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yandere-daydreams · 4 months ago

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exhibit #1 - dacryphilia

an installment of the freak shit march gallery showcase.

pairing: yandere!alhaitham x reader (genshin).

length: 2.0k.

warnings: non/con, student + teacher, rough oral sex, wildly unbalanced power dynamics, academic stress, degradation, mild infantalization, and forced helplessness.

The worst part was – it really wasn’t that easy to make you cry.

Before enrolling in Alhaitham’s class, you could only remember it happening twice. Once in adolescence, when hearing that your adoptive guardian had lost his life during an encounter with a group of thieves, and later on, after you failed your first attempt at the Akademiya’s entrance exam with a score so low, it could be expressed in single digits. It wasn’t that you were the stoic type – no, you and Alhaitham had nothing in common, let alone your dispositions. You just preferred to express yourself in more productive ways. Something so irrational, so hysterical, didn’t come naturally to you, and it never had before. You just didn’t cry.

Hence why it was all the more frustrating to be seated in front of Alhaitham’s desk for the fifth time in as many classes, fighting back tears. Your latest paper, an analysis of mythological tropes shared between the ancient folklore of Sumeru’s desert and forest regions, sat in front of you, drowned in red ink and creased from careless handling. You were sure his notes were thoroughly scathing, but so much as thinking about trying to read over them left tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, a fresh sob rising into your throat. It was humiliating. It was pathetic. Children cried over bad grades, not adults. Not you.

If Alhaitham noticed your distress, he kept his concerns to himself. His narrowed gaze remained centered loosely on the book in his right hand, the pointer finger of his left tapping idly against the tabletop. “I’m sure you understand why I can’t accept this,” he started, disinterest thick in his tone. You might’ve found some amount of comfort in his boredom, if it hadn’t been so degrading. “The Akademiya holds certain standards of quality for its students, and the work you’ve submitted is—” A measured beat, a shift to his inclination. “—less than. The orthodox course of action would be supervised revisions, but given the severity of the corrections needed, starting from scratch seems more advisable.”

You tried to control your breathing – five seconds in, five seconds out. The tactic was mildly effective until Alhaitham glanced up from his book and, rather jarringly, you processed he expected you to answer. “…I understand,” you managed, keeping the tremors in your voice down to a slight, nearly imperceptible shake. “But—”

Alhaitham cut in. “But?”

Your chest started to ache, and you realized you’d stopped breathing entirely. “It’s just—I do have other courses this semester, and the amount of time I’ve dedicated to your rewrites—It’s starting to affect my other classwork.” And your social life, and your psyche, and your physical health. You couldn’t remember you’d fallen asleep without a quill in your hand. “I’m sorry, but if there’s any way I could get any amount of credit for what I’ve already done, that would—”

“That would be letting personal circumstance circumvent academic merit.” The knot lodged in the base of your throat tightened. You balled your fists in your lap and counted to ten. “To give you any amount of credit, the work you’ve submitted would have to be worth any amount of credit. Unfortunately, it isn’t.” His gaze shifted to you. “Is that clear?”

You opened your mouth, but it was too late. The dam was busted, the pillar split, and despite your best efforts, the totality of your despair came crashing down around you. You tried to set your jaw, to shut your eyes, but the sobs escaped regardless – tiny and whimpered, fractured by unsteady breathing and your own failure to choke them back. The tears were almost worse, more pathetic, more childish – staining your cheeks and dripping down your chin, spotting the collar of your uniform. You pawed at your face with your sleeves, but that only drew more attention to your instability. If you’d had any less pride, you might’ve fled his office entirely, but the only thing worse than breaking down in front of your professor would’ve been breaking down in front of your peers. You couldn’t take their coddling attempts at kindness, their cooed assurances that Alhaitham really wasn’t that demanding, not after you knew what he was expecting. You couldn’t make yourself seem anymore hopeless than you already were.

Alhaitham, at least, had the decency to keep his mouth shut. He watched on in silence before sighing, setting his book down, and pushing himself to his feet.

He rounded the desk with no great sense of urgency. You were sobbing into your hands when he came to a stop next to your seat, and for one brief, horrifying moment, you thought he might actually attempt to comfort you. He kept his arms crossed over his chest, though, his voice remaining painfully neutral as he spoke. “You need to pass my class, don’t you?”

“Y-yes.” It was a required credit, and you’d missed the unenrollment period. Trying to back out now would be nearly, if not flatly, impossible. “I’d do—”

“Anything, I know. Save put the bare minimum amount of thought into your assignments, apparently.” You felt him reach down, raking his fingers through your hair. “And you mean that? Anything I’d ask of you?”

Had you been a little more lucid, a little less sleep deprived, you might’ve noticed the cloying note to his last question, the uncharacteristic warmth to his touch as his hand slipped from your scalp to your check, a thumb idly brushing away your tears. But, you were distraught beyond the point of reason, and the last of your energy had been spent on a paper he hadn’t deemed worth his time, and it was all you could do to nod into his hand.

Alhaitham, practical as always, wasted no time. “Get on your knees.”

…

Where there might’ve been shock, there was only dull dread. You’d heard about things like this before – tutors holding study materials over the heads of desperate lower-classmen, department head leveraging funding against the morals of insecure young scholars. Of course, you’d always assumed you would never fall into something so obviously depraved, and of course, you sniffled pathetically as you lowered yourself to the floor, collapsing onto your knees in front of Alhaitham. He let his hand drift to the back of your head, its weight settling against your scalp. You tried not to think about why he might want to hold onto you.

He took the initiative, mercifully. You were still biting back pitchy little cries as he shrugged his pants low on his hips, taking his cock in his free hand. Horrifyingly, he was already stiff. You couldn’t tell which had gotten him hard – the idea of the act itself, or the opportunity to exploit a student.

Alhaitham pumped his fist over his length, tightening his grip as he reached the flushed head. His eyes never left you. “Do you know what you’re doing, or will you need remedial courses in this subject, too?”

You pursed your lips. “That’s not funny.”

“I wasn’t joking.”

You weren’t looking forward to this, but having to keep talking to him suddenly seemed like the worse of two evils. You managed to swallow back the last of your tears as you leaned forward, awkwardly replacing his hand with your own. He carded his fingers through your hair as you took his tip past your lips, letting it sit on your tongue. The taste was earthy and bitter, with something more acidic playing just underneath. In another context, it might not have been entirely unpleasant, but right now, it only made you want to wretch.

Shutting your eyes, you soldiered on. Guiding him into the hollow of your cheek would’ve been easier, but Alhaitham was quick to correct you – jerking your head upright as soon as it started to lull to the side. He held you in place as he bucked his hips, the head of his cock bumping against the back of your throat as the girth of his shaft forced your jaw open. You gagged around him, but if Alhaitham cared, it would’ve been impossible to know. There was an airy grunt, then a click of his tongue – a teacher correcting their pupil’s latest mistake. “Breathe through your nose. If you pass out, we’ll only have to start over.”

The bastard. The heartless, sadistic bastard. Your hands shot to his legs as he thrust himself deeper into you; manually nodding your head in time with his languid strokes. You would’ve been better off going limp, letting him do what he needed to and ending this that much sooner, but something primal and contrarian in the darkest depths of your mind spurred you to try and keep up, to bob, to dig your nails into his thighs and stop your throat from seizing around him. The pressure was the worst part – all force, no relief, the gnawing awareness that you were losing air paired with the alien weight of something occupying a part of you that was meant to be vacant. The tears were back in an instant, leaking from the corners of your eyes, joining your spit where it was starting to spill out at the corners of your lips, and Alhaitham groaned, twitching against the inside of your throat.

“This doesn’t mean you won’t need regular tutoring sessions.” His grip tightened, blunt nails biting into your scalp. You whined in pain as he pressed your nose to his stomach, holding you there for a second, then another before jerking your back. “Home visits should prove to be the most effective. You’ll come to me, of course. The student accommodations are too public – it’ll distract you.”

You started to shake your head, but Alhaitham held you still, keeping you concentrated on his cock. By now, his pace was steady, his face flushed, his cock battering its shape into your throat. Tasting him wasn’t an option, anymore. It seemed to coat your tongue, drip down your throat, slather itself over every part of you it could infect. You cried out around his cock, and Alhaitham cursed, his hips stuttering against your mouth. “You’ll come to me, every day, and I’ll—fuck, I’ll—”

Suddenly, violently, he pushed you away and pulled out of your mouth. His hand made it to his cock in time to pump once, twice before your black-rimmed vision was spotted with white, before thick ropes of something hot and terrible were being painted over your face. It was all you could do to blink, to stare, to wonder why he was still looking at you with that awful, frigid intensity. You wished he would look away. You wished you’d never taken his fucking class at all.

You opened your mouth to say as much, but something thick dripped off of your upper lip and onto your tongue. Numbly, you let the bitter, corrosive taste wash over you, and then, you broke down.

What little pride you had left wasn’t worth salvaging, anymore. You sobbed and shook unabashedly, wailing like a child as his cum cooled on your skin. Alhaitham made a passing effort to hush you before kneeling to your height and taking you in his arms. With no strain whatsoever, he carried you back to his seat and fell into it, keeping you bundled against his chest. “You’ll come to me, every day, and I’ll make sure you’re not thinking about anything beyond you and I,” he finished. “That way, you’ll only have to remember what I tell you to.”

Alhaitham paused, sighed. “That is, if the General Mahamatra doesn’t decide to expel you from the Akademiya altogether. Trying to seduce an instructor is a very serious offense. You won’t need to worry about studying after word spreads.”

Rather than draw back, you melted into him, burying your face in his shoulder. For the first time that you could recall, Alhaitham let out a breath of a laugh, holding you that much closer. His lips pressed into your temple – the imitation of a kiss. “But that’s not surprising, is it?”

If you hadn’t known better, you might’ve thought you felt him smile.

“You were always going to need someone more capable to take of you.”

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere imagines #yandere x you #yandere genshin impact #genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin imagines #yandere genshin #yandere alhaitham #alhaitham x reader

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wileys-russo · 2 months ago

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in the blink of an eye (6) II a.putellas

part of the in the blink of an eye series in the blink of an eye (6) II a.putellas

"but i wanna say night!" posie chirped for the fourth time since you'd finally gotten her down and into bed. "you already said buenas noches to alexia nena, twice." you reminded the three year old with a smile, pinching her cheek and tucking her in a little tighter.

"i like your friend tía, will she come over again?" posie yawned as you begun to run your hands through her hair, nails scratching gently against her head causing her eyes to droop and a bitter sense of nostalgia wash over you at the memory of your sister doing the same thing when you had a bad dream and were much younger.

"maybe. now go to your special garden pequeña, with the red butterflies, and the orange ones, and the purple ones, and the special pink ones with yellow dots. where the grass is soft and green, and there is a bright blue river that giggles and talks as it runs." you spoke softly, posies eyes drooping lower and lower as your tone grew calmer and her body begun to go limp.

"your special garden where your mami and papi are ready for you to go and dance with them, and you have on your favourite dress with the little bluebells, and your bright red gumboots." you whispered, unaware of alexia hovering just outside the door having come to check all was okay.

"you dance and dance like a little butterfly until your feet feel heavy and the music starts to get quiet, then you let your mami kiss you goodnight and you can see her again tomorrow in your special garden, your special garden no one can take away from you. sweet dreams amorcita." you finished, heart heavy but spirit light at the angelic look of peace across your nieces face as her chest rode and fell, arms wrapped tightly around her favourite bear.

pressing a kiss to her forehead you very carefully stood to your feet, alexia slinking away back to the kitchen before you could catch her, a strange feeling in her chest.

a strange feeling that little did she know, had been making its way at home in your own chest since the moment she'd arrived to the front door, maybe even from the very second you'd stepped foot back in barcelona for good.

"alexia no you would never let me study! it is funny now you are so serious about your football." you teased, drinking the last mouthful of tea in your mug and placing it on the small table sitting between the pair of you.

you'd offered wine once you got posie down to sleep and alexia had washed up and tidied everything despite your insistence she just relax.

an offer to which alexia very politely declined explaining she didn't really drink during the season, so you'd made you both a green tea which had lead to a very longwinded but light hearted trip down memory lane.

you looked up with a confused frown at the sudden knocks at your door, not expecting anyone and buried in a mountain of revision for your upcoming exam, your first year of law school well and truly bearing down on you with all its might.

assuming it may have been a delivery or the wrong apartment your gaze flickered back down to the case study you were trying to memorize.

the end of your pen held captive between your lips you scowled down at the words which were starting to just look like gibberish the longer you stared at them, permanent tension locked in your upper body where you were hunched over the coffee table in front of you.

you had many much more comfortable and perhaps even practical places to study, but curled up on the floor with your back against the sofa and papers scattered about on the coffee table with a broken leg propped up by an old bible your mami insisted you have in your house, was your usual go to.

until the knocks sounded again and this time it had you getting to your feet, dropping your pen into your textbook to mark your page leaving the case study on the floor where you'd been sat, clicking pause on the egg timer you used to track your breaks.

not that it worked given you'd barely made a dent into your workload for today or earned any sort of break, even if you'd purposefully put your phone in another room, closed your eyes and thrown the tv remote somewhere you couldn't see, you managed to find every little other distraction you could.

the washing needed to be done, the counter had to be wiped down, your textbooks had to be reorganised into alphabetical order and pens colour coded. your bed needed to be stripped and changed over, the window sills dusted and floor vacuumed.

you were truly your own worst enemy at times, and you weren't even halfway done with your first year, with a whole lot more, a much heavier workload and a long journey ahead at law school.

but you wouldn't let it break you, you couldn't.

natalia would never quit anything least of all before giving it a proper go, and your sister was both your biggest competitor and role model even if she'd deny both and hit you over the head with a textbook for thinking that.

she'd already been past this morning too of course, bringing you a coffee, a pastry and her husband to come unclog the toilet with her.

as such fulfilling her 'landlord duties' much as you knew it wound her up to no end when you called them that, but it was true and you knew you'd still be back living at home if she hadn't let you rent this place out for next to nothing instead of just selling it.

and trying to do your studies with your mami around? you loved her dearly, you did, but still you shuddered at the thought.

you padded over to the door on sock covered feet, rubbing your eyes which ached from concentrating for so long (even with all the self inflicted distractions) but you needed to memorize this case study before you could even think about stopping.

your frown deepened when you peeked through the small hole in your door and it had gone black clearly covered by something, cautiously undoing the chain halfway you peeked out through the crack to see who was there.

"hola!" you almost fell over in shock as an eye locked with yours, a tongue poked out next making your eyes roll and unlock the door properly with a huff.

the brunette grinned happily as you did, inviting herself inside with an armful of grocery bags and striding on past you as you sighed tiredly and closed the door, locking it again.

"ale. amor we talked about this, i have to study i cannot hang out today!" you reminded, spinning around and crying out in shock as she was mere centimeters from you, practically nose to nose.

"no hola?" the girl shook her head with a fake pout, taller body collapsing into yours as she hugged you.

"hola." you laughed as she inhaled deeply into your neck, pushing her off and rolling your eyes. "i missed you." your girlfriend defended, crossing her arms and awaiting you to say it back as you stayed silent.

"oh alexia i missed you too." the footballer mocked, tutting with a shake of her head. "i have to study. which means we agreed i would see you after my final, because you are a distraction putellas." you reminded sternly as she retreated back to your kitchen.

"i came here to cook you dinner mi amor, brain food. then i will leave, and you can go back to pretending like you do not miss me. which i know, you do!" she pointed to you with a wink and a cheeky grin, starting to unpack the paper bags she'd carried in with her.

"ale this is very sweet, but i really need to memorize these flash cards and-" your protests were silenced as the footballer strode back over and stole a kiss, hands on your hips and a nike beanie sitting lopsided on the top of her head.

"then go memorize. i will be quiet as a mouse, you will not even know i am here!" the girl zipped her lips, threw away the key and held her hands up as you couldn't help but smile as she sent you another wink.

knowing just how stubborn the girl could be you knew you weren't getting out of this and really you had missed her, between your exams and her training schedule you'd hardly seen your girlfriend over the last fortnight.

so with a sigh you shook your head in defeat, moving to hug her from behind, craning your neck up to kiss her cheek appreciatively as she tilted her head backward and tapped her lips making you laugh and peck them a few times.

"go study, vamos!" the girl ordered, foot cheekily kicking your ass causing you to playfully glare at her as you retreated back to the coffee table which was covered in your flashcards and textbooks.

sitting back down on the floor you tried to tune into your studies again, grabbing a marker and beginning to highlight all of the key points you wanted to have memorized by tonight from each subsection of your cards.

it went well for around a half an hour, the only thing occasionally pulling you from your thoughts the smell of whatever your girlfriend was cooking as you sat with your back to alexia and fought every temptation to turn around and talk to her.

but of course, alexia being alexia, was only well behaved for so long before she grew bored and a little restless, all of the real work done and now just awaiting the soup she'd made to stew and cook properly before it could be served.

your girlfriend pulled herself up to sit on the counter of your island bench, snacking away on a few spare sticks of carrot she hadn't used as she doom scrolled through her social medias before that too grew uninteresting.

swinging her feet she turned her head and watched you, only really able to see the back of your head but smiling softly realizing the hoodie adorning your top half was hers.

you were deep in thought, eyes scanning one of your flashcards intently when you could have sworn you felt something wet hit the back of your neck, you rubbed it with a frown but told yourself you must have been imagining it.

only a few seconds later, there it was again, but once more you rubbed the back of your neck unable to feel anything and huffing in annoyance, glancing upward to confirm there wasn't a leak of some sort.

but then a few seconds later you jumped as something bounced past you on the table, skidding to a stop as it thumped your text book and you pulled a face seeing it was a piece of carrot.

"are you throwing carrot at me?" you spun around with a scowl, throwing it back at her as she grinned innocently. "no, not at you!" she emphasized as you narrowed your eyes at her.

but putting two and two together from the mischievous sparkle in her eyes you sighed, a hand reaching back to dig around in the hood of your hoodie and sure enough you pulled out two more little pieces of carrot.

"alexia. amor i need to study. if you're bored go watch something in my room until the food is done." you offered, dropping the carrots onto the table and turning back around to focus on your notes.

you heard a gentle thud as she dropped down from the island, and as such you assumed she was going to your bedroom.

only a few seconds later arms wound around your neck, her chin settling on your head. "what are you studying?" alexia asked curiously, tanned fingers playing absentmindedly with the A necklace that she'd gifted you which never left your neck.

"law. did you forget?" you teased, the footballer mocking you and pinching your cheeks. "take a break. i read it is good for your...endorphins?" the brunette guessed making you chuckle.

"oh really? and where did you read this?" you questioned, eyes dropping back down to the flashcard in your hand. "mmm google. so is that a yes?" she asked hopefully, ducking down to kiss your cheek a few times.

"...no. i need to study!" you laughed, pushing her off as she groaned, throwing her head back to really push the dramatics of it. "i thought i wouldn't even know you were here alexia?" you challenged with a raise of your eyebrows as the taller girl held her hands up in surrender.

"vale vale. you got me! from now, you will not even know i am here." she promised, again zipping her lip as you hummed and turned back to your notes, alexia retreating into your bedroom to watch something as you'd suggested earlier.

you were rewarded by another five minutes of peace and quiet before you jolted, startled by loud over the top laughter coming from your bedroom, shaking your head knowing exactly what the brunette was trying to do.

and then came more laughter, again, and again, and again.

"there is no way whatever she is watching is that funny." you grumbled, pushing back and out of your chair, stomping over to your room finding your girlfriend curled up in your bed watching tv.

"are you done?" alexia asked, perking up and patting the empty spot behind her, opening her arms expectantly as you leaned in the doorway. "no. are you done fake laughing to get my attention?" you cocked an eyebrow as she scoffed.

"i was not!" "you were too."

"i do not even want your attention." your girlfriend shook her head firmly, crossing her arms and staring back at the tv. "oh no? well i will go back to my books then and-" you started to turn before she cracked, flopping herself down dramatically onto her back.

"vale, estoy mintiendo! i am bored and i miss you and i need your attention and i know you need to study but just watch a movie and eat dinner with me and then i will leave!" alexia groaned, arms covering her face as you shook your head.

"this is the part where you feel sorry for me." your girlfriend reminded, words muffled against her arms as your eyes rolled at her theatrics but none the less stepped forward into the bedroom.

"honestly putellas you the most dramatic girl in spain." you teased, slipping into bed beside her and squealing as she nearly tackled you down into a tight bear hug, kissing all over your face making you laugh.

"wait! cari is something...burning?" "mierda!"

"-and i had to ask you out on a date first because you were too shy." you remembered with a grin, tucking your legs beneath you as the girl across from you scoffed and pulled a face.

"i was not shy! sucia mentirosa." the footballer grumbled but you didn't miss the pink blush which coated her cheeks at the accusation, the pair of you sat out on the small balcony talking as to not wake posie.

"you were too. you wouldn't even say hello to me you just told your teammates how pretty i was!" you grinned knowingly as alexia once more scoffed, opening and closing her mouth like a fish trying to come up with a rebuttle.

"that is not how it happened!"

you'd first met alexia by coincidence, and then you didn't even know her name.

you'd been dragged along to a local football match, hardly a sports fan, by some of your friends as two of them had brothers who played. hopelessly confused you'd spent the majority of the match asking endless questions until one of them put a hand over your mouth and you grumbled you didn't even want to come in the first place.

but even among all your confusion you'd noticed right away there was something a little different about this team which was that there was both boys and girls playing.

granted there was an obvious difference in numbers, the boys made up the majority and most of the girls seemed to wait on the sidelines for a turn to play, except for one.

at first you'd really begun to pay attention when you realised that one girl was easily better than most if not all of the boys playing, despite the fact they were clearly taller and bigger and had no issues pushing her over for the ball.

but the girl never seemed to care, jumping right back to her feet and charging off after the culprit to get it right back, she'd even scored twice before the match was halfway done.

you also learned quite fast what her name was, seemingly quite popular she had a small crowd gathered on the sidelines cheering for her, most of which you assumed to be her family.

alexia.

you hadn't said a word to one another but for the next week you couldn't seem to shake her name from your head, and much to your friends shock you seemed eager to watch the football again that next weekend, inviting yourself as no one else did assuming you wouldn't want to go again.

you were a little less enthusiastic as you arrived and couldn't seem to find the brunette anywhere in sight, paying attention instead to the crash course about the rules your friends delivered to try and avoid another match full of endless questions.

it couldn't have been more than a few short moments until kick off when finally she appeared, a car screeching to a halt by the field as she stumbled out of it, hopping across the grass on one foot as she laced her boots up and effortlessly jumped the fence in her way.

what wasn't missed was the way you seemed much more engaged once she appeared, one of your friends elbowing the other with a nod and a knowing smirk at the fact, alexia quickly throwing her bag down and pushing her way into the team huddle.

"now we get it." you felt a nudge to your side and hummed, glancing to your friend with a small frown. "get what?" you asked cluelessly as they shared a grin, clearly in on some joke you'd missed.

"¡tienes un flechazo!" one of them sang out with a beaming smile as you scoffed and quickly shook your head. "no!" you protested with a roll of your eyes, the whistle blowing as the small crowd watching on cheered.

"sí, alexia. you have not taken your eyes off of her amiga, por favor!" the other laughed as you huffed and again rolled your eyes, assuring they were wrong and turning to watch the match as it begun.

"why else would you come chica? you hate football!" your friends teased as you shoved them away. "i do not. i just have not...watched before. we are not a sports family!" you defended, both your sister and your mami would rather poke their eyes out than be subjected to any form of athletics and you knew that for a fact.

"sure amiga, sure."

you became a regular to the matches after that, your friends teasing constant but you learned to block it out, surprisingly finding now you understood the game you didn't mind watching it as much, even when alexia was on the sidelines and not actually playing.

"¡buenas noticias!" you stumbled as one of your friends crashed into you, slinging an arm over your shoulder as you shot her a frown and kept walking, natalia having dropped you off not long ago.

your sister was also increasingly suspicious of your newfound football interest, only she didn't care enough to actually investigate, rather just comment it was boring and tell you to take the bus home as she had plans this afternoon.

"¿qué noticias?" you chuckled at her announcement, your friend seemingly unable to wipe the grin off her face so it must be good. "alexia thinks you are cute." the girl smirked as you felt your cheeks heat up and pushed her away.

"i told you to leave that alone." you warned sternly before glancing upward at the incoming clouds, your mami having insisted you wear a rain jacket you'd forgone you begun to think she might have been right.

"no no, really amiga! she asked mi hermano who you were last weekend because she noticed you keep coming with us. then she told nico that you were pretty, and nico told gabriella who told carmen who told me!" the girl rattled off as your head spun trying to keep up with the chain of information.

"ask her on a date chica." your friend encouraged eagerly as the two of you spotted your other friends who waved. "que? tonta. i cannot ask her on a date i do not even know her." you dismissed with a roll of your eyes.

"so? people go on dates to get to know each other, no? ask her after the game." the girl urged and you were grateful that the conversation seemed to die off as you met up with the rest of your friends, settling into other topics before the whistle blew.

however that peace did not last as the whistle blew once more for the end of the game, the topic of your apparent crush quickly resurfacing as your friends attempted to bully you into asking out alexia.

"no! detenerlo." you groaned, trying to leave but pushed toward the pitch as your friends brothers waved warmly, and at the smiles sent your way you begun to think this was becoming an inside job as one of them tapped alexia who had her back to you.

sure enough within seconds and some more pushing you were stood beside her, the group in a huddle and purposefully ignoring the pair of you leaving you no choice but to speak.

"good uh match." you smiled a little awkwardly as the taller girl returned one equally as forced. "gracias." she nodded curtly, looking away as you shifted on your feet. "you play?" the girl asked as you shook your head and she nodded slowly, again avoiding meeting your eyeline and shifting the bag on her shoulder, not much else to say.

drowning in the awkwardness of the situation as alexia sent you a a tight lipped smile but didn't say another word you pinched the back of your best friends arm with a glare.

"i am leaving! this is stupid we are not children." you whispered to her, taking off before someone else could grab you and with another nervous glance to the sky as thunder rumbled and you knew it was moments from arriving.

"meirda!" you cursed with a huff, seeing the next bus wouldn't arrive for another twenty minutes, and there really wasn't anywhere you'd be able to wait that was protected from the incoming storm.

you tried to call your sister but the phone rang out, and you knew your mami would be at work and wouldn't answer either. you were pulled from your worries at a tap on your shoulder, jolting with surprise and turning to see alexia stood behind you.

"lo siento. your friends said you left this?" the girl held out toward you a scarf, a scarf which did not belong to you as you sighed in realisation. "that is not mine." you shook your head as the brunette gave you an odd look.

"i think, i think our friends are trying to set us up." you explained with yet another awkward smile as alexia frowned in confusion. "set up?" she questioned slowly as she lowered the scarf.

"like set up." you emphasized but still it didn't seem to land as the taller girl shook her head still not getting it. "i-well they think i have a crush on you, and they said that you said you asked who i was and that you-" you begun to explain, wincing as the words left your mouth.

"that i?" alexia frowned again, urging you to continue. "that you told nico who told gabriella who told carmen who told my friends that you said i was pretty." you rambled out, feeling your face glow red with embarassment, especially at the look of bewilderment that crossed the girls face.

"es una tontería. lo siento i will give this back to them and-" you shook your head and grabbed the scarf from her hand, contemplating walking across town to the next bus stop just to get away from her.

"you are taking the bus?" alexia interrupted, fingers rubbing the corse material of the straps of her gym bag on her shoulder right as you turned to practically run away.

"i-sí." you sighed with a nod, unable to think of a lie quick enough. "me too. 652?" she asked as you nodded again, the two of you seemingly set on the same route.

"i normally see your family." you commented, a combination of embarrassed and grateful that the girl had so easily brushed off your comments earlier and making a mental note to use the scarf to strangle your friends later.

"they had to work." alexia explained with a shrug as you nodded, a silence falling between the pair of you as you willed time to pass faster but it seemed to only still.

but before either one of you could speak the skies opened and the rain which had been brooding for the last two hours broke free, coming in hard and fast and soaking you to the bone before you could even blink.

grumbling curses under your breath you wrapped the scarf around you as an attempt at shelter, vowing to listen from now on when you were told to take a rain jacket.

you felt a poke to your shoulder and saw alexia offering you her own rain jacket. "you use it." you shook your head as she did the same, pushing it into your hands. "needs a wash anyway." she joked pointing to her grass stained uniform and urging you to put it on.

"gracias." you smiled sincerely, alexia tugging the hood out where it had gotten stuck and carefully settling it over your head, brushing a few strands of hair behind your ear which were stuck to your forehead.

"mejor." she nodded contentedly as you thanked her again, drowned in the smell of a perfume you didn't recognise but had strong undertones of cedar and vanilla, what you assumed alexia smelled like when she wasn't cowering under her own arms from the rain.

"so. you have a crush on me?" you choked on air at the statement, head whipping sideways and catching the small smile tugging at the taller girls lips as she glanced down at you.

"no. so you think i am pretty?" you quickly fired back with a raised eyebrow, alexia looking away but still with the same smile on her face as she shrugged.

"no."

"-and then after that you ran away anytime i tried to talk to you and made nico find out if i was single and into girls." you teased your ex with a grin who rolled her eyes, finishing her own tea and placing it down on the table beside your empty mug.

"he was lying!" alexia huffed, denying it as she'd done for years despite both of you knowing the truth. "you kept my jacket so i had to come and speak to you." alexia countered, pointing a finger at you accusingly causing a soft laugh to leave your lips.

"i was trying to come and speak to you so i could give you back your jacket. it took three more games before i caught you and finally asked you to get coffee with me!" you pointed right back at her as the now blonde pulled a face.

"i should have said no, saved myself the future pain." the girl shrugged as your eyes widened and you opened your mouth in shock but when she sent you a cheeky grin you knew she was only teasing, reaching across to where she sat and smacking her knee.

"imbécil!" you shot her a look as she winked, tapping her phone and sliding it into the pocket of her jeans as she stood. "i should go, i have to train tomorrow." she smiled now apologetically as you waved her off, quick to assure it was late and you didn't mean to keep her so long.

"thank you for dinner." alexia pulled you into a hug as you arrived to the front door, for a fleeting second hating how at home you still felt within her arms before she let go.

"thank you for doing the dishes. about time you learned!" you poked at her side as she flicked your ear and mumbled something under her breath.

"she is great, and very lucky to have you." alexia glanced over your shoulder, eyebrows gesturing toward posie's room, her door just askew as the two of you spoke in hushed tones already as to not wake her.

"maybe." you forced a smile as alexia cocked her head to the side, clearly about to question your tone as you cleared your throat. "i should go check on her." you interrupted as the taller girl nodded in understanding.

"maybe you could both have dinner with me again, i can cook?" she offered as you opened the door. "can you?" you mocked as alexia rolled her eyes, the two of you falling into a comfortable silence.

a silence which had her leaning in a little, then you leaning in a little, her eyes searching yours for any sign before she closed the distance all together and pressed her lips against yours.

kissing alexia felt like coming home, and with the way your mouths moved together it was obvious that both of you were exploring familiar territory, until suddenly a bitter bitter taste began to spread and you had to pull away.

"lo siento dios mio i crossed the line and i-" alexia began to panic, her cheeks glowing bright red as you were quick to put a hand on her cheek with a shake of your head.

"alexia i kissed you right back, detenerlo." you assured, thumb stroking her jawline for a second before you pulled your hand back with a sad smile.

"but i just-i just have to focus everything into mariposa, to be good enough for her, good enough for natalia. i do not have the room for a relationship right now ale and i do not want to hurt you again." you confessed, the words paining you like swallowing razor blades as you spat them out.

"i understand, the nena comes first. but maybe we can try, friends? i meant it when i said i wanted to help you amo-amiga." alexia was quick to correct with an awkward smile that you shared before she spoke again.

"friends who almost got married, sí?

#alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas x reader #woso x reader #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso blurbs

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eli-is-an-idiot · 1 month ago

Text

highlights from my delirious fic planning (and notes i made rewatching rogue time)

#i used google translate for the spanish i really hope its right #im writing this between revising for my exams and i think its clear that my mental state is. deteriorating.#im having such a good time tho i cant wait to write this #the flash cw #hartley rathaway #eli's writing stuff #woah look at that eli can write for multiple fandoms woahhh #normal planning notes

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indecisivemuch · 1 year ago

Text

Look at me

Pairing: Luke Castellan x Reader

Summary: Being oblivious to Luke’s feelings, you tried to get over him by getting a boyfriend, who just does not know how to treat you right. Inspired by the song ‘Boyfriend’ by Dove Cameron ~ “I could be a better boyfriend than him.” (jealous luke, friends-to-lovers, fluff, angst, pining, happy ending.)

Warning: Just the boyfriend being an asshole and unwanted physical touch for a split second, but nothing serious. Sorry if your name is Cole. Violence (physical fighting)

Note: I’m sorry if there are a lot of errors, I haven’t had the chance to edit this thoroughly so if it feels like a train wreck, then I'm sorry. I just needed to write this out, get it out there, so I can go back to revising for my exams in peace lol, cause this plot/idea has been at the back of my head, I could not stop thinking about it or study properly. Lowkey hated how this one turned out, but whoops.

Word count: 4.8k

“People say that eyes are the windows to one's soul,” you once told him. You two have been best friends for a very long time: five years of being attached to the hip. Yet, you were completely oblivious to the way he looked at you. Even everybody at camp noticed and thought it was bound to happen. They were so sure that Luke and you would end up together. So imagine everybody’s surprise when something else occurred.

It happened right in front of Luke: Cole - a boy from Cabin 5 and son of Ares - asked you out, and you said yes.

It has been two months since that day. All Luke could do was sulk as he watched his best friend slip away. Of course, you still tried to spend as much time as possible with him. But even then, things have changed. There were no more of those content silences between the two of you. There were no more carefree laughs that made Luke feel like you two were the only ones that existed in this place. He used to walk you back to your cabin every night, hugging you good night or kissing your forehead close to your hairline if he felt brave enough. Moments like those convinced him you two would be like that forever. But his solace was taken in a split second. Now, you were so near, yet so out of reach.

It didn’t help that he saw you every day, like right now, as you sat in the middle of a gathering hosted by your cabin. Gods, even the wind seems to be in love with you, judging by the way it was blowing through your hair as if it was trying to twirl itself around those lovely locks that Luke himself used to always tug behind your ears. The sight of you always bathed him in this warm feeling, like the morning sun. Hence his nickname for you: sunshine.

Then his brown eyes landed on the figure next to you, and they hardened. He has witnessed it all: Cole’s backhanded compliments, ignoring you on your birthday, leaving you alone to talk to his friends, occasionally flirting back with girls who batted an eyelash at him, and then blatantly telling you that you were overthinking it. Luke knew he could treat you so much better.

You were sitting with your boyfriend and his group of friends, who often gave you weird looks or snickers. Gods, if it was him you were with, he’d never make you feel excluded. He would have his arms around you and defend you if his friends ever made snarky remarks. Not that that would ever happen anyway; you were well-loved at camp, and all his friends loved you. But he would treat you well, nevertheless, not like that dumbass sitting next to you.

One of your favorite songs started playing, and Luke watched as you genuinely smiled for once tonight. You touched your boyfriend’s arm, muttering something to him. Luke knew exactly what you were saying to Cole because you and Luke used to do this together. Except, you never had to ask Luke.

Whenever your favorite tunes were on, Luke would immediately pull you out of your seat and dance with you, laughing as if nothing mattered at all. Nights like those, he liked to imagine that the stars above envied them and what the two of you had. Now? He felt like one of them, watching from the outside.

Luke’s jaw clenched as he saw Cole shrugging off your hand on his arm. Gods, Luke felt like that idiot was taking you for granted, and his blood boiled. Before Cole, Luke used to always orchestrated some excuse to have you touch him - getting injured on purpose sometimes just to watch you frantically panic over his wounds and take care of him, volunteering to help you out with swords training just to touch your hand and pretend to adjust the way you were holding it, hugging you every time he greeted you and so on.

For a second, your mask slipped, and you had that look on your face, like something had left you emotionally wounded. It was the kind of look Luke would kill to never see again, and oh, the things he would do to get rid of Cole. Luke had to wrestle with the thought of marching up to Cole and beating him to a pulp. However, he did stand up to approach you.

You felt a hand touch your shoulder. When you peered at the person standing, your eyes immediately glimmered as they caught Luke’s. However, something foreign was gleaming in his eyes. The Hermes boy has always looked at you sweetly. But the way he was looking at you right now was filled with something much more intense - borderline fervent, like an obsession.

Cole finally glanced over at you for the first time the entire night. Unlike you, he instantly recognized the look in Luke’s eyes: hunger and longing. It was clear as day to everybody but you.

Luke extended his hand out for you to take and you understood right away. For the first time in two months, your hand touched his. Luke’s chest sunk and his breathing lost its usual rhythm for a second as your skin made contact with his. The Hermes boy finally looked over to Cole, and the Ares boy saw an immediate shift in his eyes. Now, they were filled with animosity and - the most obvious of all - heated jealousy.

Luke led you away from Cole and started twirling you around. You let out a laugh - the kind that was infectious and has always brought a smile to Luke’s lips. You both sang along to the lyrics. For once, your relationship felt restored, just like the good old days. Was it wrong that this was the happiest you have felt since you got together with Cole? You shrugged away the thought as the song slowly ended. Luke settled with both hands on your waist while yours were around his neck. Usually, you would put your head on his chest as you both slightly swayed around. But now that you were in a relationship, you kept a bit of distance between the two of you. You gaze up at Luke, who was already staring at you sweetly. The moment was perfect. Gods, you almost wished to stay in it forever.

Meanwhile, Luke hoped he could convey his thoughts through his eyes - the unspoken words he wished he had told you sooner. Could you not see the infatuation coursing through his veins whenever he was with you? Could you not see that you got him at your beck and call?

The look you gave him almost convinced him that you heard his thoughts. You leaned your head on his chest, caught off-guard by the speed of his heartbeat as it soothed you along with the music in the background. Feeling a heated look over his way, Luke glanced around and locked eyes with your boyfriend. Cole narrowed his eyes while Luke gave Cole a look of resentment and immense loathing.

Gods, he could be a much better boyfriend than Cole.

“Hey, man,” when you heard your boyfriend’s voice, you lifted your head from Luke’s chest and withdrew your hands around his neck. “I’ll take over from here,” Cole practically pulled you away from Luke and started swaying with you. Instead of feeling happy that Cole finally danced with you after two months of dating, you felt wrong. Cole's hands were on your waist, but they felt sluggish like his heart was not in it at all. Your ear was against Cole’s chest, so you caught the sound of his heartbeat. It sounded…too calm, almost cold and shallow, causing you to twist your lips into a frown.

You glanced up at your boyfriend but saw him staring behind you instead. So you glanced back and caught a glimpse of Luke before getting pulled around by Cole, who roughly yanked your face towards him. He kissed you almost aggressively. There was something cynical and bitter about the way he was kissing you.

Cole opened his eyes and conceitedly made eye contact with Luke. The Hermes boy glared at the sight of Cole handling you so roughly, claiming your lips so smugly. If it was him, he would be kissing you for you; he would be kissing you to show you how much he worshiped you and the ground you walk on, not to prove an empty point.

You finally managed to pull away when Cole let go of your chin. “All right, we’re done for the night, don’t you think?” your boyfriend muttered, quickly leaving you to return to his friends as if nothing had happened. Despite feeling slightly aggravated at Cole, you hated that you couldn't care less of his words at that moment, and the first thing you did was look in the direction Luke had been before.

Yet, he was not there anymore.

~~~

Your cabin was not on the same side as Luke’s cabin for this match of capture the flag. You were fighting off some people who were on the blue team. Years of training with Luke paid off because you managed to point your sword at the person’s neck and grinned when they put their hands up in surrender. You continued perusing through the area, trying to regroup with your team or take down another blue team member. However, you almost tripped as you witnessed Cole on the ground with Luke on top of him, repeatedly punching his face..

“Luke!” you called out, watching as Luke’s action faltered, and his eyes darted around frantically around like a lost wild animal. However, Cole took advantage of Luke’s momentary distraction to land a hit on Luke’s face. The Ares boy got off the ground as Luke stumbled and went for another punch. However, Luke dodged it effortlessly and rammed Cole against a tree instead.

“Hey, knock it off,” you yelled, standing between the boys to stop their flight. Luke immediately backed off, afraid he would accidentally hurt you if he didn’t. But Cole, in the middle of his blind rage, still swung for Luke and ended up striking you across the face instead. Right when that happened, Luke pushed Cole again and rushed to your side to assess your injury. At that very moment, Chiron approached the scene with one of Cole’s friends next to him, who promptly told the man:

“It was him. Luke initiated the fight.”

~~~

Luke wished for somebody to put him out of this misery as he stared at you from afar helplessly. He was so dotted that it hurt. Somebody must have answered his prayers because your eyes met his from across the field. There was a bit of sadness behind them, perhaps regret from how things ended yesterday. You whispered something to your boyfriend, but Cole did not even spare you a glance and waved his hand as if dismissing you from the discussion. Luke’s hand once again curled into a fist. He bit the inside of his cheek from the pain induced by his injury. The Hermes cabin counselor felt no bit of guilt in his body about his physical altercation with Cole. He felt smug at the sight of Cole with one black eye, busted lip, swollen cheek and a body sporting way more bruises than him.

You deserved better.

“Hey, stranger,” you greeted, sitting beside Luke. Almost immediately, he hooked one finger under your chin, tilting your head lightly as if he was afraid he might break you. The boy scanned over your injury, sighing at the sight of purple forming under your skin, indicating an emerging bruise. Even so, under the moonlight, you still looked heavenly to him.

“Devon said you initiated the fight. Is that true, Luke?” Luke frowned at the mention of Cole’s friend. Great, now he knew another idiot’s name. Meanwhile, you have asked this because you knew him. There was no way the boy you knew would lose control like this and swing his hands first.

“No, but what’s the point of telling Chiron that? It’s two against one,” he breathed out.

“Luke, you’re literally the friendliest and nicest counselor here. Of course, he would believe you,” you reasoned. You sighed disappointingly as Luke only shook his head in response as if asking you to drop it.

Now, you two sat in silence. It felt the same as the comforting ones you have had with him before - the ones that made you feel like you were at home in front of your fireplace, curled up with a book.

“Why are you with him?” and with that, the comfort evaporated as the air thickened. You and Luke rarely argued or even disagreed, so it felt like an unfamiliar territory every time it felt relatively tense between you two.

“I know you, which is why I know that you’re absolutely miserable with him, so I don’t understand why you’re still with Cole,” Luke commented, though his voice was quiet because he was considerate of drawing this type of attention to you. He had seen it before - Cole causing public altercations and storming off and you running after him with tears emerging from your eyes. He did not want to put you in the same position.

“Y/N, please, as your best friend…” there it was again, the word that used to make you smile brightly, was now the same one that brought you pain. You wanted more. “...You deserve better,” he uttered, his eyebrows slightly scrunched as he looked at you with those eyes. There it was again, the look so intense that you were convinced they could swallow you whole. Yet, you could not interpret them. So, you looked away.

“Luke…” you said his name almost like a warning sign. The boy sighed at this.

His fingers gently tilted your chin towards him, urging you to face him. There was so much contrast in the way he touches you and the way Cole does. You knew precisely why Luke wanted you to look at him: your eyes were your tell for him. Years ago, after you told him that eyes were the windows to one's soul, he told you that he knew this already because he had learned that your eyes will always tell the truth for you. That’s how, in so many instances, he would be the first to notice whenever you're upset.

“Y/N, does he make you happy?” you stiffened at the question. Words choked up in your throat as your mouth opened to answer. You wanted to say yes so you both could get over this conversation. But you knew he would be able to tell you were lying. The way he looked at you right now, as if you were the only thing that mattered. He seemed so vulnerable. Little did you right at this moment, Luke was willing to surrender and let you go if you said yes.

“Oh, this is who you left me to talk to?” Cole's voice broke you both out of the trance. “The person who beat your boyfriend?” Cole passive-aggressively spat, sneering from above as he looked down at the two of you. You called out to your boyfriend, but he quickly cut you off with a quick “Unbelievable,” before walking away. But Cole did this on purpose. He liked the attention he drew, even if they were at your expense, especially because he knew you would chase after him.

“I’m so sorry,” you muttered to Luke on your boyfriend's behalf as you stood up to run after him. Luke frowned as he shook his head. If you were his, he would never allow you to apologize on his behalf, nor would he give a reason for you to ever do that.

“Uhm, what are you waiting for?” Annabeth’s voice broke Luke from his irritated state. “Go after her,” the young girl nudged.

“I doubt I should do that, Annabeth. Last time I was with him, he ended up in the infirmary.”

“Yes, but you need to go after her before it’s too late.”

“It’s already too late.”

“No, it’s not,” the girl stated sternly, and when Luke peered over at her, he recognized the look on her face. From experience, he knew better than to doubt when Annabeth was right. So, he stood up and walked in the direction where you disappeared after your boyfriend.

“Stop it, Cole. I don’t want to…” Your voice grabbed Luke’s attention as he started walking in that direction, eyebrows furrowed.

“Come on, this is the least you could do to make it up to me,” Cole replied.

When Luke reached the scene, he almost went into an uncontrollable wrath when he saw Cole trying to take off your shirt as you objected and struggled out of his grip.

“I said ‘let go,’ Cole,” you yelled this time, pushing him back. Upon finally doing so successfully, a figure stormed past you and immediately flung at Cole’s cheek, right at the spot that was already bruising. The impact knocked Cole to the ground as he wailed from the pain. Averting your gaze to the person, you saw Luke. Like a deranged bull, Luke grabbed Cole by the collar and lifted him up, going in for another hit, but you quickly stopped him, calling out his name.

Cole, who did not learn his lesson, spoke again, “Gods, of course! He runs to your aid again. You must be a good fuck for him to get this attached. How many times have you fucked him, huh? Gods, you’re such a whore, you know that?” If it were not for your hands stopping Luke and removing his grip from Cole’ shirt, Luke would have ensured Cole no longer had a face.

“Cole, stay the fuck away from me. We are over.” Your words seemed to affect Luke more than Cole. It was as if Luke could feel an immense weight being lifted from his shoulders. “Let’s go, this is not worth it,” you told Luke. Cole barked a laugh at this.

“Man, you’re more trouble than it's worth. Do you know why no guys ever asked you out? You’re fucking difficult and clingy, that’s why. If it was not for that fucking bet, I would not have either.” Luke was about to launch at Cole but was caught off guard because you had already done it yourself. You punched him, aiming for his nose and teeth, making sure to break a few.

“You fucking bitch!” Cole spoke after he howled in agony. He spat out blood as his nose started bleeding, “Gods, you’re gonna pay for this.”

“Oh yeah? Come on!” you challenged him, motioning him to come over. Any sense of calm or restraint you had was long gone. “I’ll be the one sending you to the fucking infirmary this time,” right when you started approaching Cole again, you were quickly stopped by Luke. He stood behind you, one of his hands soothingly rubbing your back in an attempt to calm you down. Luke averted his gaze to Cole.

“If you know any better, then leave, Cole. And don’t come near any of us again, or I promise you…” Luke trailed off, shaking his head as his eyes bore the weight of the promise he left unsaid, leaving it to Cole’s imagination as to what Luke would ever do to him if he ever saw the boy again. Something seemed to dawn on Cole as he saw the dark look on Luke’s face. Cole finally decided to leave the scene, limping away from the area as he muttered some insults under his breath.

You turned around and inspected Luke’s hand, which started bleeding again through the bandage. Taking his non-injured hand in yours, you wordlessly dragged the boy to the infirmary. Despite the excruciating pain spreading through his injured hand, Luke blushed at your action and followed you like a lost puppy.

The Apollo person on shift was someone you knew, so you managed to convince them to let you do the work on the Hermes boy. You observed his hand again, peeling off the dirty bandage from it. As you went to grab disinfectant, Luke softly held you back by flipped over his hand that was in yours so that he could take a look at your hand instead.

“Are you okay?” His words made you swiftly look over at him instead. There was a sad look on his face as he sat on the infirmary bed. You haven’t seen him this hurt and dejected in a long time.

“Am I okay? You’re the one with the bleeding hand.”

“You punched him quite hard.”

“He deserved it,” you settled on answering, hesitantly pulling your hand out of his so you could grab the things you needed.

“You know I had that handled, right?” you asked mindlessly, trying to fill the silence as you disinfected his hand and wrapped a new bandage over it. “I don’t need you to defend my honor or anything, Luke. I can hold my own ground,” you tried joking.

“No, I know you can hold your own ground. Besides, I wasn’t defending your honor,” he spoke softly, watching as you delicately held his hand with so much care. He wished you could hold him like that as well. A quivering sigh escaped his soft lips, his voice much less firm than he wanted it to be:

“I was defending the girl I’m in love with.”

You immediately looked at him, only to see him already gazing up at you. It was as if a blindfold had been taken off, you finally understood what your other friends were referring to when they said that Luke had always “looked” at you. His eyes were filled with adoration. However, this time, they were also decorated with pain.

“I could be a better boyfriend than him,” he stated, almost like it was a fact, and your gut knew it was true, too.

“So….Why not me? I watched you give Cole - a complete asshole - a chance with you. I watched him give you so much less than what you deserve. It pains me, but I still sit here and wait for you to look in my direction for even one second in the way I have always looked at you. I could be so good to you, Y/N. I waited for you to realize I could be the one who loves you so endlessly and treats you way better than all these guys combined. So…why? Please tell me why and put me out of my misery. Why is it not me?”

“Luke…” you rasped out his name. Despite the pain he was in, his heart could not help but throb for a second as it yearned for the sound of your voice calling out to him again. He almost scowled at himself for the way he was reacting to you. Gods, you managed to unravel him through the sound of his name from your lips. He hesitated for a second, wondering if he would even be able to take it at all - if he was given a chance with you. Would he be able to handle the way your skin felt against his, or would his heart burst into unstoppable flames? Would he ever be able to move on if you ended up breaking his heart, or would it remain in scattered pieces of you?

“I love you,” he uttered so effortlessly, which almost convinced you he had said it a thousand times before. In a way, he did, but only in his mind after every time he bid you goodnight. Gods, never did you think he’d say it out loud and put it out there. You almost said it before as well - out loud to the universe, but never brave enough.

“Luke, I never knew,” Luke wanted to sigh as he looked away from you. For the first time ever, he did not want to be vulnerable and let you see his eyes. The same ones that had been looking longingly at you for the past five years, and you were too blinded to see.

He could have sworn that he had been laying it on thick for the past years - all the touches, the looks, his actions. Luke would always linger near you and select you first every time he had to go on a quest. And if he ever were selected to go on one without you, the first thing he would do after returning is wrap his arms around your waist as he pulled you into a hug, breathing in your presence like it would bring him back to life from the gruesome battles he had to go through while out of camp. Did all those actions throughout five years not show you enough that he was infatuated with you? He wanted to reassure you that what Cole said previously was not true. Many guys wanted you but never asked you out because they knew he would be first in line no matter what.

"Luke, please, look at me," Of course he obeyed. His eyes met yours - the ones he always tried to find in a crowd of demigods.

“I never knew that you were an option. I did not know that I could choose you. I thought that even attempting to tell you about my feelings would break our friendship forever. I didn’t know you felt this way, too. In fact,” you dryly chuckled. “I was giving Cole a chance because I was trying to move on from you.” Luke tugged you closer to him, his fingers lingering on your hips. Thousands of thoughts speared through him as he tried to collect himself. A glimmer of hope presented itself as his mind toyed with the idea of you wanting him too.There was no way he was letting you move on now, not when you both have mutual feelings.

“I thought I was deep in the friend zone. Did you not see all the moves I pulled on you?” he asked.

“What moves?”

“Uhm—the physical contact?”

“I thought you were just touchy.”

“I walked you back to your cabin every night!”

“Well, I thought it was just a best friend thing?”

“The first thing I do after every quest is search for you, you’re always the first one I want to see.”

“I really, really thought it was because you were my best friend.” He groaned at all of your responses.

“But do know, Luke. You have always been my first option in everything. And I would have chosen you again and again, the first pick every round…if I knew you were up for it.” He groaned again, but this time out of temptation and satisfaction. He didn’t think the metaphorical butterflies were real. He slowly but surely stood up from the infirmary’s bed and wrapped his arms around your waist. You reciprocated, your hands around his neck. He leaned closer to you and gulped. He wanted to say the right words, do the right things and not mess this up. He took a deep breath and finally settled on what to say next.

“Can I kiss you?” He muttered in a low, raspy voice with a restrained manner, as if he was holding himself back. Five years of pining led him to this point. You almost melted at the sound of his voice.

“Kiss me, Luke.”

And he did. He pulled you up and arched down, connecting your lips together. He dove in as if he had been waiting for this day his whole life. He felt every breath knocked out of his lungs. He sunk himself into this moment like he was living for it rather than in it. He kissed you as if it was the only time he could and as if you would evaporate if he stopped. His hands moved to your face to embrace your cheeks in his palm.

You started moving your hands up his head and played with his curly hair. You tugged it slightly, and the action drew a moan from Luke. The sound caused you to break away. It made you flustered that you had evoked such an alluring sound from the Hermes boy.

“I wanna go slow for you, I really do. But it feels like I’ve been waiting for so long. I want to be a gentleman and not skip steps. But I can’t wait anymore,” he whispered before whimpering against your lips, “please be mine.”

He went in for another kiss again, but you pulled away. His heart clenched at this. The boy bit his lip and wanted to scowl at himself for attempting to speed things up. He was too greedy and wanted things too quickly for you. He almost whined at the thought of losing the chance he barely had.

“That was not a question, Luke. Ask me, and I’ll give you an answer,” he stared into your eyes, and it almost set him on fire. He never saw that much passion in them before. It almost matched his, and that made his heart fasten again.

“Will you be mine, sunshine?”

“Yes, Luke. As long as you’re mine too.”

“I have always been yours.”

——————————

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viperify · 2 months ago

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oneshots | ᴛᴏᴍ ʀɪᴅᴅʟᴇ X ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

☾₊⊹ The Moon to my Stars.

Short Summary: After your shared night on the Astronomy Tower, he seems to avoid you. When you do meet him again—things between you two change, and it turns out loving Tom Riddle is harder than expected.

Warnings: 18+. angst, fluff, smut. fingering, unprotected p in v, soft!Tom; so soft it probably counts as ooc, slight choking, creampie, panty-stealing, author is deeply in love with this man and is utterly delusional.

A/N: I have officially lost my sanity trying to hide my utter devotion to this man. Thank you for sticking around.

wordcount: 2,6k

part 1: ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏᴏɴ ᴀɴᴅ ʙᴀᴄᴋ.

Days pass. Some long and exhausting, some filled with studying and revising. Your mind is occupied, clouded by the stressful nature of exam season—yet, Tom never leaves your mind. It even goes as far that you need physical distance from your textbooks—because that one night on the Astronomy Tower overshadows your every rational thought.

At this point you go outside, fur-lined winter boots leaving shallow footprints in the last remnants of the thick snow layer that once covered Hogwarts’ grounds. You tell yourself going for a walk will take your mind off your worries—whether it be the exams or him. In truth, it does the exact opposite.

Oddly enough, the scenery, seemingly frozen in time, reminds you more of him than it should. The unforgiving cold, hibernating nature, deer and other wildlife scavenging for anything edible under the freezing blanket of snow. Sun barely strong enough to make it through the clouds, occasional cool breezes sending shivers down your spine.

And yet, there is something beautiful about it.

Something you crave, something that makes your skin tingle, lets you stay just a little bit longer.

Something that makes you long to feel his touch again.

You haven’t spoken to him since he led you back to your dorm, coat still snugly wrapped around your shoulders. Back when he told you to have a good night. To dream well. To dream of him.

You hadn’t fallen asleep with a smile in a very long time before that night.

But now, doubts cloud your mind. You haven’t seen him in classes since—and he isn’t one to miss lessons. Was he deliberately avoiding you? He might have realised he made a mistake. Your spent night was a mistake. You were a mistake.

It shouldn’t mean this much to you—after all, you’ve hated him ever since you started Hogwarts. But what he told you felt special—felt real.

And when you arrive back in your dorm from your walk, passing by his coat that he hasn’t yet demanded back, you can’t stop yourself. Shutting your eyes when your hand brings the thick, woven fabric to your nose, inhaling his scent, his cologne. Sandalwood and amber—so unmistakably him, reminding you of what he told you when he wrapped it around your shoulders.

I want you to teach me. Teach me how to love you the way you deserve to be loved.

“And I want to try. But you need to let me.” You murmur to yourself, slowly letting go of the fabric and returning to your studies.

You don’t get anything more done that day.

And fuck, it frustrates you. So much, you once again lay in bed, sleepless.

You toss and turn, and as nothing seems to help, you get out of bed with a sigh.

Fetching your own coat, you leave your dorm, looking both ways down the hallway to make sure you’re alone, and then, with quick, yet quiet steps, you make your way towards the Astronomy Tower. You haven’t been back since that day.

It’s another freezing night, chilly breezes of wind brushing against your cheeks as you lean against the railing—the clear sky revealing what you came here for in the first place—the stars and the moon.

Minutes later, you’re so lost in your own thoughts that you don’t even notice the faint footsteps of someone approaching—not until that certain someone is standing right next to you, that is.

“You shouldn’t be here.” He remarks, voice controlled as he keeps a safe distance. “It’s cold out.”

You huff slightly at his words, recognizing the scent of his perfume even from a few metres away.

“Is that the only thing you care about, Riddle?” You reply coolly, not turning to face him. “What about me breaking curfew rules? You do usually take your job as prefect very seriously.”

Tom doesn’t answer, and for a few minutes, there’s silence between the both of you.

“You have been avoiding me.” You finally state, your breath visible in the cold night air.

He breathes out, a deep, long exhale as though he’s been preparing himself for this moment.

“I thought it’d be better this way. For both of us.”

You turn to him then, eyes scanning his face—the moonlight’s glow highlighting his sharp features, conflict visible in his eyes.

“Better?” You repeat in disbelief, taking a step backwards. “Right.”

His head sinks, eyes closed as he debates what to say next.

“I told you,” he rasps, fingers curling tighter around his wand, “I can’t. I don’t know how to—”

“You can’t what?” You cut him off. “Let someone in for once? Let someone behind that wall you build around yourself?”

“It’s not that easy,” he sneers, too turning towards you. “I wasn’t brought up like you. I don’t know how to show affection, how to manage— whatever this is.”

“Slowly, Tom. With patience. I am willing to help, you just need to let me.”

After a few seconds, he nods, slowly.

You don’t talk much after this, both of you sitting down, staring into the distance.

“Shouldn’t you be sleeping?” He questions after a while, fidgeting with his wand.

A subtle smile tugs at the corner of your mouth. “I should be,” you reply. “Shouldn’t you be on patrol?”

He huffs. “I should be.”

After that night, things change. Tom tries to be there, subtly at first. Leading you to classes, tutoring you. Though you don’t speak often, he is there. Random shared nights on the Astronomy Tower after you have memorized his prefect schedule—Mondays and Thursdays.

You’d sit next to each other, watching the sky. Each time a little closer. Occasionally talk. Each time a little more. You could feel him getting more comfortable, opening up, telling you more about himself— his childhood.

It changes the way you view him entirely.

That behind his hard shell, his cold exterior, there’s this little boy in the orphanage—who was never understood, never cared for, never loved.

“You didn’t deserve this, Tom.” You say. You don’t know what else there is you could possibly tell him to make it alright—because there is nothing.

“It doesn’t matter. Not anymore now.” He replies.

It’s silent for a long time between you two after that.

“I am here for you, always.” You murmur after a few minutes, eyes flicking between your and his hand.

You contemplate for a moment.

Yet, almost involuntarily, your hand carefully inches closer until it finds his. The moment you touch him, you feel him tense, and you wait, giving him the time to draw back—but he doesn’t. Your hand—quite cold in contrast to his—tightens its grip then, and you again sit there in silence for a while.

“You are freezing,” he remarks quietly, thumb softly swiping over your index finger, “we should go back inside.”

So you do. He leads you back to your dorm, wishing you a good night—just like the first time. You want to ask whether he would like to have his coat back—but when you turn around, he is already gone.

You aren’t too sad about it—after all, it still smells like him.

—

Your nightly meetings have become a routine. He never lets you wait more than five minutes before he sits down beside you, joining you as you watch the stars. You talk about everyone and everything. And shit—the more he talks—his perfect voice—the more you crave his lips on yours again.

One night, when saying your goodbyes, you both stare at each other for a little too long. You get lost in the depths of his beautiful, dark brown eyes, and you don’t even really notice him getting closer until his hand brushes against yours.

“Shouldn’t— shouldn’t you be on patrol?” You murmur, eyes dropping to his lips for a split second, his face now mere inches away from yours—and he’s so tense you can quite literally feel the doubt radiating off of him.

He huffs softly, his voice coming out as a faint whisper.

“I should be.”

And then, he closes the gap, lips brushing against yours, first gently as to give you space and time to move away, but as you don’t, instead lean into his touch—with a firm, yet gentle hold on your neck, he pulls you closer. He takes his time with you, as though he wants to savour your taste, memorize how your lips feel against his, your soft breathing, your warmth—

Before you know it, his hand is wrapped around your wrist, dragging you after him. Not to your dorm, but to his. Just after the door closes, his lips are on yours again—not so gently this time, instead filled with hunger, lust.

“Tom,” you breathe, eyes meeting his as you part. “Are you sure?”

“I am if you are,” he replies, and it only takes a nod for his hand to tangle in your hair, pulling you in for another kiss, leading you to his bed.

As the back of your knees meets the edge of his bed, he gently guides you down with him until your body is caged between the mattress and himself. His eyes scan your face for any discomfort, any sign you want to stop.

But you don’t want him to stop.

Instead, your fingers clutch at his robes, pulling him down for another kiss.

He takes his time with you. Not quick, not rushed, not rough like last time—stripping each piece of clothing off your body with care, exploring, watching your every reaction.

And God, how you have missed his touch.

After he’s removed the last piece of fabric on your body—your lace panties—he looks up at you. The storm in his deep, brown eyes drawing you right in as he is nestled between your thighs. Then you see it—for the first time—a completely unfamiliar expression plastered on his face. Features softened to an extent you aren’t sure it even is the Tom Riddle everyone else feared you are dealing with. Eyes not having their usual harshness to them, lips curled into an almost-smile. And if you weren’t really, really delusional and completely mesmerized merely by the sight of him so eager for you, you would think—he looks as though he felt for you just as deeply as you did for him.

He lowers his head to press a single, gentle kiss to your inner thigh, one arm keeping you spread open for him. In the same moment, you feel two of his fingers gently swiping through your folds before they press against you, entering your already slick walls without much effort. A gasp from you is accompanied by a shaky breath against your thigh from his side as he hilts himself knuckle-deep, curling his fingers perfectly to brush against your most sensitive spot inside of you.

“Please— God, please, Tom.” You whimper, bucking your hips against his hand—anything to get him to move.

“Shh. You told me to take it slow. Want to take it slow with you this time.”

So, gently, he withdraws again, thumb drawing lazy circles on your clit as he sets a steady rhythm, fingers pumping into you slowly, his other hand making sure you stay spread open for him.

And although it’s slow, almost too slow, you feel the familiar knot in your lower stomach tightening, whimpering as he trails kisses down your inner thigh.

“You think you are ready for me?” He asks, eyes meeting yours.

“Yes, Tom. Please, I need you.”

He’s undressing so quickly it’s hard to follow, first the thud of his belt hitting the floor, then piece after piece of his clothes discarded somewhere near the bed. Apparently you aren’t the only one who’s been craving this.

He’s kissing you again when he’s done, leaning over you, your legs wrapped around his waist—feeling his tip swipe through your folds, collecting your arousal before he nudges against your entrance.

“Please, Tom.”

His restraint shatters.

He pushes inside of you, slowly, splitting you apart on his length. You gasp at the stretch, quickly muffling the sound with your lips on his once more.

You don’t want it to stop—you don’t want him to stop.

“God, you are tight,” he breathes shakily, wiping a strand of hair from your face. “Feel so good wrapped around me like that.”

He pauses briefly when he’s buried to the hilt, letting you adjust for a moment before he pulls out halfway, thrusting back inside.

Leaning down, he presses a kiss to your forehead. “This okay?”

More than okay.

“Tom— please—”

Concern is visible on his face. “I didn’t hurt you last time, did I? I thought I might have.”

It’s sweet. So sweet he cares. But God, not now. Not now when he’s so deep, ridding you of any sanity you have left. You just need him to move.

“Tom. Please.”

He nods, exhaling another shaky breath, finally, finally setting a steady rhythm. Your nails dig into his back, urging him closer, deeper, anything.

More, more, more. You need more of him.

You haven’t realised how starved of his touch you were until now.

He knows, he can sense it. Hips snapping against yours faster, reaching deeper, pushing into you just at the right angle—you want to ask him how he knows all of this. How he can be so perfect at everything he does, how he can be so infuriatingly handsome—

“I am going to— fuck, Tom—“

Lips on yours. Hand around your throat, pressing down just tight enough to make you feel light-headed. Other hand kneading at your breasts, rolling your nipples between his fingertips.

“Come for me, sweetheart.”

You shatter. Break. Eyes rolling to the back of your head as your orgasm rips through you, walls fluttering wildly around his thick cock, milking him. Your thighs tremble, keeping him close, keeping him right where you need him—buried deep inside of you.

He fucks you through it, helping you through your aftershocks, and with a final, deep thrust, he spills inside of you, his release painting your walls white.

Both of you stay like this for a while. Silence as your fingers swipe through his dark curls, over his back, keeping him close. So close. You don’t want to let go when he finally gets up.

Tom comes back with a wet towel, cleaning between your thighs before he hands you your clothes.

And you would put them on—if there wasn’t something missing.

“Where are my panties?”

His lips contort into a smug grin.

“Don’t know what you are talking about.”

You sigh.

“Tom Marvolo Riddle.” Yes, full name. “That’s the second pair.”

He doesn’t do more than smile, getting into bed beside you, arm around your waist, pulling you into his side.

Well, in that case. One more pair lost wouldn’t mean the end of the world.

It’s just a few minutes later when you feel your eyelids getting heavy, ready to drift off to sleep, lying on his chest.

You feel him place a soft kiss on top of your head.

“I love you.” He whispers, and suddenly you think you may already be dreaming.

A smile tugs at the corner of your lips.

“I love you too, Tommy.”

thank you for reading! feel free to reblog and leave feedback <3 — masterlist. | oneshots.

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thirteenheavens · 2 months ago

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can you write about Seungcheol when you are at your parents house and he can't control himself

Can’t wait till we’re home?||Scoups

Word count: 1625

Notes: Back to write to calm down after revision exams are so hard

You and Seungcheol arrive at your parents' house, hand in hand. The familiar surroundings bring back memories of childhood - the perfectly manicured lawn, the white picket fence, and the scent of freshly cut grass.

As you walk up the driveway, Seungcheol notices how nervous you seem. "Hey, everything's going to be fine," he whispers, squeezing your hand reassuringly. "Your parents love me." You nod, trying to push down your anxiety. The moment you step through the front door, your mother rushes over to greet you with a warm hug. "Y-N! And Seungcheol, it's so good to see you both!"

Dinner is a pleasant affair, filled with light conversation and delicious food. But as the meal progresses, Seungcheol's touchy behavior becomes more apparent. Every chance he gets, he places his hand on your thigh or brushes against your arm. His eyes never leave yours, and there's an unmistakable spark of desire in them.

Your father catches Seungcheol's lingering touches and his eyes narrow slightly. "Seungcheol, I see you're... quite affectionate with my daughter," he says, his tone neutral but with an edge of caution. Seungcheol tenses at the comment, his hand freezing on your thigh. He glances at your father, then at you, before responding with a polite smile. "I care about Y-N very much, sir. She means everything to me."

Your mother watches the exchange with interest, while you can feel the heat rising in your cheeks. The atmosphere grows slightly awkward as everyone waits to see how your father will respond. Your father studies Seungcheol for a moment, then lets out a deep sigh. "Well, I suppose that's all that matters," he says finally, his expression softening. "Just... be good to her, okay?"

Seungcheol nods eagerly, his grip on your thigh tightening ever so slightly. "Of course, sir. I'll always take care of her." After dinner, your mother suggests showing Seungcheol around the house. She leads you both upstairs to your childhood bedroom, filled with nostalgic memories and old toys.

As soon as you're alone in the room, Seungcheol pulls you close to him, his hands roaming over your body. "Your parents' house is nice," he whispers huskily, his lips trailing along your neck. "But I think I like it better in here." You look around your childhood room, memories flooding back. Your old bookshelves, stuffed animals, and pink wallpaper bring a nostalgic smile to your face.

"This was my safe space," you tell Seungcheol, running your fingers along the edge of your desk. "I spent so much time in here daydreaming." Seungcheol walks around the room, taking in every detail. But he can't seem to keep his hands off you for long. His eyes darken with desire as he presses you against the door, his body flush against yours.

"I can imagine you here," he murmurs, his lips hovering just above yours. "All innocent and sweet, dreaming about your future."

"And now look at you," Seungcheol continues, his voice low and husky. "All grown up and making my dreams come true." He captures your lips in a passionate kiss, his hands exploring your body with a newfound urgency. The room suddenly feels smaller, more intimate, as he pushes you further against the door.

"Seungcheol, we can't do this here," you whisper between kisses, even as your body responds to his touch. "My parents are just downstairs..." But he only smiles mischievously, nibbling on your earlobe. "That makes it more exciting, don't you think?" he teases, his fingers sliding under the hem of your shirt.

"I don't know if I can be quiet," you manage to say, your voice trembling with arousal. "And my parents will definitely hear us. Seungcheol's eyes flash with excitement at your concern. "Then we'll just have to make sure you can stay quiet," he purrs, sliding his hand up to cup your breast through your bra. "Can you be a good girl and keep quiet for me?" You bite your lip to suppress a moan as Seungcheol continues to tease you, his fingers skillfully playing with your nipple. The thought of getting caught makes your heart race even faster.

"I don't know if I can," you whisper again, your legs trembling with desire. "You know how sensitive I am..." Seungcheol smirks, clearly enjoying your struggle. "Then I'll just have to find ways to keep you quiet," he says, dropping to his knees in front of you. "Like this."

He begins trailing kisses up your thighs, his hands sliding your skirt up higher and higher. The risk of getting caught only adds to the intense pleasure building inside you. As Seungcheol kisses up your stomach, you can feel his hot breath against your skin. Your hands instinctively go to his hair, threading through the dark strands as he moves higher.

"You're so beautiful," he murmurs against your skin, his lips leaving a trail of fire in their wake. "I could spend hours worshiping your body." He reaches the edge of your bra, his fingers deftly undoing the clasp. Your breasts spill out, already peaked with anticipation.

"No one else gets to see you like this," Seungcheol growls possessively, taking one nipple into his mouth and sucking gently. "You're mine." Seungcheol's eyes scan the room, looking for a suitable surface to bend you over. His gaze lands on your old desk, the perfect height and width for his needs.

"Come here," he commands, pulling you towards the desk. He sweeps your childhood trinkets aside, making space for your bodies. Your heart races as he positions you against the desk, his hands running down your back to grip your hips. "I've always wanted to do this in a childhood bedroom," he confesses, his voice thick with desire. "Are you ready to be bent over your old desk, baby girl?" You nod, your breath coming in short gasps as Seungcheol presses your chest down onto the desk. The cool surface sends a shiver through your body, making you even more sensitive to his touch.

"Good girl," he murmurs, sliding your skirt up and your panties down. "Now be quiet while I take you." You feel him line himself up behind you, the tip of his cock pressing against your entrance. The position makes you feel exposed and vulnerable, but also incredibly turned on.

"Please, Seungcheol," you whimper, desperate for him to fill you. "I need you inside me." Seungcheol grins at your needy whimper, taking his time to tease you further. He runs the head of his cock through your wet folds, coating himself in your arousal.

"You're so wet for me already," he groans, continuing to swipe against your clit. "I could tease you like this forever." You bite down on your arm to muffle your moans, your body trembling with need. The threat of getting caught only adds to the intensity of the moment, making you even more desperate for release.

"Please, Seungcheol, I can't take it anymore," you beg, trying to push back against him. "I need to feel you inside me."

"Shhh, baby," Seungcheol whispers, finally pressing himself against your entrance. "You have to stay quiet. We don't want your parents to come up here and catch us." He slowly pushes into you, stretching you open with his thick length. The feeling of being filled makes your eyes roll back in pleasure, and you have to bite down harder on your arm to keep from crying out. Seungcheol sets a steady rhythm, his hips thrusting into you with deep, deliberate strokes. One hand grips your hip while the other reaches around to cover your mouth.

"You're so tight," he pants, his breath hot against your ear. "I love how you feel around me. Keep being a good girl and I'll make you come so hard." Seungcheol's thrusts grow faster and harder, the sound of skin slapping against skin barely audible over your heavy breathing. The desk creaks beneath you with each movement, but neither of you cares.

"God, you feel amazing," he groans, his hand tightening over your mouth as he drives into you deeper. "I'm not going to last long with how tight you're squeezing me." You can feel your orgasm building rapidly, your inner walls clenching around his cock. The combination of the thrill of being caught and the overwhelming pleasure is almost too much to bear.

"Come for me," Seungcheol commands, his voice low and demanding. "I want to feel you come all over my cock." Your body convulses around Seungcheol's cock as your orgasm hits you like a tidal wave. The pleasure courses through your veins, leaving you shaking and breathless. Seungcheol groans as he feels you tighten around him, his own release approaching fast. He buries himself deep inside you, pumping his hot cum into your trembling body.

"Fuck," he whispers, holding you against him as he rides out his orgasm. "That was incredible." He kisses your shoulder gently before slowly pulling out of you. You stay bent over the desk, trying to catch your breath and steady your legs that feel like jelly.

"We should probably clean up before we head back downstairs," Seungcheol suggests, helping you stand up. "But I think your parents might have some questions about how flushed you look right now."

"I'm sure they'll notice," you reply with a shaky laugh, still feeling the aftershocks of your intense orgasm. "And my hair is probably a mess." You start fixing your clothes and smoothing down your hair, trying to make yourself presentable again. The evidence of what just happened between you and Seungcheol is clear, but you both know there's nothing you can do about it now.

"Maybe we should have waited until we got home," Seungcheol teases, helping you adjust your skirt. "But where's the fun in that?"

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someonegoood · 4 months ago

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SUTURES & SCARS part 1 ✫ jeon jungkook

CONTAINS: medical!au, surgeon!jungkook x surgeon!reader, slow burn, teasing, mutual pining, enemies to lovers, fighting turned bonding, past and present love, fluff & angst :)

NOTE: well... i'm back with a medical!au inspired by doctor slump (that drama was so good omg). thanks so much for reading, hope you enjoy it!! this work is not revised, and english is not my first language. next part will be uploaded tomorrow!!

my main masterlist! ❀ comment to be on the taglist!

taglist 🩺 @senaqsstuff @jjkluver7 @lovingkoalaface @khadeeeeej @pipipipiiiii @jungkooksmytype @jkxlvrr @whoa-jo @anemonatae @iviamagatitos @nerdycheol @thelilbutifulthings @banana-creampie @beomluvrr @user-190811 @mar-lo-pap @jiminismine4ever @boringmichelle @marilo11 @jenniebyrubies @littlestarstinyseven @kooeuphoria @rayyrayy10 @moonchild1 <3

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4.

You weren’t supposed to be here.

This hospital—one of the most prestigious medical institutions in the country—was never meant to be your landing place. It had a reputation for being exclusive, only taking in the most skilled and accomplished doctors. Under normal circumstances, your application wouldn’t have even made it past the first round. But these weren’t normal circumstances.

They were desperate.

A sudden shortage of doctors had left the trauma surgery department scrambling to find specialists who could take on the relentless workload. And that’s how you, despite not being part of their initial selection, had been handed a contract at the last minute.

Still, there was no warm welcome waiting for you. Your arrival hadn’t been met with admiration or respect. Most of the staff knew exactly who you were—not because of your surgical skills, not because of your work ethic, but because of that video.

The one that had gone viral.

A single moment of frustration, caught on camera and spread across the internet like wildfire.

At your last hospital, you had been drowning. The shifts were relentless, the expectations impossible. No matter how many hours you put in, no matter how many patients you saved, it was never enough. Your superior—an arrogant, self-important man who treated younger doctors like disposable tools—had pushed you too far.

And you had snapped.

You hadn’t planned for your voice to carry across the entire ward. You hadn’t expected someone to be filming. And you certainly hadn’t expected the clip to be uploaded with captions like "Doctor Stands Up to Toxic Work Culture!" and "She Said What We All Wanted To Say!"

But that’s exactly what happened.

You had told your superior—bluntly, unapologetically—that you were tired of being exploited. That working 36-hour shifts with no breaks wasn’t a sign of dedication, it was a sign of systemic failure. That no matter how much you loved medicine, you wouldn’t let yourself be crushed under its weight.

The words had barely left your mouth before his furious response had followed: “if you think you’re so indispensable, why don’t you find somewhere else to work?”

So you did.

Or at least, you tried.

But the video followed you. Some people admired your courage, others saw you as reckless, unprofessional. A liability. Your name was whispered in hospital halls, passed around in hushed conversations. Respected institutions suddenly had no available positions when your application landed on their desks.

Still, you told yourself it didn’t matter. This was a fresh start. You would put your head down, do your job, and prove that you belonged here. But then, of course, there was him.

Jeon Jungkook.

The person who had, at one point, made you want to pull your hair out in medical school. There had always been a gap between you and Jungkook. A space carved not just by time but by opportunity. It started with the entrance exam.

You had worked yourself to the bone, studying until the words blurred together, until caffeine barely kept you functional. And yet, no matter how hard you pushed yourself, Jungkook had ranked higher. He had scored near the top effortlessly, securing his place in the best medical program without breaking a sweat.

While you had to fight for your place every step of the way, Jungkook had walked through the doors like he belonged there.

And, to be fair—maybe he did.

His talent was undeniable. He was the kind of doctor who made procedures look easy, who had an instinct for trauma surgery that couldn’t be taught. But that wasn’t the only reason people gravitated toward him.

It was his face.

The moment Jungkook entered the medical field, his reputation exploded. Patients wanted to be treated by him, some even exaggerating their conditions just for the chance to see him in person. His name spread through social media—the handsome trauma surgeon, the genius doctor who looks like he walked out of a magazine.

You had seen the way people looked at him, how his mere presence commanded attention. And deep down, you hated to admit that you understood why. Because you remembered a time before all of this.

Before the fame. Before the Dr. Jeon Jungkook reputation had taken over.

You remembered late-night study sessions when he was just an annoyingly competitive classmate, back when you were both just students fighting to survive. Back when there was no distance between you. Back when he was just... Jungkook.

And now?

Now, you stood in the same hospital, both specialists in trauma surgery. But while Jungkook had been welcomed with open arms from the beginning, you had barely made it in. You were a last-minute addition, a second choice.

And worse?

He probably didn’t even care.

Maybe he didn’t even remember.

The trauma surgery unit was the kind of place that didn’t allow for distractions. It demanded focus, precision, and expertise. Every decision counted. Every second mattered. That’s why Jeon Jungkook thrived here.

He was respected, no, admired, for his technical skill. But if there was one thing Jungkook lacked, it was an emotional connection to his work. He could save a life with a steady hand and a clear mind, but when it came to anything beyond that, his walls were impenetrable. He’d spent years cultivating that distance—after all, trauma surgery wasn’t the place for sentiment.

The day he returned to the hospital after an extended time away, it should’ve felt routine. But as soon as he walked into the trauma bay, something felt different.

The harsh fluorescent lights of the trauma surgery unit buzzed above, their hum a constant, almost soothing companion to the chaos unfolding below. The scent of sterile antiseptic mixed with the faint tang of blood in the air, and yet, Jungkook moved through it with practiced ease. This was familiar territory. The pressure, the critical patients, the intensity of saving lives—he thrived in it.

Yet today, there was a subtle undercurrent of tension he couldn’t quite shake off.

His gaze swept over the trauma bay, the usual clamor of activity surrounding him, but something felt off. The familiar presence of his colleagues was there, but it wasn’t until he stepped into the main OR corridor that he saw her.

You.

It wasn’t that he hadn’t expected to see you. The hospital was a big place, and you were a trauma surgeon now, just like him. You were bound to cross paths at some point. But the reality of it hit him all at once. His pulse quickened before he could stop it.

You—the one person who had always challenged him. Who had made him question his approach to everything. You were part of this team now. Not that he had expected anything less. You were brilliant, after all.

You, with your patient-centered approach, always thinking of the person beyond the injury, beyond the trauma. He’d never understood that about you. You were too empathetic, too invested in the stories of the people you saved. To him, it was all about the procedure, the perfection, the technical execution. The detachment was necessary. It kept him sharp.

You were standing by the operating table, your back to him. Your movements were fluid, efficient, as you spoke to a resident with the calm authority that had always been so effortless for you. You had a way of speaking, not loud, not commanding, but with such quiet conviction that it felt like everything you said was an undeniable truth.

His breath hitched in his throat. He hadn’t expected the old feelings to resurface so quickly. There had been years—six of them—between now and the last time he’d seen you. Six years since you had been his rival in medical school, six years since that fateful day when everything had changed.

When Jungkook first heard that a new surgeon was joining the trauma team, the thought barely registered—just another name on the roster, another doctor to either impress or ignore. But for a fleeting second, as he skimmed the email announcing the department’s newest addition, his mind had entertained a thought he hadn’t let in for years. What if it’s her?

It was ridiculous, really—he hadn’t seen you in so long that you’d become more of a memory than a real person.

But some part of him, buried under layers of pride and time, still remembered the way you used to challenge him, push him to be better, and make him feel something he never quite understood.

But here you were, looking the same as you had back then—composed, confident, untouchable.

As his eyes lingered on you, the noise of the trauma unit faded into the background. The beeping of machines, the rushed footsteps of nurses, the rustle of surgical gloves—all of it seemed to dissolve into a soft hum. He didn’t want to feel this way, but the old animosity—the rivalry that had always thrummed just beneath the surface—flickered back to life.

It had started innocently enough. You had been another medical student, just like him. The two of you had been assigned to the same rotations, but where Jungkook was determined to prove himself with hard work and sheer perseverance, you had a different approach. You made it seem easy. Effortless.

It wasn’t that he disliked you—it was the way you moved through everything. The way you never seemed to struggle, never seemed to fall behind. You were always ahead, always one step further. And no matter how much he tried, no matter how much effort he put into studying, it never felt like enough.

The real clash had come in the third year of medical school. Both of you had been assigned to the same trauma surgery rotation. The patient had been a young girl, barely seventeen, who had been in a car crash. Her injuries were grave—broken bones, internal bleeding, and a collapsed lung.

In the OR, there had been no room for egos. At least, that was what Jungkook had thought. But you, always calm, always calculated, had known exactly what to do. The attending had left the two of you in charge, and the moment you had stepped in, it was clear that you were taking control.

“I’ll handle the internal bleeding,” you had said, your voice soft but firm. Your eyes locked onto his, and he had felt something shift in the air, a small but undeniable challenge.

This was your first surgery in a while since the video. And now, standing in the operating room, hands steady despite the weight of everything that had led you here, you knew there was no room for mistakes. Not when everyone was watching. Not when he was watching.

Jungkook had felt his throat tighten. There was no way he was going to let you take over—not now, not after everything he had worked for.

“I’ll lead this one,” he had said, his voice tight, almost too tight.

You had raised an eyebrow, the faintest trace of a smile tugging at the corner of your lips. “Of course you will, doctor. But if you miss something, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Now, Jungkook tried to push the past from his mind as he walked back into the trauma bay. The noise of rushing footsteps, the shouts of nurses, the beeping of monitors all flooded back to him. He had a job to do, and he would do it perfectly, just as he always had.

But there you were, standing at the head of the patient’s bed, giving orders with that same calm, steady demeanor that always made him feel like a novice. Your presence was unmistakable, and though he told himself he didn’t care, the tightness in his chest said otherwise.

The OR was a chaotic, controlled madness. Every second counted, and every decision had to be precise. But even amidst the pressure of a life-or-death situation, there was one thing that always managed to break through: the undeniable clash between you and Jungkook.

The patient on the operating table had sustained severe trauma—a shattered femur, multiple fractures to the ribs, and internal bleeding. The first few minutes had been smooth, the team working together efficiently to stabilize her. But the situation had quickly escalated. She wasn’t responding to the fluids they had administered, and her vitals were dropping rapidly. Her blood pressure was dangerously low, and the internal bleeding was proving harder to control than they anticipated.

Instead, your eyes were on him. Watching him. Your gaze was sharp, almost like a challenge.

"Get the hemorrhage controlled," Jungkook ordered, his voice sharp as he focused on the screen displaying the vitals.

"I’m on it," you replied, stepping in to assist the anesthesiologist with stabilizing the airway, watching her oxygen levels as the other doctors worked on her fractures. There was a quiet efficiency to your movements. It was the same calm approach you’d had in medical school, the one that had driven Jungkook crazy all those years ago.

But this time, the two of you weren’t in sync.

You reached for a clotting agent, about to administer it, when Jungkook’s hand shot out to stop you.

“No, that’s not the first thing we should be using,” he said, his tone dismissive as he moved to the other side of the table. “Clotting agents aren’t going to solve this if we don’t address the internal bleeding first.”

You paused for a moment, the air thick with tension. “I know what I’m doing, Jeong-woo. We don’t need to delay any longer. Her vitals are crashing.”

“She’s not going to survive if we don’t control the internal bleeding first. You’re always looking for the quick fix, but you can’t just keep throwing medications at the problem and hope it’ll solve itself,” Jungkook shot back, his words sharp, his focus never wavering from the patient.

There was a small but noticeable pause before you spoke again, this time more firmly. “I’m not throwing anything at the problem. I’m trying to stabilize her enough so we can actually get to the root cause of the issue, instead of playing catch-up with her blood pressure. You’re too focused on your sterile approach, Jungkook. This isn’t about just getting it done—it’s about caring for the whole person.”

He let out an exasperated sigh. “We are caring for the whole person, but we need to stop acting like we’re treating some emotional case. This is trauma surgery. We need to act fast and with precision, not waste time comforting a patient who’s already in critical condition.”

The words cut through the tension like a knife. It was always this way with you—compassionate, almost to a fault, and unwilling to see the raw practicality that Jungkook valued so highly in this field.

"You don’t understand," you said quietly, but there was an edge to your voice now. "It’s not just about speed, it’s about being mindful of the body’s limits. You’re not seeing the full picture here."

Jungkook took a deep breath, trying to rein in the rising irritation in his chest. He had always found your approach frustrating. The way you treated patients like emotional beings, rather than just cases to be solved. To him, it was a weakness, one that had no place in trauma surgery. This wasn’t some soft-care ward; it was a battlefield where the strongest survived.

“Your approach is too emotional,” he finally spat out, barely keeping his voice low enough for the team not to overhear. “You’re making decisions based on what you feel instead of what’s medically necessary.”

Your eyes narrowed as you shot him a look, but you didn’t let the argument show on your face. Instead, you focused on the patient, your hands still working with precision, despite the fact that you could feel every word he threw at you like a punch.

"We’re all in this for the same reason, Jungkook," you muttered, your voice unwavering. "The difference is, I’m not willing to sacrifice everything else for the sake of 'just getting it done.' I won’t lose my patients just because I’m trying to be quick and detached."

The tension was palpable. The air felt heavy, almost suffocating, but neither of you could back down. It wasn’t just professional pride at stake; it was something deeper—something that had started back in medical school, that simmered beneath every exchange. You were both experts, both brilliant in your own right, but the differences in how you viewed your profession were beginning to clash violently, both on and off the operating table.

The situation was growing worse, faster than anyone had anticipated. The patient’s blood pressure plummeted even further, and despite the efforts to control the bleeding, she was slipping away. The constant beeping of the monitors only intensified the pressure mounting on both of you.

“I’m telling you, we need to clamp the artery,” Jungkook said, frustration seeping into his voice now as he leaned over the patient’s abdomen. "We can’t waste any more time with these temporary fixes."

“No,” you retorted quickly, taking a step forward to assess the patient yourself. "She’s bleeding internally because her system can’t cope with the stress. Clamping the artery will only worsen the shock. I’m going to administer a vasopressor first to help stabilize her blood pressure before we do anything more invasive."

It was clear you weren’t backing down. Jungkook shot you a look—angry, dismissive—but he didn’t have the luxury of time to argue further. He had to act.

“Fine,” he muttered through clenched teeth, "But this better work."

You kept your gaze steady on the patient’s vitals, ignoring his sharp, biting criticism as you prepared the medication.

For a moment, the room fell into a tense silence, broken only by the sound of rapid beeping as the seconds ticked by.

Just as the situation began to spiral out of control, the anesthesiologist called out. The patient’s heart rate dropped drastically. It was now or never.

Without thinking, you and Jungkook moved in sync, both of you leaning over the patient, working together despite the tension that had been building all along. You shoved him aside just as his hand was about to clamp the artery, pushing your way in to apply the pressors. Your heart raced, your hands steady despite the heat of the moment.

And then, something happened. Amidst the frenzy, as you both fought to save the woman’s life, you found that the team was working together in a way that only you two could manage. Despite the constant bickering, despite the criticisms, you both knew how to make it work—however begrudgingly.

The crash didn’t happen. Slowly, the woman’s vitals began to stabilize.

Hours later, as the team was finishing up, you stood off to the side of the break room, your hands trembling slightly from the adrenaline. Your back was to the wall, and you took a deep breath, trying to shake off the tension that still buzzed through you.

Jungkook entered shortly after, a slight frown on his face as he grabbed a cup of coffee, his usual detached demeanor firmly in place. But as he took a seat, he couldn’t ignore the strange, lingering feeling that sat between you two. It wasn’t just rivalry anymore. It was... something else. Something unspoken.

He glanced at you briefly. “You did good,” he said, his voice unusually soft.

You didn’t respond immediately. Instead, you focused on your coffee, not daring to look at him directly. “You did too,” you replied, though it was more a formality than a compliment.

And yet, as you exchanged those words, both of you knew something had shifted. The rivalry hadn’t disappeared, but there was a quiet acknowledgment of each other’s strengths. A crack in the wall that had been between you for so long.

But neither of you was ready to confront it—not yet. Not while there was so much left to prove.

The conference room buzzed with quiet chatter as the trauma team assembled after the surgery. The air felt thick with unspoken words, the weight of the earlier tension hanging heavily over the room. Jungkook was already seated at the front, a posture that suggested his usual calm confidence, but even he couldn’t mask the storm that had been brewing throughout the surgery. His thoughts, his frustrations, still swirled around his mind like a whirlwind.

You walked in, the door clicking shut behind you, as you made your way to your seat. Conversations stilled, subtle glances exchanged across the room. They all knew. Knew about the video, about the controversy, about how you had barely made it into this hospital.

You could feel the weight of their curiosity, the silent judgment lingering in the air, as if waiting to see if you’d live up to your reputation—the surgeon with a sharp tongue and an even sharper fall from grace.

The rest of the team, quieter now, took their places, sensing the undercurrent of tension between you and Jungkook. Everyone had noticed the clashes earlier, but none of them dared to speak up. It wasn’t their place. Not now.

The meeting began. The attending physician, Ryuk Jinho, quickly moved through the cases, reviewing patient outcomes and discussing next steps. He started with a breakdown of the trauma cases from the past 24 hours, highlighting complications and successes.

“For the MVA patient from last night,” Jinho began, flipping through the reports, “the splenic rupture was managed well, though there was significant blood loss pre-op. Good call on prioritizing vascular control first.” His eyes skimmed the room before landing on you.

“But I’d like to discuss the choice of a non-operative approach for the hepatic injury. In cases like these, aggressive management can lead to better outcomes.”

“I don’t understand why you insisted on using pressors before the hemorrhage was under control,” Jungkook began, his voice cutting through the room like a knife. “It’s not an approach that works in trauma. You can’t stabilize someone with just medications when their vitals are crashing because of direct blood loss. You just don’t get it.”

You took a deep breath, meeting his eyes across the table. The weight of his words pressed on your chest, and though you’d spent years perfecting your ability to stay calm under pressure, something about his cold dismissal stung. He was so sure of himself. And the worst part was, he was doing this in front of everyone, as though it were a public spectacle, a way to undermine you.

“You think you know everything, don’t you?” you shot back, your voice firm, but just under the surface, there was the anger you’d been holding in. “I’m not the one who was about to clamp the artery without considering the bigger picture. You’ve been so wrapped up in your textbook approach that you didn’t even think about the patient’s whole condition. I don’t operate just on numbers and guidelines, Jungkook. I care about how they’re doing, not just what is happening.”

He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, that look of cold detachment never leaving his face. He was used to people criticizing him. He had perfected the art of shrugging it off, of distancing himself from anything that wasn’t logical, wasn’t quantifiable.

“It’s easy to care about how when you don’t have to make the hard decisions,” he said dismissively, eyes narrowing. “You don’t even understand the weight of the responsibility. You think your feelings will save these patients, but it won’t. The reality is, if you don’t make decisions based on science, you won’t survive in trauma.”

The words cut deeper than you wanted to admit. For a moment, the room seemed to close in on you, the faces of your colleagues blurring as the anger flared within you. You weren’t just defending your methods anymore.

You were defending yourself.

“You don’t even know what it’s like to care,” you said, quieter now but laced with an emotion that surprised even you. “You hide behind your cold, sterile approach because it’s easier than facing the fact that these patients are people, not just cases to check off.”

A heavy silence settled over the room. The team—trauma surgeons like Dr. Min Jihoon, meticulous and composed; resident doctors like Seo Hana, always eager to prove herself; and interns who had barely gotten comfortable in the OR—froze in place, eyes darting between you and Jungkook. No one had ever spoken to him like that, not in this hospital.

Seo Hana shifted uncomfortably in her seat, her gaze flickering to Dr. Min, who remained impassive but was clearly intrigued. One of the interns swallowed hard, while another subtly leaned forward, as if waiting to see how Jungkook would react. Even Ryuk Jinho, who had seen his fair share of heated exchanges, looked taken aback.

Jungkook’s lips tightened, but he didn’t respond. Instead, he looked around the room as if challenging anyone to speak up or question him. His reputation as a skilled surgeon was unshakable, and he knew it. You, on the other hand, knew that no matter how good you were, your methods would never be enough in his eyes.

But there was more, wasn’t there? This wasn’t just a disagreement over how to treat a patient. This was deeper, rooted in something that had never been resolved. And just as you were about to respond, the attending physician called the meeting to a close.

Jinho raised a hand before the conversation escalated. “Both approaches have merit. In trauma surgery, decisions are made in seconds, and not every call is black and white. That said—” he looked between you and Jungkook, clearly aware of the tension crackling between you “—we need to focus on cohesive teamwork. Let’s move on.”

The three co-workers began to gather their things, heading out of the room, but you and Jungkook stayed behind, your hands gripping the edge of the table as you stared at the empty chairs in front of you.

You could feel Jungkook’s presence behind you, his posture still rigid, still exuding that coldness that had been a constant throughout your medical journey. And just as you felt like you couldn’t hold it in any longer, you turned to face him.

His expression remained unreadable, but you saw the hint of something in his eyes—a flicker of something that almost looked like regret, or maybe it was just frustration. Either way, you couldn’t hold back.

"I didn’t remember you were this cruel," you said, the words slipping out before you could stop them. The weight of the statement hung heavily in the air between you, and you could see the immediate tension in his eyes as if the accusation had stung more than he cared to admit.

Jungkook’s gaze sharpened, but he said nothing at first, just standing there, like he was deciding how to respond. But you could see the walls he had built around himself, the ones he’d used to protect himself from feeling anything, crack ever so slightly.

“I’m not cruel,” he finally replied, his voice quieter now, but still firm. “I’m just... practical. It’s easier that way.”

You shook your head, trying to process everything in your head. “No, Jungkook. It’s easier to shut people out. Easier to treat everything like a puzzle, like you’re just solving a problem and not dealing with the consequences. That’s what makes you cold.”

He didn’t look at you, instead turning toward the door, but you caught the briefest flicker of something in his eyes. A crack in his armor. Something vulnerable, something you had never seen before.

“Maybe you’re right,” he muttered, almost as if he were speaking more to himself than to you. “But I can’t afford to be anything else.”

You didn’t have a response. Not for that.

The door clicked shut behind you as you walked into the apartment, your mind still reeling from the tense encounter with Jungkook earlier that day. The sound of laughter and chatter from the living room broke through the cloud of frustration hanging over you.

"Doctor, you’re back!" Coco called out from the couch, her voice upbeat as she kicked her feet up on the coffee table. She was sprawled out with a book in one hand and a can of soda in the other.

“About time, girl,” Aerum added, sitting next to Coco, already holding a bottle of soju and a bowl of Kimbap on the table between them. “We were just about to start without you.”

You couldn’t help but let out a tired sigh as you dropped your bag by the door, your shoes clicking on the hardwood floor as you made your way over to them. "Long first day," you muttered, sinking into the chair next to Aerum.

Coco grinned, reading the mood perfectly. “Let me guess. The ever-so-charming Jeon Jungkook is as insufferable as always?”

You laughed bitterly, running a hand through your hair as you thought about the morning’s events. "Worse," you admitted, accepting a beer from Aerum and leaning back against the couch. “I didn’t remember him being that cruel.”

Aerum raised an eyebrow as she grabbed a piece of Kimbap. “What happened?”

You took a sip of your beer, trying to calm the rising frustration. “We had a patient today. Pretty critical trauma case. It was bad, but we both... we were both working on it, and he just—” You paused, trying to put the words together. “He criticized every single thing I did. Like, everything.”

“Classic Jungkook,” Coco said, clearly not surprised. “He always did that back in med school. The whole ‘I’m right, you’re wrong’ attitude.”

You remembered a particular group assignment where Coco mentioned her interest in dermatology. He had scoffed, eyes narrowing as he leaned back in his chair. “Dermatology?” he had said, the tone dripping with condescension.

“You really think you’re going to make a difference in skin? It’s like choosing the easy route when everyone else is dealing with real, life-and-death stuff. You’re wasting your potential.” The way he said it, like her choice was somehow lesser, made your skin burn with frustration.

Aerum nodded, adding, “I don’t get how someone can be so brilliant but so… detached, you know? He’s like a robot with a scalpel. No warmth at all.”

Jungkook and Aerum, now a gynaecologist, had clashed during a highly competitive clinical rotation in obstetrics and gynecology. The tension between them escalated when they were both selected to perform a delicate procedure—an emergency C-section—on the same day.

You shook your head. “It’s like he’s too focused on just fixing the body and not looking at the bigger picture. It’s frustrating. He always acts like he knows everything. But today—today, it was like he didn’t even see the patient as a person.”

Coco scoffed, leaning forward to grab another Kimbap roll. “So, the ‘ice prince’ is still stuck in his ways, huh? He used to be the same in school, always acting like he had all the answers. But I remember—he’d never admit when he was wrong.”

"Yeah," you said, letting out a deep breath. "But what really got to me today was the way he shut me down in front of the entire team. It was like he was trying to make me look bad in front of everyone. Like he couldn’t even see what I was doing for what it was."

Aerum exchanged a look with Coco before turning back to you. "Isn’t it kind of funny though? The way you two still go at it after all these years."

“Funny?” You raised an eyebrow, half-amused and half-exasperated. "It’s infuriating."

Coco laughed, but there was a knowing look in her eyes. "No, seriously. The amount of chemistry there was between you two was honestly… ridiculous."

You choked on your beer a little, shooting her a glare. “What? I don’t—I mean, it’s not like that.”

Aerum smirked, leaning back in her seat. “Oh, please. You two were always at each other’s throats in med school, but it was obvious. We all saw it. You just refused to admit it.”

“Admit what?” you asked, now feeling like you were under a spotlight. “There’s nothing between us.”

Coco rolled her eyes. “Right, sure. Whatever you say. But back then, it was like you both thrived off being at each other’s throats.”

You shook your head. "He’s impossible!"

Aerum snickered. "Sure, whatever. But if you’re going to be miserable around him, at least admit that there’s something there."

You threw your hands up in mock frustration. "Okay, fine! Maybe there’s some kind of… I don’t know… tension between us. But it’s not like I want anything from him. He’s just… he's so cold and detached. There’s no way I could—"

“Please,” Coco interrupted, giving you a knowing look. “It’s obvious to anyone who’s ever seen you two together. You hate him, but you also can’t stand being apart from him. The minute he starts being a jerk to you, you snap back. But the minute he does something… even slightly kind, like today, you get all flustered.”

You huffed, rolling your eyes as you stared into your beer bottle. "I’m not flustered."

Aerum leaned in closer, her tone playful yet serious. “Look, girl, we’ve known you for a long time. We’re not saying you like him—at least, not in the way you think. But it’s clear that you’ve got something with him. Whether it’s hate, chemistry, or whatever else—it’s there. Don’t pretend it’s not.”

You felt a mix of irritation and disbelief. "I don’t even know what you’re talking about. You’re just imagining things."

Coco smirked, reaching for her drink. “Tell me this then: when’s the last time you’ve ever been this mad at someone and still wanted to talk to them afterwards?”

You went quiet for a moment, caught off guard by the question. “I don’t want to talk to him.”

“Sure,” Coco said with a raised eyebrow. “Keep telling yourself that.”

You groaned, dropping your head back against the couch. "I didn’t expect him to be like this. It’s been years, and I thought he’d changed. But now I feel like we’re back in med school again, and he’s still acting like the same insufferable guy he always was."

“Well,” Aerum said, her voice a bit more serious now, “he’s probably still carrying a lot of that same baggage. And honestly, I’m not sure it’s just a matter of work. The way he treats you—like you’re beneath him, or like he’s always trying to prove something—it’s so familiar.”

You felt a slight pang in your chest. "Maybe you're right. I just don’t know how to handle it anymore."

Coco nudged you gently. "You don’t have to handle anything. Just keep doing you—you’re brilliant. Don’t let him get inside your head."

Aerum grabbed another piece of Kimbap, her expression turning sly. “But if you ever decide to actually get close to him, just make sure to invite us to the wedding.”

Coco laughed, leaning over to grab her soju bottle. “Yeah, we want to be the first ones to know when it happens.”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. "You’re both ridiculous."

But despite the banter, you felt lighter. A bit of the weight that had settled on your shoulders after that surgery and the confrontation with Jungkook had lifted.

454 notes · View notes

itheunknown · 6 months ago

Text

odi et amo - (01) all i had

negelected! meta! reader x platonic! batfam

masterlist / prev / next

(TW) : emotional neglect, self-destructive behaviour, self-harm, suicide, depression, unhealthy coping mechanisms, underage smoking, underage drinking, alcohol abuse, depression, bpd, depictions of mental illness, violence, trauma, ...

the wind was howling.

your bag felt heavy on your shoulders as you brisked through the night, flickering street lights as your only source of light. your phone died a while back, but it's fine since you knew every nook and cranny of the route from your workplace back to your aunt's apartment.

you've had a pretty shitty day so far: customers yelling in your face about things out of your control, your bicycle getting stolen (again) rendering you having to travel back on foot, and on top of that, you have exams coming up this week.

all you could let out was a tired sigh while trying to revise the material under your breath.

just as you're about to turn the knob of the apartment door, looking forward to finally getting some sleep before having to drag yourself to school that starts in a few hours, the door swings open violently and you stumble back, startled. the sight of your aunt gripping the door while holding a broken bottle greets you as she stands there with an unsettling and wild look in her eyes, her tone final.

“get in the car, now.”

sitting in gotham’s police department with the background noise feels distant, everything is incoherent, too much noise, too much light, just too much.

you feel hollow.

can’t wrap your head around the series of events that had just occurred, alternating between gnawing your lips and picking your fingers, the chatter zoned in and out as you just sat there, not knowing what was to come.

you don’t know how long you've sat there while the police were making phone calls and running through their data records of you after taking multiple different samples 2 days ago in order to decide where they should toss you to next. you’ve been placed under watch just so they could make sure there were no complications from the injuries you sustained, practically living in the station. it wasn’t that bad, the GCPD was well-insulated, safe, and you’re given food to eat for free (not that you can taste anything). it’s much better than being left to fend for yourself in the streets.

you know you should be planning on what to do next, but your brain feels like tv static, nothing making sense. you had worked so hard despite the circumstances you were in, tried to make the best out of the shitty cards dealt. you weren’t happy, but you were in control, you had a plan. work hard, save up, get a degree and move the fuck out of this godforsaken city. start over.

staring at the ground, a pair of shoes enters your vision.

“your labs came back, we got your DNA results.”

this was not what you had in mind.

you’ve never been in a car this luxurious before. the man who introduced himself as alfred, the wayne’s family butler, your father's butler, was seated in the front driving to your supposed new home. you stare outside, gaze unfocused, arms cradling your backpack close to your chest - your entire life in it: your school supplies and a few other personal items, while the rest remains at your aunt’s apartment - that is currently taped off by police and under investigation. eyes trained on the passing view outside, you feel bad for alfred who’s tried to strike up conversation to get to know you, but you couldn't find it in yourself to elaborate on your short responses. you hope he doesn’t take it too personally.

before you knew it, the car rolled to a stop outside the wayne manor. grabbing your bag, you trail behind the butler, the feeling of dread suddenly consumes your entire being.

“i do apologize for the absence of master bruce, young miss. i’m certain if he weren’t caught up with this current case, you would've received a personal welcome from your father himself", he gave you an apologetic smile.

you nodded in response, not really processing his words despite the tiny feeling of disappointment felt as you step foot into the grand yet empty manor. your presence a stark contrast to the fancy room you've entered.

however, you do look forward to seeing your new family: your father and siblings that alfred mentioned in brief, insisting for you to get to know them yourself while singing them high praises.

maybe this was the start over you needed. maybe you'll finally know what it's like to be loved.

you should've known then.

expectations only lead to disappointment.

you're done.

you're tired, so very tired.

nothing feels worth it anymore.

you don't have it in you to continue.

feet dangling off the crumbling abandoned building, you feel oddly at peace. everything is quiet. everything feels right, no responsibilities, no burdens, no more. you've decided.

for once in your life, you feel assured, this is the most optimal solution.

for once in your life, you're looking forward to something.

death must be so peaceful, lay buried within the earth, surrounded by silence. no yesterday, no today, no tomorrow. forget time, forgive life.

you'd be no more.

the wind is howling.

you stand up, staring down the steep drop. standing tall, unafraid, certain.

everything was quiet.

you're ready.

you shuffle closer to the edge, one foot hovering off as you will your other foot to do the same, fighting against your body's survival instinct. you're finally doing something for yourself.

"that's a big drop."

you stumble forward in surprise, nearly falling off until a hand grabs the back of your shirt, pulling you back further from the edge. you're stunned speechless, turning to see the source of the whistling voice.

"that's pretty ballsy of you, kid, i gotta admit."

this is embarrassing.

still unable to form any response, you let out a strangled noise in return as he let go of your shirt.

why the hell is one of gotham’s vigilante here.

an uncomfortable silence ensues, you don't know what to say, occasionally glancing up at the masked vigilante while you shifted your weight from one foot to another, feeling awkward.

just as you're about to try and weasel your way out of the situation, he beats you to it.

"nice spot! how'd you even get in?"

he asks casually while stretching and looking around. you don't know what to say.

"it's a still a weekday tomorrow , don't you have school? your parents must be worried you're out here."

your aunt is still waiting for you to return with your half of the pay for the rent. you have an assignment due tomorrow that's worth 10% of your final grade. there's nothing to look forward to.

"...i guess?"

now, you're uncertain, not knowing whether he genuinely didn't understand the implications of your actions or trying to lighten the severity of the situation.

he's uncertain.

he doesn't know how to approach this. he's never had to deal with this before.

you can tell by the strained smile and tensed posture that he also doesn't know what to do. somehow, you appreciate it. the situation is somewhat amusing now that you think about it. one of gotham's most dedicated vigilante standing in an abandoned building trying his best to stop a nobody from ending their insignificant life.

you almost let out a chuckle.

the vigilante bends down to pick up your discarded bag that was tossed to the side, handing it to you. you mumble your thanks, grabbing it and swinging it over your shoulders.

hesitantly, he places his hand on your much smaller frame. his voice warm and soft.

"go home. i'm sure someone is waiting for you."

you've waited for a year.

surrounded by the four walls of your assigned bedroom in the more cold, desolated part in the manor. you didn’t really mind, this arrangement was a blessing in disguise as it turned out, or maybe this arrangement was what turned you into the person you’ve become.

you don’t think you’re a great person, but you weren’t bad either, so you don’t understand why no one in the wayne manor would give you their time of day. sure, you were never reduced to begging for life necessities and having to bust your ass off at some sketchy restaurant working under legal age, while also balancing school work - this was objectively a far better environment for a person to live in compared to when you lived with your aunt.

but was it wrong to want to be noticed by your own family? against your better judgement, you dared to hope.

you hoped to feel the warmth and care of what being tied by blood could grant. you hoped for an embrace, you hoped for company, you hoped for compassion, you hoped for connection. you hope and hope and hope, all you did was hope, until your memory was mostly filled with what you hoped, until you finally understood you were with them yet you were alone.

you had no place in their life.

just like the day you first arrived, bruce wayne, your father, was always busy. a persona to upkeep in the public eye, an enterprise to maintain, and his children to look after, to be a worthy role model.

but not you, never you.

despite alfred’s effort in trying to arrange for you two to get to know each other in the first week, there was never time. you were trying to wrap your head around the drastic changes that happened, from the procedures of transferring schools, collecting what little belongings you had from the police station after the investigation, and quitting your job. meanwhile, bruce was still busy chasing leads to his case, determined that he was close to solving whatever it was. it took another week for you to stand in front of bruce’s door, wanting to formally introduce yourself and express your gratitude for taking you in, even if he was legally obligated to. when you finally saw him, you dared to hope. standing in front of you was your father, someone who shared your features. you see him, you see yourself.

you could never forget the look in his eyes.

it was clear he had no idea who your mother was, but it was fine, you didn’t know her either. your desire to get to know him was not returned. was this what having a father is meant to be like? he couldn’t care less about you. all he did was run you through the ground rules of the house, who to go to if you were to request something, to inform him if you needed anything.

you needed him to look at you.

tim drake was the next person you encountered, your slightly older brother. you hoped that with the proximity in age, it would be easier to connect to him. however, it always seemed like he was preoccupied with something more important, he could not even be bothered to pretend to show interest when you had introduced yourself. you felt small, both in the figurative and literal sense. he was undoubtedly intelligent and talented. you’ve seen the way bruce look at him, actually hold a conversation with him. he was deserving, nothing you could measure to. bruce actually looked at him.

why does nobody look at you?

then you ran into jason todd. to your knowledge, he does not primarily reside within the manor anymore, which would explain why you haven’t really seen him around at all. it doesn’t explain why your first encounter with him was assuming a burglar had snuck in through the window at 3 in the morning. you had nearly dropped your cup of coffee, hearing a brief commentary on how there was another caffeine addict in the house before leaving the kitchen with you still holding your breath in shock. you can’t form a solid opinion on him since you barely see him.

in stark contrast, you had met richard grayson, or dick. the ever sweetest and most amazing older brother that any younger sibling would dream to have. you do too, seeing how much of a brother he was to the other members of the house, but not to you.

never to you.

you’d like to blame him for blindly hoping for things to be different, with his empty promises when he accidentally runs into you while on his search for someone else, and small talk when he’s waiting for something. you catch your father’s appreciative glances towards him sometimes, when dick helps out with managing your siblings.

especially damian al ghul, your half-brother. you were excited to have a younger blood sibling, not that the others were any less important to you, but merely for the delusion that blood could bring you together.

blood meant nothing.

damian was introduced after you were brought in, and his last name was promptly changed into wayne. your encounter was different from the others, him being the only one that sought you out first. again, you had hoped. trying to hide your excitement, you had mistakenly thought he was different from the others, your flesh and blood.

it’s all the same.

damian had berated your existence, bringing up how you were so unworthy of being a wayne you had yet to receive your father’s last name. you stood there listening to everything he had to say. your flesh and blood.

you admired his strong personality and ability to assert what he wanted. you were complete opposites. it’s no surprise that that’s why he was worthy of the last name.he ended up being the one who had interacted with you the most, even if it was mostly him bullying you. secretly, you held him dear, seeing resemblance between damian and your aunt. he was your flesh and blood.

cassandra cain was yet another sibling you falsely assumed having something in common would bring you two closer. but at this point, you no longer had it in you to put effort in forming a connection with anyone else, worn down by the countless times you’ve been casted aside.

you remain in the shadows, watching them carry on their daily lives, watched the life you had desperately wanted to be part of but found it impossible. you don’t belong with them, you don’t belong anywhere.

their silence made you feel forgettable.

do you even exist if no one remembers you?

the wind is howling.

and so are the voices.

i don't think im a good story teller since i mostly wrote analytical essays ^^' hopefully it makes sense like who let them (me) cook?? likes and reblogs are appreciated!!

(TAGLIST) lmk if you'd like to be added to the taglist :heh:

@confused-they @hoeinthehouse @heartjwonie @strwberryglass

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toudan · 4 months ago

Text

Homecoming

You’re a casual fan, you think. Spider-Man is cool, and you just really like him. That’s all... until you learn that the friendly neighbourhood web-slinger is so much closer than you think.

PAIRING.⠀Xia Yizhou | Caleb x Reader

CONTENT.⠀female reader | superhero AU & Spider-Man Caleb | descriptions of anxiety, fluff, happy ending, mentions of blood and bruises, secrets, slice-of-life (as much as it can possibly be), some angst and hurt/comfort | ~7,6k words

A/N.⠀I really said "I'm going on a writing hiatus" and "I'm gonna lock in" with my whole chest knowing damn well I'm a liar ... anyway yeah this fic was inspired by this Spider-Man Caleb fanart... it made me go crazy.... I hope you enjoy!

available on AO3 | reblogs and comments are always appreciated!

@hunters-association @theseabreezestreet

You were on the verge of a breakthrough. You just knew it.

You were absentmindedly swinging your legs back and forth as you sat at the table. Your laptop was open and displaying several windows—some were images of Spider-Man, some were news articles. Your tablet, and in turn, your notes, had gone completely forgotten. Spending time passively scrolling social media was far from productive, but compared to what you were reading, exam revision was totally dull.

Developing an interest in Spider-Man had been unintentional. You saw him mentioned in the news. Out of curiosity, you looked him up, and all of a sudden, you found yourself deep in the rabbit hole. Before long, you were up-to-date with daily news, keeping up with his movements and making friends with fellow Spider-Man fans. It was swift and unexpected, but you found it more fun than whatever you were previously doing.

He was far from the first superhero Linkon City had seen. There used to be rumours about the God of the Tides and how he ruled the seas for centuries before he found the love of his life. There was also Lumière of the N109 zone, a vigilante who suddenly stopped being active about fourteen years ago. Legends of the Abysm Sovereign and the Foreseer were passed down through generations. No one had proof they existed, only the product of their labour. It was as if they didn’t want to be seen. Still, that didn’t stop your interest from getting piqued.

The difference between Spider-Man and the past legends of Linkon City was that Spider-Man was still active. A web-slinging genius with a no-kill rule, he made the streets significantly safer. Photos and surveillance footage of him were constantly shared, but no one had any luck finding his identity yet. You weren’t investigating him for malicious reasons. You were just, for the lack of a better word, nosy. You wanted to know the man behind the mask instead of the neighbourhood guardian the news always talks about.

You looked at your screen. There was a rough timeline of his appearances the past week. He was in different parts of the city, catching robbers and other criminals with his presumably handmade technology. There wasn’t a strict pattern to how he operated. It seemed that he liked to lurk before making a move. It was how he brought down the corrupted colonels of the Farspace Fleet. Fighting crime appeared to be easy for him, and he wasn’t as destructive as some were. It was impressive. Everything he did had you in awe. His dexterity and swiftness, his strength and courage—he was just what Linkon City needed, you thought.

Just as you were about to go into another deep dive, a hand pushed your laptop shut. Caleb was towering over you when you snapped your gaze to him, brows furrowed as you gave him an offended look. He lightly jabbed your forehead and only smiled in response, seemingly pleased with your reaction.

“You’re supposed to be studying.”

You sputtered. “I was studying!”

“No, you weren’t. You were looking at Spider-Man again.” He tapped his fingers on your tablet, reilluminating the screen once more. “Your exams are next week. You need to focus.”

“I can multitask,” you argued half-heartedly. “And, I’ve never let you down, have I?”

Caleb took the seat across from you with an exaggerated sigh. “I guess not.”

“Why do you hate Spider-Man so bad anyway?” You frowned, trying to move his hand away. He didn’t budge. “He’s keeping the city safe. That’s a good thing!”

“I don’t hate him, but you’ve been distracted. I’m trying to help you.”

“You sound jealous,” you joked. Resting your cheek in the palm of your hand, you looked up at him with a mischievous glint in your eyes. “Are you sad I’m not giving you enough attention?”

He pursed his lips, visibly unimpressed. “Set the table. Dinner’s ready.”

“You’re no fun!” you whined. “It’s not my fault there’s finally something interesting!”

You begrudgingly moved your items to the side and got up to make your way to the kitchen, slippers sliding against the floor. The savoury aroma swirled into the air, making your stomach growl involuntarily. Your irritation now forgotten, you made quick work of setting the table and pouring two glasses of water. With your job finished, you waited at the table, eyes drifting over to the TV on the wall. The screen displayed two reporters behind a desk beginning the evening segment. It faded into a clip of men webbed stuck to a lamppost, undoubtedly the work of Spider-Man himself. They were looking to rob an innocent passerby before the webslinger caught them red-handed.

“Huh. That’s where we live,” you spoke up after rereading the headline.

Caleb placed the plates on the table. “That’s why I always tell you to be home before curfew.”

“It’s not like I break curfew anyway,” you grumbled. “You know I hate being out when it’s dark.”

Distracted, you kept your eyes on the screen. The public had mixed opinions about Spider-Man himself. You, along with your circle of friends, thought of him as a hero, feeling safer knowing that he was out there protecting innocent people. From helping an old woman cross the street to busting evil plans, he was using his talents and intelligence for good. He worked tirelessly every day to keep the streets pristine and harmless. The police, on the other hand, weren’t as fond of him. The LCPD openly expressed their distaste for Spider-Man, citing that he was an obstacle in their investigations. Some people thought he was just another guy with a gimmick. These criticisms didn’t seem to bother him at all. If anything, every time someone said anything negative about him, he’d work even harder just to prove them wrong.

You knew it was far from wise to idolise a public figure, but with Spider-Man, he inspired you to do your best every day. You liked to imagine he’d be proud of you if he knew you. You worked hard and powered through no matter how many setbacks you had. As silly and childish as it sounded, he made for great motivation. He was a good guy, he was cool, and—

Caleb waved his hand in front of your face, a warning tone in his voice. “Pipsqueak.”

You jolted, snapping back to the present. “Sorry!”

“Why do you like Spider-Man so much?” he asked, poking at his food. “You got a crush on him?”

You sputtered. “What? No!”

He gave you a look that urged you to continue. Heat rose to your face as you felt a spotlight shining down upon you, giving you the floor. It was hard not to feel embarrassed about something that felt so childish. You hummed thoughtfully, trying to think of words to say. Knowing you were going to sound like a child regardless, you sulked, defeated, and finally gave him a response.

“It’s just… I really like superheroes,” you mumbled timidly, fiddling with your fingers. “I admire people who use their strength for good. Like you!”

The corners of his lips twitched. He seemed pleased. “So do you like me or Spider-Man more?”

“You are jealous!” you said with an accusatory tone. “Caleb, it’s not like that! It’s like… You know when you have a favourite celebrity? That’s what Spider-Man is to me.”

He made a face, though he ended up relenting. “Okay. I get it.”

“Yeah! It’s kinda like how you used to like—”

“Your food’s gonna get cold,” he interrupted, flustered. “I put all my effort into making your favourite. Don’t let it go to waste.”

“Fine,” you drawled out, unable to hold back the smile from stretching across your lips.

Spider-Man eventually faded to the back of your mind throughout dinnertime. You found yourself engrossed in conversation with Caleb, slipping into the normal banter and routine with ease. Somewhere in between, he changed the channel to natural documentaries instead. When you gave him a questioning look, he just shrugged and said that you should take a break with him. Not one to deny his requests, your laptop went forgotten as you spent the remainder of the night on the couch with him.

It was nearing midnight, and from the way that you yawned, you were nearing your limit as well. The documentary was long finished; the past few minutes were just advertisement after advertisement, regular products with unnecessarily catchy jingles. You glanced over at him, suddenly curious. Unlike you, he didn’t seem to be tired at all. If you were more awake, you’d notice the anxious bouncing of his leg or the worried furrow in his brow, but fatigue was catching up to you fast. With another yawn, you pushed yourself to your feet, taking the throw blanket with you.

“Goodnight, Caleb.”

He smiled at you. “Goodnight. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Fully sated and worn out, sleep came as easily as breathing. Images flickered behind your eyes, displaying dreams and vignettes in film reels. You dreamt of endless summers and sweetness, of growing up and exploring the world. When you woke up the next day, only a fragment of those memories remained. Caleb was already gone when you left your room. He left a note saying he’d left early and that breakfast was in the fridge. After treating yourself to his homemade cooking, you set off for classes and got the day started. It wasn’t very eventful. Classes weren’t particularly interesting. Lectures were about things you already knew, and a majority of your classmates were absent, leading to little to no conversation. Before long, the academic day was over, and it was time to return home.

The streets were bustling with activity as you waded through the crowd. Clamour and chatter were more than loud, people surrounded you, and the scent of car fumes mixed with savoury food bombarded all of your senses. You were starting to see now why people liked to say that Linkon City never sleeps. With everyone getting off work, the city was beyond crowded. Restaurants were fully seated, as were the cafés. Traffic went by incredibly slowly. Dogs barked to the sound of car horns and people were emerging from the train station in groups. You gripped your bag tightly, anxiety clawing at the back of your mind. News and posters about pickpockets were nearly a regular occurrence; it was better to be safe than sorry.

You managed to make it to a street where there were less people. You recognised some of the vendors out and about, offering them warm smiles as you walked past. Occasionally, you stopped by and bought a few snacks to take home. Now having your hands full, you were more than ready to go home and unwind. You hummed a catchy pop tune under your breath, leisurely walking down the path when the TV screens in the electronic stores came alive. You came to a stop, standing in front of the clear glass. It was a news segment. You couldn’t hear what they were saying, but the screen displaying surveillance of Spider-Man was context enough.

He single-handedly stopped a burglary, moving with inhuman agility and fighting with incredible strength. It showed a group of men bound together by his webs, cursing and fruitlessly struggling to break free. It took a few seconds before the familiarity of the background sank in. The convenience store, the townhouses and the DVD store… The incident happened not too far from home. A frown overtook your features. Despite the crime rate being significantly lower thanks to Spider-Man’s efforts, the curfew was still in place, and the unrest remained. It was not any different for you.

As you made a move to continue your walk, you felt something being snatched from your grasp—your bag. The thief ran at full speed, deftly navigating through the crowd as you yelled for help and followed him, aggressive footfalls slapping against the concrete. Absentminded apologies left your lips whenever a complaint was heard from a passerby. Your chest was beginning to ache, but you needed it back. It had everything. Your phone, your wallet, your house keys with the chain Caleb bought for you. You couldn’t afford to lose it.

The traffic light turned red just as the thief crossed to the other side. You contemplated just dashing through, but anxiety kept you rooted to your spot. They were going further into the distance. You bounced on your heels nervously, eyes glaring at the timer. 40, 39, 38…

It was now or never.

Cars honked at you as you ran to the other side, the combination of noise nearly sending you jumping out of your skin. You pushed through your fatigue and kept running until you tripped over your shoelaces, collapsing to the ground with a loud thud. You hopelessly reached out, watching the thief’s silhouette disappear into the distance. Tears of frustration sprang up to your eyes and you buried your face in your hands, uncaring of how you looked to other people. You weren’t fast enough. All your important things were gone, about to be left somewhere you could never find, and your information would be stolen—

“This yours?”

Your bag was dangling in front of you. Were you so distraught that you were hallucinating having someone come to your aid? You blinked and stared at it dumbly, your mind trying to grapple with the situation. The person crouched down to your level, and Spider-Man’s face came into view.

Wait…

You screamed in surprise, frantically pushing yourself away from him. “What—”

“Hey, hey, It’s okay. It’s just me. I webbed him. He’ll be stuck there for another three hours,” he said casually, speaking as though he was just another regular pedestrian and not the famed vigilante of Linkon City. “I had to look at your ID card to make sure it was you, but I’m glad I got to you in time. Here, take it.”

You barely managed to catch the bag as you were still gawking at him. What felt like a thousand questions were popping up rapidly in your head. How did he know? When did he get here? What was going on? How was he so fast? Caught off guard by your stunned silence, he brought a hand up to scratch the back of his head sheepishly, feeling awkward under your stare.

“Everything okay?” Spider-Man asked tentatively, waving a hand in front of your face. “Are you hurt?”

You shook your head, your reaction slightly delayed. “N-No.”

“Listen, I have to go. There’s gonna be a robbery on Ninth Street.” He helped you get on your feet, carefully making sure you had your balance. “Get home safe, okay? And don’t leave past curfew.”

“Okay,” you said, dumbfounded. It didn’t take long before you managed to snap yourself back to awareness. “Yeah, okay. Thank you for getting this back to me.”

He did a casual salute before aiming his web shooter at a building, swinging away with ease. Digging through your bag, you were relieved to find that everything was intact. Once the confusion went away, excitement came rushing in. You hastily grabbed your phone and dialled Caleb’s number, lips curling into a grin. He picked up after the first ring.

“What’s up?”

“You will not believe what just happened to me,” you said in one breath. “I just met Spider-Man.”

A loud crash was heard in the background.

You hesitated. “Are you busy? It sounds like you’re in the middle of something…”

“Everything’s fine, don’t worry about it. So, you met Spider-Man?”

You nodded, forgetting that he couldn’t see you.

“Uh, pipsqueak?”

“What? Oh, yeah. I did! I’m walking home right now. Someone tried to steal my wallet and I couldn’t catch them, but Spider-Man did and he got it back for me. Isn’t that crazy?”

“Someone tried to rob you?” You could practically hear the frown in his voice. “Why didn’t you call me?”

You blinked. “You’re at work. What were you gonna do?”

He fell silent. It took a couple of beats before he spoke up again.

“Well, I’m glad you got your stuff back. Just make sure to be home before sundown. Tell me when you’re back, okay?”

“Okay.”

“I’ll be back in time for dinner, I promise.”

“It’s okay! Take your time,” you reassured him. “I’m heading home now. See you.”

You had a pep in your step for the rest of the way, feeling in high spirits after the encounter. The weight on your shoulders was lifted, leaving you feeling lighter. You didn’t realise how much you needed to breathe. Relieved would be an understatement—it was as if everything fixed itself in front of you. You didn’t generally consider yourself a lucky person, but today, you had won. The encounter with Spider-Man replayed itself in your mind, echoing his voice, reminding you of the proximity you shared.

After sending Caleb a quick text to let him know you got back safely, you began to cool down from the day. You tossed your keys on the counter and went straight for your room, determined to change out of your sweaty clothes. Since he was normally the one to cook dinner, you didn’t have to do much preparation in the kitchen. You put away the clean dishes, washed the leftover ones in the sink, and decided to tidy up a little. With your tasks done, you returned to the living room and flopped down onto the couch with a groan. Though you didn’t hold high expectations for what was on TV, you turned it on for background noise anyway, half-listening to the dialogue in the show that was playing.

The clock on the wall continued to tick. Caleb would get off work soon. You ended up smiling to yourself, excited to tell him about your day. Lying comfortably on the couch, you continued to passively scroll through social media to kill time. You were beginning to hear the telltale sounds of people returning home. The sound of a car door closing, your neighbour’s doorbell ringing, eager dogs overjoyed to see their owner home. Considering the traffic you’d seen earlier, Caleb returning a little later than usual wouldn’t be that irregular.

With that in mind, your worries were eased a little. But as minutes faded into hours, nighttime came, and not a single call or message from Caleb was seen. Worried, you sent him a text, only for them to be left on delivered. Calling him led straight to voicemail. Growing increasingly agitated, you called him again and again, only to achieve the same result. He always told you if he was going to be late. He always picked up after the first ring. But your attempts to get through to him went unseen, and it was getting harder trying not to sink into your anxiety the longer his silence went.

You paced around the room, fingers clutching your phone as the call went to voicemail again. Your eagerness for dinner had long dissipated and was replaced by immense dread. Worst-case scenarios were starting to appear in your mind, fuelling your panic with its increasingly violent visions. You chewed on your nail as you paced back and forth, trying to reach Caleb to no avail. The situation was growing more dire with each passing second.

You glanced at the time. It was three in the morning. You were wide awake on pure adrenaline and distress. You couldn’t bring yourself to feel tired. It was as though all of your senses were on high alert. Everything was too loud, too much, and your clothes felt rough against your skin. Instinctively, you made your way into his room and crawled into his bed, hugging his pillow and rocking back and forth. The smell of his detergent and perfume soothed you enough to have you breathing normally again. Your fingertips dug into the material, knuckles going white and shaking from how rigid your grip was.

The world started to feel less daunting when you finally calmed down. You felt exhausted, completely boneless. Your eyelids were getting heavier, and as you lay there surrounded by everything he owned, you found yourself falling slowly. The room is dim with only the city lights outside peeking in through the curtains. You felt a cold draft coming through the window, sending shivers running down your spine. Fabric rustled and you felt the mattress dip, immediately jolting you awake. A mixture of relief and fury washed over you.

“Caleb?”

His breath hitched.

You blindly patted the nightstand in search of the lamp switch. Once the room was illuminated, you squinted at him through half-lidded eyes. “Where the hell have you been?” you asked groggily. “I’ve been—”

Your eyes dropped to his outfit. It was the same suit that Spider-Man wore, although more torn and worn down. Whatever tiredness was left in your system dissipated when you saw him. You sat still for a few moments, trying to contemplate whether you were imagining things or if this was real. You didn’t know where to begin. It was as if time stopped. There he was, the person you had been waiting for, standing at the foot of the bed like a deer caught in the headlights. You stared at him with your mouth agape, your mind struggling to put the pieces together despite the obviousness in front of you.

You didn’t know where to begin. Did he always sneak back home like this? What happened to him? In the end, you settled for the most urgent one in your mind—

“How long have you been hiding this from me?”

He forced a smile, the gesture awkward and tense. “A couple of months.”

“Months?” you asked, voice rising in volume. “You’ve been—you—god, I don’t even know what to say.”

“I’m sorry.”

You pursed your lips. “Come here.”

He tentatively complied, sitting down in the spot next to you. Your hands cradled his face, thumbs brushing over the bruises and making him grimace slightly. He didn’t say a single word. It was as if he was also dumbfounded himself. You were still upset, but the longer you looked at him, the more the anger faded. At least he was home. Injured, but still home in one piece. It was leagues better than the thousands of scenarios your mind was conjuring up earlier.

“You have a lot of explaining to do.”

“I know,” he murmured, voice uncharacteristically meek. It was unlike the Caleb you grew up with.

“But it can wait,” you said, pulling him into a hug. “I’m just glad you’re okay. I was worried about you.”

His arms wrapped themselves around your waist and he held you close to him, a shaky breath escaping his lips. He held onto you with a desperation you’d never seen before. He relaxed into your touch just the slightest, reassured by feeling your warm body against his. You pressed your cheek to where his heart would be, feeling its steady rhythm remind you that he was here—that he was home.

Your voice was meek when you spoke. “I thought you left me.”

“I didn’t want to worry you.”

“So you decided with radio silence?” you snarked back. Something in his expression flickered, making you calm down once again. You frowned at the amount of bruises visible on his face and the dried blood on his split lip. Softening, you told him, “Go take a shower and get changed. I’ll patch you up.”

He didn’t argue. He only nodded and disappeared into the bathroom, walking sluggishly. The sound of running water filled the stifling stillness as you took a proper glance around the room. There was an evidence board, several open books, and a well-used first aid kit on the desk. Your heart sank. Just how long had he been doing this, getting himself hurt and having to mend himself? Didn’t he trust you? Why did he keep this a secret from you? You heaved out a sigh and hid your face in your hands, frustration and sadness simmering beneath the surface.

There were a lot of questions you wanted to ask, but this wasn’t the right time. Right now, all you could do was be there for him.

He emerged a handful of minutes later, dressed in comfortable clothes. You scooted over and patted the space next to you, lips pressed in a taut frown. Now that the suit was off, you could see the hits he’d taken more clearly. Splashes of blue and purple were scattered across his skin, some big and some small. There were a couple of cuts and scrapes close by, both old and new. It was the worst you’d ever seen him.

“Sit,” you urged timidly. You gingerly applied the ointment on his bruises, careful not to hurt him as he stared up at you. He looked so vulnerable and so fragile that it made you feel like your heart was going to burst out of its confines. “Talk to me. Please.”

“It was Gran,” he said. “She made a serum. I didn’t know it until a few days later. I was stronger, faster… I could hear everything. I could feel everything.”

“How come I never knew this?”

“I didn’t want to worry you. I’m supposed to be your hero, remember?” He laughed in a self-deprecating way, avoiding your gaze. “I had to stay strong. Figure things out, get stronger… Make sure you’d always be safe.”

Setting the first aid kit aside, you pulled him into your arms once again. He held onto you tightly, fingers grabbing the fabric of your shirt so tightly that his hands were trembling. You raked your fingers through his hair and brushed them back, keeping them away from the wounds on his face. For a moment, it felt like there were only the two of you in the world. All you could hear was his quiet breathing as he latched onto you, unwilling to let go.

It broke your heart to see him this way.

“I’m sorry I made you feel like you couldn’t rely on me.”

“No, that’s not it,” he sighed. “I’d go through anything for you. I just… I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“Then don’t keep any secrets from me anymore.” You pulled away. He looked up at you with a pained expression, years of secrecy and isolation making themselves known in his glossy eyes, the quiver of his bottom lip. “Can you do that for me?”

He nodded weakly.

“I need words, Caleb,” you said, your voice firmer than intended. You cupped the side of his face, feeling him clasp your hand with his own, warm and calloused. “Can you promise me that?”

“I can,” he exhaled shakily. “I promise.”

The tears you were holding back brimmed at the corners of your eyes, small droplets sliding down the sides of your face. A hushed whimper broke out of you. Caleb held on to you like you were his lifeline, refusing to let go for even a split second. The gravity of his words weighed heavy, as did him baring his heart. He melted in your embrace, sinking deep into your comfort as you gently scratched his scalp, easing every worry he was holding.

“Don’t lie to me again, okay?” you murmured into his ear.

“I won’t anymore. I swear.”

—

Though months seemed to have passed in the blink of an eye, the emotional turmoil stayed deep in your heart the entire time.

Life had turned completely upside down. With the new knowledge of him being Spider-Man looming over you, you were having trouble placing yourself. Some days, you felt excited and happy for him. He was more open with you when it came to his successes. He’d tell you about the petty criminals he caught or the passersby he helped while swinging through the city. He was passionate about his identity as Spider-Man, and he was committed. You wanted to support him in every step of the way. Some days, you’d feel like you were sinking. You previously didn’t worry all too much when Caleb returned home late, but since that day, fear and anxiety kept you company on lonely nights.

He didn’t always return looking completely beat up. Sometimes he was unscathed. Sometimes it was just a couple of bruises. But you hated being home alone, especially in the dark where everything seemed to get much worse. You were losing sleep because you’d stay up to wait for him to come home. You needed to see him with your own eyes, otherwise you wouldn’t be able to go to sleep in peace. He tried to give you estimated times to soothe you, but it didn’t always work. You’d wait in the living room, rock yourself back and forth as you wondered if he was coming home.

Your mind wouldn’t let you forget that he lied, either. You already forgave him a long time ago, but you remembered. You’d question yourself, question him, and what would come after was an overwhelming sense of guilt. He was trying. He was more open. He was showing you an important part of himself, bringing you along with him on his journey, yet doubts still lingered in your mind. He kept his cheerful disposition, constantly reassuring you that everything was going to be fine, but your mind was filled with what-ifs. What if he was hiding more from you? What if he was lying? What if he thought of you as a burden?

It was irrational to feel this way. You knew that very well, and yet, you still felt like you were fading out of his life. You talked to Caleb normally, interacted with him like you always did, but something felt different. It was as if he was drifting further and further away from you. Your outstretched hand, desperately trying to reach him, and his fading silhouette. Everything had changed. You felt like you were losing him in real time and there was nothing you could do about it. Everything had changed, yet it was all the same. You still had breakfast together. He still picked up the phone after the first ring. He still smiled at you, looked at you like you were his whole world. You were teetering between security and uncertainty. You didn’t want to feel this way, but you were helpless. These feelings came by themselves, and the more time you spent alone, the more difficult it became to ignore them.

Your sentiments towards Spider-Man had only grown stronger with the knowledge that Caleb was him. His name was more well-known in the city, growing popular among kids and women, and he was constantly being praised by the press. You supported him. You had total faith in him, trusted in him and his strength. But sometimes you’d stay awake stressing about how safe things truly were. More fame meant more notoriety among criminals, and you’d often wonder how long it would be before something drastic happened. You wanted the best for him, you really did, but something guttural gnawed at you. The desire to keep him to yourself, the need to protect him. You wanted to sink your teeth into his flesh, to keep him in your maw. You wanted to hide him away somewhere only you knew.

You dreamt of it sometimes—of risking your life for him just to keep him safe. You constantly wondered if things would be easier for him if you left. You knew there was much that he wasn’t sharing with you yet. You knew it would take time regardless of how much he trusted you, Still, you felt as though you were being kept in the dark. Being Spider-Man seemed to be so easy for him. It suited him, even. You couldn’t see anyone else doing the same thing that he did. But you didn’t know what you were meant to be. You felt for him very deeply, as did he, but the vagueness in the air bothered you more and more every day.

Were you only being selfish?

You thought back on one of the mornings you spent with him. A full spread of breakfast lay across the table and the news played in the background. The sun was shining bright, peeking through the gap between the curtains, and the weather was good. But there was a sense of foreboding that loomed over you, one that you couldn’t keep to yourself. You called his name softly, leading him to look away from the screen.

“Are you okay?” you asked. He blinked at you, confused by the question.

“Yeah. Everything’s fine.”

Somehow, it wasn’t enough.

“Are you okay?”

You didn’t know.

“I’m good. Sorry, I just thought you looked a little distracted.”

The lie slipped out of you with ease. You felt childish. You felt burdensome for needing reassurance from him that he wasn’t going to leave you behind, but you could never bring yourself to say it. Between your pride and the overwhelming fear of rejection, the words you desperately wanted to stay would remain within the confines of your mind. He didn’t seem to be convinced by any means, but he didn’t push the matter. A part of you wished he did.

It wasn’t a fight. There was nothing wrong. Even when he returned home blood and bruised, exhausted out of his mind, you took care of him with love and care. It didn’t matter that you didn’t understand why he was risking his life. Caleb never broke his promises or broke away from the path to his goals. He wasn’t about to let you stop him. With great power comes great responsibility, he said. But was this responsibility thrust upon him, or was he doing it out of his volition?

You hated feeling helpless. You knew he didn’t need you to do anything, but you felt like you weren’t an integral part of his life anymore. You felt like a bystander, like someone he was slowly forgetting. You shouldn’t feel this way. You should feel happy that he still cared about you, that he cared about the city to give his all into protecting it, yet your mind just wouldn’t let you. Your thoughts on Caleb hadn’t changed. You still thought he was the most important person to you, but what used to be admiration and even love for Spider-Man was turning into resentment little by little.

Some days, you hated him. You felt like a little kid without her favourite toy. You felt like a lonely child in a class full of people. You knew it was useless to dwell on these things, so you tried to occupy yourself. You put all your effort into your studies. You kept yourself busy doing chores even on the days when it was his turn. You didn’t wait to eat dinner with him; you went out for food and drinks with your friends, came back a bit later than the sunset. It wasn’t as if he’d notice. He wasn’t home when you needed him to be.

His name was constantly trending on social media. Spider-Man rescues bus from hijackers. Spider-Man stops bank robbery. Spider-Man comics and merchandise releasing. His name became the talk of the town, earning the attention of the rest of the country. The newfound fame kept him even busier to the point where people were starting to dig deeper into his true identity, leading fans and investigators to wait outside your home. You kept ignoring them, but they were persistent. Your declining of their questions only made them more curious. Not only did you feel like he was slipping out of your grasp, but also like the safety of home was in jeopardy.

It wasn’t his fault. You couldn’t blame him for it. But sometimes you wondered if he knew just how much this was affecting you, as self-centred as it seemed. The satisfaction you expected from uncovering the truth about Spider-Man never came. The final piece of the puzzle was right in front of you, living and breathing under the same roof as you were, and all you could harbour was disappointment.

What Caleb was doing was major. He was keeping the city safe—keeping his home safe, for you and everyone. You found yourself sinking further into guilt and bitterness, the light at the surface growing smaller as you fell deeper and deeper. It was childish of you to be throwing a tantrum over something like this. So, you decided to grin and bear it. He understood you like the back of his hand; doing the same to him was the very least you could do. You pestered him less about his missions, stopped trying to call again and again when he didn’t respond. He’d always come home, even if it took days. He never broke promises. He promised he wouldn’t.

If he noticed the change in you, he didn’t mention it. His actions, however, said otherwise. He did his best to pay more attention to you. He tried to spend as much time with you as he could despite your conflicting schedules. He listened to everything you spoke about, promised you to be careful when you asked, and continued to protect you in his own way. You didn’t know exactly what it was that seemed to switch the dynamic completely, but at a certain point, you were no longer drowning in the pool of negativity. The sun seemed to shine brighter, the flowers in full bloom, and your cheeks ached from how much you’d been smiling. The lingering sense of foreboding faded into nothingness, replaced by pure optimism and trust. The future didn’t feel so glum anymore.

You supposed all you needed was time.

Time to heal, time to process everything. Time had a way of turning wounds into scars, healing phantom pains into a comfortable stillness. The claws that had your heart in a death grip had loosened, letting go of the chains they wrapped around it. You felt lighter, happier. Some semblance of normalcy had returned—as normal as it could be considering his dual life, but you weren’t going to take it for granted. You felt like you could finally breathe after being underwater for so long. Even here, where you were alone in the apartment, you didn’t feel lonely. It was… normal. A relief. It didn’t feel so suffocating anymore.

It was quiet save for the sound of your nails tapping against the keyboard. It was a sunny afternoon. Having had a productive morning, you aimed to finish the rest of the day in the same way. You were focused and determined to finish the essay quickly so you had more free time. But as the hours went by, that determination waned, and you found yourself at a dead end. You blankly stared at the blinking cursor on the word document. It almost felt like the thing was mocking you. Fatigue and boredom were catching up to you increasingly quickly. You knew the material by heart. You knew what you wanted to talk about. Yet no words came to mind—you were drawing a blank, and the thoughts in your mind were already drifting off elsewhere.

The counter was littered with snacks, surely something Caleb would chide you for. Your tumbler was long empty, left with nothing but melted ice cubes at the bottom. The dishes awaited cleaning in the sink and the TV remained turned on, playing a rerun of some generic soap opera. Defeated, you closed the word document, eyes drifting to the window beside you.

Outside, the skyline was painted in hues of orange and blue. Birds flew over the horizon, ready to migrate elsewhere for the upcoming spring. Your chest rose and fell with your exhale as you let your mind wander. You used up your creativity for the day, you thought. You haven’t made significant progress on the essay since you started it a few hours ago. Before you could beat yourself up about it, three loud knocks were heard from the window. Caleb’s masked face peeked over the wall as he gave you a gentle wave. Giddy, you got off your chair and skipped over, fingers deftly undoing the lock on its doors. You slid it open, allowing him to crawl in.

“I thought you were busy fighting crime,” you teased, watching as he took the mask off. His hair was tousled and his cheeks were flushed from exertion. “Are you slacking off?”

He huffed, amused. “I can multitask.”

He unhid his hand from his back and handed you a large bouquet of sunflowers, the gesture immediately making you melt. Flowers weren’t that out of the ordinary. Caleb liked bringing you gifts and trinkets he thinks you’d like. You got an equally large bouquet during your high school graduation and another one when you were accepted into university. You took it with a smile, murmuring a quiet ‘thank you’ and curiously looking at him. He bounced on the heels of his feet, seemingly nervous about something. His brows knitted together.

“You okay?”

He met your gaze. “Do you still think Spider-Man is better than me?”

You blinked a few times, confused. From the way he said it, it appeared that it wasn’t the first time he thought of something like this. You chuckled and crossed your arms over your chest, shifting your weight to the other leg.

“Getting jealous of yourself, Caleb?” It was your turn to be amused. “I never said he was my number one hero.”

“You never said I was your number one hero either.”

You sighed in mock exasperation. “Why is this important? You’re the same person.”

“I just wanna know,” he said, uncharacteristically sheepish.

“First of all, that happened once,” you corrected, pointing an accusatory finger at him. “Second of all, I love you. Spider-Man or not.”

His lips curled into a smile. “You love me?”

Warmth blossomed across your chest, rising all the way up to your cheeks as your lips parted in surprise, sputtering incoherent syllables. You awkwardly turned your head away, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye. Love had never been discussed, not really. It just felt like an unspoken commitment since you were children. He was the most important person to you, and you were the most important person to him. You never really thought about labelling your relationship.

Your eyes widened when you remembered you always referred to him as your partner whenever you spoke of him to your friends. You already gave it a label without realising it. You opened and closed your mouth like a fish, struggling to come up with a reply. You could feel his gaze on you, hear the satisfaction and mischief in his words. Clearing your throat, you tried to compose yourself and decided to follow through. You couldn’t take it back anyway, and even if you could, you didn’t want to.

“Yeah. I do,” you said, feigning indifference. “I thought you knew that.”

He couldn’t stop the smile from expanding into a grin. A breathless chuckle left him. His cheeks seemed to be getting even pinker as he fidgeted in his spot. He scratched the back of his head with flustered giddiness, struggling to keep eye contact with you. You didn’t think you ever saw him this shy. He was always your brave hero Caleb, the same boy who held you when you had nightmares, the same boy who held your hand when the thunderstorms got too loud. He was the same boy who defended you from bullies and got into trouble for getting into a fight with them. He was the same man who held nothing but affection in his words for you, the same man who would fall into playful banter with you.

You sighed softly, the corners of your lips twitching up. “You’re not gonna say it back?”

Though he didn’t need to, there was still a hint of insecurity in your tone. You looked at him expectantly, still watching as he tried to maintain composure. You weren’t used to seeing him this way, but you thought you could learn to do it. It made for a rather nice sight.

“I love you too, pipsqueak,” he finally said.

You beamed at him, placing the bouquet on the counter before leaping into his arms, delightfully laughing when he caught you effortlessly. You looped your arms around his neck and hooked your chin on his shoulder. Your legs were wrapped around him, your body supported by his arms around your waist. He held you as if you were as light as a feather. He nuzzled into your hair, letting out a content sigh. The air felt so light, so carefree. The remnants of your worries disappeared into the air, replaced by pure joy and unbridled affection.

“So… What’s the plan? Are you done with the day?”

“I’m going back to work. They need me,” he replied. With a jovial tone, he continued. “But I’ll be back for dinner.”

“You mean it this time?” You pulled away, searching into his eyes for honesty. You were still prone to worrying. His vigilante lifestyle was full of unpredictable moments, so it consistently kept you on your toes, leaving you unaware of what to expect. You were desperate for his words to be true. You felt as though you’ve been away from him for way too long. You craved his presence, his warmth—you craved him.

He gave you a boyish smile. “Yeah. I do.”

And that was a promise.

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