want to post or hang up, you abruptly stopped at one of you and Steve. 

It shouldn’t have been that surprising to see a photo of you and him, you had been with each other during most of the night, but it still genuinely startled you to see such a candid moment of the two of you.

You were standing on one side of the counter and Steve was on the other— that was the only part of the photo that didn’t surprise you. You couldn’t tell just from that single shot what you two had been talking about in that moment, but it looked like whatever the conversation was about was a good one. There was a wide and elated smile on your face that reached your eyes, which were staring right into Steve’s, and an adoring look was written so clearly across his face along with a small smile. 

It looked like you two were dating; like you were newlyweds, even— if it were strangers in this photo, you would’ve easily thought either of those things. It looked like a picture of two people in love, so completely and utterly in love with each other. 

And it especially looked so goddamn obvious. 

Before even seeing this picture, it was clear to you that you felt something for him— what other reason would have made you almost kiss him that night? But, you didn’t realize just how deeply you felt, and you had forced yourself not to think about any of that over the last few days. You hoped that if you avoided and didn’t think about it, it would all just eventually go away. However, now that it was staring you right in the face, it suddenly became way too hard to deny everything or push it away or even pretend that you hadn’t just seen that picture. 

You were hit so abruptly with the truth that you couldn’t not finally admit it to yourself. You always gave him the same mug when he came to the coffee shop because you liked him. You wanted so badly to kiss him that night because you liked him. Fuck.

You quickly realized that what you saw in that photo was what Oliver and Madeline saw all of the time, and now it made complete sense why they were trying to push you and Steve into each other’s arms. Although you and him were apparently oblivious, they saw how happy you two were with each other. 

Eddie was right.

Your once calmed mind was now back to running a million miles a minute, and it became fully submerged with thoughts of Steve and how you felt about him and the almost kiss that you tried your hardest to forget ever even happened. You felt the overwhelming urge to cry the longer you looked at the photo, but you still couldn’t help but keep staring at it. 

You stood up from the loveseat and took a brief look at Olly before you walked out of the living room, he was laughing at the show on the TV. You went into the kitchen, setting your laptop down on the table and pulling your phone out of where it was in the pocket of the sweatpants you were wearing. You called the only person that you wanted to talk to at that moment, and you hoped that he wasn’t busy even though it was barely noon in California right then. 

When Eddie answered with a happy “Hello” on the fourth ring, you immediately said, “You were right.”

“Right about what?”

You bypassed his question for the moment. “I’m gonna send you a picture and just tell me what you… See in it. What you notice about it.” 

“That sounds very cryptic, but I’m intrigued,” He said and if it were any other moment, you probably would’ve cracked a smile at Eddie’s comment, but you felt way too stressed to do so.  

You texted him the photo of you and Steve through your laptop and when it said “Delivered” after a few seconds, you waited for whatever Eddie had to say about it. He’d be the one to tell you if you were crazy and overthinking things with the picture or not. 

It was quiet for barely thirty seconds before he said something. “Woah. Shit.”

You were mindlessly pacing back and forth from the table to the sink as you held the phone to your ear. “Can I get a full sentence, please?”

“I knew that you liked him, but I didn’t know you were in love with him.”

That was not at all the response you were expecting to hear from him. 

“What? You didn’t— I don’t—” You shook your head and took a breath. “Before seeing that picture, what could’ve possibly made you think that I liked him?”

“From the moment you told me that you and him were finally friends, there was just something about the way you talked about him. And then as you guys got closer and you talked about him more, it just seemed pretty obvious.”

Once again, Eddie said something that was entirely unexpected. It was hard to imagine it— you walking around with a crush that was apparently obvious to everyone but you— but you now knew it was true. “Why didn’t you ever say anything? You never called me out about it.”

“I figured you’d just tell me when you wanted to or when you decided to do something about the crush,” He answered, and that was such a nonchalant and Eddie kind of response that it didn’t surprise you in the slightest bit. “Is this your way of finally telling me?”

“No,” Was your immediate answer. In a way, it felt like a reflex or second nature to deny how you were feeling. “I’m not even sure if I actually have feelings for him.”

Your life would’ve been so much easier if that wasn’t a complete lie. 

Eddie immediately laughed at your words and when you didn’t join in, he stopped. “Oh, you’re being serious. I thought you were joking.”

“It’s just…” You had absolutely no idea how to finish your statement. You sighed and finally sat down at the kitchen table. “I’m really, really confused and scared, Eddie.”

Before he could say anything in response to that, you closed your eyes and said your next words. “Me and him almost kissed.” 

“Woah, what the hell? When?”

“It was last week at the open mic night. He stayed and helped me clean up because Jude had to leave early. We were washing our hands after making cookie dough and somehow we were about to kiss, but I pulled away at the last second and then he left. And we’ve been pretending like none of that happened ever since.”

It actually hadn’t been so hard to force things to be normal and completely okay between you two. Neither you nor Steve brought up what happened, just like you both agreed on, and in a way, it was easy to pretend as if the moment never happened in the first place— technically, nothing actually did happen, anyway. 

“Why did you pull away?”

“It was because of a mix of a bunch of things that are all basically the same thing,” You said and then let out a sigh. “I never thought that I’d want to be with someone again; like them or love them or whatever else. And I honestly didn’t think I’d be able to feel anything even remotely equivalent to love ever again because of the shitstorm my marriage became. And I do like Steve and I do feel all of those things that I didn’t think I ever would again, but I still don’t know if I'll ever be ready for something… More. Something real again because of everything that happened with…” You trailed off; you didn’t have to say his name for Eddie to know exactly who you were talking about. 

“Fuck that guy,” Eddie said with a huff. “I swear if I ever meet him, I’m gonna beat his ass.”

The conviction in his tone made you smile. “Thank you.”

“I do think that you can trust Steve, though. He’s one of the good ones. If this fucking picture says anything, it’s that he definitely feels the same way as you. And if it says anything else, it’s that he wouldn’t even think about fucking things up.”

It was hard not to smile at Eddie’s words. “You can see all of that in this photo?”

“You know the saying. A picture’s worth a thousand words or some shit,” He told you, and you could practically hear the shrug in his voice, which made you laugh for a second before you thought about something. 

“What if I’m the one that’ll mess everything up?” You asked him and then your mind traveled back to that night— you basically running away from everything, and Steve accepting that and walking away from it all too. Why would he want to try again with you? “Actually, never mind, I think I already did.”

“No, you didn’t,” Eddie reassured you, and for once it was hard to believe his words. “When are you gonna see him again?”

You thought for a second. “A little bit on Friday because we both have to volunteer at the Winter Carnival thing, but I doubt I’ll be able to have an actual conversation with him there. But, I’ll see him Saturday for the last soccer game and then later that night because we’re gonna take the kids to the carnival.”

“Okay, be honest with him there.”

“You make doing that sound so easy, Munson.”

“I just want you to be happy. You deserve to be happy— especially after all of the shit you went through with Olly’s dad. And it’s pretty clear that a lot of that happiness does come from Steve,” Eddie told you and for the first time, you didn’t have the urge to deny those words. “If you’re honest with him and he’s understanding and likes you too much to let you go, then everything works out and that’s great. Or, if you’re honest and it turns out that he thinks you did mess everything up too much and doesn’t wanna be with you, then fuck Harrington too and I’ll also beat his ass.” 

“For once, I actually believe that you did have a “bad boy” phase.”

“I told you. I used to be such a badass,” He said and you could hear the smile in his voice. “But, seriously, just know that I’ll be there for you no matter what scenario happens, so don’t worry about which one does. Also, just know that if, when I see you next week for Christmas, you haven’t said anything to him and there’s been no resolution to this situation yet, I will only let Oliver stay with me. You can find a hotel somewhere.”

“I promise I’ll say something,” You told him, and it truly didn’t feel like you were lying, and Eddie could tell that too.

When the call ended moments later and you placed your phone down next to your laptop, you looked at the picture again. 

You no longer felt startled seeing you and Steve like this— so smitten and happy. It made you feel content, at ease even. You felt yourself smile a little, and it was like you were a little kid with a crush all over again; which, technically, had been the case for the last month, but now you were aware of it and it felt weirdly good.

You realized then that it was a mistake pulling away from Steve that night. A big mistake that you sincerely hoped you could recover from because you no longer wanted to run away. And you hoped Eddie was right in saying that it actually wasn��t too late and you didn’t completely mess everything up. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

There hadn’t been a right moment all night. Or maybe you were just getting too into your head about everything. 

In the handful of days leading up to the Winter Carnival, it was hard to keep your mind off of Steve. Instead of beginning to second guess yourself and becoming unsure of everything— like you expected to happen since feeling like this again was so foreign to you— it all only became more and more certain. Your mind was the clearest it had been in such a long time; it was almost as if once you decided to no longer avoid how you felt, the rest just seemed to fall into place.

However, when Saturday night finally came around and you met up with Steve in the grassy parking lot of the large field where the carnival was happening, your focus was solely on Oliver and Madeline. Seeing how happy and content they were going on the few rides that were set up and playing the games, made it easy to forget what you needed to do. And it also made a part of you not want to do it— not want to change things; potentially for the worse if Steve actually didn’t feel the same way or no longer wanted anything to happen. But then you’d think about that picture and what Eddie said, and you knew that you had to find that moment to finally be honest, no matter what the outcome would be.

But still, no moment had been the right one. Not the moment where there was a brief lull of silence between you and Steve when Olly and Maddie were intensely focused on playing whack-a-mole, and not the moment where you and Steve quietly watched from the sidelines as they went on the train ride that just went round and round in a wide circle for a few minutes. And not even now when the night had finally come to its end and you both were about to drive away and leave.

The kids were fast asleep in their car seats and you and Steve lingered by the front of your cars. He had already said his goodnight to you and you reluctantly said the same, and you knew that he was about to turn and step inside his car— you could tell by the small smile he gave you— so you had to finally say something 

“Wait, um, before you go. I wanted to say…” You trailed off for a second and then you were speaking before you even realized what you were saying. “Do you want to go on a date sometime?”

Right as the question left your lips, you felt like an idiot. That was not what you were supposed to say; at least, not first. For a moment, Steve only looked at you, confused. Your question lingered harshly in the cold Winter air and you were about to take it back and start from the beginning, the actual beginning, but Steve finally said something.

“A date? Like, a real date?” He asked after what felt like the longest stretch of silence that you thought you’d ever experienced, and when you only nodded in response, because you were too nervous to say anything more right then, he said, “What’s changed since the open mic night? After that, I was pretty sure that you didn’t feel anything for me.” 

“I’m sorry. I know this sounds like it’s coming entirely out of nowhere. I had this whole long thing planned to say, and I messed up and started at the end instead of the beginning because I’m an idiot,” You sighed and then pulled your phone out of your coat pocket. “Can I send you something? It’s one of the pictures from that night that the photographer took.”

If Steve didn’t already think that this entire moment was insane, he probably did now, but he still said, “Okay.”

You sent him the picture that had now been sitting in your camera roll since Wednesday and then tucked your phone back into your pocket, eyes back on Steve and waiting for his reaction. 

“Oh,” Was the first thing that came out of his mouth. Other than the clear surprise, it was hard to read his expression right then. “Oh, wow.”

“That was probably my exact reaction when I saw it too,” You said, letting out a small laugh that felt entirely too awkward, but you pushed past it. “Okay, now here’s the very long-winded speech that I’ve been kinda rehearsing in my head for the past few days and I hope I don’t mess it up this time.” You took a breath and didn’t let your gaze break from his. “I like you, Steve. A lot. That picture kind of says it all, and it gave me the much-needed push to stop being so oblivious toward everything. The reason that I pulled away that night wasn’t because I don’t feel anything for you, it was because I do feel everything for you— and that’s terrifying as hell. Because you already know about everything that happened between me and Oliver’s dad, and it was one of the hardest things I ever had to go through. I loved him and he hurt me and pretty much ruined the entire way I viewed love and relationships. I never thought that I would want to date again, and I honestly wanted to just avoid it entirely, but now here you are.”

You took a breath, probably your first one in the past minute and a half. “And although doing this right now still does kinda scare the crap out of me, it’s an okay kind of scary— if that makes sense. The thought of finally starting over and starting something with you doesn’t feel as terrifying as I thought it would. Instead, it feels really exciting. And I hope that me running away that night didn’t completely mess things up between us before they really even got the chance to start.”

As your final words left your lips, you finally pulled your eyes away from Steve’s. 

He was quiet for what felt like forever, but you knew that he was just processing everything you said, which was a lot, and the overall length felt equivalent to a speech that you had to give in high school during your History class. That had been such a nerve-wracking moment, and you remembered nearly throwing up once you were finished speaking and sitting back at your desk— this time also felt sort of similar to that. But, in this moment, it also felt like the biggest weight was lifted off of your shoulders, so you didn’t regret your words at all. 

The longer you waited for Steve to say something, anything, the more you got the urge to tell him that it was okay if he wanted to reject you— the prolonging silence made you feel like that would be the inevitable thing to happen right then. It wouldn’t be the outcome you wanted, and you’d leave this makeshift parking lot partially devastated, but also with your head held high, at least, because you had been honest and you tried.

The words were about to leave your lips— the same ones he said to you that night; “It’s okay”— but then he smiled at you, a soft smile that managed to too easily warm you up from the inside out, and then he shook his head. “You didn’t ruin everything.”

“Really?” 

“Really,” He said, and it was that reassurance that made you inwardly let out a breath. “I completely understand why you’ve been scared— a part of me is really scared too because of everything that happened last year. There was barely any sort of a relationship left between me and Maddie’s mom before she left, but that didn’t really make going through that any easier. I trusted her and a part of me loved her, and in the beginning, I hoped that she would come back— maybe more for Maddie’s sake than mine. Once I fully accepted that she wasn’t, and deep down I think I always knew that, I never thought that I’d fall for someone else so soon. But, it was almost too easy to fall for you— and I think it started happening before I could even realize it was happening. And like you said, that picture pretty much says it all. So, yes to the date. Definitely yes.”

It was hard not to smile at his final words. It made you want to kiss him, but that felt like it was something that should be saved for a different moment entirely. 

You stepped closer to him and pushed yourself up on your toes, letting your arms loop around his neck and hugging him instead. It seemed almost instinctual how quickly Steve’s arms came up to circle your waist. 

You two had hugged a few times before, usually they were quick and in lieu of a “Goodbye” or “See you later,” and they were typically never anything more or less than a side hug. But, this one was completely different, it definitely didn’t say goodbye or see you later. Instead, it somehow managed to say a thousand other things. 

How tightly Steve held you, told you that he wouldn’t even think about hurting you or breaking your heart, and it also let you know that Eddie was right about you being able to trust Steve completely. 

And how your face was buried in Steve’s neck, fully taking in his scent, told him that he didn’t need to be scared of how quickly he was falling for you, the past wouldn’t repeat itself. 

Both of you had your shitty pasts, that in some ways you both were still recovering from, but it didn’t mean that you had to disregard or push aside what this was— these strong feelings you two had. Neither of you would say it out loud just yet, but it was clear that you loved each other. 

It was way too soon to put those three words out there, but they didn’t have to be said for both of you to know that they already existed so prominently between you two. The long embrace managed to say it all.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

Things were left fairly open-ended that Saturday night because it was quickly discovered that your schedules were way too busy with work and holiday plans to do something as soon as you both wanted to. And then, after a few texts and a late-night FaceTime call, it was decided that you’d see each other and plan things out when you and Oliver got back on the twenty-seventh from spending Christmas in California. 

You wanted so badly to kiss him when you saw him for the first time after a week of nothing but texts and sporadic phone calls— and that feeling only increased tenfold when you noticed the bouquet of daisies in his hand. But you couldn’t kiss him in a coffee shop full of people, so you settled for a hug instead, where he very subtly whispered in your ear how badly he also wanted to kiss you at that moment.

He and Madeline stayed for most of that afternoon. She played board games in a booth with Oliver, and Steve helped you out with little tasks you had to do since, on that day, it was just you working in the coffee shop. It was hours full of lingering touches— his hand brushing against your waist or hip at the most random of moments, and you standing almost flush next to him and your hands continuously grazing his as you showed him how to work the coffee machine— and long looks that made your brain feel fuzzy.

Both of you were standing in the back kitchen area when one of his hands found yours after you finished putting a sheet of cookies in the oven. “I already have an idea for what I want us to do for our date.”

You stepped a little closer to him and found his other hand to intertwine it with yours. “Since I asked you on the date, I think that I should be the one to plan it.”

“You can plan the second one,” He told you and it was hard not to smile at that. “So, when’s the next night you’re free?”

“New Year’s Eve, actually. We’re gonna be closed here then, and New Year’s Day too.”

Steve nodded. “Okay, perfect.”

Now that night had finally rolled around, and in comparison to the anticipation you’d been feeling for the last few days about it, a good kind of nervousness was coursing through your body as you hurried down the stairs when the doorbell rang at seven o’clock.

Oliver was already in the living room playing Connect Four with your next door neighbor, Natalie, who was almost always willing to babysit him for you. And she didn’t even seem to mind doing it tonight, even though it was New Year’s Eve, because she said that it would get her out of going to this party with her parents at her dad’s job. You still promised to pay her double the amount you usually gave her. 

“I left some money to order a pizza,” You told Natalie as you quickly put your shoes on, a pair of boots that stopped just below your knee and nicely complimented the short length of the dress you were wearing, and then you grabbed your coat and purse. “Call or text me if anything happens or you need something, you know the usual.”

“Got it,” She responded with a quick nod as she made her next move in the game. 

“I’ll see you later, Olly. Are you still gonna try and stay up until midnight?”

Oliver smiled up at you and nodded. “Yup.” 

“Good luck,” You said, smiling back at him.

You opened the front door and were immediately met with the sight of Steve standing at your doorstep, wearing a nice pair of black jeans and a coat over his long-sleeved white button-up shirt. 

You closed and locked the door behind you before turning to look at him again, a small smile on your face. “Hi.”

“Hi,” He told you and then his gaze traveled down your body for a brief second before meeting your eyes again. “You look really great.”  

His words let you know that you definitely made the right decision about pulling out the red strapless dress that had been sitting in your closet for the past year. It had no real reason to come out until now; for a date with someone that you really liked. And even after a year, it still looked great on you, hugged your body in all the right places, and made you feel really good. This was the first time in a long time that you were out of your typical “mom attire,” simple jeans and a plain t-shirt that was typically covered by an apron, and you wanted to look extra nice tonight; even if you and Steve wouldn’t be doing something fancy or extravagant.  

“Thank you,” You responded, smiling wider at him. “I don’t know what we’re doing, but as long as it’s not a hike or paintball, I think I should be fine.”

“Don’t worry, I think high-intensity things like that are usually saved for third dates,” He said playfully. 

“Oh, yeah, that’s so true,” You said, matching his tone and nodding. “But, if you force me to go on a hike for our third date, I’ll never go out with you again.”

“Okay, got it. Is paintball still on the table, though?”

“Sure.”  

“Great, so I won’t have to cancel our reservation in three weeks,” He responded, and the over-dramatic sigh in relief he let out made you laugh a bit.

It was almost embarrassing how easily Steve made you feel like you were back in middle school and crushing on the boy in your Math class. You hoped Josh Miller was doing well wherever he currently was because right then, as Steve reached out his hand and you slipped yours into his open palm, you knew for a fact that you were.

“Do I finally get to find out what we’re doing tonight?” You asked once you were settled in the passenger seat of his car.

Steve shook his head. “You’ll see once we get there.”

You sighed but still nodded. “The anticipation is killing me, just so you know.”

“Please don’t die before I get to show you everything.” 

That got a smile from you. “I’ll try my hardest not to.”

The drive was only about fifteen minutes— with you controlling the radio the entire time, and Steve’s hand that wasn’t on the steering wheel resting on your exposed thigh, and his thumb lightly stroking the bare skin throughout most of the ride. It was an action that essentially made your brain short circuit and was the reason why you had accidentally stopped on a station playing country music for longer than you intended. Your brain only started working again when the car was parked and you noticed that you were in his driveway.  

You looked at him, a small smile playing on your lips. “Usually, you bring the person back to your house at the end of the date, not the beginning, Harrington. How long has it been since the last time you did this?”

“Ha ha,” He said with a playful roll of his eyes at your sarcastic question. “The date is actually happening here, so that rule doesn’t really apply to this situation.”

“Okay, fair,” You responded, nodding. Your mind was already starting to run through the possibilities of what he had set up for you in his house.

“I’ll be right back, I just need to check something really quick first,” He told you and you only nodded again. 

Steve was barely gone for five minutes before he was opening the passenger door for you and helping you step out of the car. 

“Can I cover your eyes?”

“You’re actually making me really nervous now, but I’ll allow it,” You answered and he stepped behind you, covering your eyes with his hands.

“I think I might be more nervous than you,” He whispered, lips brushing your ear, which sent something equivalent to a shiver down your spine and you were glad that you had your coat on because it hid your goosebumps.

“Impossible,” You told him. “Is this a bad time to tell you that I hate surprises?”

“Yes, because now I don’t believe you.”

He was right to not believe you because that was technically a lie, but that didn’t mean that you weren’t still nervous about what this surprise would be. 

You expected him to guide you up the front steps of his house, but instead, you were led a different way, to the backyard. At some point, Steve stopped you both, but he still kept covering your eyes as he began talking. 

“Okay, so the initial idea I had was that we go to a drive-in movie theater because I feel like movies are kind of our thing at this point, and going to just a normal theater would be boring. But, the closest drive-in is over an hour away, and there was one specific movie I wanted us to watch anyway, so I decided to just set something up here.”

He pulled his hands away then and you opened your eyes. The first thing you saw was 

the large blanket set up in the middle of the backyard, there were a bunch of pillows on it along with a few folded up blankets and you noticed the plastic bowl full of candy and bucket of popcorn too. You then saw the projector screen that was set up a few feet in front of the blanket and the movie that was already queued up on it. Since it was currently paused, you could see the name in the top left corner— The Parent Trap. Everything was perfect, and you were about to tell Steve exactly that, but he started talking again before you could. 

“And I know you’re dressed up really nice right now, which means that you were probably expecting us to do something fancy, so I’m sorry if this is kind of a disappointment. But, I promise next time I’ll take you to the fanciest restaurant ever and—”

You cut off his rambling by turning to him and kissing his cheek. “This is the most thoughtful thing I think anyone has ever done for me. I love this.”

He smiled and you could see the happy relief washing over his face. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” You nodded, smiling back at him.

You pulled off your coat and slipped off your shoes and then grabbed one of the folded blankets to wrap around yourself before sitting down. 

“Maddie helped with a lot of the setup. She told me to add more pillows and blankets so that everything could feel really cozy,” Steve told you and you nodded at that, saying a quick, “She was very right.” “Also, I wasn’t sure what type of candy was your favorite, so I got a little bit of everything.” 

You grabbed the first stray bag of Skittles that you were able to find in the plastic bowl. “These are probably my favorite, but I do kinda like everything.”

“Okay, good to know for next time,” He said and there was something about the mention of “next time” that made your heart happily feel as if it was about to burst in your chest. 

Steve walked over to where the projector and his laptop were set up on his patio table so that he could start the movie. When he sat down right next to you, you gave him some of your blanket and he didn’t hesitate to wrap an arm around you as the opening credits and song started playing. 

The cold got to you quicker than you expected it to. You shifted a bit so that your legs were draped over Steve’s lap, you were almost sitting in his lap with how close you were. He wrapped his arms around you and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, letting his warmth and the blanket that was draped over you both engulf you completely. But when the blanket and his own body heat still weren’t enough to keep you warm, he went inside and grabbed a hoodie for you to wear. 

Not even halfway through the movie, you could feel his gaze solely on you; maybe it was to make sure that you were comfortable, which you were, or maybe it was to make sure that you were enjoying everything, which you also were. 

You looked at him, an amused smile on your face. “You should be watching the movie, not me.”

For a moment, he didn’t say anything— just simply kept looking at you, admiring you— until he finally did say something. “I know that this is completely breaking first date etiquette and another one of the “rules,” but I really wanna kiss you right now.”

You were nodding before the final words even managed to leave his lips. “Do it.” 

One of his hands came up to cup your cheek and he simply stared at you for a second before tilting your head up a bit and leaning in to softly slot his lips against yours. It was slow at first, like you both really wanted to savor this moment since it was the first time this was ever happening. 

Pushing yourself impossibly closer to him, your mouths moved against each other so seamlessly, almost as if this wasn’t the first time this was happening between you two— there was absolutely no confusion or uncertainty laced within this intimate moment. 

Steve pulled away slowly too, which elicited a soft and quiet whine from you. A sound that managed to oh so easily flip the switch for the both of you. From there, things became much more desperate and needy, as if you were two teenagers who just discovered what making out was. Your mouth hungrily found his that second time and his hand moved from your face and went down to grip your hip. 

For the most part, the movie became long forgotten, but there were some moments where you would abruptly pull away from Steve and claim that you two were “missing the good part of the movie,” and you’d force your attention back to that. It would always only be for a moment though, because before you knew it, you were back to looking at Steve and smiling at him and kissing his cheek or jaw or nose before eagerly finding his lips. 

Neither of you noticed when the credits started rolling. Your heads were against one of the pillows and legs were tangled beneath the two blankets that were over you both. One of your hands found home in the hair at the nape of Steve’s neck, and one of his hands had snaked underneath the hoodie and was squeezing your waist. 

You pulled back from the kiss, mainly to catch your breath, and Steve’s mouth immediately began attacking your jaw and then neck. You had to bite your lip for a second to keep from letting out any noise. “We’re probably giving your neighbors a very good show right now.” 

You felt Steve let out a laugh against your skin. “It’s a good thing that there are old married couples on both sides, so they’re all probably in bed asleep by now.”

You hummed in response. “Mm, that’s very good to know.”

You were about to pull back a bit so that you could then lean in and kiss him again, but then you managed to realize something and you turned your head toward the projector screen. “The movie’s over.”

“Oh,” Steve looked at the final credit screen that the movie ended on. “Good thing we’ve seen it before because I don’t think we watched any of it tonight.” 

You smiled at him. “Your face made it really hard to pay attention to the movie. I think we’ll need to go back to watching stuff on the phone in order for us to actually watch a movie.” 

“Never gonna happen,” He said before pressing a kiss to your lips. “I don’t have my phone on me, but I think it’s probably almost ten. What time do I need to get you home?”

“Oliver luckily didn’t give me a curfew,” You jokingly answered, which made a soft laugh fall from Steve’s lips. “But, seriously, Natalie told me that she’s fine with staying at the house as long as I need. For some reason, she really likes sleeping in the guest room once Oliver’s in bed. Even though tonight he wants to try and stay up until midnight to watch the ball drop, so I don’t know when he’ll actually end up in bed.”

“Maddie’s trying to do the same thing at my parent’s house, but she’ll probably fall asleep before eleven, if she’s not already,” He said and that made you smile because you were pretty sure the same thing would happen with Oliver. Steve’s hand then found yours beneath the blanket and gave it a light squeeze. “So, we should…” 

“We should go inside,” You finished for him and quickly pressed a kiss to his nose before detangling yourself from him and standing up. “I can help you clean up all of this first if you want.”

“I’ll do it in the morning,” He said and you nodded at that as he stood up too.  

You didn’t mind leaving your shoes and coat outside for the time being, but you grabbed your phone from your purse so that you could check it and make sure that everything was going okay with Oliver. You immediately saw that Natalie texted you almost thirty minutes ago telling you that he fell asleep, which made you laugh a bit. You quickly texted something back to her and then placed your phone down on Steve’s kitchen island when you walked through the sliding doors that led from the backyard to the kitchen. 

Steve walked over to where you were leaning against the island. He slipped his hands underneath the hoodie of his that you were still wearing so that he could grab your hips, and your arms came up to lazily circle his neck. He was the one who initiated the kiss that time around.

How comfortable and okay you were right then and how completely comfortable you had been the entire night was something that slightly surprised you as much as it made you feel so fucking happy. It was hard not to recognize that this was the first time in a long time that you felt this way— and that should’ve made things feel at least a little scary; like they would’ve felt just a few weeks ago— but instead that realization gave you a small burst of confidence in that moment.

You pulled back a bit, eyes still shut and lips lightly brushing his. “Y’know, I really love that we’re already at your house.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Mhm,” You nodded, eyes opening and then you stepped away from him and slipped your hand into his. You started leading him toward the stairs and you wondered if it was entirely obvious that you were heading to his bedroom. You already knew where it was because you had accidentally found it the first time you and Oliver came over for a playdate— you had been looking for the bathroom and mistakenly chose the door on the left instead of the right. “It makes this part a lot easier.” 

“What’s this part?” He asked and you could practically hear the smirk in his voice.

You turned to him when you were in front of his closed door. You gave him a look that said everything— everything you wanted from him right then and everything you wanted to give him— before reaching up and softly kissing his cheek. 

It was dark when you both walked into his bedroom and Steve flicked on the small lamp that was sitting on his nightstand. You were lingering by the foot of the bed and he once again closed all of the space between you two, his hands found the hem of the hoodie and immediately pushed it up and off of you. He slowed down when his fingers found the zipper on the back of your dress. A questioning look that asked “Is this okay?” crossed his face, and you quickly nodded. Somehow the minor action sent an inadvertent shiver down your spine— Steve letting the red material fall to the floor and leaving you in just your strapless bra and underwear before softly pushing you down so that you were sitting on the bed. You started helping him unbutton his shirt so that he could push it off of his shoulders and let it hit the floor as well. 

Your hands then found his belt buckle, fumbling around with it and then proceeding to unbutton his pants and snake your right hand within them. Steve’s groan was loud and it sent a chill through your body as you touched him and felt him grow stiffer in his boxers due to all of your soft, teasing strokes. 

After just a moment, he reached for your hand, halting your movements, and then leaned down to kiss you, removing his pants in the process. Once he was left in just his navy blue boxers you maneuvered upward so that your head was hitting one of his pillows at the top of the bed and he settled on top of you between your now spread legs.

Steve’s lips brushed against your forehead and then cheek before he pulled back and simply looked at you. “You’re so fucking pretty.” 

You didn’t feel an ounce of nervousness under his gaze, which said and told you so much, and it actually felt like your heart was about to burst out of your chest. 

“You’re not too bad yourself,” You whispered, tilting your head upward a bit so that your lips could meet his in a quick kiss. 

When your bra was discarded on the floor somewhere along with your underwear, you found yourself begging for him. Soft “pleases” fell from your lips as he teased you— softly rubbing your nipple in small circles and only stroking your inner thighs with the most featherlight of touches, getting so close to where you wanted him most. And feeling his hard length, which was still covered by his boxers, pressing against you only made your want grow more. You knew for a fact that you were making the worst mess against his comforter because of how much you were dripping for him.  

“Steve,” You let out a soft sigh, eyes screwed shut. “I need you. Please.”

“Mhm, yeah, anything for you,” He said, moving away from you for a second. Your eyes opened and you immediately missed his warmth enveloping you completely. He was ridding himself of his boxers and then began rummaging around in his nightstand drawer for a condom. 

You were smiling at him when he settled back on top of you and he gave you a small smile back. 

“You sure this is okay?” He asked, and you could hear the sudden shyness take over his voice. 

“Yes, I promise. I want this. I want you,” You told him, nodding profusely. He needed that reassurance and you completely understood why. Your voice was soft as you said your next words. “You sure this is okay?”

He pressed the softest kiss against your forehead. “So much better than okay.” 

For some reason, those simple words made your heart flutter wildly in your chest. He looked down for a second, lining his cock up with your soaked entrance, and then his eyes met yours again as he slowly pushed himself inside of you. 

“Fuck,” You wanted so badly to shut your eyes, but you also didn’t want to break his gaze. 

There was so much shared in the dreamy and lust-filled look you two were holding. You were hit with the sudden need to never have this to end. Not just the sex, but simply being with Steve— talking, laughing, playfully arguing as you debated random shit that didn’t matter. You wanted all of that with him for as long as you could have it. 

It was too early to even truly entertain the potential of a forever with him, but it was something that could happen and it was hard not to let your mind wander for a bit. 

You could see it all, and so easily too— your lives blending and becoming so deeply intertwined. You didn’t expect yourself to fall so goddamn hard for him so quickly, but it felt nice feeling so entirely certain about it all. 

“What are you thinking about, honey?” Steve whispered, breaking through your thoughts and eyes still looking so deeply into yours. He was still moving slowly but was also hitting so deeply inside of you with every languid thrust that it elicited the softest whines and mewls from you. 

“Everything,” You told him honestly, but didn’t explain further because you were then shutting your eyes and letting your mind turn to mush. A particularly hard thrust had your back arching off the bed and a gasp falling from your lips. “Shit, yes, right there.”

“I think about everything with you all the time,” Steve said, lips finding yours and swallowing the loud moans you let out upon hearing his words— right then, that was the only way that you could verbalize how much you loved hearing him say that. He started moving quicker, losing control inside of you, which you didn’t mind in the slightest because it only made you wetter. “I want it all so badly.”

You could feel yourself nodding at him, it still felt way too hard to open your eyes. “Me too.”

Your walls squeezed harshly around his cock when one of his hands snaked down to find your clit, rubbing it in tight circles with his thumb and almost immediately pushing you so close to the edge. 

“You gonna come for me, honey?” Steve asked with a groan and when you only mumbled out a barely coherent “yes” and “please,” he started circling your clit quicker before saying, “Do it. Come for me.”

It hit you so fucking hard. You were moaning loudly, practically screaming, as stars flooded your vision and your body almost immediately felt as if it was floating. How tightly you were squeezing Steve’s cock as you came only spurred on his own release, forehead dropping against yours as he pushed as deep as he could inside of you and spilled into the condom. 

Your lips haphazardly found his in a slow kiss as you both came down from your highs and your breathing returned mostly to normal.  His weight crushed you in the most peaceful way possible before he was slipping out of you and then pulling your back flush against his chest. You didn’t mean to fall asleep, but with Steve’s arms around you in the most comforting way, you did almost immediately. 

When you woke up, it had barely been an hour and the only reason you knew that was because the TV was now on and the live New Year’s Eve special was playing. You got up to go to the bathroom and then slipped on Steve’s white button-up shirt, only buttoning a few of the buttons, before getting back in bed. 

“Hi,” You whispered, head settling against his chest and his arms immediately came up to circle around you. 

“Hey,” He whispered back and pressed a kiss to the top of your head. You draped your leg over his hips to push yourself even closer to him. “Ten minutes to midnight. Should I take you home after?”

“Yeah, that’s probably a good idea,” You answered softly. “I wish I could stay.”

“Me too,” Steve said as one of his hands started lightly rubbing up and down against the curve of your hip. “One day, though.”

You smiled at that, tilting your head up a bit and kissing his jaw. “I can’t wait for that.”

Years down the road you’d both think back to this moment. 

When you’re laying in bed together in the house that you two moved into just weeks earlier, something bigger that would better fit your growing family. Oliver and Madeline would be fast asleep in their rooms down the hall from yours and their newborn sister would only be a few feet away from you and Steve, finally asleep in her bassinet. 

You’d be the one to bring up this night— how it was both the start of something and the end of something else— and he’d smile at you immediately and start absentmindedly playing with the ring on your finger. How it had been the start of a relationship that neither of you truly saw coming and how it brought a slow but steady end to the fears that both of you had. 

Steve would softly say that even though he’d been a little scared to tell you that night, he had known then— as he was dropping you off at your house close to one in the morning and softly kissing you goodnight on your doorstep— that he wanted to be with you forever. And you’d tell him that you had felt the exact same way, that you even ended up dreaming about it all that night like a lovesick teenager. 

That would make him kiss you, slowly and tenderly; something that never failed to make your head feel dizzy. 

Before you and him fell asleep too, just for a few hours before Luna woke both of you up, you would tell Steve that you were glad that Oliver and Madeline asked to have a playdate during that oddly warm day in September four years ago because that simple thing changed everything between you two. Your eyes would already be shut as you sleepily whispered how much you loved him and he’d smile while telling you that he loved you too. He’d then laugh a bit and say that it was the sleep deprivation making you extra sentimental right then but he was completely okay with that. His soft and sweet words of, “I’m also so glad that those playdates changed everything,” would be the last thing you remember hearing before you fully fell asleep, and it put the softest smile on your face.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

let me know ur thoughts<333

[whimsyfinny]

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Charlie discovers the Winchester boys to be struggling with keeping the bunker tidy, looking after themselves and being able to do their job simultaneously. Luckily she has a friend who’s from a Hunter family that is in need of work and can help them with research. Or so she thought that’s what her job would be. When Dean sees your more domesticated side, his head won’t stop swimming with all the wrong ideas.

Slow burn, enemies to lovers, smut

Warnings: SMUT, the forbidden quickie

Chapter Word Count: 3548

—-MDNI—-

A/N: ahhhhhhhh I finally wrote some spice! Sorry it took a while. This is a little tame I guess but we can work up to the extra lewd stuff

——————————————————————

Please read the below first:

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

I’m Not Your F*cking Maid

Chapter 6

The following day rolled around quickly and before we knew it there was only an hour remaining until the auction house charity event. The disturbing events of yesterday were pushed to the back of my mind, the boys respecting my wishes on not wanting to talk about it. Sam told us over breakfast that he’d managed to access the auction house database and add our names to the guest list for the party, making it easy for us to attend without getting caught out as uninvited visitors. Now back in my room, I was rummaging through my duffel and pulling out my evening attire: a long black dress made of soft satin that had a slit up to the hip on one side. The neckline was a deep v-plunge and the dress was entirely backless.

“I guess no bra for me tonight then,” I mumbled to myself, also pulling out a clean pair of black lace panties and a pair of closed toe, VERY high black satin heels that had a neat little buckle on the ankle strap. I was already showered and my makeup was already done so I dropped my towel and slipped into the dress, pulling the thin straps over my shoulders. I followed by pulling on my panties, stretching the lace over my hips so it wasn’t visible through the slit in the dress. If you didn’t know any better, it would look like I wasn’t wearing anything at all. I sat on the edge of the bed and put on the heels, securing them in place before standing up and doing a few practice laps of the room - wearing shoes this high was not a common occurrence for me. I finished up by dusting my skin with the same perfume I wore yesterday, breathing in the pleasant smell before tucking the bottle along with my rouge lipstick into my little black clutch. I fussed over myself in the mirror for a few minutes when I heard a knock at the door. Pacing over I flung it open to greet the Winchester boys, and when I did I couldn’t help but do a double take over the oldest brother. I hated to admit it but he looked good. REALLY good. He was dressed head to toe in black: a slim fitted suit, shirt and tie, all of which seemed to flick something on in my brain. His suit jacket hung open and beneath it the shirt was clinging to his well defined torso, the top two buttons straining a little.

“You scrub up well, Dean,” I said to him, trying to sound pleasantly surprised. Instead, I think I sounded incredibly flirtatious. Dean didn’t seem to notice though as I watched his jaw slacken and his eyes flit over my body.

“Uhhh-um yeah, thanks,” he said, clearing his throat a little as he stepped aside to let me out.

“You look great, (Y/n),” Sam said, making such intense eye contact with me like he didn’t know where else to look, his cheeks glowing a little.

“Thanks Sam,” I smiled up at him before locking the motel room door and trying to ignore the fact that Dean didn’t say anything. Back to being an ass I see.

“So (Y/n), you’re with Dean. It should be pretty simple: get in, get the hair pain, get out. With that many people at the event, we don’t want to risk anyone getting hurt so I'll be ready and waiting outside with everything we need to destroy it and put the ghost to rest,” Sam briefed us before carrying on, “I’ll head back to our room to get everything and I’ll meet you there - you guys get going,” he nodded his head to Deans car which was parked out front. Dean said a quick farewell and headed out and I did the same, giving Sam a wave as he turned to leave.

I climbed into the front of the Impala, running my hands over the plush leather seat.

“You really do have great taste in cars Dean,” I said, looking around at the immaculate interior. He hummed in agreement, putting his arm over the back of my seat as he reversed out of the parking spot. Those top two buttons on his shirt were not going to last all night. I crossed my legs, getting comfortable for the short journey into town - the satin of my dress falling open and completely exposing my thigh to Dean. I watched him take his eyes off the road and fixate on my bare skin, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the steering wheel. Returning his eyes to the road I saw his chest rise as he took a deep breath, a small but deep groan emitting from his chest.

“You ok?” I asked, quirking an eyebrow.

“I’m fine,” he rasped.

“Ok… you’re acting strange though,” I said, leaning on the passenger side door to watch the street lamps turn on.

“Can you blame me?”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

There was a few seconds of silence before he flicked on his cassette player and classic rock filled the car, bringing a smile to my ruby lips.

“Good taste in music too? I’ll be damned, you’ve got more of a personality than I thought.”

He scoffed a little before smirking, “there’s more to me than meets the eye sweetheart.” He looked over at me, green eyes piercing into mine with such intensity I suddenly felt a little warm. I looked away, quickly counting my lucky stars when I noticed we’d arrived.

Dean parked up and I reached for the door, however Dean stopped me from opening it.

“Wait,” his tone was authoritative as he reached a hand out to stop me, his rough fingers lightly grazing the soft skin of my thigh. Before I could even respond, he’d hopped out, slamming his door shut before striding around the front of the car to open mine for me. He held his hand out, which I grasped delicately and he pulled me to my feet.

“What was that for?” I asked, puzzled as he closed the passenger side door behind me.

“Just trying to keep up appearances for this shit-show,” he stated bluntly before he walked off ahead of me towards the front door whilst he left me to navigate the uneven cobbles in these death-trap shoes.

“Jerk,” I muttered under my breath, but he must’ve heard me because he turned around, sighed and held out his arm for me to take.

“Just ask if you need help,” he leaned in and said quietly, his face close enough that I could feel his breath on my skin. I sucked in a breath, which was a mistake as he smelt positively divine. He was filling my senses and I didn’t want him to.

We made it into the building with no trouble at all thanks to Sam’s hard work. The inside of the auction house was a grand spectacle indeed; with high ceilings, a chandelier made up of thousands of tiny pieces of crystal and two symmetrical mahogany staircases at the end of the entrance hall. It was busy, lots of people in expensive attire milling about and drinking equally expensive sparkly wine.

“Shall we get some champagne?” I turned and asked Dean, who chuckled slightly.

“You’re already more fun than Sam,” he said before whisking two flute glasses off a passing waiter and handing me one. We chinked glasses, laughing a little at how awkward all of this pomp and ceremony was for us before we both downed the expensive alcohol like shots. Dean winced slightly, handing his now empty flute back to the same waiter who gave him a concerned look.

“Aw damn, those bubbles - that shits wrong.”

“That’s because you’re supposed to sip it,” I laughed at him, placing my empty glass on an old polished oak sideboard.

“Then why did you neck it too if you knew?” He asked, furrowing his eyebrows at me. I shrugged.

“To be honest I don’t know - I guess I wanted to lighten the old-money mood in here.” He nodded, seeming to understand where I was coming from. After that fiasco we made our way towards the immense curved staircases at the end of the room, Deans hand occasionally touching my exposed back as he guided me in front of him, making me shiver involuntarily. We ascended, making our way up and past people who were at the top of the stairs, idly chatting and leaning on the bannister - not paying us any mind as we turned down a quiet corridor. We walked quietly, the hum of chatting remaining behind us as we made our way down the dim corridor, looking out for the room number Sam had given us.

“Room 19, room 19, room 19…” I chanted to myself searching every door until we found the right one. Coming to a stop, Dean quickly knelt down and pulled a lockpick from his pocket. I watched in fascination as he inserted the device, ever so gently manoeuvring it with a look of pure concentration on his face. I couldn’t stop myself from looking over at him whilst he was unaware; looking at those focused and hooded dark green eyes, slightly parted lips that he wet with his tongue and large muscled shoulders that were almost as wide as the doorway. I didn’t want to admit it, but God damn he was attractive. There was a click and he stood up quickly, pocketing the lockpick and opening the door, hurrying me inside. I walked gingerly into the room which looked like a mixture between a study and a museum. There were large bookcases spanning the walls, sideboards boasting an array of intriguing items, all contained in secure glass cabinets, and finally a large leather-topped mahogany desk in the centre of the room. This place smelt old.

I heard Dean close the door behind him as he paced in after me, immediately scanning the room.

“Right,” he said, his tone stern and authoritative, “you take that side and I’ll take this side.” I nodded, immediately scouring every surface for our haunted item.

We must’ve been looking for around ten minutes when Dean called me over.

“Do you think that’s it?” He almost whispered, pointing to an item that I would definitely have described as a jade hairpin.

“Yup,” I whispered back, leaning slightly closer to him so I could get a better look. I felt him draw a sharp breath in before sighing slightly. “Can you pick this lock?” I asked, ignoring his antics and sticking to the business at hand.

“Yeah give me a second and I’ll get it open,” he stepped in front of me. Not wanting to get in his way, I walked into the centre of the room to where the desk was and leant against it, looking around at all of the bizarre items. Surely there are some other haunted things in here other than what we came for. My eyes eventually landed on an old gramophone.

“Oh that bitch is definitely haunted,” I mumbled to myself right as I heard Dean pop the lock on the glass cabinet. I watched as he wrapped the hairpin in a square of fabric before shoving it into his pocket and clicking the cabinet closed.

“Mission complete,” he said, a slight grin on his lips as he walked to stand in front of me. That grin fell from his face though when suddenly there were voices outside the door and keys rattling in the lock. We hadn’t planned for this. He looked at me in a panic.

“Kiss me,” I blurted.

“What?”

“I have a plan: Dean just fucking kiss m-” it was like I didn’t have to tell him twice before he had a hand in my hair and his lips were on mine. My heart started pounding and his mouth was hot against my cool skin. I hummed, sliding my fingers up his chest to grip the lapels on his jacket, pulling him further in towards me. Before I could get sucked into whatever it was that I was feeling, the study door flew open and two older gentlemen in brown tweed suits walked in, stopping in their tracks at the sight of us.

“Good heavens! What are you doing in here?” One of them exclaimed. Dean turned his head to look at the men, a smirk on his face and I couldn’t help but blush furiously at the sight of my lipstick that was now smeared on the corner of his lips.

“So sorry gentlemen, the door was unlocked so we just let ourselves in. I hope you don’t mind…” I watched, my eyes widening a little as he lifted his jacket slightly, showing the gun that was tucked into his belt. The men’s eyes also widened and they backed up towards the door.

“Yes, yes! Of course you did! Please, take your time. Just…” the man paused, his eyes darting to the precious items on his desk, “please try not to make a mess - it’s all I ask.” And with that they both left as quickly as they arrived, closing the door behind them. I let out a sigh of relief, looking up at Dean.

“Thank fuck… Dean I’m so sor-” I didn’t have a chance to think as Deans mouth was back on mine; rough and needy. I sat in shock for a second before being pulled back to reality when Dean held the side of my face, his fingers sliding up to tangle with my hair. I couldn’t stop myself from kissing him back, my mind racing and going blank simultaneously. His free hand ghosted up my exposed leg, touching so gently I could barely feel him. He soon decided though that gentle wasn’t working for him, and he gripped my thigh, his fingers digging into my soft flesh and making me gasp - his hands on my body were already working their magic as I couldn’t stop his name from leaving my lips.

“Dean…” I moaned. I can’t believe it - I had actually moaned his fucking name. He groaned into my mouth, obviously liking the sound of his name rolling off my tongue. Tearing his hand from my hair and gripping my other thigh, without warning and with rushed movements, he lifted me with ease so I was sat atop the desk.

“Wrap your legs around me darlin,” he said with a deep lustful tone against my lips. I whimpered involuntarily as I did as he said. He pried his mouth from mine and started to kiss elsewhere; my cheek, behind my ear… my neck. I ran my hands over his shoulders and up the back of his neck, running my nails over his scalp and making him shiver. I gripped his hair and yanked, forcing his head up. I locked eyes with him, his eyes no longer that brilliant green but now blown and black with lust. My own eyes were probably no different. His gaze fluttered from my eyes to my lips, and before I let him kiss me again I leant forward and pressed my lips to his throat, my tongue on his skin. It was his turn to moan as I reached a hand down and traced a finger up the hard weapon growing in his pants. His large hands moving from my thighs to my ass, gripping tighter than ever before as I seemed to be pushing all the right buttons. He slid me to the edge of the desk so my lace-covered intimates were pressing right against him, friction and pleasure commencing. I pulled my lips from his throat before tugging his face down to mine, instigating the finale. I spoke breathlessly over his lips, already craving the taste of him again.

“Are you gonna fuck me or what, Winchester?”

Dean practically growled, frantically fumbling with moving my dress aside. He hooked a shaky but skilled finger into my underwear, trying to pull it aside but the elastic wouldn’t allow for it. I began to tremble as his digits kept ghosting over my most sensitive area. He soon gave up with his first plan, and his second plan made my eyes roll into the back of my head. Dean pulled a large hunting blade from inside his jacket and slid the flat side against my skin and up my thigh until it was under the lace fabric. The ice cold metal made me shiver before he swiftly sliced the blade up towards him, cutting my panties to shreds as he repeated the motion on the other side.

“Fuck that was hot,” I panted as he put the blade away and captured my lips again, running his tongue over mine. I gasped suddenly when he dipped a finger inside me, curling it and caressing that soft, sensual cushion that was hidden away. When I moaned, he added a second finger, leaning away from me slightly so he could see what a mess I was beneath him. After a few moments of utter bliss, he pulled his fingers out, sticking them straight in his mouth.

“You’re fucking delicious,” he groaned, standing up straight to shimmy out of his jacket. I leant forwards, grasping his belt buckle, undoing it and pulling down his zipper. Slowly I reached in and pulled him out of his boxers, his rock hard manhood hot and heavy in my palm. He closed his eyes as I ran my thumb over the tip, guiding my hand up and down, up and down, again and again until he grabbed my wrist.

“Let go so I can fuck you ‘til you can’t walk,” he practically growled, making me weak. I leant back on my palms, watching as he lined himself up and then disappeared inside me in one earth shattering motion. My eyes rolled back and my lips parted as I locked my ankles instinctively behind his back, my heels catching on the gun still tucked into his pants. He started to set a rhythm as he fucked me into the desk, the wooden structure sliding back with every thrust he made. He had both hands firmly planted on the desk beside me and I gripped his forearms tight, my head starting to spin from the overwhelming pleasure. It didn’t help that Deans head had dropped into the crook of my neck and his heavy breathing was like music to my ears. He kissed the skin there softly, drawing a moan from my lips with the sudden tenderness. The pounding was speeding up, and he suddenly wrapped an arm around my waist, desperately trying to get closer - to get deeper. The need for release was building and I’d lost control of my voice; Deans name tumbling from my lips like a prayer. I pressed his lips to mine feverishly, his breath ragged as he managed to pant out;

“Shit, (Y/n) I’m so close… I’m gonna need you to cum for me…”

I whimpered at the sound of my name on his breathless lips and he let go of my waist, placing his large palm on my stomach and sliding it down until his thumb connected with that bundle of nerves.

“Shit-Dean-,” whining against his mouth I started to feel the tension in the pit of my stomach build - the feeling of him pounding into me and stretching me more than ever before combined with his thumb on the magic button was a recipe for a quick release. And Dean knew that. He was fucking me so hard now that the sound of wet skin on skin echoed around the room and the banging of the desk could surely be heard from out in the corridor- maybe even downstairs. That knot was tightening, and tightening, and tightening until:

“Fuck- Dean I’m gonna cum!”

“Fuck,” was all he managed to groan before I shattered around him, that knot snapping and sending me into probably the best orgasm I’ve ever had. As I tensed up I pulled Dean over the edge with me and he buried his face into my neck, breathing heavily and cursing occasionally.

We stayed like that for a few moments, regaining some clarity and returning to earth. He took a few deep breaths before standing up and pulling out, tucking himself back into his pants and doing up his belt as his cum dripped down my thigh. He couldn't seem to look away, even when he reached for his jacket on the floor and put it back on.

“Stay there,” he said finally, disappearing behind some shelves for a second before returning with a box of tissues. He helped me clean myself up, tossing the tissues in the bin as we attempted to get rid of the evidence.

“Are you ok?” He asked sincerely, concern in his eyes as he offered me his hand. I smiled a little bashfully, placing my palm in his.

“I hate to admit it but I feel great.”

He helped me down off the table, placing a hand on my waist to help steady me on my still trembling legs. We both stood in a comfortable silence for a few moments before realisation hit us both and we looked at each other with wide eyes.

”Oh shit - Sam!”

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Up Next:

Chapter 7