#i know he didn’t have much of a plan to start except to keep moving

[grooviestguru]

you know what I find wild? neil josten, alone for the first time ever after mary dies, enrolls himself in SCHOOL. like he could’ve gone anywhere, done anything he wanted that does not include finishing an american public school education, and yet that’s exactly what he did?? what an inspiration i guess??

[hyuckiefluff]

Flipped Pt. 2 | Mark Lee

pairing: gryffindor!mark lee x slytherin!fem.reader genre: smut summary: the first time you met mark lee, you flipped his world upside down— literally. seven years later and after countless attempts to avoid you, you're still driving him insane. except now, it’s for an entirely different reason. wc: 6.3k+ cw: explicit content, cursing, loss of virginity, unprotected sex, semi-public sexual acts, oral (fem receiving) a/n: hi!! this is a continuation to my hogwarts au, so please read part one before checking this out <3 I originally wasn't even planning on adding any smut to this fic, and I think it works well without it, but still, a little smut is always a good bonus so here it is! enjoy!

By the time your seventh year rolled around, you and Mark felt like two halves of the same whole. You spent nearly every possible hour together and most of it was sweet and wholesome. He’d sit with you in the greenhouse while you tended to your plants, pretending to be helpful but mostly just watching you with this lovesick look on his face. Or sitting beside you in the library when you worked on assignments, though he hardly ever got any studying done himself. Or at the Quidditch games, where he’d celebrate his wins by flying over the stands and swooping down to kiss you.

But there were also the other moments. The ones where you simply couldn’t keep your hands off each other. Most of your prefect shifts ended in heated makeout sessions behind the statue of the one eyed witch on the third floor. Or tucked away in the Astronomy Tower when everyone else was asleep. Or in the dark staircase leading to the dungeons, pressed against the cold stone wall with his hands roaming your waist and your fingers tangled in his hair. You two found a way to use any place that offered even a little privacy.

And it was getting harder and harder to stop once you started.

You could feel the way his kisses were getting hungrier. Like that time when his hands slid under your robes during Charms class. Or the time in the greenhouse when he kissed you so deeply his knee had ended up between your legs, and you’d gasped, clutching at his robes before hastily pulling away.

And last time things almost went too far.

You’d been tucked in a hidden alcove near the Transfiguration classroom, his back against the stone wall, your body pressed firmly against his as his mouth moved feverishly against yours. His hand had slipped beneath your robes, skimming up your thigh, and before you even realized it, he was fumbling with the buttons of your uniform. His breath was heavy, and you could feel how badly he wanted you, his hands trembling slightly as he tugged at your clothes.

“Wait—” you gasped, grabbing his wrist.

Mark froze immediately, his face paling like he’d done something horribly wrong. “Shit, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to” he pulled his hands back “I wasn’t trying to push you or—”

“No, it’s not—” you swallowed hard, trying to ignore the heat still simmering in your stomach. “It’s not that I don’t want to… I do. It’s just…”

Mark watched you carefully, still looking wrecked with guilt. “…Just what?”

You bit your lip. “I don’t… I don’t have any experience with this. I’ve never…I mean, I’ve kissed people before but not like… that. Or… y-you know.”

It took Mark a moment to process what you were saying. Then his face softened immediately, his brows knitting with so much tenderness it almost made you cry.

“Hey, that’s okay” he breathed, pulling you closer again but gentler this time. “Why didn’t you just tell me?”

You felt your face burn. “I don’t know… I guess I was embarrassed. I thought you’d expect me to…”

“I don’t,” Mark cut you off gently, his thumb stroking your cheek. “I swear. I don’t expect anything from you, Y/N. I just… I get carried away sometimes because I really, really like you. But you can tell me to stop anytime, okay?”

“Really?”

“Really,” he promised. Then he nudged your nose with his, grinning cheekily. “Besides… I think it’s kinda cute you’ve never done any of that before.”

You swatted his arm, groaning. “Oh my god, Mark.”

He just laughed, pulling you back in for another kiss.

Later that night, you were curled up in the common room with Karina when the question came bursting out of you like word vomit.

“How does sex feel like?”

Karina choked on her pumpkin juice, coughing violently as her eyes practically popped out of her skull.

“I’m sorry— what?” she spluttered, whipping her head toward you like you’d just grown a second head.

“Like… is it painful at first?” you pressed on, your face heating up. “I imagine it is. It probably depends on the… y’know… size. I mean, I read about it in a Muggle book back home but it was mostly about conception, not really the experience itself, so I—”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hold it.” Karina held up a hand, looking half-horrified and half-amused. “Where is this coming from… Since when are you so curious about sex?”

“Rina, I’m seventeen.... almost eighteen. It’s perfectly normal for me to start being curious about these things.”

“Oh, so it has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that you spend every free period snogging the Gryffindor Seeker?”

“Keep your voice down!” you hissed, glancing around the room.

“What?” Karina giggled. “It’s not like everyone doesn’t already know. I think half the school’s caught you guys in the corridors by now”

You groaned loudly, covering your burning face with your hands. “Forget I ever asked.”

“Oh no, no, no. You can’t just drop a bomb like that and then back out—”

Before you could beg her to drop it, Haechan strolled into the common room in his Quidditch uniform, hair damp with sweat, looking like he’d just finished practice. His eyes immediately landed on the two of you  and of course, he caught the tail end of Karina’s cackling.

“What’s so funny?” he asked, flopping onto the couch next to you.

Karina turned to him, grinning like the devil. “Oh, nothing. Our sweet, innocent little Y/N here just wants to know what sex feels like.”

“Karina!” you shrieked, whipping around to glare at her as she howled with laughter.

Haechan’s jaw dropped. “WHAT?” He turned to you, scandalized. “You—? You wanna know about... holy shit…”

“Oh my God, stop,” you groaned.

Haechan’s face split into a wicked grin. “Ohhh, I’m so telling him you’re asking about this—”

“Don’t you dare.”

“Why not? I think he’d love to know that his girlfriend’s getting all hot and bothered thinking about—”

“Haechan!”

“I’m kidding!” he laughed, hands raised in surrender. “But seriously. What exactly do you wanna know, huh? Like… the logistics of it? Or do you just wanna know if Mark’s packing—”

You lunged at him with the pillow. “I swear...”

“Alright, alright!” he howled, practically collapsing onto the floor in laughter as you rained down pillow smacks. “I’m just saying, if you want details, I’m right here—”

“Absolutely not.”

Haechan, despite his teasing and borderline inappropriate comments, was surprisingly chill about Mark and you. You had made it clear months ago that you had no romantic feelings for him. He’d taken it well, saying he saw it coming, and from that moment on, he treated you just like he would anyone else. He even became close friends with Mark, realizing he had more things in common with the seeker than he initially thought.

Karina, still crying from laughter, gasped, “Oh my God, you should ask Mark yourself. See how he reacts.”

You froze, mortified. “Are you insane? I’m not asking Mark what sex feels like!”

“Why not?” Haechan snickered, finally pulling himself back onto the couch. “It’s not like he hasn’t thought about it already. Honestly, I’m shocked you two haven’t done it yet, considering how often we catch you practically shagging in the corridors.”

“We do not!”

“Oh, please,” he scoffed. “You two make the entire school feel single.”

You groaned, absolutely done with this conversation. “I hate both of you.”

“But seriously. If you’re curious, just… talk to him about it. He’ll probably combust on the spot, but he’ll definitely be honest with you.” Karina suggested.

You swallowed hard, suddenly feeling a little hot under the collar.

…Yeah. Like that conversation wouldn’t end with you both tearing each other’s clothes off.

Mark was in the Gryffindor locker room, gulping down water after finishing practice, when Peeves suddenly popped up right in front of him with a loud "Boo!"

He flinched, nearly choking on his water and dropping the bottle to the floor.

“Peeves, what the hell!” Mark coughed, clutching his chest as the poltergeist erupted into a fit of maniacal laughter, floating circles around him.

“What do you want?” Mark huffed, yanking off his gloves. He was the last one in the locker room since he stayed behind to practice a little longer for the upcoming match.

“Ooh, Peeves has a message for you! A juicy little message about your pretty girl!” Peeves sing-songed, grinning mischievously.

Mark froze mid-motion. “Y/N? What about her?”

“She’s in the prefect’s bathroom right now, calling out for you!” Peeves giggled.

Mark furrowed his brows, confused. “Why would she be looking for me there? I’m not a prefect, I can’t even go in there.”

Peeves simply shrugged dramatically, floating upside down. “Peeves is just telling you what Peeves saw! Go, don’t go, who cares! But your pretty girl seemed awfully eager to see you…” he teased before disappearing with a loud pop.

Mark stood there for a second, his heart suddenly hammering. Were you really asking for him in the prefect’s bathroom? That made no sense. But if Peeves was telling the truth… 

“Shit,” Mark muttered, quickly tossing his gloves aside and hurrying out of the locker room.

He knew Peeves wasn’t exactly known for being helpful, but what if this time he was actually being serious? Mark’s gut twisted at the thought of you upset or needing him for something.

When he reached the entrance to the prefect bathroom, he hesitated. He wasn’t supposed to be here— it was strictly for prefects and Quidditch captains— but he couldn't just walk away if you were inside asking for him. With a deep breath, he gripped the handle and pushed… but the door didn’t budge.

Mark cursed under his breath. Of course, there was a password.

He racked his brain, trying to remember if you’d ever mentioned it. But you’d never told him the password. Why would you? He wasn’t a prefect, so he had no business knowing it.

“Think, think, think,” Mark muttered to himself, glancing up and down the corridor to make sure no one was around to catch him. Then he remembered that Jaehyun, the Gryffindor team captain, also had access to the bathroom. Mark recalled how he had once bragged about how nice it was, especially with the giant bath and fancy soaps. He’d also, at some point, mentioned the password in passing. What was it again? Pine something…?

“Pinewood?” Mark tried hesitantly, his wand out.

Nothing.

He groaned and ran a hand through his damp hair, his nerves bubbling up again. Peeves had said you were in there looking for him. What if you were hurt or crying, and he was just standing out here like an idiot?

“Pineapple? No, that’s stupid. Pine scent?” Mark paced in front of the door, feeling his frustration rise. He was about to give up when it finally hit him.

“Pine Fresh,” Mark said, his wand raised with more confidence this time.

A soft click echoed from the door, and Mark felt it give under his touch. His heart thudded in his chest as he pushed it open and stepped inside. The room was warm and steamy, the faint smell of soap and fresh water filling the air. Massive white marble walls surrounded a pool-sized bathtub filled with shimmering water.

“Y/N?” he called out, his voice echoing slightly.

Silence.

Mark’s brows furrowed. His stomach sank. The room looked empty like you’d never been here at all. His gut twisted as he realized Peeves’d probably just duped him. That little poltergeist lived for messing with students, and Mark had fallen for it like an idiot. He was about to turn and leave when—

“Mark?”

His head snapped around, his heart leaping to his throat.

You were there.

You were sitting against one of the walls, your legs curled up to your chest, looking small and anxious. Your face was a little flushed, though Mark wasn’t sure if it was from the steam in the room or something else. The second you locked eyes with him, relief flooded your features.

“Oh my god, you are here,” you breathed. You scrambled to stand, your socks slipping slightly on the wet tiles as you rushed toward him.

��Wait, wha... what’s going on? Are you okay?” Mark asked quickly, meeting you halfway. His hands instinctively went to your arms, his concern spiking when he realized how clammy your skin felt. “Why did Peeves say you were asking for me?”

You opened your mouth, then closed it, your teeth catching your bottom lip nervously. Mark watched as your gaze darted around the room like you were trying to muster up the courage to speak.

“I…” You swallowed thickly. “I didn’t actually ask for you. I mean... not out loud. I just- I was in here thinking and I really, really wanted you here. And then Peeves showed up and I think he just… I don’t know, sensed it or something and—”

Mark’s stomach did a little flip. You were thinking about him so intensely that Peeves picked up on it?

“Wait, wait.... slow down,” Mark said gently, his thumbs rubbing circles on your arms. “Why did you want me here? What’s wrong?”

You squeezed your eyes shut for a second, you almost looked embarrassed. “I… I need to talk to you about something. I didn’t know how to say it and I—”

“Hey, hey,” Mark interrupted softly, his hand tilting your chin to look at him. “It’s okay. I’m here"

You took a shaky breath, and then  “I want to do it.”

Mark blinked. “…Do what?”

Your teeth sank into your bottom lip as you averted your gaze, suddenly looking incredibly nervous. “Hey, it’s okay. Just tell me,” he urged softly.

You swallowed hard, your eyes flickering back up to his wide, shiny, and filled with something he couldn’t quite place. But it stole the breath straight out of his lungs. Suddenly, you rose onto your tiptoes and kissed him.

It wasn’t like your usual kisses. It was deep and desperate, your fingers curling into the fabric of his Quidditch robes tightly. Mark instantly kissed you back, his hand cupping the back of your neck to keep you there. But just as his head started to spin from how good it felt, you broke away and before he could even ask what was going on, you blurted it out.

“I want to have sex with you, Mark.”

He felt his entire body stiffen as his eyes snapped open, sure he had misheard you or that you were joking, or that Peeves had somehow cursed his ears. But the look on your face was anything but playful.

You were serious.

“W-what?” Mark croaked, his voice cracking embarrassingly.

Your face flushed, but you didn’t back down. You held his wide-eyed gaze, your hands now clenching into fists at your sides. “I… I’ve been thinking about it for a while. And I know we’ve never really talked about it or anything, but I just—” You swallowed hard. “I want you. I really want you.”

Mark’s brain was malfunctioning. He opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again like a complete idiot. “You mean like… like now?” he stammered, his voice embarrassingly high.

“I mean if you want to,” you rushed out. “We don’t have to. I just… I don’t know. I thought about it and then I couldn’t stop thinking about it and… and I didn’t know how to bring it up so I just—”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Mark interrupted, his hands shooting up like he was trying to slow down time itself. His pulse was roaring in his ears. “You seriously, like, actually want to…?”

“Have sex with you?” you finished bluntly, your voice small but certain. “Yes.”

Mark swore he nearly passed out.

“Oh my god,” he wheezed, running a hand down his face. “Are you…I mean, not that I don’t want to, but are you sure?”

“Yes,” you said quickly, your voice shaking a little. “I’ve never been more sure about anything in my life, Mark. I just… I think about you all the time. And not just like—” You gestured wildly, your face burning. “not just like normal thinking about you. I mean like thinking about you. Like in ways that make me—”

Mark made a strangled noise in his throat. “Holy fuck.”

You groaned, covering your face in embarrassment. “Oh my god, this is so humiliating”

“No, no! It’s not! It’s hot,” Mark blurted without thinking. “I mean… it’s not embarrassing. Like at all. I’m just... wow.” He paced back a step like he was trying to physically process this information. “You’ve been thinking about it?”

“Yes,” you practically cried. “For months.”

Mark clutched his chest. “Oh my god. Oh my god.”

“So you… you’d want to?” you asked quietly, watching him carefully.

Mark let out a sound that was half-laugh, half-disbelieving wheeze. “Angel, if I knew you’ve been wanting this for months we would’ve done it a million times by now.”

Your eyes widened. “Wait, really?”

“Are you kidding me?” Mark choked. His face was practically glowing red now. “I’ve been... I’ve wanted you like that since forever. I just didn’t want to push you or make you uncomfortable or— oh my god.” His hands flew to his hair like he was about to rip it out. “You actually want to?”

“Yes, Mark!” you laughed, still flushed. “I literally just said that.”

“And you mean like right now?”

You hesitated for half a second, then took a deep, shaky breath. “If you want to.”

Mark stared at you. Then his gaze dropped to your lips, and then lower, and then—

“Holy shit.”

And then he was kissing you again. Harder, more desperate, like the floodgates had finally burst open and he couldn’t get enough. His hands found your waist, gripping you tight as he walked you backward until the small of your back hit the marble edge of the enormous bathtub. You gasped into his mouth, and Mark swallowed the sound like he was starved for it.

“You have no idea how much I’ve thought about this,” he groaned between kisses. His fingers splayed against your waist, digging in like he was trying to anchor himself. “Like, stupid thoughts.... Constantly. Every time we’re alone together I just—”

“Me too,” you panted, tugging his sweater up slightly so you could touch his skin. “Every time you so much as look at me, I just... god, Mark.”

“Fuck,” Mark cursed, his teeth catching your bottom lip as he kissed you even deeper. “You’re gonna kill me.”

And Merlin help him—he was ready to let you.

Mark yanked your robes off in one swift motion, his touch eager but careful, like he was still trying to convince himself this was real. Your vest followed just as quickly, and when his fingers made quick work of the buttons on your shirt, you had to bite your lip to keep from gasping. He was so quick like he knew what he was doing, and for a fleeting, horrible moment, you wondered how many times he’d done this before. 

...Had he done it with Mia?

Your stomach dropped and you squeezed your eyes shut, willing the thought away. Not now. You were not about to ruin this for yourself by thinking about that. Not when Mark was kissing you like his life depended on it, not when his hands were brushing over your skin like he needed to touch you.

And Merlin, his mouth felt so good. Soft and warm, his tongue curling against yours as his hands ghosted over your waist. Your shirt was completely open now, hanging loosely off your shoulders, and you barely had a second to feel self-conscious before Mark was already tugging it off.

“Fuck,” he mumbled against your lips, his voice strained. “You’re so—” His words trailed off into a low exhale as he pulled back just enough to look at you. His pupils were blown wide, his gaze devouring every inch of exposed skin.

Heat rushed to your face. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?” Mark asked, his voice rough.

“Like you’ve never seen a girl in a bra before.” You tried to sound playful, but your heart was pounding so loud you were sure he could hear it.

Mark let out a breathless laugh, his hands finding your waist. “I haven’t. Not like this. Not you.”

Oh.

Your stomach flipped violently.

You didn’t have time to dwell on it because you were already tugging at his uniform, desperate to get him equally undressed. His Quidditch robes were a nightmare to get off, heavy and tangled around his feet, and you couldn’t help but giggle when he nearly tripped trying to kick them off.

“Sorry— sorry, fuck,” Mark laughed breathlessly, finally ripping the damn thing off and tossing it aside. His sweater followed, and then you were tugging at his tie, trying to loosen it enough to get it over his head.

“Why is your uniform so complicated?” you grumbled, your hands fumbling.

“Tell me about it,” Mark huffed, yanking the tie off himself and tossing it somewhere behind him. You barely had a second to catch your breath before his hands were on your waist again, pulling you flush against his bare chest.

And oh my god.

Your mouth ran dry. His skin was burning hot, still slightly damp from Quidditch practice, and his lean frame was ridiculous. The toned muscles of his stomach, the sharp lines of his collarbones, the veins running down his forearms. You couldn’t stop staring.

“Holy shit,” you breathed without thinking.

Mark blinked. “…What?”

“You’re, like… really fit,” you admitted, your face heating up.

Mark stared at you for half a second, and then he laughed a nervous, slightly disbelieving sound. “What? No, I’m not—”

“Mark,” you cut him off, your eyes still glued to his chest. “Yes, you are. Do you even realize how many girls at Hogwarts talk about you?”

He looked scandalized. “What?”

You laughed, your hands running over his sides just to feel him. “I’m serious ‘Hot Seeker Mark Lee.’”

Mark actually choked. “Stop— what the fuck”

“You think I’m joking?” you teased, loving how red his face was getting. “Girls love you.”

Mark groaned, his head dropping forward to rest against your shoulder. “Oh my god, stop. I’m literally trying to hold back right now and you’re—”

“Hold back?” you laughed breathlessly. “Why?”

He lifted his head, and the look on his face was almost pained. His gaze dropped to your chest, to the lacy black bra you hadn’t exactly planned for him to see, and then back to your face. “Because if I don’t, I’m gonna, like—” He swallowed hard. “I’m gonna lose my fucking mind.”

Heat flared in your stomach.

“Then lose it,” you whispered against his lips.

The second the words left your mouth he crashed his lips back to yours, messier this time. His hands gripped your waist and he pushed you even closer. Your legs instantly parted to make room for him, and he stepped between them, pressing his erection against your core.

“Mark,” you gasped, your brain short-circuiting. “Your pants—”

“Oh, right” Mark breathed, realizing he was still half-dressed. His hands fumbled with his belt, but his fingers were clumsy from how badly he was shaking. “Fuck, can you—?”

“Yeah, I got it,” you said quickly, reaching down to unbuckle it yourself. Your hands brushed against the prominent bulge in his pants, and Mark whimpered. 

You froze. “Did you just...?”

“Don’t,” Mark groaned, his head dropping onto your shoulder again. “I’m barely hanging on right now, please don’t.”

You bit back a laugh. “You’re so cute.”

“Agh, stop laughing” Mark whined, his face burning.

“Sorry, sorry,” you giggled, finally managing to unfasten his belt and push his pants down his legs. They pooled around his ankles, and Mark practically kicked them off in desperation. Now you were both down to your underwear, and the sight of the outline of his arousal straining against his boxers made your mouth water.

And apparently, Mark was having the same reaction because his eyes were glued to you. His chest heaved, his jaw slack, his gaze devouring every inch of bare skin like he couldn’t believe it was in front of him.

“Fuck,” he whispered, his voice wrecked. “You’re so fucking pretty.”

Your smiled shyly. “You think so?”

“Do I think so?” He exhaled sharply, his hands skimming over your bare thighs. “Angel, I’ve literally had dreams about you. Fantasies. Every time I see you in those stupid little skirts—” He broke off, his hands gripping your waist tighter and pushing you impossibly closer.

Mark’s gaze snapped to yours, and you swore his pupils somehow dilated even more.

“Can I touch you?” you both blurted at the same time, and then immediately burst into breathless laughter.

“Jesus—” Mark groaned, his head dropping as he laughed. “We’re such losers.”

“Losers who are about to have sex,” you reminded him, grinning.

Mark laughed harder, but his amusement quickly dissolved into something primal when his hands slid up your thighs again, fingertips skimming dangerously high.

“…Please,” you breathed, your voice barely audible.

Mark’s hands were shaking slightly as he tugged at your panties. Your breath hitched in your throat when you felt him start to pull them down, and for a moment, you almost closed your legs instinctively, but his gaze was full of a hunger and a kind of desperate focus that made you feel weak in the knees.

He paused for a second, his eyes flicking up to meet yours. “I’m gonna make you feel so good, I promise, pretty girl,” he whispered, the words low and heavy.

You felt your pulse quicken at his words, the rush of heat between your thighs making everything feel too much, but all you could do was nod. You had no idea what you were doing, but the need to have him all over you was enough to make you forget any uncertainty.

With one last look to make sure you were okay with this, he dropped to his knees and dove between your thighs. You gasped, your legs trembling as his tongue licked a long, clean stripe up your already wet core. It felt too good, too overwhelming, and your hands scrambled to grip at his hair as his mouth moved over you, sucking on your clit with a fervor that made your eyes roll back in your head.

“Oh my God, Mark,” you moaned, your body involuntarily trying to press closer to him. Hehummed against you, his hands caressing your thighs.

His mouth wasn’t slowing, even when your thighs tried to squeeze around him. Every flick of his tongue made you feel like you were floating and falling all at once. You couldn’t help the moans that kept escaping you, the tightness in your stomach that was building up with each second.

Your breathing was erratic, and your body was trembling from the pleasure, all you could think about was how badly you needed him—how badly you needed to feel more of him.

“Mark… please,” you whimpered, but you didn’t need to say anything more. He knew exactly what you wanted.

His hands gripped your thighs tighter as his tongue continued its delicious work. You were already so close, your body coiling tighter and tighter with each second.

The pleasure built slowly at first, a steady, insistent warmth curling in the pit of your stomach. It coiled tighter and tighter with every flick of Mark’s tongue, every soft hum that vibrated against you. Your fingers clutched at his hair, unsure whether you wanted to push him away or pull him closer.

It was too much, too intense, and yet you couldn’t stop chasing it. The sensation crackled through you like static, lighting up every nerve in your body, making your breaths come in short, desperate gasps.

Then—something inside you snapped.

Your body tensed, your legs trembling as a strangled moan tore from your lips. You had never felt anything like this before—like you were shattering and unraveling all at once, floating somewhere between pleasure and something dangerously close to madness.

Mark didn’t stop. He kept his mouth on you and his hands firm on your thighs while you trembled through the aftershocks. Your body twitched, hypersensitive. He only pulled back when you gasped out his name in a broken plea. His lips were glistening, his eyes blown wide with awe and the sight was almost sinful.

You pulled him to you, crashing your lips against his, tasting yourself on his tongue. He groaned into your mouth, his hands kneading the flesh of your ass, pulling you impossibly closer. It wasn’t until you felt him—hot, heavy, bare against you—that you realized at some point his boxers had come off too.

The realization made your breath hitch, and when you pulled back slightly to look down, your stomach clenched.

Oh.

You’d never seen him naked like this before. You’d imagined it, sure, but now that he was here completely bare in front of you, flushed from head to toe, his cock hard and pressing against your slick folds; you felt a different kind of heat spread through you. He was beautiful. And big. Your throat went dry, your fingers twitching against his shoulders.

Mark must have noticed your sudden hesitation because he stilled, his forehead pressing against yours, his breath ragged. “You okay?” he murmured, his voice rough but gentle.

You swallowed, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. His pupils were blown, his lips swollen, but there was something tender in the way he was looking at you—patient, waiting.

“I just…” You exhaled a shaky breath, fingers drifting tentatively down his torso, feeling the hard planes of his stomach. “You’re… um.” You bit your lip, heat flooding your cheeks.

Mark let out a breathless laugh, his hands smoothing over your waist. “Yeah?” His lips brushed the corner of your mouth, teasing. “What about me?”

You swallowed again, your eyes flickering back down. “You’re just… bigger than I thought.” The words tumbled out before you could stop them, and as soon as you realized what you’d said, you squeezed your eyes shut in mortification.

Mark choked out a laugh, his head dropping against your shoulder. “Jesus, Y/N,” he groaned, his hands flexing on your hips. “You can’t just say stuff like that.”

“Ugh... sorry” You buried your face in his neck, burning from the inside out, but you couldn’t stop yourself from giggling.

Mark pulled back slightly, tipping your chin up so you’d look at him again. His expression had softened, though his eyes still burned with desire. “You’re sure you still want this?” he asked, thumb brushing your cheek.

You took a deep breath, letting yourself take in the sight of him again—his flushed skin, the way he was holding himself back, the way he was looking at you like you were the only thing that mattered.

You nodded, heart pounding. “I want you, Mark.”

That was all it took.

Mark groaned, capturing your lips in a heated kiss. His hands guided your hips, and you felt him rut against you, his cock sliding against your slick folds. The contact alone made you gasp into his mouth, your fingers gripping his shoulders.

“Fuck, baby…” he groaned, his voice breaking as he fought to keep himself together. His teeth grazed your bottom lip, pulling a whimper from you, and he swallowed it like he was starving for more of you.

Your head was spinning and your body was still sensitive from your first orgasm, but the ache for all of him only grew more unbearable.

“Please, Mark… I need you,” you begged, your fingers gripping his biceps.

Mark squeezed his eyes shut trying to control himself, keeping in mind that you’d never done this before and he needed to be careful. But the way you were pleading for him made it nearly impossible.

“Shit—okay, okay, angel,” he promised, his voice cracking under the weight of his need. His hand slid between you, gripping himself at the base, and you gasped when you felt the hot, blunt tip press right against your entrance.

His breath caught. “Tell me if it’s too much, okay?”

You nodded quickly, your chest heaving. “I will… just—please—”

And then he pushed in, slowly, carefully, like he was afraid you might break. The stretch burned, a sharp sting that made your breath hitch and your nails dig into his shoulders, but you didn’t ask him to stop. Mark’s face contorted, his brows furrowed like he was in pain just trying to hold himself back.

“Fuck…you’re so tight,” he gasped, his head dropping to your shoulder as he pushed in a little more. Your walls clenched around him involuntarily, and his whole body shuddered. “God, Y/N—”

“You’re so big, Mark,” you whimpered, your thighs shaking as you tried to adjust to the overwhelming stretch.

“Angel, you’re doing so good,” Mark gritted out, his voice strained as he stilled inside you, trying to give you time to adjust. His fingers were digging into your waist like he was using all his strength to not start pounding into you. “Just tell me when, okay? I don’t wanna hurt you.”

You sucked in a shaky breath, your body slowly accommodating him. The sting soon melted into a dull ache, and the pleasure started creeping in. You rolled your hips experimentally, and the friction made you both groan. 

“I’m okay,” you breathed, your voice shaky but sure. “You can move.”

Mark let out the most wrecked sound you’d ever heard and then he did. He pulled out just a little before sinking back in, the drag of his thick length against your walls making you throw your head back against the tile. 

“Holy fuck,” Mark rasped, his grip on your ass tightening as he thrust into you again, a little deeper this time. “You feel so…so fucking good” 

The pace he started was slow but there was no mistaking the sheer desperation in his touch. And you were losing your mind. Every stroke made you gasp, the head of his cock brushing places you didn’t even know could feel that good, and the tension in your core was already building again. 

“Mark, faster...please,” you whimpered, wrapping your arms around his neck. The ache had turned into pure bliss now, and you needed more of him. 

“Fuck…yeah, okay—” Mark practically growled, and his pace quickened, his thrusts becoming rougher. His hand slid between your bodies, his thumb finding your clit.

Your body jerked in reaction, your walls clenching down around him so tight it made his hips stutter. 

“Shit… do that again, baby. Please—” Mark begged, his voice cracking as he pounded into you harder. The sound of skin slapping filled the steamy bathroom, mixed with the high-pitched whines leaving your throat and the desperate grunts coming from Mark.

Your nails raked down his back and he hissed. “Mark… I’m—oh my god—I’m gonna—”

“Cum for me, angel,” Mark growled, his thumb rubbing harsh circles on your clit, his thrusts losing rhythm. “Please—fuck—I need to feel you cum on my cock.”

And that was it. Your body tensed as the coil in your stomach snapped again. You sobbed his name, your walls clenching down so hard around him it made his hips falter. Mark cursed loudly, his thrusts growing erratic before he finally stilled inside you, his whole body shaking as his own orgasm ripped through him. 

“Fuckfuckfuck—” he gasped, his face buried in your neck as he came hard, his fingers bruising your hips as he emptied himself inside you. 

For a moment, the only sound in the room was your ragged breathing and the distant hum of the castle. Mark stayed inside you, his arms still trembling as he held you against him. 

“You okay?” he finally rasped, his voice hoarse and breathless. 

You managed a soft, blissed-out laugh. “I think… that was the best thing to ever happen to me.”

Mark pulled back just enough to look at you, his flushed face breaking into a dazed grin. “Yeah? That good?

You leaned up and kissed him softly, smiling into his lips. “I don’t think I can get enough.” 

And Mark laughed, his nose nudging yours as he kissed you again. “Fuck… me neither.”

The train wheezed as it prepared to depart, and you and Mark stumbled onto the platform, both breathless and disheveled from sprinting to catch it in time.

Your hand was still clutching Mark’s as you tried to straighten out your clothes. Your skirt was askew, your shirt half tucked in, and your hair a mess from the rushed… activities prior. Mark didn’t look any better, his tie crooked, his shirt rumpled, and his hair sticking up in odd directions.

“What were you two freaks doing?” Haechan called through the open window as you approached. Karina was beside him, smirking like she already knew the answer.

“Um…” you fumbled, glancing at Mark for backup. “I forgot my… uh… thing, and Mark was helping me find it,” you stammered, tugging at the hem of your skirt in a poor attempt to look composed.

Haechan scoffed. “Right. And I’m the bloody Minister of Magic.”

“Right,” Karina snorted, her eyes narrowing with amusement. “So you’re telling me you two weren’t shagging in the empty dorms while everyone was on the train?”

“What?” Mark drawled, trying to sound appalled but his voice cracked halfway through. “That’s… ridiculous. Do you really think we’re capable of such.. depravity?” 

You bit your bottom lip to keep from laughing, but the little grin trying to peek through made it impossible to sell your innocence.

“Mate, your shirt is literally on backwards,” Haechan deadpanned, pointing at Mark’s disastrous state. “Just get on the train, you bloody nymphos.”

Your face burned, but you couldn’t help the giggle that escaped. Mark, always quick with his mouth, gestured wildly. “This is a gross violation of our characters, honestly.”

“Yeah, yeah, get in before we leave you,” Karina waved dismissively, biting back a laugh of her own. “And fix your clothes, lover boy.”

Mark squeezed your hand, grinning like an idiot as he led you onto the train. The two of you practically collapsed into the first empty compartment you found, still a little breathless, and when you finally caught your reflection in the window, you burst out laughing.

“God, we look a mess,” you giggled, trying to smooth down your hair.

Mark plopped down next to you, his head falling back against the seat.

“Worth it though,” he mumbled, a small smile playing on his lips.

He turned his head to look at you, his soft brown eyes melting with affection as he took in your flushed cheeks, swollen lips, and hair still a mess from his fingers. His chest tightened with the overwhelming urge to kiss you again, but he just smiled instead. “So worth it.”

The train began to move, and you turned your head toward the window. The castle was still visible in the distance, and your heart clenched at the sight of it shrinking away. 

You felt Mark watching you, his thumb brushing absentmindedly over the back of your hand. “You okay?” he asked softly.

You swallowed the lump in your throat and nodded. “Yeah. It’s just… hard, you know?”

Mark’s gaze flicked to the window, watching the last of the castle towers disappear from view. “Yeah… it really is.”

For a moment, you let yourself mourn it— the end of an era, the end of childhood, the end of the place that had been your entire world. But then you felt Mark squeeze your hand, and when you turned to look at him, he was already smiling softly at you.

“But hey,” he said, nudging you gently. “It’s not really the end, we’ve got plans, remember? Summer at mine, then we’ll find our own place. Maybe a flat in London, or  I don’t know… wherever you wanna go. We’ve got forever now, Y/N.”

Your heart swelled at his words, and you smiled through the sting in your eyes. “Forever?” you repeated softly.

“Forever,” Mark promised, lifting your intertwined hands to press a lingering kiss to your knuckles. “I mean, if you’ll have me, obviously.”

You scoffed, giving him a playful shove. “Mark Lee, we literally defiled the Gryffindor dorms fifteen minutes ago. I think you’re stuck with me now.”

Mark let out a loud laugh, his head tipping back, and it was like the heavy weight in your chest finally lifted. Because yes, you were leaving Hogwarts, and yes, things would never be the same again but you had Mark now. You had forever. And that made it all okay.

“Goodbye, Hogwarts,” you whispered under your breath. “Thank you for everything.”

And just like that, the castle disappeared from sight.

asjkjdh i loved writing this so much :(((( i could literally make a whole hogwarts series

[wqlfstqr]

◟𖥻 percy's girl : percy jackson

▰▰ pairing: percy jackson x fem!reader

Percy would let the world burn if that assured him y/n's happiness. Everyone knows it, except y/n herself.

warnings: jealous n overprotective percy, slight mentions of violence i really don't know if it counts, oblivious reader, no cabin mentioned for reader.

part 2 here

Everybody at camp halfblood knows by now not to mess with percy's girl— except, well, she isn't really percy's girl. At least not that she knew, but for everybody else? yes, she is his girl.

Hard to think about it in any other way when Percy walks around camp glaring at just anyone that even dares to look at her the wrong way. And when it comes to keeping her out of harm's way? He is practically a force of nature.

Percy doesn’t take y/n's happiness lightly, so anything that threatened that is handled by him without her even noticing.

She is probably the only person to come unharmed out of every Stoll prank, and it's definitely not for lack of trying. Connor and Travis like her enough not to pull anything dangerous, but that doesn’t mean they can let her get away without trying.

So everything was planned. A simple, classic, but effective bucket on the door. She only had to come out of her cabin for lunch and they would get her. Hiding in the bushes, Travis and Connor snicker once the door opens.

She is talking to Percy, that is walking behind her, but something makes him pause just when she steps exactly on the mark the Stolls had left. Percy clocks what is happening immediately, as if it was second nature, and he moves y/n out of the way just in time for the bucket to fall directly on him.

He ends up fully covered in chocolate syrup seconds later, but he couldn't care less. His only worry is— "you okay, sunshine?" he asks, wiping chocolate off his face.

She is, in fact, okay. But she's gaping at him, her eyes comically wide. "Oh my gods Percy, how did that happen?"

Oh he definitely knows how that happened, he can turn around right now and find the bush in which the Stoll brothers are hiding just by the sound of them snickering. He is going to kill them.

Still he shrugs. "I don't know, weird bucket placement." He replies casually. "Why don't you go ahead and wait for me in the pavillion? I'll take that bucket down."

"Weird things always seem to be happening around here, huh?" She raises her eyebrows, but happily obliged as she starts walking away.

Percy doesn't take the bucket down, he makes the Stoll brothers do it once he takes them out of their hiding. And the snickering doesn't last them much because as he's leaving, he glares at them. "You two better not try this bullshit with her again."

Listen, Connor and Travis are all about going against direct orders from everyone. But they don't try anything else after that, because Percy is scary when it comes to y/n and they are not about to end in the same position as that Ares son who had tried to flirt with her.

It had been after sword training, some Darren or Dane or something— Percy really did not care about his name, mostly because he was more occupied with glaring at him as he leaned a little bit too close to y/n.

He stood a few feet away from them, knowing that he couldn't intervene without y/n noticing but still fully preparing to do it just in case she got too uncomfortable. He knew her, she wouldn't say anything in fear of being rude. But Percy didn’t have that problem, he would gladly be rude if that meant keeping her safe.

So for now, he only stood with his back against a wall, pretending to sharpen riptide.

"You know, you should train with me sometime. I could teach you a few moves." He told her, smiling smuggly. Percy wished he could erase that smile right away.

And when she started hesitating, the son of Poseidon got ready to intervene. "um- I-" she stammered.

But Percy didn’t really have to do much, because as he was pushing himself off the wall, the Ares guy seemed to notice him, sharpening riptide and sending incredibly hard stares at his way.

Darren-Dane-whatever visibly gulped and took a step back. Percy smirked. Smart move.

As the boy excused himself and basically ran away, y/n blinked at him surprised before she turned to Percy. "Okay, that was weird."

Percy smiled innocently. "Right? so weird."

The next morning due to completely unrelated events, Darren-Dane-whatever ended up waking up in the lake, completely soaked without a single clue how he got there. Percy denied any relation to this weird incident.

Worst part about it all is that Percy swears people don't learn their lesson. While y/n is just walking around in her perfect sunny world, Percy is just following her, trying to maintain her world exactly as it is, free of assholes.

But gods dammit, those assholes don't make it easy for him.

When they're playing capture the flag, they end up on opposite teams and even though Percy is focused on getting that flag, he's also worried for her. He hasn't seen her around, but he knows she should be somewhere close because he has already seen some of her siblings running around.

It's only when he's close to the opposite team's flag that he finds her: she's supposed to be guarding the flag but she's crouched down near the lake, watching a butterfly that's perched on a flower, completely oblivious to the mayhem happening around her.

Percy stops abruptly, his heart racing at the sight. She looks completely at peace, lost in her own little world, the late afternoon sun tracing shadows on her face, it's like she belongs in a painting. So beautiful.

He's mesmerized for a second, flag completely forgotten. Then—

A blur of blue runs past him, pulling him out of trance. His mind barely registers one of his own teammates from cabin nine before the boy is already charging towards y/n at full speed, catching her completely off guard.

She rolls on the mud, almost falling into the lake and Percy is immediately running to her.

"Dude what are you doing? go take the flag!" His teammate yells at him, pinning y/n to the ground. Fuck the flag, Percy couldn't care less about it.

With almost too much strenght, he's pushing the boy out of her, sending him soaring through the air, an indignant yell before he lands with a splash right into the lake.

"Dude what the fuck? i'm on your team!" The Hephaestus boy yells as he clumsily stands on the lake, dripping wet and looking very displeased.

Without looking, Percy flicks his hand and a second later, a wave crashes into the boy's face. He doesn’t care about his protests, he's busy helping y/n up on her feet.

"Are you okay?" He asks, his hands cupping her face to make sure there's absolutely not one scratch on it.

She lets out a small cough, wipping mud from her face. "Yes? it's capture the flag, Perce. This is part of it."

He knows she's right, that doesn’t stop him from scoffing. "Yeah, well, what he did was unnecesary." They both look at the boy once again trying to stand up only to be met with another wave crashing against him.

This time, she realizes this is Percy's doing and gasps. "Percy!"

"What?" he shrugs innocently, wiping some dirt from her nose without any care for the other camper. "He looked like he needed some refreshing."

He ends up being dragged away by her, not that he puts any kind of restraint anyways.

Yes, maybe everyone at camp knows about him being just a little overprotective of her, but so what? he loves her— can't help it if he wants her to be happy and safe. The only one that doesn’t realize this is y/n herself, she's completely oblivious of his actions.

And she remains oblivious through it all; when she's thirsty after training and he's waiting for her with a water bottle, when she's hungry and he has her favorite snack ready, when campers are talking badly about her archery skills and with only one Percy-designated glare they immediately shut up before she can hear them, when he deliberately walks by the side closer to the magical borders just in case something dangerous happens.

It's always there, he's always there. And all it takes is overhearing a conversation for her to realize it.

She's outside of the Aphrodite cabin, waiting for Piper to go have dinner at the pavillion when she overhears some of the girls walking by.

"I mean, come on, Percy is literally the hottest guy at camp, don't you think?" one of them says, and she feels this bubbling jealousy in her chest— something she has never experienced before.

"Agree, but it's a little annoying that y/n is always around him." the other one adds. "I mean she's sweet but he probably finds her annoying how much she clings to him."

Her heart drops, is that what they think? is that what Percy thinks? that she's just this annoying girl clinging to Percy for everything?

Before she can overthink it, the first girl talks again. "I don't think he finds her annoying, he's like totally in love with her, obsessed even."

A third girl sighs dreamily. "Right? he's always so careful and protective with her, Dean from cabin five told me Percy was glaring at him for flirting with her, and the next day he casually woke up on the lake. Listen, he would totally let someone burn if she said she wanted to roast marshmallows."

A chorus of giggles follows, their voices dissipating as they walk away without even noticing y/n was there all along, trying to process their words.

Suddenly everything clicks in her mind. Every time that Percy seemed to just be there. Always at the right moment. Always with a solution to every single problem.

She's not dumb, she has known Percy was protective. But she always thought it was him just trying to be a good friend, surely he was the same with Grover or Annabeth? but now she was sure it was never the same.

Because neither of them has Percy following them around, treating them like they're the most precious thing in the word. That's only reserved for her, and it has taken her this long to understand it, realization crashing over her like one of those waves Percy used to almost waterboard the boy that almost hurt her during capture the flag.

Piper finally steps out of her cabin, apologizing with y/n for taking too long. But she's not even listening, she's already made up her mind.

Without even stopping to take some time to think it through, she turns around and ignores Piper's questions as she sprints towards his cabin.

She arrives just when he's stepping out of the front door, and she's running so fast that she can't stop herself in time before she crashes into him. Thankfully, Percy's senses are better than hers so he catches her by the waist before they both end up on the floor.

"Woah there." he says, and even through his confusion he still finds it in him to be concerned. "Did something happen, sunshine?"

He barely has any time to finish his question before she's grabbing his face and pulling him down to kiss him. He makes a startled noise, completely caught off guard because honestly that was the last thing he was expecting to happen. A couple of long seconds pass with him completely frozen but then— oh, then he's kissing her back, his hands finding her waist like they've always belonged there.

He can taste the strawberry chapstick he has always seen her put on, but the kiss also tastes like stolen glances and endless afternoons spent together, like a love that's always been there, just waiting to get noticed.

When she finally pulls back, too soon on Percy's opinion, he blinks at her. "Not that i'm complaining, but what was that for?"

Her heart is stammering against her chest as she offers him a small smile. "Some girl said you were in love with me?"

"Took you long enough to realize." he replies simply before pulling her close again, his lips finding hers as if this was something he had been born to do.

And she can feel it, in the kiss, in the way he holds her— Percy Jackson loves her. And the best part? She loves him too.

[chanelrolls]

blizzard? i hardly know her

pairing. afab!fem reader x CALEB (modern college au)

tags. fluff, nsfw, smut, mature content, cheesy romance, forced proximity, slowburn, unestablished relationship, plot-based, tension, so much tension, accidental sleepover, zayne & caleb are sibs with a mum, eventual smut, oral, t!tplay, f!ngering, penetration, missionary, slight manhandling, 18+

synopsis. what happens when you get stuck inside your crush's house?

wc. 6.9k (lmao)

crunch. crunch. crunch.

the frosty snow lies thick beneath your boots, making a satisfying crunch with every heavy step you take. your thick fur boots keep you warm as you wander up the quiet street, heading toward the center of town. each house you pass is decked out in bright, cheerful christmas lights, shimmering merrily. it’s still early, just 2 o’clock, but it feels like the entire town is already wrapped in the christmas spirit.

well, it is the 22nd of december. with only three days left until the long-awaited 25th, it’s no surprise that festive excitement lingers in the air.

ah, winter. the season that always felt like magic. your favorite time of the year. but this time, something was different. this time, you were actually doing something bold.

you held the small, carefully wrapped package tighter between your gloves, heart pounding as you took in the cold air. you knew exactly where you were headed and who it was for.

caleb.

he was the kind of guy every girl dreamed about; smart, charismatic, manly, athletic, and ridiculously good-looking. a bit older than you. you'd been lowkey obsessed with him for half a year. yes, you kept track.

you wanted to talk to him so many times, but every chance slipped past. you didn’t have the guts. you had no idea how to even start a convo with a guy you liked. were you supposed to act casual? or make it obvious? how do people even do this?

the funny part? caleb and you had never even spoken. not once. you were practically strangers. but he was popular, the kind of guy people naturally gravitated toward. everyone liked him. which meant if you didn’t make a move soon, someone else definitely would.

so yeah, you needed to act. fast.

and somehow, through sheer force of will and probably a touch of delusion, you came up with a plan: give him a christmas gift. nothing huge. just something small... and anonymous. no pressure, just a gesture.

luckily, you knew something most people didn’t. caleb’s family owned that cozy little bakery down the street. they lived right above it, in the apartment on the second floor. which made things easy since there was a letterbox right next to the bakery door. accessible and just perfect. the plan was really simple: drop off the gift, then vanish. just you, taking a tiny step closer to the boy you couldn’t stop thinking about.

your stomach started doing that weird twisty thing again the closer you got to caleb’s bakery. the street was quiet, but the snow was beginning to fall faster now, tiny flurries brushing your cheeks, clinging to your coat. you picked up the pace. if you dropped the gift off fast enough, you could make it home before the snow really picked up.

except... you didn’t. because just as you stopped in front of the bakery, frozen and staring at the familiar brick facade, you heard a faint voice that sounded like it was calling for somebody.

your heart practically jumped out of your chest. you spun around, eyes wide. there was no one around. but the snow had gotten worse. way worse. you could barely see down the road now. great. just great.

you were such an idiot. there had been blizzard warnings all week. and you, genius that you were, had thought today of all days was the perfect time to sneak out and play santa.

this was bad. really bad.

you whimpered when something sharp, maybe a twig or a chunk of ice, scratched across your cheek. the cold bit harder now, winds screaming past your ears. panic rose like a wave. you spun around, searching, desperate, but there was nothing. just white. endless, suffocating white.

and then, arms. strong ones, wrapping around you before you could even scream. you kicked once, tried to twist away, heart hammering like a drum, but your body was too numb to fight back.

you were being dragged, somewhere. and then, just as suddenly, it stopped.

a bell chimed overhead. warmth hit your face. your nose filled with the smell of cinnamon, sugar, and something buttery. the sound of the wind dulled behind you.

a bakery...

you blinked the snow out of your eyes, breath uneven, still bracing to fight whoever had grabbed you. and then, "are you alright?" you instantly looked up at the familiar voice. standing there, a towel in hand, snow in his dark hair and a concerned frown on his face—was zayne. caleb’s older brother.

so there you were.

the older brother of your crush was standing right in front of you, waiting for an answer. and oh, you were inside his family’s bakery. and above this very shop? their house. which meant... caleb was probably somewhere upstairs right now. maybe even within earshot. oh, and let’s not forget the tiny detail that a literal snow blizzard was raging outside. no one in their right mind would be out in that. except you, naturally.

and in your hand? a poorly hidden, slightly crumpled gift you were now awkwardly trying to shield behind your back like some suspicious cartoon character. how dandy could things possibly get?

you nodded at zayne, way too eagerly. like, suspiciously eagerly. like those nodding dogs that people placed in the dashboards of their car.

zayne narrowed his eyes at you doubtfully,

“[name], right?” he asked, arms placed at his sides loosely. you nodded again. silent. awkward. praying the gift behind your back would suddenly vanish into thin air.

it wasn’t surprising that he knew your name. in a town like this, everyone knew everyone. gossip traveled faster than snowstorms.

“take a seat,” he said, gesturing to a chair near the counter. “i’ll go get my mum. she’ll know what to do.” you hesitated, but your legs were too cold and tired to argue. the gift stayed clenched in your hands behind your coat as you shuffled toward the seat, cheeks burning. zayne turned and walked off, calling out, “mum!” as he disappeared into the back.

you were alone now. in his bakery. with his gift. and his family upstairs. great. just great.

moments later, footsteps echoed from the stairs behind the counter. then came a voice, warm, lively, and full of disbelief. “zayne, who in their right mind would even be outside right now? the news said—” she stopped mid-rant when your eyes met hers.

“oh, my stars!” mrs. xia gasped, practically flying toward you with a flurry of movement and a hand pressed to her chest. “darling, what happened? are you hurt? are you frozen? do you even have gloves? look at your face, it’s all red—”

“mum,” zayne cut in, clearly used to the routine as he placed a hand on her shoulder. “you’re overwhelming her.”

“nonsense,” she said, swatting a hand at him, still hovering over you, staring at you with the eyes caleb had inherited from, while zayne probably got his from their father. “go make her some hot chocolate. extra marshmallows.” zayne sighed at the sudden obligation, but nonetheless vanished back into the kitchen with reluctant acceptance.

you were officially alone, with the mother of your crush. and she was observing you like you were a lost duckling. “well then,” she began, folding her arms and leaning just a little too close. “how are you feeling?”

"i... i'm okay. just a little cold..."

"well, i'll bet you are! whatever were you doing wandering outside?"

your grip tightened around the gift behind you. you smiled, then lied. “i… i just wanted some air.”

her eyes narrowed, suspicious but amused. “in the middle of a snowstorm?”

you forced a chuckle, trying to look casual. “y-yes. it was… a really strong urge.”

"ah, now look at you," she laughed, before noticing your uncomfortable expression. "oh my dear, i'm so sorry, i'm such a scatterbrain! here, give me your coat," mrs. xia's outstretched hand made you suddenly aware of your shivering frame. with trembling hands, you undid the buttons of your coat, shrugging out of the soppy mess. instantly, you felt the warmth of the bakery's cozy atmosphere seeping through the fabric of your long-sleeved top. you're still holding caleb's gift protectively.

mrs. xia took your coat, draping it over a radiator. "there, there, now once you've got some hot chocolate in you, you'll be warm and better in no time!" she beams at you, clasping her hands together. "that's if my incompetent son manages to make it for you."

the thudding footsteps coming down the stairs rang out, and then revealed a frowning zayne with a cup of steaming hot chocolate between his fingers. his obvious scoffing received a light chortle from mrs. xia, watching as zayne turn towards you. you gently take the beverage from him, pinkies faintly brushing against one another. you try to hold yourself back from taking a long sniff of the mouthwateringly sweet aroma across your watchful saviours, so you slowly take a sip. "it's lovely," you look up at them. "thank you..."

zayne crosses his arms while sneaking a glance at his mother in response, the corner of his lips subtly lifted. all mrs. xia could do was to raise her hands up in defeat.

after getting scolded by your mother on the phone call, you passed the phone to mrs. xia when she gestured for it, and the shift in atmosphere was immediate. the motherly concern turned into light banter, like two women slipping into a shared rhythm. the volume of their voices carried, but the meaning was distant now. their laughter settled into the corners of the room.

you sat curled on the edge of the chair, a blanket draped over your shoulders like a lifeline. the mug of hot chocolate sat on the table in front of you, its surface now still, save for a lone marshmallow melting into the brown. your hands were no longer trembling, but your mind hadn’t caught up.

the gift was tucked underneath the blanket now, safe but painfully present. its shape still pressed against your side. you hadn’t decided what you were going to do with it yet. the original plan had evaporated with the first gust of wind that knocked you off your—

footsteps.

zayne approached you quietly, though there was a kind of presence to him that made silence feel heavier. you looked up just as he stopped beside your chair. his hands were shoved into the pockets of his dark sweater, and the light caught in the glint of his cuff. his eyes flicked down to the mug, then returned to you. no smile. just that same unreadable calm.

but then he said, with a voice that was quieter than the rest of him. “be honest. did it taste good?”

you blinked, taken off guard. his tone wasn’t sarcastic. it wasn’t cold, either. it was... curious. like your opinion actually mattered. you nodded after a moment, the corners of your mouth lifting, unsure. “yeah. it did. just sweet enough.”

there was the smallest shift in his posture.

“good,” he looked away, “mum always makes it too sugary. i adjusted the recipe a bit.”

"don't you mean caleb adjusted it?" a voice sounded from the entrance of the backroom, and your head snapped to the source abruptly, zayne mirroring your actions, although less frantic.

don't blush. act cool. nonchalant. not a big deal.

oh, who are you kidding? of course, this is a big deal!

because standing right there, leaning against the doorframe so effortlessly, and looking so extremely attractive, was caleb. caleb xia. the whole reason why you were in this mess in the first place.

tall and loose-limbed, with the kind of posture that made everything about him look unbothered. his brown hair was tousled in that way that looked intentional but probably wasn’t. soft strands fell across his forehead, catching the light like autumn leaves. but it was his eyes that held you the longest. a pale lilac that didn’t quite belong to this world. they were beautiful.

his gaze swept over the room slowly before settling on you, and though he wasn’t smiling, there was something playful in the tilt of his mouth, the subtle raise of one brow.

it took you a few seconds to process what he had said.

hang on a minute...

"i... thought zayne made it for me?" you dragged your words, your voice coming out louder than you intended, more so to yourself than to anyone in particular. now all of your nerves that were previously panicking was replaced by confusion.

caleb gives zayne a dry look, before turning to face you fully.

oh, that gorgeous, sexy, amazing, and handsome face!

"there are two things you should know about my brother," caleb told you, the sound of your name in his slow, steady voice completely warming your insides.

oh my GOD. he's talking to me. he's talking to ME and looking at ME.

his footsteps dragged on across the floorboards while he stepped closer. "one: zayne plus the kitchen equals a disaster, and two: he may appear like a knight in shining silk but he's a total liar."

zayne only stared at him with a cold glare, and caleb smiled back cheekily at him. his gorgeous amethyst eyes holding a spark of mischief, "so who's mum on the phone to?"

"my mum," you replied, (even though it looked like it was zayne he was asking) to which caleb nodded in quiet understanding. a brief silence fell upon you, so you took another sip from the hot chocolate, the knowledge that your crush being the one who actually made it, now heartwarmingly sitting in your head.

caleb noticed.

"i make a pretty good hot chocolate, huh?" caleb chuckled handsomely, striding through the room and hopping on one of the chairs across the shop counter.

"better than pretty good, actually..."

"better than pretty good actually." you hear zayne mutter beneath his breath as he walked past you, now making a beeline for the stairs at the back. whether he was mocking or teasing you, you didn't know. you couldn't make a judgement for now with insufficient knowledge of how zayne is. but his eyes earlier held a teasing spark, you try to convince yourself.

you steal a glance from caleb, who was currently texting in his phone.

"honey, are you alright?" the concerned voice of mrs. xia broke through your thoughts, and you look up at her worried eyes.

"i, uh, am okay. sorry for spacing out..."

she gives you a warm, motherly smile. "oh, don't worry bub, you must still be in a little shock. how about we all go upstairs, where it's more warmer, hm?"

you nodded in reply, returning her smile.

when you reached upstairs, you watched how caleb flopped himself down the recliner to prop the seat up, before reaching into the pocket of his bottoms and proceeding to text again, seemingly at lightning speed. mrs. xia made her way over to the sofa, and so you decided to settle yourself down across from her.

"well then," the mother spoke up, her eyes holding yours. "i spoke to your mum, and... we've agreed that you should stay here until the blizzard passes." you visibly stiffened, eyes automatically glued on the floor as a sudden rush of heat coursed through you despite the weather. "the roads are in no state to be driven on, and the way how things are looking, you'll probably be safe and sound in your bed by tomorrow night."

what a relief. you released the breath you didn't realize you've been holding in. if you could just keep your way out of zayne and caleb, then everything should work out just fine. no awkward conversations, nothing alike, and no one will find out about the wrapped gift you're sitting on right now.

"thank you, mrs. xia. you're very kind, i really appreciate it,"

"oh please, it's absolutely no trouble at all!" mrs. xia waved it off nonchalantly, "your parents are an old colleague of mine, and you're an absolute angel yourself, my dear. and ever so pretty, might i say."

you blushed, cheeks going warm, "thank you, mrs. xia, you really are too kind."

"now what's the time, i wonder?" she mused brightly, sauntering towards the kitchen side of the room.

"three o'clock." caleb suddenly voiced out from his position on the recliner, his eyes flicking to you, but quickly averting his gaze back to his phone when he caught your eye.

mrs. xia wiped her hands on her trousers, before leaning against the breakfast bar. "right, well dinner should be ready in about an hour, but first i think we should discuss [name]'s sleeping arrangements," she announced, her voice sounding like she was talking to herself more than anything.

"she can sleep in my room," caleb blurted suddenly, looking slightly bashful despite his easygoing nature. "i can sleep in'ere, on the sofa, i don't mind."

oh my gosh.

caleb just offered me his room! which means... i'll get to sleep in his room, i'll get to see his room, i'll be lying down on his bed in his room.

fate just keeps on surprising you today, huh?

caleb's room was near exactly what you had imagined.

dark green walls complimented a neutral soft carpet, with plain wooden furniture balancing out everything so nicely. there were a few posters on the wall, of various basketball players and teams, along with the odd photograph or two of caleb with his family and friends. there were a few golden medals, their ribbons strung around some old nails lined up in a row against the wall.

you've always known, that caleb is a natural-born athlete.

glancing down at the present that rested snugly in your palm, you sighed, placing it carefully onto the desk beside you. so much drama, all over one tiny little gift.

suddenly, a gentle knock on the door sounded, startling you. your head snapped towards the door, but it remained silent and still for like 10 seconds. narrowing your eyes at it, you turn your gaze away.

were you starting to hear things?

"hey, new tenant?" the muffled voice of caleb sounded through the door, and you instinctively widened your eyes. also, what kind of nickname was that? "can i come in, please?"

"um, yep!" you shouted back in a squeaky, high-pitched voice. quickly, you lunged for the present which was sitting on caleb's desk, concealing it in the first place you could find—which was behind the desk. it was a bit of a tight squeeze lodging it there, but miraculously, you managed to squeeze it in before the door creaked open with a groan.

caleb's head popped around the door, his face visibly relaxing once he caught sight of your figure. then, he steps in, a little hesitant, holding something in his hand. he held up the item, and it appears to be some sort of clothing. "mum told me to give you this, since you don't have pajamas."

"oh, thank you..." you replied, trying a soft smile. slowly, you accept the clothing from his hands, and you could feel the way your fingers brushed for a split-second. it made you warm.

"it's no problem. anything for a pretty girl like you." you stood in shock for a few seconds, staring wide-eyed at the boy standing right infront of you. it took a few more moments before caleb realized the nature of his words, and when he did, his ears turn red. clearing his throat, he brings up something else, "cough, need help setting up the bed?"

he was already at the edge of the bed, sleeves rolled past his forearms, the faint scent of vanilla and warm bread still clinging to him like a ghost.

you nodded before your brain could catch up. the bed creaked softly as the two of you worked in silence, tucking in corners, fluffing the pillowcases. and for a while, it felt almost so oddly domestic.

but then, as you smoothed your palm over the top sheet, his hand stilled. his eyes were on you. "uh... hold still for a sec," he murmured, stepping toward you.

you blinked, unsure. "yes?"

he didn’t answer right away. instead, he closed the distance in slow, deliberate strides. and then, without warning, his fingers reached up, calloused and careful, his thumb brushing lightly along your cheek.

"spaghetti," he muttered, almost amused. "bolognese. right here." a quiet laugh left him, soft and stunned, like he hadn’t expected it either.

instantly, you turned beet red. not just from the proximity, not just from the way caleb was so close that you could start counting his lashes from this distance, but because you've revealed a rather unpleasant side of yourself to him. the spaghetti bolognese his mother had cooked for dinner earlier satisfied your taste buds so well that you hadn't noticed it smearing on your cheek.

his thumb hovered, not quite done. then, his gaze dropped. first to your eyes. then lower... to your lips.

and for a second, just a breath, he didn't move.

but then, he blinked, stepping back. the warmth snapped away with him. "there," caleb said, though his ears were tinged pink again. "you’re good."

he turned back to the bed, adjusting the edge of the blanket like it suddenly needed fixing. like he hadn’t just looked at you like that.

you stayed still after he stepped back, eyes trained on the bed like it might offer some kind of guidance. your cheek still tingled a little where his thumb had brushed, and you could feel the heat lingering there.

he cleared his throat. "sorry, by the way. i didn’t mean to, like, get in your space.”

you shook your head quickly, looking up at him. “no, it’s okay. i didn’t notice it was there.”

he let out a short breath. “guess that’s what happens when you really go in on pasta, huh.”

you laughed under your breath, a little embarrassed. “it was good, okay? i wasn’t thinking about my face.”

“really?” he says in a sing-song voice, "next time y'should try my cooking."

you both stood there for a second, the quiet kind of hovering. caleb shifted his weight onto one foot, rubbing his hand along the back of his neck.

“well,” he said, glancing at the bed, “this should be fine for you, i think. the heater’s already on so you won’t freeze.”

“looks good,” you said. “thank you.”

his eyes flicked toward the pajamas still folded in your arms. “those might be a little big, just saying.” ugh, when will he leave so i can release this jittery feeling i've been holding back ever since he came in here? i already want to roll around the bed and squeal!

“i’ll survive.” you manage.

he nodded. his hand hovered near the doorknob, but he didn’t open it just yet. “alright. i’ll, uh, leave you alone now. let you get settled.”

“mhm, okay.”

“cool. night.”

“night.”

and then he was gone. the door clicked shut, the sound quiet against the hush of the snowstorm outside. you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, then looked down at the pajamas in your hands.

and then you flopped. face-first onto the bed. a full-body, limbs-splayed-out, dramatic flop. a squeal escaped before you could stop it, muffled by the sheets.

"what just happened," you whispered into the blanket, voice high and panicked in the most ridiculous way. "what just happened."

you kicked your feet a little. rolled onto your back. then onto your side. then back again.

you had talked to caleb. you had brushed hands. he wiped food off your face. he looked at you. and he called you pretty. like, casually! like it was nothing. like your heart wasn’t going to launch itself out of your chest.

you groaned, throwing a pillow over your face. this was not how you expected your evening to go when you walked across their bakery holding the gift.

and now you were in his room, with a blizzard locking you in for the night. "i’m gonna die," you muttered to the ceiling.

but you were smiling. so much it kind of hurt.

3 hours.

you laid there, flat on your back, eyes dry from staring too long at the same stupid spot on the ceiling. the room had long gone quiet, no more creaking footsteps outside, no muffled laughter from mrs. xia and her husband. even your phone screen was starting to burn your retinas, the endless doomscrolling doing absolutely nothing to help.

you sighed and flipped to your side again for what had to be the hundredth time.

the blanket was warm. the pillows were soft. the bed even smelled like vanilla and something familiar and safe. but none of it mattered. because one very important thing was missing.

your plushie.

your stupid, irreplaceable, well-loved plushie that you had dragged around since you were ten. the one with the slightly lopsided button eye and the torn little ear you never quite got around to sewing back on. the one thing that could ever get your body to relax enough to actually sleep.

you groaned, shoving your face into the pillow. how were you supposed to survive the night without it? your arms felt weird. your chest felt cold. everything just felt… off.

you opened your eyes, staring blankly into the dark. there was no way you were going to sleep tonight. not unless you found a way to hug something.

maybe you could steal a pillow from the hallway?

…or, god forbid—ask caleb if he had a spare?

nope. absolutely not. you would rather freeze. you rolled onto your back again, sighing deeply. “this is so dumb,” you whispered to the ceiling.

it didn't take you long enough before you find yourself standing, your toes barely making a sound against the carpet while you crept out of the room, pajamas just a bit too long, sleeves brushing past your fingers. the hallway was dim, lit only by the soft blue glow spilling in from the living room.

you told yourself it was just for water. just something to sip so you could trick your body into thinking it was okay to rest. nothing more.

but just as you turned the corner, there he was.

caleb. curled up sideways on the sofa, legs hanging off the armrest like he’d melted into it, his phone casting a cool glow across his face. he looked cozy. a little sleepy, but still very much awake.

and he saw you immediately. your eyes locked like it was choreographed.

you froze.

so did he.

for a second, neither of you said a word, just two stunned statues in the quiet of midnight. “…can’t sleep?” he finally asked, voice husky and rough with tiredness, but not unfriendly.

you blinked. your fingers gripped the hem of the oversized top. “not really,” you admitted. “uh. was gonna get some water.”

he sat up slowly, the phone slipping onto his chest. “kitchen’s free.”

you nodded, but didn’t move yet. then he tilted his head, eyes scanning your face like he already knew something was up. “you okay?”

you hesitated. should you lie? brush it off? make some excuse? or maybe, just maybe, you could admit the truth. the ridiculous, embarrassing truth. your lips parted, unsure. “…okay, yeah, i can't sleep. not without my pillow.” your plushie, actually.

his mouth quirked, but not in a mocking way. “really?”

“yeah. laugh all you want.”

“i’m not laughing.” he stretched his arms over his head, then let them fall onto his lap with a sigh. “kinda cute, honestly.”

your face warmed. “don’t call it that.”

“but it is.”

you clicked your tongue and started walking toward the kitchen just to escape the way his gaze felt on you. “i’m just gonna get that water now, thanks.”

you heard him chuckle as you stood by the sink, cold glass in hand, the sound of water trickling in almost louder than your heartbeat. everything felt surreal. you used to just watch him from the far end of classrooms, pretending not to look. used to catch glimpses of him laughing with his friends and wonder what it would be like to be that close.

and now? now you were here. in his house. talking to him. because of a stupid snowstorm.

you tightened your grip on the glass, grounding yourself. you took a quiet sip, trying to calm the storm inside for once.

then you felt a shift beside you. a soft presence. the quiet scrape of socked feet on tile.

caleb, leaning casually against the counter, arms crossed, the glow from the overhead light catching in the warm violet of his eyes. “the rest are already fast asleep,” he murmured, voice low like he didn’t want to disturb the quiet.

you glanced up at him. and god. why did he have to look that good under sleepy kitchen lighting?

he wasn’t even doing anything, just standing there in sweatpants and that loose black shirt, like he’d stepped out of a dream you forgot you were having.

your eyes lingered a second too long, before he noticed. his brow arched slightly, amused.

you quickly looked away, down at your glass like it suddenly held the secrets of the universe. “right. yeah,” you said, voice tight and awkward. you looked down at the rim of your glass, fingers tracing along the condensation, anything to keep from meeting his eyes again.

then, quietly, almost sheepishly, you asked, “do you feel okay sleeping on the sofa? sorry for having to take your bed away…” your voice barely carried over the hum of the fridge.

for a moment, caleb didn’t respond. you glanced up, and he was already looking at you. that same soft, unreadable expression on his face. then he shrugged a shoulder, lips tugging into a small smile.

“it’s not a big deal.”

“still. you didn’t have to.”

he scoffed gently, amused. “what, should i let you sleep on the couch while it’s practically snowing knives out there? nah. not happening.”

you bit the inside of your cheek, trying not to smile too obviously.

he leaned his elbow on the counter, his body angled toward you now, casual, but his gaze still settled on your features like you were something he couldn’t quite figure out. “besides,” he added, quieter this time, “if it means you’re here… i think i’m okay with it.”

your heart stuttered. you blinked. “...what?”

he looked down, like he couldn’t believe he said that either, brushing a hand through his hair. “i mean, like, i don’t mind. i like... talking to you. and stuff.” his voice was flustered now, the same one you heard when he complimented you earlier, and you knew that your face was fully red again.

you set the glass down carefully, pulse loud in your ears. “i… like talking to you too,” you mumbled, so quietly it was barely audible.

but he heard it. and he smiled again, looking away, like really tilting his head away from your direction. “aaalright,” he sings, stepping back from the counter with a stretch, “since neither of us is sleeping anytime soon… wanna play something?”

you raised a brow, a little wary. “play what?”

he shot you a look like you’d just challenged him. “cards. i’ve got a deck in the drawer. loser has to pick truth or dare.”

“truth or dare? seriously?”

“hey,” caleb said, already moving toward the living room, that smug little smirk growing, “don’t act like you’re not curious. or scared.”

you scoffed, setting your glass down and following him. “i’m not scared.”

“uh-huh,” he called over his shoulder, crouching near the TV stand to rummage through a drawer. “we���ll see how brave you are when i ask if you’ve ever had a crush on someone in this house.”

you choked a little. “that’s—”

he turned, waving the deck at you with a grin. “then don’t lose.”

and with that, caleb plopped down onto the carpet by the coffee table, legs crossed, a flicker of excitement in his eyes. the snow outside still raged on quietly, blanketing the world, but inside, the only storm was the one building between your shared glances and half-laughs.

you sat on the carpet as well, across from him, heart thudding in anticipation. “ready to lose?” he teased, shuffling the cards.

but when you actually started to play now, caleb was the first one to lose. you tried not to gloat, but your grin said it all.

he rolled his eyes with a lazy smirk, leaning back on his palms. “alright, alright. truth.”

you tapped your chin, pretending to think. but really, the question had already been burning in your chest, because this was a golden opportunity! you leaned forward slightly, voice a little too soft. “what do you think of me?” alright. yeah. it was a cheesy question, but what else can i ask?

he didn’t flinch, nor did he shy away. caleb just looked at you, straight on. “i think you’re cute.”

you malfunctioned. why is he so blunt?

he went on, calm, unbothered. “fun to talk to. smart. a little chaotic, in a good way. definitely my... type.” your brain stalled. but caleb just shrugged like he just told you the weather. “why?”

you opened your mouth, closed it again. “i—um. nothing. no reason.”

he gave you a little smirk, already reshuffling the cards. “you asked. don’t get shy now.”

you stared at him, fully malfunctioning while he just dealt the next hand like he didn’t just flip your entire world upside down in five seconds flat.

"hey, continue playin now." he called over, but caleb lost again. you had to stifle your laughter, but there was a spark of excitement inside you. it was like luck had completely turned your way tonight after all the previous events.

"seriously?" caleb squinted, leaning back and running a hand through his hair. "again?"

"looks like it,"

he sighed dramatically, as if he were going to quit the game, but then perked up. "fine, dare me."

you hesitated for a second. part of you wanted to go big, do something wild, but then you remembered just how much chaos he'd already caused. instead, you decided to play it safe. "pinch yourself," you said, trying to keep a straight face.

caleb blinked, eyes widening for a split second as he processed the request. then, he gave you a flat look. "that's it?"

"yep."

he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he looked at you with that trademark smirk. "aw, disappointing," he said, his voice dripping with playful sarcasm. "kinda expected you to..."

you blinked, your heart pounding a little faster as his gaze lingered on you. "to what?"

"nuthin', nuthin'," he said, waving it off with a small shrug. he then proceeded to pinch his own arm, and you couldn’t help but watch as he did it.

the next round, you actually lost now.

caleb's grin was wide as ever, but then, as you looked at him, you noticed something shift. for a split second, his expression faltered just for a moment, but it was enough to make you wonder what was going through his mind. it was almost like he was thinking about something different.

he cleared his throat quickly, wiping that flicker of uncertainty away, and leaned back in his chair with that same smug look. "looks like you lost. truth or dare?"

you didn’t have the energy to be annoyed. "dare," you said, hoping you'd make it through this round without too much embarrassment.

caleb’s gaze locked onto yours. there was something in his eyes now, something that made you feel a little unsteady. his usual playful teasing was still there, but now it felt sharper, like he was testing you.

after a long, deliberate pause, he finally spoke, his voice a whisper. "kiss me."

your heart stopped. time seemed to freeze for a moment, and your eyes widened as you stared at him in complete shock. did he really just say that? your mind raced, trying to catch up. there was no way he could be serious, right?

but caleb didn’t move, his gaze was still intense, waiting for your response, keeping the ball at your court.

you felt heat flood your face, your stomach flipping in a way that made you feel like you might combust. your breath caught in your throat. what do i even do? “w-what?” you stammered, trying to keep your cool.

"what?," he repeated sardonically, voice calm but with a mischievous twinkle in his eye. "it’s a dare, ain't it? nuthin' serious. unless you want it to be?"

you were frozen, the tension thick in the air. caleb’s gaze hadn’t softened, and you couldn’t help but wonder if he was messing with you. or was he actually being serious? you swallowed hard once more, trying to gather your thoughts, but your mind was a whirl of confusion, embarrassment, and... something else. something like desire.

but you couldn't back out now. not in front of him. so slowly, you crawled to him, and as you drawled closer, your heartbeat pounded in your ears, each one louder than the last. you barely even realized your hands were trembling.

as you reached him, your face inches from his, you could feel the heat from his body. caleb's eyes flickered down to your lips for a split second, and for just a moment, everything felt unbearably charged.

then, as if to break the tension, he cracked a grin and leaned back just slightly. "hey, you really don’t have to. just a dare, remember?"

you blinked, your mind still reeling. your heart was still racing. "this isn’t funny," you muttered, pulling away quickly.

caleb chuckled softly, clearly amused by the whole situation, but his eyes lingered on you for a moment longer than usual. “sorry, sorry,” he said, the teasing tone still there, "go on now."

you didn't think. you just did it.

your heart pounded as you leaned in, closing the distance, and pressing your lips against his, just a quick peck. nothing too intense. just a soft, fleeting touch.

but caleb... caleb twitched. his whole body stilled for a second, like he'd been struck dumb. his eyes widened just a fraction, and for the briefest of moments, you could have sworn there was something raw flickering in his gaze.

you pulled away quickly, your breath hitched in your throat, and you quickly tried to turn away, heart still racing. what the hell did i just do?

but then, caleb didn’t look the way you expected. he didn’t laugh, nor did he make an attempt to tease. no, his gaze was fixed on you, intense and unblinking. his lips parted slightly as he looked at you like he was waiting for something.

there was a brief silence, and then, with a shift in his tone, he asked, "am i allowed to have a follow-up dare?"

you blinked, caught off guard. "huh?"

caleb didn’t smile this time, his eyes softening just a little, as if something unspoken passed between you two. "yeah." his gaze lingered on your lips for a moment, and you could feel the weight of it, “kiss. not just a peck.”

you froze.

“come on,” he said, his voice practically dripping with that same confident teasing. but it was different now. there was a quiet longing beneath the playfulness. “just a kiss. no big deal. it’s just a dare, right?”

your mind went blank. this is not just a dare. he’s... he’s serious.

you swallowed hard, your palms starting to sweat. the room felt smaller. everything felt louder; the way his heart beat, the way your pulse raced, the sound of your breath mixing in the silence between you two.

and then, just like that, with no further hesitation, caleb closed the distance between you again, leaning in as his eyes searched yours for any sign of hesitation.

you didn’t stop him. the kiss was different this time. deeper, slower. there was no teasing now, it was just the two of you, caught in a moment that neither of you had really expected, but neither of you could seem to pull away from.

when you finally broke away, both of you were breathing heavily. caleb’s fingers curled tightly at his sides, like he was trying to restrain himself from doing something impulsive. his body was completely tense, and his eyes avoided yours for a brief moment, focusing on the space between you two.

he exhaled, the sound of his breath almost imperceptible, and then his gaze flicked back to you. his voice was quieter now, a little more controlled, as he whispered, “you should go and sleep now, gettin kinda late..”

"yeah… good night,” you whispered back, pulling away and standing up to settle back into his bedroom down the hallway.

before you could even take that step away, caleb was already on his feet. his hand caught your wrist swiftly, and then his other hand found the side of your face. there was no pause, no breath between. he instantly kissed you. "mmn—"

your eyes fluttered shut, body frozen in shock before melting into the sudden heat of it all. his lips pressed against yours like he was trying to make up for every second he didn’t. like he didn’t want to stop. and he didn’t.

instead, he broke the kiss only for a heartbeat, his forehead resting against yours, breath ghosting your lips. “come with me,” he whispered, voice husky.

you barely nodded, barely processed it, before he was gently tugging your hand, leading you back toward his bedroom in silence. it was sudden. so fast you didn’t even get to question it. the moonlight through the windows washed softly over the both of you as you stepped in.

the moment the door clicked shut behind, the world seemed to fall away. caleb’s lips were back on yours before you could even think to process what was happening, his hands gripping your waist, pulling you closer.

he kissed you with a hunger that took you by surprise, each kiss deeper, more urgent than the last, as if he couldn’t get enough of you. his hands roamed to your back, to your hips, to your waist, tugging you toward him until there was no space left between your bodies.

the kiss wasn’t soft anymore, it was messy, passionate, as if he was trying to savor every second, devour every inch of you. your mind was a whirlwind, overwhelmed with sensations, but your body responded before you could even stop it, your hands coming up to grip his shirt, pulling him closer, if that was even possible.

his fingers tangled in your hair, tilting your head back to deepen the kiss even more, and for a moment, you forgot everything else. the snowstorm outside, the awkwardness, the game, everything was gone.

caleb’s lips trailed from your mouth, leaving a trail of warmth as they moved down to your neck. the sensation of his kiss against your skin made your breath hitch, and a soft, involuntary whimper escaped you.

his lips paused just below your ear, and he pulled back slightly, his breath warm against your neck. "shhh," he whispered, his voice low and almost possessive. "wouldn't want them to hear you now, do you?"

without breaking the gaze, he pushes you onto the bed, his body following as he hovered over you. his hands framed your face, as if making sure you had nowhere to look but him.

he watched you carefully, breath a little heavier now, the weight of the moment pressing down on both of you. your face was flushed, lips slightly parted, and for a second, he just studied you, making sure he didn’t move too quickly.

“tell me if you wanna stop,” caleb murmured, his voice softer than before, but still full of that same heat. he leaned down, brushing his nose against yours, a quiet gesture of reassurance amidst the tension. “i won’t push you, okay?”

"it's okay, keep going.."

caleb's eyes narrowed with desire as he heard your breathless consent. a slow, small smile spread across his handsome face, his dimples flashing in the moonlight. "mkay," he murmured, his voice a low, husky rumble that sent shivers down your spine.

he leaned down, lips brushing against the sensitive skin of your neck once more. you gasped as he began to trail kisses along your jawline, his mouth hot and insistent against your flesh. his teeth grazed your skin, nipping and biting gently as he made his way down to your collarbone.

your fingers tangled in his hair, gripping the soft locks as you arched your back slightly, giving him better access to your neck. a soft moan escaped your lips as he suckled on your pulse point, no doubt leaving a mark of his possession.

you couldn't believe it, from a snowstorm to a make out session with your crush. you couldn't believe it. but you wanted to keep on going, despite your lack of experience.

caleb's hands roamed your curves, his fingers splaying across your ribcage before sliding down to your hips. he hooked his fingers in the waistband of your bottoms, tugging on them slightly as he continued his sensual assault on your neck and chest.

while he kissed lower, his tongue flicked out to taste the soft swell of your breasts, his teeth catching on the lace of your bra. he looked up at you, eyes filled with a hunger that made your core throb with need. without breaking eye contact, he reached behind you and unhooked your bra with deft fingers, tossing it aside carelessly.

your breasts spilled free, and caleb's mouth was on them in an instant. he laved his tongue over one hardened nipple before drawing it into his mouth, suckling greedily. his other hand came up to knead the soft mound of your breast, his fingers sinking into the pliant flesh.

he's doing it all so quickly and effortlessly like he'd been practicing.

then, he worked his way down your body, kissing and nipping at the soft skin of your stomach, his tongue dipping into your belly button. he paused when he reached the waistband of your shackles, looking up at you with a teasing grin.

"lift your hips for me," he commanded, and you complied, lifting your hips off the bed as he tugged your undergarments and slid them off your ankles.

he paused for a moment, taking in the sight of you laid out bare before him, his eyes roaming hungrily over your naked form.

"shit, you're gorgeous," he breathed, his voice filled with awe and desire. his hand came down to rest on your inner thigh, his thumb brushing maddeningly close to your aching core.

unable to resist any longer, caleb leaned in and pressed a hot, open-mouthed kiss to your thigh, his tongue darting out to taste your skin. he worked his way further slowly, your breath hitching and your back arching off the bed as he drew closer and closer to your dripping center.

without warning, he pressed a kiss directly to your clit, making you cry out in surprise and pleasure. "caleb—" his tongue circled the sensitive bundle of nerves before he drew it into his mouth, suckling hard. your hands flew to his hair, gripping the strands tightly as your hips bucked up against his face.

while he licked and suckled your clit, caleb's hand came up to tease your entrance. "you're wet," he ran a finger along your slit, feeling the slick heat of your arousal coating his digit. unable to hold back any longer, he says, "i'm gunna put it in, okay?" he pushes a finger inside your tight channel, grunting against your clit as he felt your walls clench around the intrusion.

he began to pump his finger in and out, his pace slow and steady. at the same time, caleb pulls away to bring his other hand down to his own aching cock, wrapping his fingers around the thick shaft. he grunted as he began to stroke himself simultaneously with the thrusts of his finger.

"can you look at me?" he moaned, staring down at you with a feverish gaze, you could see the beads of sweat trickling down his collarbone. he sweats so easily. he added a second finger the moment your eyes meet, pumping them in and out of your dripping cunt faster with increasing fervor.

his thumb rubbed firm circles over your clit, the rough pad of his finger stimulating the sensitive nub with each pass. "ahh, fuck!" you gasped, your head thrashing against the pillow as the intensity of your pleasure mounted. your hips bucked and writhed beneath his touch, seeking more of the delicious friction.

"quiet," caleb hissed, but nonetheless too spurred on by your enthusiastic responses that he doubles his efforts. his hand flew over his aching cock, stroking the thick shaft with fast, tight pumps. the lewd sound of squelching noises filled the room as he jerked himself off, growing louder and more urgent with each passing second. beads of pre-cum leaked from the swollen head, dripping down to coat his pumping fist.

"oh god, caleb..." you cried out again, your voice breaking as he brought you closer and closer to the edge. your inner walls fluttered and clenched around his pistoning fingers, gripping them like a vice.

acting quickly, he brought his free hand up to cover your mouth, "you're gunna wake the house up," his palm muffling any sound that threatened to escape from you, then simultaneously, he slams his throbbing cock deep into your spasming pussy with one powerful thrust.

"mmph!" your scream of ecstasy was reduced to a strangled moan against his hand as caleb's thick shaft stretched and filled you in an instant, reaching depths you'd never felt before. your slick walls, still fluttering from your climax, clenched down around him like a hot, velvety vise.

"fuck!" caleb hissed through gritted teeth despite himself, his eyes squeezing shut at the sudden, exquisite sensations of your tight, dripping cunt gripping his cock. he stilled for a moment, allowing you both to adjust to the intense sensation of being so utterly filled and connected.

his hips pressed firmly against yours, the coarse hair at the base of his shaft tickling your sensitive skin. his chest heaved against your own as he struggled to maintain control, his heart pounding wildly in his chest.

"jesus christ you're tight," caleb breathed, his lips brushing against your ear. "we don't wanna alert the whole house to what we're doing. so..." caleb began to move, "keep quiet, alright?"

yeah, you're totally gonna keep quiet about how three days before christmas your plan of giving your crush an anonymous gift during a snowstorm led you to having sex with him in his bedroom. absolutely. you're going to keep quiet about how you used to just observe caleb playing basketball from the bleachers and now you're watching him tease his dick into your hole. those irises that only used to meet your gaze in hallways, now eyed you down while he rubbed his tip against your womb.

"mmh...!" you continued whining. how couldn't you? he stretched you out so perfectly, and he looks so hot doing it.

"i told you to keep quiet, right?" caleb pressed his hand on your lips even more harder. "right?"

yeah, you're gonna keep quiet about this.

[capuccinodoll]

Honey love, dark eyes

♡ Chapter one ♡

Summary: It’s Joel’s birthday. As usual, you and Sarah are getting everything ready to celebrate, just like you have for years. However, while preparing dinner before Joel gets home from work, Sarah tells you that her dad has been seeing a mysterious woman for the past couple of weeks. This wouldn’t be an issue, except he’s been deliberately hiding it from you, even going out of his way to lie about it.

Though you try to keep your anger in check to avoid ruining his birthday, your emotions get the better of you later that night when it’s just the two of you. Joel doesn’t hold back either, sparking a heated argument that pushes you both further than ever before.

Word count: 9.4K

A/N: Okay, I was planning for the first chapter to be 4K words MAX, but my imagination went crazy with this lol I really hope you like it. I really enjoyed writing this <3 warning: ANGST! don't forget to leave feedback, tell me what you think!

If you want to be on the tag list, let me know too.

You met him on the night of your twenty-second birthday, at the small party Cassie had put together for you in her dimly lit apartment. You hadn’t wanted much of a celebration, nothing bigger than a few close friends, and certainly not a group of strangers. But when Brianna swept in, holding hands with a man you didn’t know, and introduced him as her boyfriend, you felt a vague flicker of annoyance, the kind that accompanies unmet expectations.

"I thought it was just going to be us," you mumbled to Cassie, catching her in the kitchen as she poured herself another glass of wine.

She looked at you, her cheeks already flushed, eyes bright. "They're a few of my friends, too; they’re nice—you’ll like them if you give it a chance." She smiled, urging you to relax, as though she could tease you out of your mood. "It’s your birthday; don’t be so sullen."

"I didn’t know Brianna was bringing her boyfriend," you said quietly, as Cassie started back to the living room.

She paused, giving you a half-smile over her shoulder. "Neither did I, actually," she admitted, lowering her voice. "Apparently, they've been together for about a month. She’s really into him."

And she was. Brianna clung to him all night, her laughter spilling out freely, unrestrained and buoyant from the wine. It wasn’t long before someone suggested karaoke, and as voices rang out in the next room, you slipped quietly back into the kitchen, craving a moment of solitude. You were surprised to find Brianna’s boyfriend there, leaning against the counter, scrolling absently through his phone with a glass of water in hand.

He looked up, straightened, and offered you a tentative smile. “Oh, hi. Happy birthday,” he said, his voice warm but reserved. “Sorry, I didn’t get a chance to say it earlier…”

“No worries,” you replied, your tone reassuring. “Thanks.”

He hesitated, as though weighing what to say next. “Are you having a good time?”

You gave a slight shrug. “It’s…” but before you could finish, he cut in with a knowing smile.

“It’s okay. I don’t love my birthday either.” His eyes glinted in the soft kitchen light, and you felt a small smile tugging at your own lips.

You looked at him then, really looked at him, allowing yourself the indulgence. “I didn’t want to admit it,” you said, feeling the faintest hint of heat rising to your cheeks. “What was your name again?”

“Joel,” he answered, his gaze drifting briefly back to his phone. “Sorry, I’m a little on edge tonight. Left my daughter with a new babysitter. I think she’s having a rough time.”

Your eyebrows rose in mild surprise; you hadn’t pegged him as a dad. You moved closer, pouring yourself a glass of orange juice and asked, “How old is she?”

“Four. Her name’s Sarah.” He ran a hand through his hair, and you could tell he was tense. “It’s only the second time she’s been with this sitter, and apparently, she’s been crying all evening.”

“Oh, poor thing,” you murmured sympathetically. “She’s little. Changes like that must be hard on her.”

He sighed, his gaze drifting to the side as he typed something quickly on his phone. “I should probably get going. Brianna won’t love that idea; we’d planned to stay out…” He paused, eyes flicking up to meet yours, worry etched across his face. “You think she’ll be too mad?”

“No,” you assured him, though you knew Brianna wouldn’t be pleased. “Go be with your daughter. She’s little; she needs you. Brianna will understand.”

A grateful smile spread across Joel’s face, and for the first time, you noticed the faint dimple on his cheek. For a fleeting second, you wanted to reach out, trace it with your thumb.

“Thanks,” he murmured, his eyes lingering on you in a way that felt unintentional, yet steady. “I hope your night gets better once karaoke is over,” he added with a quiet laugh. "Wish me luck."

You chuckled, meeting his gaze. “Good luck, Joel.”

He left with that same soft smile, and you watched him go, his warm brown eyes leaving an odd impression, like an unclaimed memory. And, as expected, Brianna didn’t understand. She spent the rest of the night sulking, casting sharp words at Joel through her bitterness.

“You knew he had a daughter when you got with him, this was bound to happen at some point,” Cassie told her, fed up with the other's complaints.

You didn't hear the answer, as you were distracted by watching the colorful pictures someone had put on the television.

You heard nothing more from Joel for a couple of weeks, until Cassie blurted out the gossip one morning while you were having lunch at her house.

“He broke up with her,” she began to tell you. “He told her she wasn't being empathetic and that he couldn't drop everything to party with her as if they had no responsibilities.”

It was no surprise. Brianna was a woman who lived at night; she was twenty-three years old and enjoyed it with the freedom that was rightfully hers. You couldn't blame her for wanting to have fun with her boyfriend. But Joel lived a very different reality than she did; at twenty-eight, he had a daughter to take care of, routines to follow, and a lot of work to do.

Although you thought it would take her longer to get over him, it wasn't long before she met a guy at her gym and got into it with him, outgrowing Joel in a matter of days. But for some reason, Joel’s warm, steady gaze stayed with you, like a whisper that hadn’t fully faded.

Years passed quietly, slipping through your fingers like sand until, suddenly, it was your twenty-sixth birthday. This time, the scene was different: you’d moved into your own place just two days earlier, and there was little thought of celebrating. Instead, the weekend found you alone, arranging your things and attempting to bring order to the chaos of a new home.

It was a crisp Saturday morning, and you stood in your front yard with a glass of fresh-squeezed orange juice in hand, humming along to some eighties tune drifting in from the living room. The song—one of those upbeat ones that made even housework feel light—had lifted your spirits, and you moved rhythmically as you pushed plastic flowers into the dirt along the front path, sending little puffs of air to make the petals flutter.

You were lost in your task when you heard soft footsteps behind you, instinctively making you turn.

“Oh, hello,” you said, quickly masking the slight surprise the girl’s sudden appearance had given you.

She looked at you with wide, curious eyes, seemingly unfazed by her solo adventure.

“Hi. What’s your name? Do you live here?” she asked, her gaze shifting from your face to the flowers in your hands.

Glancing around for any sign of her parents, you noted her relaxed stance, like she’d been coming here all her life. Smiling, you nodded and gave her your name. “Yep, I just moved in.”

She looked unimpressed. “This house was empty for a while. I didn’t like the kid who lived here before. He was a pain in the ass—”

“Sarah!” came a sharp voice from behind, making you jump slightly. Heavy footsteps approached, and you squinted against the sun to see a figure striding toward you, his features obscured by the bright morning light.

When he stepped closer, his face came into focus, and your breath caught. You knew him.

“Sarah, you can’t just leave the house like that,” he said sternly, a furrow in his brow, his tone more parental than reproachful.

He turned to you, and the scowl softened as recognition dawned.

“Joel,” you murmured, the name slipping out before you even meant to say it aloud.

His expression shifted into a surprised smile, and that was all it took to break the ice between you. You explained that you’d just moved in and were still settling. Joel offered to help with anything you needed, including taking a look around the house to ensure everything was in order. He formally introduced you to Sarah, now eight years old, who had nearly scared him to death by sneaking out. She had his same lively spark in her eyes, a brightness that seemed familiar.

That evening, Sarah invited you to dinner with them, leaving Joel with little choice but to agree. And one dinner became many, as evenings blurred into weekends, and you found Joel’s presence in your life weaving into something inseparable from your routine. He started popping by to help with small projects, fixing kitchen cabinets or adjusting the wobbly front steps, visits stretching into movie marathons or lazy conversations with cold beer in hand. Days flowed into evenings of chatting over the meals you cooked to share with Sarah, and sometimes her uncle Tommy. Though Joel claimed he was no cook, his barbecues were legendary, and you couldn’t deny you looked forward to them most of all. And soon enough, he was there for everything, from driving you to doctor’s appointments to accompanying you on those grocery runs he pretended to hate. He even started showing up early on days he knew you’d need a ride. Over time, he became the best friend you’d ever had, a safe place, someone who felt like family. With everyone else scattered—Cassie overseas, old friends moved away—Joel became your rock.

It wasn’t something you dared to admit to yourself often, but you couldn’t imagine your life without him. And maybe that’s why you never allowed yourself to voice those little fleeting thoughts, the ones that flitted through your mind every now and then: how safe you felt whenever he threw his arm around your shoulders, or how good he looked reclining on his couch after a long day. Or how perfect it felt when the three of you—Sarah dozing on his lap, you leaning into his shoulder—sat together in the warm silence of a Sunday afternoon. There was an ache, too, a quiet pang whenever he mentioned another woman. Thankfully, that was rare; Joel once told you, with a shrug, that he “wasn’t really looking for that sort of thing.”

Sometimes, you watched him carefully as you talked about your own dates, hoping to catch a glimmer of jealousy in his gaze, some subtle cue that maybe he felt the same way. But there was never anything you wanted to see, and you always felt silly for looking. So, you buried it all. The risk of ruining things with Joel wasn’t worth the confession.

One afternoon, however, your emotions almost escaped your eyes when, while preparing Joel's birthday cake, Sarah dropped a piece of news that caught you off guard. She told you, with her usual nonchalance, that Joel had gone out the night before with someone new.

“Yeah, it’s like… the third time they’ve gone out,” Sarah mentioned while spreading cream on the sponge cake. “I don’t know her name or anything, just that he met her in line at the bank,” a laugh choked in her throat, amused at imagining her father flirting with some woman in a public space.

You forced a smile, laughing along like it was funny.

"And who stayed with you last night?” you asked, trying to keep your tone casual.

Not that Sarah was necessarily a baby; she was already twelve and extremely independent. But Joel never left her alone if he went out for the night, he knew how much she loved spending time with you watching movies and eating junk food. Then, when he arrived, you would pester him with gossipy questions and he would pretend to get angry and then answer every one of them.

“Uncle Tommy," she said, eyeing her work with satisfaction. “We had fun, but I kinda wished you’d come too. Hey, what do you think?” she fingered the cream neatly arranged with the angled knife.

“It's perfect,” you smiled at her, not waiting too long to ask the question you wanted so badly. “Why didn't you call me then?”

Sarah started sprinkling colorful sprinkles on top of the cream and looked at you for a second when she noticed the tone in your voice at the last word. She didn't seem to think much of it.

“You were busy, weren't you? Dad said you had something to do.”

Her answer hit you like a small weight to the chest. Joel had purposefully left you out. He’d even made an excuse for Sarah’s benefit. So, there had been three dates—three times he’d kept this woman a secret. A small knot formed in your stomach as you forced yourself to smile, still watching Sarah as she concentrated on the last of the sprinkles.

In the kitchen, you were running your hand through the steam from the beef stew on the stove—Joel’s favorite—when the door opened. His footsteps grew louder, approaching, and you nervously adjusted the dress you’d chosen, one you knew he liked, though he’d never said it. It was your favorite too, a cream-colored sundress with delicate shoulder ties.

Sarah sprang forward, covering his eyes. “Don’t look, the table’s not ready.”

You hurried to set the glasses in their places, your hands a little shaky as you moved, hoping he wouldn’t notice the flush creeping up your cheeks.

“I don’t need to see it—I can smell it, and it smells incredible,” Joel grinned beneath Sarah’s tiny hands, which she’d plastered over his eyes, half to keep him from sneaking a glance, half just because she could.

“Too bad you don’t smell incredible,” Sarah retorted with a smirk, wrinkling her nose. "Go take a shower!"

You laughed, catching Joel’s raised brow at her.

“You’ve got five minutes,” you said, placing the lid on the simmering pot.

Joel snorted, brushing Sarah’s hands away from his face.

“That’s the smell of a hardworking man,” he replied, feigning offense as he turned for the stairs. “Y’all oughtta know.”

*

Later, the three of you sat around the table, and Joel took his first bite of the stew, eyes widening, a kind of bliss washing over his face. He tossed his head back and groaned.

“Sweet Glory,” he mumbled, closing his eyes. “Thank you for this.”

“Oh, come on,” you teased, though part of you couldn’t help but feel a pang of something between irritation and flattery. “You say that every time I cook for you.”

He shook his head, smiling as he chewed, then spoke softly, his gaze slipping downward.

“I’m not exaggerating—I love everything you do.” A pause, and then a quick, awkward clarification. “I mean, everything you cook.”

The clarification was like a line drawn in the sand, a boundary etched by his voice alone.

You smiled weakly and inwardly thankful when Sarah spoke, telling you about something that had happened at her school that week and distracting you from the question that was spellbinding your tongue. You were dying to ask it, to look him in the eye and ask: who did you go out with last night? Why didn't you tell me? Is it someone I know? Is that it?... But you didn't, you stayed quiet and participated in the pleasant conversation, celebrating his birthday as he deserved. After all, no matter how much it angered you that he kept things from you, it was still his special day.

After dinner, Sarah forced Joel to sit in front of his cake, two lit number candles glowing in front of him. You turned out the lights, watching as the light from the flames reflected beautifully in your best friend's dark pupils.

Joel was wearing a black T-shirt and dark jeans, his hair was still barely damp from the shower he'd taken before, and his sun-kissed tan face looked smooth, decorated by the beard and mustache you loved so much. Behind him, his shadow vibrated and spread across the wall with grandeur.

“Make a wish!” Sarah cheered, bouncing with excitement as she placed her small hands on his shoulders.

Joel smiled, closed his eyes, and blew out the candles. In the dimness, you leaned in and kissed his cheek softly.

“Happy birthday, old man,” you whispered, your hand resting gently on his neck.

He reached for your hand, pressing a warm, lingering kiss into your palm. “I’m not that old,” he muttered with a mock frown.

Sarah giggled, holding a knife to cut the cake and licking a dab of frosting from her thumb. “You’ll be forty in four years,” she teased, catching your amused expression.

Joel scoffed, scratching his stomach as he stood back up, turning to you with a smile that made you forget, just for a moment, all the questions you were holding back. There was only Joel, his rumbling laugh, Sarah’s delighted giggles. It felt like home.

Sarah gave him his gift first: a copy of Curtis and Viper 2 with the deleted scenes and a mystery box. When he opened it, a smile formed on his lips.

He pulled out a weathered wristwatch, broken for months, now polished and repaired.

“I took it in to be fixed. Do you like it?” Sarah asked, eyes wide with anticipation.

Joel nodded, eyes softening as he extended his wrist for her to put it on. “It’s perfect, baby.”

“Let's watch the movie later,” Sarah said. “You can't fall asleep.”

“Let's see which one of us falls asleep first,” you joked, and you were right. Joel had been working all afternoon and Sarah had been yawning for hours.

You turned and picked up the box resting beside your feet, handing it to him. When he opened it, Joel pulled out a black cloth garment and a paper envelope. He tugged at the cloth, revealing a thick, soft jacket. He read the label and a smile appeared on his lips.

“I saw it and thought of you,” you said, mimicking his gesture.

“How much did you pay for this?”

“Don't worry about it, it had to be yours,” you noted as you stood up and took it from his hand. “Here, stand up. Let's see how it fits you.”

“And what if it doesn't fit? Do we have to travel to Rome to exchange it?”

You laughed, then helped him slide it over his shoulders, a comfortable, familiar movement.

“I know you by heart, I couldn't be wrong.”

“So?” he asked, smiling coquettishly. Your stomach tingled and you decided to ignore it.

“Lookin’ good, Dad,” Sarah chimed in, her innocent smile lighting up the moment. “Bet someone special will love it, too.”

Joel smiled weakly, as if he was trying to tell her something with his eyes, and for a second you hated the thought of your gift being enjoyed by someone else. You imagined him getting ready to go out with her -whoever she was-, running his hand through his hair and perfuming his neck as he did from time to time whenever he went out with someone. You knew that perfume perfectly, you'd recognize it anywhere, though you were sure it wouldn't smell the same on anyone else. Joel added his own scent to it, and you loved it.

“Okay, now, open the envelope,” you urged, your voice unintentionally sharper than you meant.

Joel sat back down and opened the blue paper envelope. He read the note carefully and when he looked up, you and Sarah were looking at him excitedly.

“Sunshine, did you pay for this?” he asked you, a soft disbelief in his tone.

Inside were three plane tickets. Sarah had helped you pick the destination—somewhere none of you had been but would love.

When you nodded, he let out a soft sigh. “Let me cover part of it.”

You groaned, rolling your eyes. “It’s my birthday gift to you, Joel. It’s all settled. You need a vacation, and we certainly do too, don't we?”

“That's right,” Sarah confirmed, smiling complicitly.

He sighed, shaking his head. “You’re too good to me.”

But he smiled, tucking the tickets back into the envelope.

Time with Joel and Sarah was easy. When you were with them, hours slipped away, and the heaviness of everything else seemed to dissolve. You felt at home, and sometimes it left you wondering about Sarah’s mother, about how anyone could have left them. Didn’t she see how extraordinary they were? Didn’t she realize what she’d lost?

You thought about this as you relaxed on the couch beside Joel, Sarah curled up with her head on your shoulder. Her breathing had slowed, and you smiled, realizing she’d fallen asleep. Three glasses sat on the coffee table: the wine Joel had opened just before dinner—a bottle you’d brought back from your last trip to Italy—and Sarah’s lemon soda. Joel snorted softly, glancing at his daughter with a smirk, then leaned over and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“Fallen soldier,” he whispered, smiling.

You laughed, brushing a hand over Sarah’s hair. “She’s tired. She was up all afternoon making your cake, you know? Tried the cream three times before she got it right.”

Joel sighed, an apologetic note in his voice. “I know, sorry I was late. I know she wanted me here sooner.”

Curtis and Viper 2 was halfway through on the TV, forgotten in the background. Joel straightened, signaling he’d take Sarah to bed, and you shifted to make room as he lifted her, carrying her toward the stairs. You watched him disappear down the hallway, and as the house fell into a quiet lull, that familiar disappointment stirred in your chest. Now, without Sarah’s chatter, you’d have to keep pretending that nothing was wrong.

You took a long sip of your wine, finishing off the glass just as Joel returned. He sat down heavily beside you, causing the cushions to sink as he let out a sigh, rubbing a hand over his eyes before giving you a grateful look.

“Thanks for today, I had a great time. Sarah was very happy,” he said quietly, a warm smile appearing on his lips.

“I'm glad, hun. Although the credit goes to her, I just made dinner.”

“Doesn’t matter. You helped her, and I’m grateful. I mean that. For today, and for… all these years.” His voice softened, almost reverent.

“You don’t have to thank me,” you whispered, feeling your pulse pick up as he leaned closer, his brown eyes unreadable but soft. “You’re my family, both of you. Really, I’m the one who owes you thanks.”

He shook his head and leaned back, taking another sip of his wine.

“Not at all,” he replied, leaning back again.

You watched him for a moment, turning the weight of your question over in your mind. If you said something, he’d make an excuse. If you kept silent, the doubt would eat at you. You tried to fix your gaze on the TV, on anything other than his profile in the dim room. But the words slipped out of your mouth before you could stop yourself.

“So, what did you do last night?”

He tensed beside you, so subtly that only you could’ve noticed. “What?”

You tried to keep your tone even, hoping you didn’t sound like you’d spent all day thinking about it. “I just… didn’t see your truck out there, thought maybe you were gone or something.” It was a lie; you had fallen asleep on your couch last night, you hadn't even noticed Joel was gone.

Joel seemed to measure his words carefully. “Oh. Yeah… I just went out for a beer with Tommy,” he answered, his tone a little too casual.

Heat crept up your face, disbelief taking root. He really was holding out on you for some reason, wasn't he? The man was lying to you, and not very cleverly. Tommy had been with Sarah, what if you had seen him, hadn't he thought of that? Apparently not. 

It took a moment before you could bring yourself to say anything, watching as he glanced at you with an uneasy smile, waiting for you to believe him.

“Joel,” you murmured, not quite able to keep the accusation out of your voice. “You’re lying to me.”

He gave a nervous laugh, rubbing the back of his neck, but you didn’t let him off so easily. Before he could say anything, you spoke again.

“Tommy was with Sarah last night, here,” you pointed out, your voice firmer this time. His silence told you everything, his face drawn and uncertain as he realized you’d caught him.

After a long pause, he looked down, his voice unusually flat. “Alright, yeah. I know.”

The admission was so casual it took you by surprise, but you shook your head, feeling the ache of frustration and betrayal creep in.

“Why would you lie to me?” you pressed. “We’re friends. Why wouldn’t you tell me you’re seeing someone?”

Joel sighed, avoiding your gaze, his eyes instead locked somewhere in the distance. “It’s… it’s nothing serious,” he mumbled. “Just getting to know her. Don't make such a fuss out of it.”

“What? what you're saying doesn't make sense. You’ve kept it hidden, avoided every chance to be honest about it. Why?” you asked, trying not to let the hurt seep into your voice.

“It’s not like that,” he insisted, but his voice sounded unsure.

“So if I call Tommy right now, he’ll tell me the truth? Or did you ask him to keep this from me too?”

Finally, he met your gaze, his eyes scanning your face, reading the frustration and hurt you’d tried to keep buried. You could see it in his eyes, that familiar tug of defiance, a flash of something deeper than guilt or secrecy.

“What if I did?” His voice was almost philosophical, his gaze intense and challenging. “This is my private life. I don’t have to explain myself to anyone, not even you. Do I?”

You drew in a sharp breath. His words struck like a slap, but you steadied yourself. “You’re right, Joel. You don’t owe me explanations. But you don’t have to lie to me, either.” You looked down, feeling your voice start to waver. “You’ve never hidden your relationships from me before.”

He sighed, scrubbing his hands over his face and slumping back against the couch.

After a few seconds, he finally looked at you, a look of exasperation crossing his face.

“Because of this.” He gestured between you, his tone gentle but firm. “This reaction, right here, is exactly why I didn’t tell you.”

What Joel was saying didn’t make sense. Your frustration wasn’t over him seeing someone else; it was something else entirely, something more fundamental.

“Oh, just stop,” you snapped, voice sharp. “I’m not mad because you’re dating someone, Joel. I’m mad that you lied to me. They’re two completely different things.”

He took a breath, settling back on the couch, and turned to face you, a guarded expression crossing his face. “No, it’s always the same thing. Remember the last time I was seeing someone?”

And you did, briefly. A year ago, one of his friends had introduced him to his cousin—a woman who had just moved to town. She was polite enough, but her smiles had a brittle quality to them, and when she met Sarah, her warmth never extended beyond a single, dismissive greeting. The indifference was obvious, at least to you, and maybe you’d let that show a little too openly. Joel had caught on quickly, and after that, things with her fizzled out.

“That was different,” you argued, exasperated. “She wasn’t nice, Joel. She had zero interest in Sarah.”

He gave a bitter, half-smile. “Maybe, but it wasn’t your job to manage that. I can handle my own relationships. But you always—” he paused, thumping his chest with a finger, “you always step in. Always get defensive.”

“That’s not true!” Your voice rose as anger crept in, heating your face. “You’re just making excuses. Date whoever you want, Joel, I don’t care. But don’t lie to me, don’t insult me with these flimsy excuses. Or if you’re going to lie, at least make it convincing.”

He clenched his jaw, his gaze hardening, something fierce sparking in his eyes. “Are you sure about that?” he asked, his voice low and measured, the words hanging between you like a dare.

“Sure about what?” Your brow creased in confusion, the pulse in your chest picking up, a flurry of anger and… something else you couldn’t place, mingling with the haze of the wine.

His eyes narrowed, holding yours, unflinching. “That you don’t care. That’s what this is about, isn’t it? Because I know you, i know you to well to know you’re just jealous.”

Jealous. He thought you were jealous.

He had missed the point completely. Your feelings for him were complex, that much was true. But you had learned, or thought you had learned, to carry them quietly. Your friendship with him had come to feel like a sturdy house you could live inside without having to ask too much of it. Having him in your life was enough.

But now, you felt that house shift, cracks spreading through the walls. His inability to trust you hurt more deeply than you’d expected. The openness you’d once trusted was fracturing. You felt the sting of tears prick at your eyes, the words he’d thrown out so casually cutting to the quick.

“Fuck you, Joel,” you muttered, standing abruptly, storming to the door and slamming it shut behind you. You barely heard him call your name as you left, fury driving you down the front steps, the cool night air biting at your cheeks.

Honestly, he could go fuck himself.

Just as your hand reached your front door, his footsteps closed in behind you, his strides fast enough to catch up. You tried to close the door before he could reach you, but his hand caught it just in time, his voice heavy with irritation.

“Just go away, Joel,” you said, barely glancing at him. “I don’t want to see you again.”

“That’s not true, and you know it.” His voice was calm, almost pleading.

You stepped back, reluctantly letting him into the foyer. He’d have come in anyway.

“I mean it, God. Go home,” you insisted, your voice wavering, betraying the anger mixed with something else.

He shook his head, taking a few steps closer, his jaw tight. “Can we just talk?”

“Talk?” you repeated incredulously. “Talk about what? About how wrong you are?”

He didn’t flinch, but his eyes darkened. “Don’t act like what I said was crazy,” he said, voice steady but a little sharper now.

You scoffed, throwing your hands up. “Oh, so now I’m jealous, is that it? Then, by your logic, you must’ve been jealous too, right? Like last month, when Travis asked me out. Because if that’s the case, then we’re having the same conversation, aren’t we?”

Joel clicked his tongue, tilting his head with an exaggerated sigh. “No, Travis is just a jerk. And I don’t like him, plain and simple.”

Travis Dunn, your neighbor, had moved in a few months after you did. Handsome, tall, and friendly, everyone on the street adored him—everyone except Joel. He couldn’t seem to stand him, though Travis was always polite to him.

Last month, when Travis had asked you out, Joel had practically laughed in your face when you told him about it, muttering something dismissive as if the very idea was absurd. You’d told Travis you were busy, though deep down you knew the real reason you hadn’t accepted was because of Joel’s disapproval.

You shook your head, exasperated. “Travis isn’t a jerk, Joel, you just don’t like him. He’s nice, honestly, much nicer than some people, if we’re being honest here. Everyone loves him; you’re the only one who has a problem with him.”

“Then everyone’s as much of an idiot as he is, sunshine.”

“Oh, really? Or maybe… you’re jealous of him?” Your tone was teasing, but you felt the shift as soon as you said it.

Joel’s mouth twitched in a half-smile, but the humor didn’t reach his eyes. He ran his tongue over his lips, shaking his head slowly, twice.

“Don’t turn this on me,” he said. “This isn’t about Travis or me.”

“No?” you shot back, voice edged with challenge. “So if I go tomorrow and say yes to him, that wouldn’t bother you at all, right?”

He stepped closer to you, his eyes dark with something you’d never seen in him before. The air seemed to thicken, his presence so intense it felt as though it wrapped around you. He leaned in, his face close enough that his words brushed your skin.

“You can do whatever you want, baby. It’s your fucking life.”

“And you can do whatever you want too, Joel. That’s the fucking point!” you nearly shouted, hands pushing against his shoulders, shoving him away. “I don’t care what you do! It’s already clear you don’t get it, you don’t get anything, ANYTHING!”

Joel staggered back for a split second, but it wasn’t long before he closed the distance again, though he didn’t get as close this time.

His voice was lower, a thread of something hard in his tone. “If you’re so insulted by the idea of being jealous, maybe that’s something for you to think about. Ever thought of doing a little introspection?”

“Are you drunk, Joel?” you asked, eyes narrowed, softening your voice a fraction. The argument was exhausting you, and the anger left you feeling hollow.

He laughed, an odd, choked sound. “Oh, c'mon, you know one bottle of wine ain't enough to get me drunk.”

“Yeah, but you’re tired, and you’re not exactly young, Joel,” you said, brushing past him, his gaze glued to you the entire time. “Alcohol hits you differently now. Just go home, leave me alone.”

“Fine. I’ll leave you alone, and maybe then you can run across the street and fuck Travis Dunn, if you want it so badly,” he shot back, impatience tinging his voice as he turned toward the still-open door.

The words hit you like a slap. You froze for a moment, the anger washing over you in a wave. Before you could think twice, you rushed up to him, gripping his arm tightly to force him to turn and look at you.

“What the hell did you just say, Joel?” you hissed, grabbing his shirt, fingers bunching in the fabric as you backed him up until his shoulders hit the wall by the door. “Go on, say it again!”

Your breaths came fast, chest rising and falling as the rush of anger pushed tears to your eyes. You couldn’t believe he’d actually spoken to you like that, cutting right through to something raw and vulnerable. He’d never spoken to you like that before. Maybe he was a little drunk, or maybe he was losing his mind.

But there was no softness in his gaze, no hint of the Joel you knew. His stare was sharp, almost wild with something simmering underneath, something you didn’t understand. To you, this whole argument made no sense, at least not his reaction.

Joel’s grip on your wrist was firm, almost grounding, as he pulled you closer, pressing your palm against his chest. “I can’t stand that asshole, but go ahead and fuck him if you want,” he spat, voice laced with frustration. “Go fuck the whole neighborhood while you’re at it. I really don’t care anymore.”

His words were harsh, designed to cut, but they only drew a laugh from you—sharp and derisive. A tear slipped down your cheek, uninvited.

“What, did you ever care?” you asked, your voice trembling on the last syllable, thick with emotion.

But Joel didn’t respond, and the silence ignited a fire in you, something that swirled beneath the surface, ready to boil over.

“Do you know why we’re friends, Joel?” Your pulse quickened, each beat like a drum in your ears. “Because it just works between us. There are no ulterior motives. You know why? Because I don’t like you like that. You’re not even my type, and you never will be. And no, I’m not jealous that you’re dating some woman you’ll probably dump in less than a month, so get the fuck over it and leave me the fuck alone!”

You watched as his gaze flickered between your eyes, uncertainty warring with something darker. Suddenly, with an unexpected strength, Joel tightened his grip on your wrist and pushed you back hard against the wall. The impact knocked the breath from your lungs, leaving you gasping as your back hit the unforgiving surface.

His expression had transformed, those deep, dark eyes piercing you like arrows. His breath quickened, crashing against your face, and you could feel your lower lip tremble as he pressed even closer, pinning you against the wall.

“You don’t know how to lie,” he murmured, his lips almost brushing against your cheek.

The sensation was unbearable; his body pressed against yours, heat radiating off him and melting you inside. You could feel the edge of something primal, something that could tip either way. But suddenly, clarity surged through you. With a burst of strength, you pushed him away, breaking free from his grasp, forcing him to pull back just enough for you to gasp for air.

But the distance felt worse. In his eyes, you recognized something you’d never seen before—desire, raw and unfiltered. It clawed at you, igniting an inexplicable need. A sigh escaped your lips, and like a match struck in a dark room, it was enough to set off an explosion. In an instant, Joel lunged at you, and you found yourself wrapped around him, mouths colliding in a desperate kiss filled with moans and the urgency of your racing hearts.

With a loud thud, Joel kicked the front door shut, his hands moving feverishly down your body, fingers skimming your thighs, slipping beneath your dress. He caressed your skin before squeezing your ass hard, drawing a moan from your lips that echoed in the small space between you. You clung to him tighter, his hands fitting around you as if they were made for this very moment.

He pulled back for a breath, the sound wet and chaotic against the walls of your home, and then his lips descended down your neck, unraveling what little sanity you had left. A moan rumbled in his throat as your hands tangled in his hair, tugging gently to tilt your head back, giving him better access to the tender spot just below your ear, your blood pulsing beneath his hungry mouth.

Joel seemed to want to devour you whole; his hands roamed erratically, trembling as his mouth kissed and bit your jaw, pressing your bodies together in a way that felt impossibly intimate. When you lifted your right leg and wrapped it around his side, he was quick to respond, hands securing your thighs, lifting you effortlessly onto his hips, burying his face against your chest.

Another moan escaped you, and he pulled you down just enough to find your lips again. “Joel,” you whispered, breathless as you parted from him, pressing your forehead against his, eyes searching his.

“Tell me to stop and I will,” he said, his voice low, almost broken, each word laced with a vulnerability you’d never heard from him before. “Do you want me to stop?”

“No,” you replied in a small, desperate cry, feeling the heat radiating from him, the thin fabric of your underwear igniting a fire deep within you.

You were dying of thirst, and he had just asked you if you would refuse a sip of water. Was he mad? You wanted to drink it all. 

No sooner had you answered than Joel pulled you off the wall, striding toward the stairs with a confident grace. You lowered your legs cautiously, meeting his lips again in a frantic, wet kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth with urgency.

You walked to your room with the agility of one who knows where to step, and once inside, you grabbed the shirt you had angrily grabbed earlier and lifted it up his body in a desperate attempt to rip it off. Joel raised his arms, letting the fabric pass over both of you and then fall to the floor, and as quickly as your hands returned to his chest, he kissed your neck again, desperate, pressing his fingers into the tender flesh of your waist, seeking a physically impossible closeness. 

His hands found your thighs once more, fingers gripping and kneading with a measured intensity that sent electric shivers through you. As he moved lower, his fingertips brushed the thin fabric of your underwear, inching closer to where you ached for him, squeezing you tighter as if to draw you in.

In a single, decisive motion, he grasped the hem of your dress and pulled it upward, the fabric sliding along your skin as he lifted it away, tossing it aside with a casual disregard that only heightened the tension in the air. He took a step back, his gaze roaming over you, from the soft curve of your face down to the tips of your toes, a look of hunger that felt almost consuming.

You weren't wearing a bra (your dress didn't require it) and your breasts fell beautifully in front of him, hard nipples and soft skin. Your chest flushed with warmth, a rosy hue creeping into your cheeks as you swallowed hard, feeling vulnerable yet exhilarated when he stepped closer.

“I’ve always loved that dress,” he said, his voice trembling with an emotion that was both reverent and raw.

“I know,” you replied, a smile curling at the corners of your lips, the moment igniting an intimacy that made your heart race.

His eyes swept down your body again, glittering with an unmistakable lust, and when he closed the distance, standing right before you, your breath caught in your throat.

His hands slid around your waist, firm yet tender, pulling you into him with a deftness that sent a thrill coursing through you. In one seamless motion, he lifted you off the ground, your feet barely grazing the floor as you instinctively stood on your tiptoes, the world narrowing to just the two of you.

Joel’s eyes darkened with a hunger that left you breathless, and he leaned in, his lips finding one of your breasts with a soft kiss that felt both electrifying and reverent. The warmth of his mouth sent a rush of heat through your body, and before you could gather your thoughts, he nipped your nipple gently, a teasing bite that sent chills racing across your skin.

His teeth grazed you just enough to elicit a gasp, a shuddering reaction that echoed in the space between you. But he didn’t linger on the sharpness of that moment; he quickly replaced the sensation with the soothing warmth of his lips, enveloping you entirely.

He sank to one knee, lowering himself until his lips brushed your stomach, the warm sensation sending ripples of desire coursing through you. His face lingered dangerously close to where you needed him most.

Joel placed his hands on your hips, fingers gripping the elastic of your underwear, his gaze locking onto yours for a moment that stretched into eternity before he slowly began to lower it, the fabric sliding down your legs and pooling at your feet. You felt his breath hitch at the sight of your now bare center, the anticipation thickening the air between you as he inched closer, finally brushing his lips against your mons pubis.

“Precious,” he murmured, and the warmth of his breath washed over you like a caress, drawing a small, needy moan from your lips. His hands parted your legs slightly, his fingers digging into your thighs, holding you firmly in place.

You cupped his face gently, as if afraid you might break him, and then, without warning, Joel licked his lips and plunged forward, his mouth connecting with you in a surprise that made your eyes flutter shut. You tangled your fingers in his hair, tugging him closer as he devoured you, his tongue working its magic as he sucked and kissed you whole, with an urgency that left you breathless.

He growled into you, the sound reverberating through your body, and you felt weakness seep into your legs, trembling under the weight of his relentless attention. Joel was eating you like a hungry man, tasting you and soaking in your juices with a fervor that felt primal, kissing you as if his life depended on it.

“Fuck,” you gasped, feeling every muscle in your body tighten as a building pressure coiled inside you.

He pulled away for just a moment, his eyes darkened with lust, a playful smile creeping onto his lips before he returned to you, closing his mouth around your clit, sucking and licking with a skill that made your head spin.

“Ah—Joel, I’m going to—I’m going to—” You struggled to articulate the intensity of what was building within you, your words stumbling over the tide of pleasure washing over you.

His voice vibrated through you, trailing off into a soft, “Mhm.”

You pulled at his hair, tugging harder as a wrenching moan escaped your throat. The world around you faded as his movements grew more frantic, his tongue flicking at you with a desperate fervor. One of his hands released your thigh, and a low groan escaped his lips as his finger found your entrance, sliding inside with an ease that made you gasp.

“Fuck me, you’re so wet,” he murmured, pausing for a moment to take in the sight of you—your cheeks flushed, eyes sparkling with lust. A satisfied smile broke across his face, and you thought he had never looked so gorgeous.

From your point of view, he looked beautiful. His bright eyes worshipped you intently, his mouth and mustache glistened bathed in you, his hair tossed by your hands mingled in all directions. Joel Miller had never looked so good.

Another finger joined the first, and you closed your eyes, surrendering to the sensation as he curled them just right, hitting that sweet spot that made you gasp for air. You gripped his hair again, pulling him closer, and he let out a throaty laugh, clearly reveling in the sight of you completely undone.

You felt his mouth on you again, the warmth of his lips kissing and sucking with an insatiable hunger that left you breathless. The sound of it was utterly obscene, echoing around the room like a carnal symphony, and it drove you to the brink of madness, your mind spinning in a dizzying haze of pleasure.

His movements grew more intense, a rhythm building that sent waves of ecstasy rippling through your body. You felt yourself teetering on the edge, your hips moving in desperate undulations, surrendering to the climax that Joel savored with unrelenting focus. Your fingers clenched around him, digging in perhaps a bit too hard, but he welcomed it, desperate to drink in every last drop of what you were offering, to savor you whole.

With a low grunt, he squeezed your hips before pulling away, the wet sound of his departure from you hanging heavy in the air. You barely registered his rise from the floor, lost in the aftershocks of pleasure, your eyes still closed as the vibrations coursed through you. It wasn’t until his hands gripped your waist that you finally blinked awake, lifting your eyelids to find him gazing down at you, his face mere inches from yours.

He leaned in, capturing your mouth again, a kiss that was both desperate and tender, igniting a fire deep within you. You could taste yourself on his tongue.

Your hands found their way around his neck, pulling him closer as you melted into the kiss. As the intensity built, you let your fingers drift down his chest, trailing lightly until they found the leather of his belt, the sensation sending shivers through you as you tugged him closer.

Joel vibrated against you, a low growl escaping as he nipped at your lower lip while you fumbled with his steel buckle, the sound of it being released becoming your new favorite melody. You unzipped his pants, your heart racing as you slipped your hand inside, finally touching him for the first time.

Your pulse quickened as you wrapped your fingers around him, feeling the heat radiating from his velvet soft skin; big, hot and throbbing in your palm. A rush of desire flooded you, and you pulled away from his lips, dropping to your knees before him, your eyes wide as you took in his form. 

There he stood, beautiful and swollen with need, and your mouth watered at the sight. You cupped him gently, drawing him closer to your lips, placing a soft kiss on the tip. Joel closed his eyes at the sensation, surrendering to the moment completely, and you traced your tongue over him, tasting the salty sweetness of his pre cum that made your insides tighten with longing.

With a hint of effort, you attempted to take him fully into your mouth, but he was too large, stretching you in ways you hadn’t expected. Joel lowered his gaze to you, his fingers caressing your jaw as you struggled to adjust.

“Slow, baby,” he urged, his voice silky yet strained, and it sent another rush of need through you. "I know you can do it."

You matched your hand to your mouth, stroking him where you couldn’t quite reach, while your other hand gently caressed his balls, moving in a synchronized rhythm. Joel tensed beneath your touch, his fingers shifting from your face to tangle in your hair, guiding you as he reveled in the pleasure you were giving him.

The sounds in the room became a symphony of pleasure, every moan and gasp echoing off the walls, and you watched as Joel's pleasure climbed. The image was enough to drive him over the edge; your pink, swollen lips covered him and his cock glistened with your saliva, dripping from your chin with every move you made. Your teary eyes looked up at him desirously, and he could take no more; his gaze was filled with a primal hunger that threatened to unravel him. He finally withdrew from your mouth with great reluctance when he felt his stomach tighten, a low complaint escaping your throat in protest.

His breathing was heavy, and a flush colored his cheeks as he lifted you effortlessly, holding you at the waist, his lips finding yours in a heated kiss. In one swift motion, he laid you back onto the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight as he moved closer; Joel kneeling and settling between your legs which you instinctively opened for him. 

You needed him, you needed him to fill you whole. You had never needed anything as much as you needed him at that moment. And as if he was reading your thoughts - or maybe he needed you as much as you needed him - he leaned in, taking your mouth with his once more, his moans blending with yours as he lost himself in you.

Your hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as he deepened the kiss, the taste of him igniting a fire in your veins. You felt him positioning himself at your entrance, his heat pulsing against you, and an intense sigh shot through your chest as Joel entered you in one thrust, burning and stretching you around him. 

“Oh God,” he groaned, burying his face into the crook of your neck, the warmth of his breath sending shivers down your spine. His right hand traveled to your left leg, lifting it and resting it high on his shoulder, while without hesitation, his other hand mirrored the movement with your right leg, bringing you into a position that felt both intimate and vulnerable. You were completely folded under him.

A cry escaped your lips as Joel began to move on top of you, his face hovering just inches above yours, the heat between you palpable. No one had ever penetrated you so deeply; it felt as though he was everywhere, filling you completely, every inch of you alive with sensation.

Joel's right hand gently squeezed your neck, seeking your mouth for a kiss as his movements took on a more urgent pace. The rhythmic collision of his hips against your buttocks created a beautiful sound that echoed off the walls, each thrust punctuated by the soft, desperate gasps that slipped from his mouth. Your own cries mingled with his as your body tightened again, your hands moving frantically up and down his back, your nails digging into his flesh, leaving little marks that he would surely wear like badges of pleasure. 

A broken sound escaped from Joel, raw and primal, as he sank his face into the crook of your neck once more, increasing his thrusts with a fervor that felt animalistic, as if the world outside had fallen away and this moment was all that mattered. He fucked you into the mattress with an intensity that left you breathless, as though he were trying to ground you both in this fleeting reality, where nothing else existed except for the two of you entwined together.

You melted around him, your juices mixing with his as you enveloped him completely, and just when you thought you couldn’t take any more, he lifted his head, your forehead resting against yours, his wide eyes locking into yours. You had never seen them so dark, so filled with intensity and strength.

And then it hit you: It was Joel, your Joel, the one who had been your best friend for four years, and here he was, fucking the life out of you like no one ever had before. What could possibly come after an experience like this?

“I thought you didn't like me,” he said, his voice choppy, strained with effort. A smirk played at the corners of his swollen lips. “Such a bad liar, baby, look at you.”

You growled in response, fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him towards you with a mix of force and anger. Your lips found his in a kiss that was anything but patient, igniting a spark between you. You felt him tense above you, one of his hands quickly moving to your center, exerting immense pressure as he leaned his weight on his other arm, holding you captive beneath him.

His fingers found your clit, tracing gentle circles that made your back arch involuntarily, another wave of pleasure building inside you. Your mouth was still on his, consuming him completely, when your second orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave. You felt your insides tighten around him, squeezing him with a ferocity that pulled him closer to his own climax.

Joel gasped into your mouth, and the intensity of it sent your vision spiraling into darkness for a brief moment, the sensation so strong it felt as if the world had collapsed around you. When your breathing finally steadied, you found his hot body pressed against yours, moving in tiny tremors, quickened breaths brushing against your jaw.

He stayed inside you for a few moments longer, savoring the closeness, your hands continuing to caress his back, each touch a silent promise. Then, slowly, he pulled out of you, leaving you feeling achingly empty, his cum trickling from your entrance.

He fell limply beside you, his body slick with sweat, and pulled you close to him, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. His breaths, still heaving, crashed against your damp skin, wrapping you in warmth. Unable to muster the energy to move, you let your eyes flutter closed, surrendering to a deep, exhausted sleep that you would not remember when you woke up...

No, you didn't remember any dream, Because when you opened your eyes the next morning, you stirred in place and your muscles ached pleasantly, reminding you of the night before. And as you stretched your arms across the bed, your fingers grazed the sheets, feeling an emptiness beside you.

When you looked to your sides, the realization hit you hard.

Joel was gone.

taglist: @orcasoul

[airybcby]

જ⁀♡⊹｡° it was like slow motion

( sae itoshi x fem! reader )

♡ a/n — go listen to the moment i knew by taylor swift right now

♡ word count — 1.5k

♡ content — sae x fem! reader, all characters 18+, made sae friends with most characters, mention of smoking (once), bad bf! sae, it's readers birthday, reader having no "real" friends, sae forgets readers birthday AND party, angst

♡ synopsis — you looked beautiful for someone who was abandoned on their birthday by the one person you wanted there. and you weren't sure if you could take any more.

── .✦ what do you do when the one who means the most to you is the one who didn't show?

You were never someone who asked for much.

Especially not from him.

You knew who Sae Itoshi was when you fell in love with him. 

You understood what came with dating someone whose eyes were always trained forward—on the goal, on the next game, on some impossible version of greatness only he could see.

But still, you thought you’d earned today.

Just today.

Not even all of it. Just the evening. 

Just one promise he made this morning, murmured through sleepy lips while tugging his sweatshirt on, half-focused and half-yours.

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

You believed him.

You always do.

The party starts at 7:00.

By 7:40, most of the people are here.

Except him.

The apartment fills with a kind of hum—music, laughter, clinking glasses—and none of it sounds like yours. 

You weave through bodies carrying trays of food and half-wilted party favors, your smile fixed and tight like a ribbon pulled too hard.

You barely hear the “Happy Birthday!”s anymore. They don’t mean much when they come from strangers—strangers who know you only as Sae’s girlfriend. 

They come because he invited them weeks ago, told them “she’s planning something chill, just show up.”

And they did.

And he didn’t.

By 8:00, you’ve checked your phone seven times.

No messages. No missed calls. No “I’m on my way.” Not even a “Sorry, I’ll be late.”

The screen dies in your hand, finally surrendering to all the anxious flicks of your thumb. You put it face-down on the kitchen counter and open a bottle of wine you were saving.

It’s a celebration, right?

It’s supposed to be.

You keep yourself busy—refilling snack bowls, cleaning up spills before they stain the rug, making small talk about games you only half-understand. 

Your dress is starting to choke you, the shoes pinching by now, but you keep moving.

If you sit down, you’ll think. 

If you think, you’ll feel. 

And if you feel…

No. Not yet.

The cake stays on the dining table.

Untouched. Intact. Like you.

Three candles, one for each year you’ve spent together. 

You thought it’d be poetic. Sweet. Maybe even romantic. 

You imagined him lighting them with that quiet smirk of his, teasing you for getting sentimental. 

You imagined him singing—badly, off-key—while holding your hand under the table.

Instead, Otoya lights a joint in your bathroom, and Karasu sings something loud and off-beat from the hallway while someone throws popcorn at him.

Your birthday is a blur of people trying their best. And none of them are him.

You laugh at jokes that don’t land. You accept hugs that feel like bandages. You nod along to stories that aren’t about you.

And still, every time someone walks in late, your heart leaps.

Maybe this time.

But the door never opens for him.

At 9:23, Rin appears beside you.

You didn’t expect him to come. He’s not the social type. But he hovers near you now, quiet and heavy like an unspoken truth.

“You okay?” he asks eventually.

You nod. It’s a lie, but it’s an easy one.

Rin doesn’t press. Just looks at the cake and then back at you.

“You want to light them now? People are waiting.”

You shake your head. “He’s not here yet.”

Rin’s eyes linger on you for a moment. You can tell he wants to say something. 

Maybe He’s not coming. 

Maybe You deserve better. 

But he doesn’t. He just steps back and lets the silence do the talking.

You wish someone would say it out loud. Just rip the bandage off.

He’s not coming.

He forgot.

He chose something else over you.

Again.

At 10:08, the party dies naturally.

Karasu helps gather the trash. 

Otoya kisses your cheek and says you still look hot for someone abandoned on her birthday. 

You laugh. It sounds hollow, but it passes for humor.

Someone tells you to save them a slice of cake. You nod, though you know you won’t. 

You can’t imagine cutting it without Sae here.

And when the last person leaves, when the apartment door finally clicks shut behind them—

You are alone.

Utterly, achingly alone.

The cake is still there. The candles, still unlit.

Your dress crumples as you sit down on the couch, arms wrapped around yourself, trying to hold something in—tears, hope, the sharp sting of understanding.

This was the one thing you asked for.

The one day.

I wouldn’t miss it for the world

You lean your head back and stare at the ceiling.

Maybe the world called louder.

At 11:43, the door opens.

You don’t look up. Not right away. You know that sound too well.

The key in the lock. The soft scrape of shoes on the mat. The sigh.

You turn your head slowly.

There he is.

Sae, in his training jacket, hair damp from a shower, duffel bag slung over his shoulder like this is any other day. Like he’s just coming back from work. Like this is normal.

His eyes sweep the room—over the mess, the balloons, the faint outline of people who were once here but are gone now.

His gaze stops on you.

Then the cake.

And you can see it. 

The moment he realizes. 

The way his shoulders fall slightly, the regret that flickers too late.

“I tried to make it,” he says.

You don’t move.

“I got held up—”

“Don’t,” you say, voice quiet, steady. “Please don’t.”

He stops mid-sentence. You can hear him swallow it down.

You stand up, slowly, the hem of your dress brushing your ankles as you do.

“I told everyone you were probably just stuck in traffic. That you’d be here. That you’d walk in at the last second like in the movies.”

You laugh under your breath, and it sounds more like a sob.

“I kept looking at the door like an idiot.”

Sae says nothing.

You look at him now—really look at him—and all you can see is a promise broken so gently it almost doesn’t leave a scar. But it does.

It will.

“I didn’t need a grand gesture,” you whisper. “I didn’t need flowers or surprises. I just… needed you to show up.”

And he didn’t.

And that’s the thing, isn’t it?

You can’t keep loving someone who keeps making you feel like this. 

Like your needs are unreasonable. 

Like your expectations are weight. 

Like your love is something optional.

You don’t cry.

Because this is the moment.

The exact moment you knew:

You’ll always be the one waiting.

And he’ll always be the one chasing something else.

The silence stretches, thick with all the things you wish he’d say but know he won’t.

Sae steps further into the room, slowly, like he knows he doesn’t belong here anymore. 

His gaze flickers again to the cake—still untouched, still waiting—and he opens his mouth.

“Traffic—”

Your eyes close.

“Training ran late—”

A breath escapes you, heavy and trembling.

“Coach just—”

“Sae.”

Your voice stops him like a wall.

You lift your head and meet his eyes, mascara slightly smudged beneath your lashes, your gaze glassy, distant, and unbearably tired.

“I just want the truth.”

For a moment, he looks at you like he wants to give it.

And then, quietly—so softly you almost miss it—he says:

“...I forgot.”

And your world splits open.

You don’t flinch, don’t scream. 

There’s no dramatic breakdown. Just the softest, stillest silence—so loud it rings in your ears. 

Because you knew, didn’t you? 

Somewhere deep down, buried beneath all your hopeful excuses and quiet reassurances.

You knew.

But hearing it—hearing him say it, standing in the wreckage of your birthday, the only day you asked for—

It guts you.

Like a knife twisted slowly.

“I’ll make it up to you,” he breathes out, reaching toward you like that means something now.

You shake your head.

“No,” you whisper. “It’s fine, just… just—”

Your voice catches, and you swallow it down.

You look at him then, really look.

For a split second, it’s like the years rewind. 

Like you see the boy who used to text you after every game, who kissed your forehead before long flights, who held your pinky like it was sacred.

Apologetic.

Meaning it.

In love with you too.

But it’s not enough.

Not anymore.

You step back.

“I’ll sleep in the guest room.”

He stares at you, eyes wide. “What—?”

“And in the morning…” Your voice cracks, a choked whisper. “I’m leaving.”

Something in him breaks. 

You see it. You feel it. 

He moves forward again, reaching like he could hold you here with his hands alone.

“No. Please, I—”

“I can’t…” you say, tears finally slipping down your cheeks. “I can’t keep waiting for you, Sae. I won’t.”

It’s not just about tonight.

It’s about every time he made you feel like you were asking for too much when all you wanted was him.

You step past him, slow and quiet, and disappear down the hall, leaving him in the soft wreckage of what could’ve been.

He stays in the kitchen for a long time, unmoving, staring at the cake with three unlit candles.

Outside, the city keeps moving.

Inside, all that’s left is a silence that tastes like regret.

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[godmadeaterribleerror]

Only I Can See

Main Masterlist - Dean Masterlist

Read on A03!

Tags: Dean Winchester/Female Reader, light angst, shapeshifters, first kiss, emotions, very light fluff, romance, love confessions

Summary/Warnings: Dean knows you. He knows you better than anyone, better than you know you, better than he knows himself. He'd lay down his life for you in a heartbeat, and knows you'd do the same, even if it's not in the same way.

But something's… different.

Author's Note: Request from @maddie0101! Many feelings here. Enjoy!

Word Count: 5.8k

Something was off.

Dean couldn’t place it. He didn’t have words for it. And She was speaking and moving as she always did, but something was off.

It was more of a feeling, deep in the cavity of his chest. Dean knew Her. He knew everything about Her. He knew Her every tone and habit and expression, he could read Her better than a book and watch Her for a million lifetimes and never get bored. She was the only person he trusted as much as Sam, the only person he protected as much as Sam, the only person he-

That was a thought Dean wasn’t allowed to have. He’d drawn that line long, long ago when it had first wormed its way into his brain and heart, taking root without permission and infecting him with rushing blood and a trapped mind that only circled around Her. It led to a path that only ended in destruction and grief, because he’d weighed the options and She’d either walk away and he’d lose Her like that, or She’d stay until Dean pushed his luck too far and he’d lose Her with his guard down and a body cradled in his arms.

Dean couldn’t afford to lose Her. He known that, somewhere deep, deep down, from the very start. She’d smiled at him, drenched in blood and aiming a gun at his temple, and he’d know this would be someone he’d have to keep.

Someone he’d never get to hold close enough, someone he’d watch move through the world as always feel guilt gnawing at his organs for craving more—for a minute he’d once entertained the idea of getting Her without strings, just to have Her closer, but she deserved far better—and who’d he’d do anything to keep.

He didn’t get to keep people. So far, She’d managed to be a rare exception to the unspoken law of the universe that Winchesters don’t get nice things.

Dread always circled through his every breath that one day, if he pushed it, that would change.

So he didn’t allow himself to have the thought. And he accepted that what he had with Her—companionship with only words, lips that traded grins and nothing more, and a deep, deep knowledge of each other that could never go as deep as he wanted—could be enough.

It couldn’t be.

But had to be.

So Dean just knew Her. Knew Her like She was scripture, and everything about Her had been printed on his bones.

And they itched. She brushed past him in their motel room, just a little too close, and Dean’s bones itched.

So something was off.

“Dean.”

He grunted as he nodded at Her, trying not to stare of dwell on how She’d said his name. It wasn’t right. Too much emphasis on the Da, and not enough of the een. She wasn’t looking at him, either. She always looked at him when She said his name.

“I don’t think there’s a case here.” She hummed, bending over their motel table to flip through the case papers. “I know Sam said werewolves, but we haven’t seen anything-“

“We haven’t been looking that long,” he muttered Her name, watching her carefully. “People are going missing, no one’s finding bodies until weeks later, we’ve got werewolf written all over this.”

She shrugged. “It’s probably just a psycho human-“

Dean frowned at Her. “Since when are you willing to risk lives on probably? You’re the one who told Sam you wanted this case, you could’ve just stayed at the bunker like we planned-“

“No- I just-“ She sighed, giving him a strange look, and rolled Her eyes. “Forget it. We’ll finish the case.”

“Forget-“ He shook his head, taking at firm pace forward. “Forget what? I don’t know what the hell his going on with you, sweetheart, but-“

“Don’t call me that.”

Dean blinked. “What?”

“Don’t call me sweetheart,” She mumbled. “It’s not nice.”

“I- I’ve calling you that since we met-“

“And it’s always been mean!” She snapped. “You- It’s- I said forget it, Dean. Just-“

“Forget what? I don’t what the hell is pissing you off so much, I can’t just forget something I didn’t even do!”

His voice was raising, and he didn’t know what was happening. They never fought like this. Every argument they’d ever had was built up over months and months, and he’d see it coming. He’d walk into the War Room, She’d be glaring at him, and they’d snap in perfect tandem about whatever the hell was fucking up their lives. Then the dust would be settle, and Dean would see every single crack that had begun to form fuse perfectly back together, now lined with gold. 

This was blindsiding him. Everything had been fine this morning. And in the months leading up to the morning. He didn’t know what he’d done wrong. And there had always been a fear—rooted deep, deep down in his gut and festering whenever Her gaze wandered or She got bags under her eyes—that She’d realized he wasn’t worth fighting for, but he’d expected to see that coming too. He’d prepared for that. Planned for how he could change Her mind, and how he’d learn to live with himself when he failed to.

But this was out of nowhere. And She was hissing and sneering, and the only thing that was heavier and more burning than the feeling of off in Dean’s bones was that rotting fear. 

“You- God, Dean, you can be really dense sometimes-“

“How?! I-“ He groaned, running a hand over his face. “I don’t know what the fuck is happening, sweet-“ He cut himself off with a swallow, taking two steady paces back. She looked like She was going to hurt him. “Look, whatever it is I’ll do better, but I’m not a damn mind reader-“

She laughed. It was a little cruel—She was never cruel—and colder than Her normal laugh. Off. “No shit, you can’t even pick up basic signals-“

“What are you talking about-“

“Why do you think I wanted this hunt?” She braced Her hands on her hip, raising Her chin at Dean with a challenging tone. “It wasn’t because I love werewolves. I don’t even think these are wolves.”

Dean started at Her, saying her name slowly—he felt like he was walking on a minefield, and that was off too, because She was supposed to be the safest place in the world—but She cut him off with a shake of her head.

“No, Dean. Guess. Why do I take all these cases with you, and tell Sam not to come with us?”

“Uh-“ He shifted on his feet, suddenly incredibly uncomfortable. “Free wifi-“

“We have wifi at the bunker, dumbass.” She snapped, and the words pierced through his skin. She always called him a dumbass.

She never said it like that.

“I-“ He swallowed, and the feeling of off was quickly shifting into wrong. Something was wrong. “I don’t-“

“God, Winchester.” She rolled Her eyes again, and suddenly She was walking forward. “You’re such a fucking idiot.”

Dean opened his mouth to protest, but suddenly She was on him. Kissing him.

She was kissing him.

His body was faster than his brain. Stronger as well. It caved to Her in a second, because She tasted like honey and peppermint, and Her lips were soft against him—if a little more demanding than he’d thought they’d be—and She was holding him closer than he’d ever dared to dream he’d be to Her. 

She bit his lower lip and deepened the kiss, and Dean tried to pull Her hair or walk her backwards, but She wouldn’t let him.

And She wasn’t molding right into him. Dean had always thought She’d mold right into him, let him please Her rather than fight him on everything with demanding movements and fists in his shirt, and maybe that had been a fantasy, but he’d been so sure. She always curled right into him in the Dean Cave, and let Dean guide Her through the dark, and—when She was sick but wouldn’t say it aloud—Dean was allowed to care for Her. He was barely allowed to touch Her here, only permitted to let Her keep kissing him, let Her try and claw at his chest when his own desperation was starting to wane and falter in a way it really fucking shouldn’t be-

“I love you, you meat-head.” She hissed against his lips. “That’s why I’m here.”

And the world crashed down.

Dean’s body was still faster. But it wasn’t numbed by desire anymore. It had been washed in ice-water and shocked into an almost rabid state, because he’d been right.

Something was very wrong.

She could never love him. It was the only thing he knew better than Her. That he was fundamentally unworthy of only Her attention, so love would never even grace the table. Nobody loved Dean, not like that, and certainly not enough to swallow it and never demand a single thing of him, so She could never love Dean. 

And he had to fight.

Dean slammed his body forward, and forced himself not to flinch as the woman with Her voice screamed. It wasn’t Her scream. It wasn’t high enough, and it was a little off-key, and Dean knew it wasn’t Her.

From there the world moved too fast. He didn’t know what he was dealing with yet—how strong it was, if it had any quick and easily exploitable weaknesses—but he had the upper hand of surprise and pure, furious, almost righteous feeling anger, and it served him well. That wasn’t Her, which meant he’d just kissed someone that wasn’t Her, and the real Her could be in danger—She had to be, because She’d never just leave Dean–and he was blinded. He couldn’t kill this bitch, not until the real Her was safe, but he could really fucking hurt it. 

He aimed his gunshot for the foot, and the scream the imposter let out was guttural. He didn’t care. Nothing else mattered but hurting them, because he needed to get the interrogation over and just find Her.

There was a brief, terrifying moment after he knocked the imposter down, started to tie it up, and heard a low, soft moan escape it’s lips where he was almost paralyzed with a new type of fear. Fear that he had hurt Her. That it was the real Her in front of him, just some demon son of a bitch piloting Her words and movements.

Dean swallowed, and pulled Her shirt down, keeping his eyes carefully averted from any cleavage or visible parts of the breasts that looked like Her’s—the ones he dreamed and fantasized about every single night—but weren’t, and trained his focus on Her unbroken anti-possession tattoo.

Unbroken. 

She wasn’t possessed. 

That just wasn’t Her.

It would be up soon. He grabbed a silver knife from his jacket to test the most obvious theory, sliced it into the imposter’s forearm, and nodded when the cut began to blister. 

Shifter.

He could work with a shifter.

Dean left It tied up as he went out to Baby’s trunk and grabbed an array of weapons, because since he didn’t have to worry about hurting the real Her, he could very easily make this quick.

“Hi, Dean.” It was up when Dean returned, giving a wide smile that was truly so much worse than Her’s. “Don’t suppose you’ll let me out if I say please?”

He ignored It, kept looking through his weapons, and It sighed.

“I know the jig is up,” It nodded to its burning arm, then looked to Dean with a pout. “But I promise I wasn’t going to hurt you.”

“That so?” He let out a dry laugh. “Real sad that promises from your kind don’t mean shit then.”

It sighed. “You know, that’s not very nice, Dean. I didn’t choose to be this. And if you actually got to know me-“

“Only thing I need to know about you,” He grunted, grabbing out his longest, pure silver knife. “Is where you stashed my real partner.”

It rolled its eyes, even as Dean began to approach the chair. “C’mon, don’t be like that-“

“One chance.” He snapped. “Where is she.”

“She’s fine-“

“Where.”

“I’m not going to tell you until we have a real conversation, Dean-“

It cut itself off with a scream, and Dean got to work. It dragged on, with blood and screams that weren’t Her’s but sounded too close, and he was starting to feel little sick. The longer this went on, the more She was alone, the more she was in danger-

“Time-“ It spat out blood, shaking its head and recoiling as Dean raised his third knife of the night. “Shit, time out, please-“

He lowered the knife, but didn’t step back. “You ready to talk, bitch?”

“I-“ It coughed, and gave him an odd look, its voice suddenly pleading. “Can you at least tell me where I slipped up?"

Dean frowned. The question didn’t sound like a trick, but it also didn’t seem right. “Slipped up?”

“How you knew.” It whined. “I did all the things that loud bitch did-“

His eyes narrowed, and the knife raised again. “Don’t fucking talk about her like that-“

“But I did! I didn’t use anything that wasn’t in her brain, and I-“

“You said you loved me.” He grunted, and he didn’t know why he was indulging It. Maybe because It would be dead soon, and he was tired, and he really fucking missed Her. The real Her. The Her who would have done this faster, with smarter words and less blood on the carpet. Fuck, there was so much blood on the carpet. They’d have to skip town, once he found Her. 

It's eyes had widened. “But I do love you!”

Dean rolled his eyes. “No, she doesn’t-“

“No her. Me. I mean,” It snapped Her name, and Dean’s whole body tensed. “That whore is in love with you too, but she doesn’t love you like I do.”

“Shut up-“

It cut off Dean’s words—pushed through gritted teeth and sour on his tongue—with more high, pathetic and vile whines.

“I’ve been looking for you forever, Dean. I love you. I brought you here, killed all those people to get your attention, planned this out so well so you’d be mine.” It sighed. “I just want you to be mine.”

He gaped at it. “You’re a fucking psycho bitch-“

“And we’re made for each other!” It leaned forward in It’s chair. Dean was going to vomit. “We could be monsters together, I’d be so much better for you than any other woman, I could even keep this one’s skin on if it made you happy-“

“Shut your fucking mouth-“

“No, Dean, you have to see it.” Its eyes looked like Her’s, but the difference hadn’t been this obvious all night. The real Her would never look at him like that. Like food. “We’re made for each other, I’ve been in love with you before I even met you, and I’d do anything for you. Don’t you want someone who’d do anything for you, who’d always give as much as you did, who’d be devoted to you and no one else-“

Dean ran a hand over his face, his eyes squeezed shut, and It cut itself off.

“Are you-“ It sounded disgusted. Dean didn’t have time for this. “You’re not in love with her.”

He swallowed. “I told you to shut up, or I swear to god, I’ll cut out your tongue-“

“You are. You love the whiny little whore I’m wearing-“

His eyes snapped open. “Don’t fucking call her that-“

“Why?” The shifter sneered. “She’s obsessed with you, it’s fucking pathetic-“

Dean snorted. “That’s rich-“

“Well at least I did something about it! She was going to,” It scoffed, shaking its head. “God, the slut was ready to get on her fucking knees for you every single second, but she was going to just brood and mope about it for the rest of her life. She knew she didn’t deserve you, and she was right, because I-“

It’s words were taking a moment to sink into Dean’s skin, and when they finally lighting struck down his spine, and the whole world flipped. 

He knew, firsthand, how shifters work. 

This one didn’t seem smart enough to lie about something like this.

The knife returned to It’s throat, and Dean’s words were a low hiss. “What the fuck are you talking about.”

It said Her name in another sneer, but the cockiness was gone. “She so in love with you it’s sad. You know the very first thought I downloaded from her? Where’s Dean.” It almost cackled. Dean’s skin felt like it was going to curl and mold off his body. “I mean, you can take care of yourself, and I would never coddle you. I’d never want you to be different-“

“Different?” Dean snapped. “What the fuck do you mean, different-“

“I mean your bitch seems to think you’re some sort of angel, that you deserve better.” It rolled its eyes. “I will say, she’s right there. You deserve better than her, you deserve me.” It raised It’s chin holding Dean’s gaze. “I know you’re not an angel, Dean. Look at you. We’re the same, we’d be perfect for each other, if you just tried to love me-“

Dean laughed. A real, loud, full laugh. He didn’t need to try to love anyone. Loving Her, his Her, was easy. It was like breathing, and effortless, and so natural he’d think he’d been damn near born to do it.

And all he wanted–whether what It was saying was true or not—was Her back.

Dean leaned down until he was spitting in It’s face. Until It could feel the full, unyielding fury burning off of his body. 

“I do not love you. I could never fucking love you, and we are nothing,” Dean pressed the blade further into It’s throat, narrowing his eyes. “Alike. And you are going to tell me where the fuck the woman I do love is, or I will make your death long and painful, until you’ll be fucking praying for Purgatory.”

It swallowed, and finally shut up. 

Dean grinned. He was going to get Her—his Her, the real one who’d follow him to hell and deeper—back. 

He angled It’s head up with the knife, raising his brows. “Talk.”

——————

You don’t want Dean to save you. 

He shouldn’t have to. He’s always saving you, and you always owe him a little more than your life—whatever part of you he’d take, whatever piece of your soul or mind you could offer him to settle this intangible and massive debt—and you love it, but it needs to stop.

Before he gets hurt.

You don’t know how he keeps doing it and asking for nothing in return. You don’t understand it. He’d saved you that first night, when there had been screams and empty eyes ghosting over your ears and vision, and he’d stared at you with the prettiest face you’d ever seen, repeated your name back to you like it could mean something, and looked at you like you could be more than a body.

Like you could be a person. Who mattered.

To Dean.

And you’d heard of him before that. Every hunter who walked the earth knew about the Winchesters. You’d tried not to waste your time on celestial and infernal politics—you didn’t really have interest in falling to the orbit of anything you couldn’t handle—but then you met Dean, and nothing had been more vital than staying at his side. You could be good at hunting demons and angels. You could be as useful as Dean needed you to be, and nothing more or less.

He could keep looking at you like a friend, and you could keep pretending it didn’t rip open your chest and dissolve your heart, because you were a good hunter, but a better actress.

Because you’d met Dean, and he’d allowed you to be his friend, and you’d never dared to ask for more. 

“How come I never see you walking off at the end of the night?” He’d asked once, and you’d raised your brows at him.

“As opposed to what? Swaggering off?”

He’d rolled his eyes, even as he smiled. “You know what I’m talking about, smartass. You always leave with Sammy if I’m out, or with me if I’m not. Why?”

You still hadn’t understood. “Wha-“

“He’s asking why you don’t do one-night stands,” Sam had said from across the table, not looking up from his computer. “Because he thinks with his dick and wants to-“

Dean had slammed his elbow into Sam’s gut, and you’d been pretty sure you were going to burst into flame.

“I- um- I just-“ You’d swallowed, crumpling up your napkin and unable to look Dean in the eyes. “I’m not a one-night stand girl. I guess.”

Dean’s jaw had clenched slightly—you don’t think you’d been meant to see it, but you had, you always did—and he’d nodded slowly. “So nothing, uh- You’d never just be casual with a guy?”

“No,” you’d mumbled. “I- I’ve never known how to just-“ You’d sighed, frowning at your hands. “Can we please talk about something else?”

“Whatever you want, sweetheart.” Dean’s voice had been filled with a tone you couldn’t identify, but when you’d looked up to study his expression he’d already turned back to Sam.

You’d been so thrown by that—by not knowing something about Dean, when you always knew everything about Dean, and he knew everything about you, because you both didn’t know how to stop telling each other stuff—that the ache of him calling you sweetheart had been dulled.

You hated when he called you that. You hated how intimate it was, but how you never felt further away than when Dean used that name. He called everyone sweetheart. And when he called you sweetheart, it was because you were his closest friend and nothing more.

And you’re really fine with that. You are. You don’t get all of Dean, but you get more than the other women who share his bed. You get to see him with spiky hair and a grumpy expression in the morning, and you get to bring him coffee and feel his knuckles brush casually against yours, and fall asleep at his side when you’re watching a movie. You get to have him carry you to bed, because that’s what friends do for each other. You get to share more than one drink with him when he needs it, and have him sit on your bed when you need to the company.

You love being Dean’s friend.

Almost as much as you love Dean.

But you can survive keeping that to yourself. You’ll die with that fact locked away deep in your chest, because you are more than okay just being Dean’s friend.

It didn’t stop the longing. The plague like, haunting thoughts of if. 

If Dean ever loved you, how would he do it. Would it be soft, or harsh, or something in-between. If it was soft, would it mean he touched you like you were delicate—like you’d never been touched before—and if it would rough, would it be rough with the same violent, rushing fervor you felt for him, and if it was in-between would it be because you were everything to him, and everything was always complicated, so of course wasn’t on way or another.

If you slept at the foot of his bed like a dog, would he notice, or would it just be an extension of how you could be his weapon, his shield, whatever the fuck you needed to be to mean something to the man who meant too much.

If he called your name, would you ever not turn around and run to him, or could you learn to freeze yourself in place and plant roots that kept you sturdy if he left.

If you left, would he care, and miss you all the time, or would the feeling fade and pass.

If he knew you loved him, would he sweep you off your feet or cast you down like an angel that had spoken a little too loud.

And he would never know. So these little thoughts were more designed to torture you than they were to actually dwell on the answers. Dean would never know you loved him. Not if you continued to be more careful than you’d been today.

Because today you’d been sloppy. You’d been tired and you spinal cord felt like it was on a thin wire, and the tension had been so fraught only in your head that your tongue had been bleeding by the time you’d gotten to the diner.

You’d excused yourself to go to the bathroom, because you needed to glare at your reflection in the mirror and remind yourself that the girl gripping the sink would never be worthy. That you could take all the stupid cases you wanted and find every excuse to spend time with Dean, but at the end of the day the job mattered more than anything else to Dean, and Dean mattered more to you than the whole universe. 

So you’d have to focus on the job. 

The job that you’d been pretty sure Sam had been wrong about. This wasn’t a wolf. A wolf wouldn’t be this clean. This felt purposeful and careful, and you hadn’t been sure what it was, but it was worth exploring other options-

You’d been so lost in your thoughts you hadn’t seen the woman behind you. Not until it was too late, and the rag was already over your mouth.

The upside to all this—to waking up the basement of the diner with your hands tied to a pipe, your head spinning and pounding as the chloroform wore off—was that you’d been right. Not a wolf.

Werewolves couldn’t turn into a picture perfect reflection of you. 

Werewolves couldn’t make you worry about Dean like this. Because Dean could handle a werewolf.

This shapeshifter was batshit crazy and insane, and you were terrified for him. 

“You know,” She’d told you as she’d shifted around in your body, examining your hands and bouncing on your feet. “This is one of the better bodies I’ve occupied. I know you don’t like it that much.” She’d tapped her head, raising her brows. “But I promise you, if you weren’t such a desperate little slut, you might have actually gotten Dean Winchester’s attention.”

She’d laughed to herself, you’d narrowed your eyes, and she’d scoffed.

“Don’t make that pouty face. I’ll treat him well. Better than you could, at least.” The shifted had smoothed out your clothing on her body, and rolled her neck. “I don’t really have a plan, but we’re made to be, you know? Soulmates. I knew it from the first time I heard about him, then even more after I saw him. And all the other shifters told me to stay away, but they didn’t get it.”

You’d rolled your eyes, and it had been her turn to glare.

“Please, like you-“ She’d paused, then smile at you. It had crawled over your skin and left you shivering and cold. “You do get it, actually. You feel the same way, you’re just- Fuck, you’re pathetic. You really think he’d look at you like this. Like he’s going to look at me? You know,” she’d leaned down, sneering in your face. “One day I’ll tell him, and he won’t even wonder what happened to you. Because he’ll have me.”

You’d tried. Dean was in danger, and this bitch as horrifying, so you’d thrashed and pulled at your bounds, but it had been pointless. The shifter had done her job well, and you were almost immobile.

“Aw,” she’d patted your head, giving you a sweet, mocking before turning around and calling over her shoulder, “Try not to die too fast! I need you for now!”

For now. 

The shifter had needed you for now, so you were still alive. 

But you didn’t think she’d come back for you. And Dean was in danger, and if the shifter had all your thoughts and memories, she’d just have to play her cards right to get him out of time. Finish the hunt fast so Dean thought everything was resolved—maybe push the not a wolf thing you’d mentioned earlier, and find a different scapegoat—and leave you rotting in the basement as Dean drove her back to the bunker.

The bunker.

Where Sam was, and years of lore were stashed. The place that was supposed to be secure from all monsters and evil, that Dean would be leading a shifter into thinking it was just you

And he wouldn’t know. You couldn’t blame him—the shifter knew everything you were, and Dean might know you well, but the shifter was, by all intensive purposes, you—and he would only be able to question it when it was far too later.

You don’t have time to see if Dean—yet again, because you’re weak and never learn—saves you. You have to move.

You have to save Dean.

It’s long, and rough, and painful, but you get out of the bonds with sharp glass on the floor and rope burn on your wrists. When you pull down the gag from your mouth you’re already screaming for him, even though you know he’s not here.

You vault up the stairs, yank open the door with another shout of Dean’s name, and slam right into something steady and warm.

You’d have toppled down the stairs if they didn’t wrap an arm around your waist and hold you up.

And you know that arm.

That arm belongs to-

“Son of a bi-“ Dean cuts himself off your name, his eyes on wide yours. “You’re-“

“Fuck, Dean-“ You grab his face between your hands, turning it to examine it at every angle, to check that that’s him, even you’d have no way to be sure, you’d have to find one, there would have to be a way because you know Dean better than anyone so surely, you’d be able to work this out-

“I’m me,” he catches one of your hands, nodding to the watch on his wrist. “Silver watch, remember?”

You let out a long, slow breath, and nod. “Okay, yeah, are you okay-“

“I’m good.” Dean’s nostrils flare slightly, and you swallow. He’s looking at you the same way he looks at pie or the Impala. Like you’re his. “What would you do if I kissed you?”

“I-“ You couldn’t have heard him right. You’re gaping and breathing heavily, and just that word from Dean is making you short-circuit and ascend and fall apart. “I’d- yes-“

Dean slams his lips into yours, and you must have died. You must have rotted away in that basement, because there’s no other explanation for why Dean’s kissing you like this. With a fervor and passion and care—like he’s practiced and practiced elsewhere but it’s all just for been this, like everyone before you had been paper in comparison, and you’re set into stone—and holding you so close that you can’t tell when you ends and he begins.

“De-“ You gasp when he squeezes your hips, your fingers curling on his shirt as you hold on for dear life. “Fuck- I- More-“

He responds with a growl down your throat, and this isn’t heaven.

You’ve been to heaven.

This is better.

It’s Dean everywhere. All over and around you, muttering your name like a prayer against your lips as he presses his tongue on your lower lip and groaning when you open for him without question. You’ll never need to kiss anyone else. You’ll never need anyone else. Dean’s touch and kiss are fire in your blood and it’s waking up parts of you that you hadn’t known existed. Nerve points deeper in your body that start to sing for Dean as he pulls at your hair to give himself further access, and lighting up your whole body from within when he pressed you against the stairwell wall, and you felt holy.

“Yeah,” he mutters against your lips, as if he can’t bear to move. “That’s right.”

You hum, opening your eyes to find him already watching you. Neither of you bother to pull away.

“Right?” You ask, and he nods.

“It’s- uh- You’re you.”

“I am.”

He nods against your brow. “Good. I love you.”

It hits you like lighting. It’s bigger than the kiss. It’s bigger than anything, and it steals your breath all while shooting your veins up with a newer, brighter life that you’re more than happy to die for.

“You-“ Your voice is barely a breath, and Dean’s not pulling away or flinching. He said it. To you. He should be shaking his head or something, because Dean doesn’t do love—especially not with you—but he said it. “You love me?”

“Yeah.” He swallows, leaning back just enough for you to see his every handsome feature. His tongue swipes over his lips as he stares at you, and you almost fall over. “Do you- uh- you don’t need to say it back-“

“I love you too.” You say it without a thought. It’s the only thing you’ve ever been sure of anyway. “So much. Always. All the time, and after that, and maybe before too, I love you, Dean, please don’t think I don’t love you-“

He cuts you off with another, longer kiss, and it’s not as arduous as the first one, but it’s almost more devout. 

“I’ve got it, baby.” He traces his thumb over your cheek as he pulls away, and fuck, that’s so much better than sweetheart. “Don’t go hurting yourself, I only just got you.”

“You’ve had me. Forever.” You whisper, and he chuckles, mostly to himself.

“I’ve been an idiot, haven’t I.” He sounds like he’s asking, watching you so closely you think he’s looking right into your soul. “Thinking you- That you didn’t feel this.””

“Yeah.” You smile, and he almost folds over you as the relief visibly washes over his body. “But I think it’s cute.”

He scoffs. “I’m not cute-“

“Yeah, you are.” A thought tugs at your head. “What happened to the shifter-“

Dean makes a face. “It tried to come onto me.”

“It what-“

“And I turned it down.” He gave you an amused look. “Jealous, baby-“

“Shut up, you dumbass.” You roll your eyes, whack at his chest, and you don’t think you’ve ever seen him grin that wide. “Is she dead?”

“Shifter-soup.” He offers you a hand. “You want to help me bury the bitch?”

“Of course.” You tangle your fingers in his, and squeak as he pulls you right to his side. “Cn I spit on the grave?”

Dean laughs, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, and the tingle it leaves on your skin is the most natural feeling in the world. “Baby, you can do whatever you want.”

End Note: Had a lot of fun with the small details on this one. Once again proving a whore for knowing every single part of someone you love.

If you like this story, please reblog, share, or leave a comment! <3

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[teaboot]

hopping onto the train of questions about parental abuse to ask:

how did you determine your dad was abusive? because for me it's like. i honestly cannot remember much about my younger years except that it felt much worse? and it's not like he's physically abusive but every time he speaks to me I end up feeling like week-old roadkill and i'm not sure that qualifies.

i guess follow up question is how can you tell if your parent(s) are abusive or if maybe you're just overreacting/bad if that makes sense..?

I think I had an easier time if it because I had a life outside him first? Like. He and my mom didn’t get together till I was 4 or 5, so everything I knew about being polite and respectful I learned from HER first, and so I already had a pretty strong sense of “justice” and “fair”. In the earlier years, if he said I was being bad, I believed him. It was “punishments” that made no sense. Being grounded? Yeah okay I’d do my best to do nothing for a couple weeks. Ripping all my books off the shelf, tossing them to the floor, and telling ME to clean them up? Because they were “teaching me a bad attitude”? How did THAT make sense? I thought we all cleaned up our own messes and treated other’s belongings gently??

Noticing hypocrisy and double-standards led to being gaslit, which led to paranoia and obsessively recording and writing down conversations immediately to reassure myself I wasn’t insane. Then a lot of research into what psychological abuse WAS and how to respond to manipulative behaviour.

After that, I made plans to move out and spoke to some adults at my highschool to let them know, “hey, this is what he’s doing to ME, and in a few years X Y and Z are going to be living with him without me to handle him and they’ll be attending here, so can you keep an eye on them?”.

Then just. Keeping notes.

Honestly, it’s mostly just keeping track of patterns, double-standards, and what happens before and after bad behaviour.

I noticed that HE, for example, had a habit of calling me a useless retard whenever he was angry, but as soon as he wanted something I was a smart and beautiful young ‘lady’. Also, weirdly, not matter WHO started the fight, I was always the one who ended up feeling bad and apologizing- which seemed. Odd. Like… surely it’s not ALL me? Why is it ALWAYS me who feels guilty? Oh. Oh, that’s on purpose. Interesting

But fit what it’s worth. If talking to him makes you feel bad? Even if it isn’t abusive, it shouldn’t be unpleasant. Listen to your gut. You don’t actually have to deal with him forever. Consider trying to figure out what exactly it is about your interactions that feels unpleasant and work from there

[briefinquiries]

Tyler Owens x Reader: Say Don't Go

Request: Anonymous asked: “​​I think your writing is one of the best on here for Tyler <3 i’d love to read your take on the reader sticking out a big tornado with Tyler, i guess similar to the rodeo scene in the movie with Kate but i’d like to read your own take on him just comforting the reader and making sure they get through it <3”

Word count: 3.7k 

Warnings: Blood & injury mention, tornado, hurt / comfort

A/N: thank you so so much for the kind words :((( absolutely loving these requests & all of the comments / replies to my recent tyler fics. please keep them coming!!

 “You could’ve stayed home if you didn’t want to come,” you said to Tyler frustratedly. 

“It’s not that I didn’t want to come,” he replied, trailing behind you as you ventured into another store. “I just didn’t realize that picking up a birthday gift was going to entail being at the mall ‘til sun down.”

“I told you I didn’t have anything picked out and that I’d probably have to look around–” you reminded him, stopping in your tracks so that you could turn to face him. 

Tyler put his hands up in surrender. “I know, I know. I’m sorry, I’ll shut up.”

As soon as he backed down, your gaze immediately softened. “Well I don’t want you to be miserable,” you said as you crossed your arms. 

The corner of Tyler’s lip tugged upward in a cheeky grin. “Now how could I ever be miserable when I’m spendin’ time with you?” 

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help the smile that crept across your face. “Yeah, whatever,” you said with a smirk. “Why don’t you head to the food court? Once I finish up, I’ll come find you.”

He tilted his head to the side, like a puppy looking for permission. “You sure?” 

You nodded, adjusting the bag slung over your shoulder. “Yeah, of course. Just, don’t get ice cream without me,” you warned.

Tyler took a step forward so that you were now only inches apart. You felt his hand rest on the small of your back before he pulled you closer and leaned forward. The second that you felt his lips press against yours in a soft, gentle kiss, all of the annoyance and frustration you’d previously felt melted away in the blink of an eye. Even though you and Tyler had been together for nearly two years now, he still had that kind of effect on you. 

When he stepped away, a smile lingered on his lips. 

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he assured you. 

You kept your eyes trained on the back of his head as he made his way from the store, because the truth was– even when he pissed you off, you loved him more than you’d ever loved anything. 

Only when he was out of sight did you finally turn and resume your search. As much as you loved spending time with Tyler, you had to admit it was easier to shop around without him constantly moaning and groaning the entire time. 

You settled into the silence, taking your time as you made your way through the store. After inspecting all of the assorted knick knacks and smelling nearly every candle in the place, you finally settled on a necklace for your mom’s upcoming birthday. 

Once you’d paid, you tucked the jewelry box inside your bag and began making your way out of the store, planning to head straight for the food court to find Tyler. 

Except the second you stepped out of the store, you nearly jumped out of your skin at the loud sound of cracking thunder above. It was close– enough so the building trembled. You watched as other shoppers stopped in their tracks too. 

And then, to your absolute dismay, you heard the emergency alert systems on everyone’s phones start going off in unison. 

You pulled yours out of your pocket and read the message flashing across your screen. 

National Weather Service: TORNADO WARNING in this area until 8:30 PM CDT. Take shelter now in a basement or an interior room on the lowest floor of a sturdy building. If you are outdoors, in a mobile home, or in a vehicle, move to the closest substantial shelter and protect yourself from flying debris. Check media for more information. 

You swallowed thickly before glancing up from your phone. Gradually, others began doing the same. Then, as soon as everyone had read the warning and realized what was going on, panic ensued. 

People began running in all directions– pushing others aside and rushing towards exits. You tried your best to remain calm, but you couldn’t ignore the fear spreading through you. 

Instantly, your eyes began scanning the crowd as you instinctively began looking for Tyler.  

He’ll come for you, you thought. Tyler will come. 

But that didn’t mean you couldn’t meet him halfway. You tried to keep close to the wall to prevent being crushed in the crowd– unfortunately for you though, other people had the same idea. As hard as you tried to keep to the side, soon, you were sucked right into the mass of people. The only thing you could do was move with them and try desperately to stay on your feet as everyone pushed and shoved their way around you. 

Eventually, you dared to careen your neck up and scan for him. At first, all you saw was chaos– but people all seemed to be moving in the same direction now. You watched as parents picked up their children and spouses grabbed each other’s hands. Employees ran out of stores and customers dropped bags. 

It took a few minutes, but eventually, you spotted a familiar tuft of sandy brown hair– the only person in eyesight moving against the crowd.

“Tyler!” you screamed. 

He reacted to your voice, his head turning in the direction he thought it was coming from. 

“Tyler!” you yelled again. 

This time, his eyes landed right on yours. 

But before you could even sigh the breath of relief that was sitting in your chest, you felt something, or rather someone jab into your side. The force was enough to make you stumble on your feet and fall to the ground with a thud. People continued rushing by– feet stepping on you, knees colliding into your back. At one point, you tried to place your hand on the floor to give yourself enough leverage to stand up, but as soon as you did, a white converse stomped right on your fingers, causing you to hiss out in pain. 

Panic began creeping up your throat– making it harder to breathe, let alone think of a plan. A dark cloud began clouding your vision, numbing your senses to what was happening around you. Until suddenly, you heard your name being called. The sound broke through the haze. Before you could react, you felt two hands sliding underneath your armpits from behind. And suddenly, you were being hoisted up from the ground. 

“I got you,” Tyler’s voice said in your ear. You didn’t even get a chance to turn and look at him before he was pushing you forward. “We gotta move.” 

Thankfully, his grip under your arms never faltered, otherwise you were sure you wouldn’t have been able to keep up. But eventually, Tyler pushed you towards the outer edge of the busy mall hallway. Once you were no longer in danger of being flattened by the crowd, he spun you around– hands clutching your shoulders tightly while he blocked the remaining traffic from reaching you. 

“Are you hurt?”

You shook your head. At least you didn’t think you were… But when you glanced down at yourself, you quickly realized why Tyler even asked. Your button down shirt was ripped– presumably from being grabbed, and the tank top beneath it had a few spots of blood splattered across the fabric. You weren’t even sure where it came from. 

“We gotta go,” Tyler said urgently.  

“The shelter–” you began, but Tyler shook his head. 

“Everyone’s heading that way, it’ll be full by now. Plus, we don’t have time– I looked outside and… it’s close.”

“What do we do?” you asked, voice trembling with fear. 

Tyler let his arms fall from your shoulders and instead grabbed onto one of your hands. He gave it a reassuring squeeze before nodding in the opposite direction of where everyone else was running. 

“The stairwell,” he said. 

You nodded shakily. “Okay.”

With that, Tyler was off– weaving his way in and out of the crowd. Luckily, it had thinned out dramatically– most people heading towards the parking lot or the storm shelter on the other side of the mall. Once you broke away from the thickest part of the crowd, Tyler’s grip loosened slightly on your hand. 

“C’mon,” he urged, leading you around the corner. At the very end of the hallway was the door that led to the stairwell. 

But you only made it a few feet down the hallway before you felt the floor shake beneath your feet. Only moments after, there was a loud bang just as a chunk of the roof was being ripped off the building. 

“Tyler–” you yelled. 

“Keep going,” he pleaded. 

With part of the roof separated, you could hear the winds whipping outside more clearly. The sound was deafening, like a freight train barrelling right for you. 

But even above the raging winds– you heard the cries of someone nearby. You looked to your left to see a mother and her child huddled underneath a display booth. 

“Tyler,” you said again, tugging on his arm. 

He slowed down, turning towards where your eyes were fixated. He hesitated, clearly conflicted on what to do. 

“We have to help them,” you said. 

His eyes scanned yours desperately before he nodded. “Wait here,” he said, releasing your hand. 

You watched as Tyler crossed the hall– trying to avoid the debris now falling from the roof. He called something out to the woman, but you couldn’t hear above the sound of the wind. It was enough to catch her attention though, because soon she was passing her son to Tyler. The poor boy couldn’t have been older than five or six. Tyler pulled him to his side with ease before reaching his other arm out and helping the mother up from underneath the table. 

Once she was on her feet, Tyler passed her back her son and pointed towards where you stood against the wall. She tucked her son’s head against her chest and began hurrying forward– Tyler at her heels as they fought against the increasing winds. 

“Take my hand,” you yelled. With the arm she wasn’t using to support her son, she reached for you. 

You grasped onto her and helped pull her against the wall. 

“Go to the stairwell,” you explained. “Get underneath them, as low as you can.”

She nodded, unshed tears glistening in her eyes before she began heading down the hall. 

Just then, you heard a deafening crack. You turned to see another piece of the roof being pulled off– causing large chunks of debris to begin falling. 

“Get down!” you heard Tyler holler. Using your arm, you shielded your head the best you could and shrank to the floor as the largest piece fell. A cloud of dust enveloped you as soon as it landed and you felt small pieces of debris bouncing against your skin– After a brief moment, you dared to look up. 

But Tyler was no longer standing in front of you. 

“Tyler!” you screamed. Without thinking, you moved forward, trying your best to stay low. But despite your best efforts, you were still caught off guard by the piece of metal that blew past your head, slicing open your skin– “Fuck!” you yelled, grabbing at your temple. When you pulled your hand away, your fingers were coated in a thick, crimson liquid. 

“Tyler!” you yelled again, voice growing increasingly frantic. 

“I’m here–” you heard him yell back, causing your shoulders to deflate slightly. As you crawled around the largest pile of debris, you saw him on the ground, moving a chunk of roofing off his foot. His eyes met yours, a flash of concern crossing his face when he saw your head. “You gotta get to the stairs–”

“No, no, no. Not without you,” you shook your head, continuing to move towards him as you felt the blood trickle down the side of your face. 

“The storm’s here– you gotta go. You gotta take cover,” he pleaded. 

“I’m not leaving you–” you cried, unable to control the tears burning behind your eyes. As they fell down your cheek, they mixed with the blood from your temple. Once you were crouched beside him, you used what little strength you had left to Tyler’s hand and pull him from the small pile of rubble. 

When you looked at the short distance between yourselves and the staircase door– you were surprised to see the woman, propping it open with her body and waving towards the two of you to hurry up. 

“Move–” Tyler encouraged, pushing you against the wind. “Go, go, go–”

You army-crawled forward, wincing as more debris nicked your skin. But finally– you reached the door. Tyler moved his hand to your waist and guided you towards the staircase. 

The woman reached for her son, who was crouched low in the corner. Meanwhile, Tyler moved you towards one of the railings. 

“Hold on to this–” he instructed. You wound your arms around the fixture.

"Don't go–" you begged.

But immediately after, you felt the warmth from his body wrap around you. You looked up and saw Tyler shielding your body with his own– his hands gripping the part of the railing just above yours.

“I got you,” he promised. “We’re gonna be okay, I got you,” he repeated. But soon his voice was swept away by the sound of the storm. 

The winds grew even louder as the tornado moved closer– the noise of various chunks of debris slamming into the ground around you made you shake. You squeezed your eyes shut– hoping and praying to whatever God might be out there that Tyler was right and you’d both be okay…

You weren’t sure how long the storm raged on. It felt like hours, although you knew that couldn't be right. Eventually though, the winds died down. In their absence, you could hear the sound of the woman comforting her son, along with Tyler’s labored breathing above you. 

With a shaky hand, you reached behind you– like you didn’t quite trust that he was still there. You felt the fabric of his jeans beneath your palm and sighed out the choppy breath that had been lodged in your throat. 

“Tyler,” you heaved pathetically, voice cracking. 

“I’m here,” he gasped, voice equally shaky as he gasped for air. “I got you.”

Nodding, you brushed your hair from your sweaty face and felt Tyler shift. Following his lead, you turned towards him. As soon as your eyes landed on him– hunched over and breathing like he’d just run five miles, you let out a choked sob. 

“Are you okay?” he panted.

“Tyler–” was all you could manage to blurt out. 

A calloused hand cupped your face– thumb trailing along your hairline. You winced when his thumb passed over a sensitive spot on your head from where you’d been hit earlier. “You’re okay,” he soothed. “We’ll get it checked out.”

You nodded, leaning into his touch as you desperately craved comfort from him. Seemingly picking up on your need, he wrapped his arm around your shoulders and tugged you into his chest. “We’re okay,” he repeated, hand moving to cup the back of your neck. You let your eyes fall shut– inhaling the scent of his T-shirt. Even though he was coated in sweat and dust, he still smelled so comforting and familiar. 

He planted a kiss on top of your head before panting, “We gotta get out of here.”

You nodded, and forced yourself to pull away from him. Tyler helped you to your feet, eyes studying to make sure you were steady before he turned towards the woman. 

“You guys okay?” he asked. 

She nodded, clutching tightly to her son, who was still in her arms. 

“Alright, c’mon– be careful where you step,” he said, helping them out from the staircase. Tyler led them past you and into the hall before coming back for you. 

You desperately tried to steady your shaking legs. You were wobbly on your feet, but with Tyler’s help, you managed to maneuver your way out from underneath the staircase. 

As soon as you were back in the hall, your breath caught in your throat at the sight. The entire mall was destroyed– the roof had caved in, creating mounds of rubble everywhere you looked. There was dust all over– and no one else in sight. 

“Tyler–” you croaked again. His name seemed to be the only words you were able to form in your shock. 

“C’mon,” he urged gently, pulling you along. 

You let him lead the way, eyes scanning the debris hopelessly. You stopped in your tracks the moment you saw the first body– it was a woman, probably in her late twenties, just like you. She had a mound of tile stacked on top of her and a trail of blood soaking through her yellow sweater. Her eyes were still open– like they were frozen in fear. 

“Don’t look,” Tyler’s voice cut through the fog. 

He put his body between you and her and placed his hands on both sides of your face, forcing your gaze to meet his. 

“Sh– she’s dead,” you trembled. 

Tyler nodded solemnly. “I know,” he nodded. “Don’t look, okay? Just keep your eyes on me.”

Tyler wound his arm around your shoulders and tugged you into his side. With his fingers digging into the fleshy part of your hip, he led you forward, bearing the majority of your weight. Eventually, he managed to lead you all out of the rubble of the mall. 

“You sure you’re okay?” Tyler turned and asked the woman again. She nodded before thanking him and heading off in the direction of an ambulance. 

Tyler seemed to have something similar in mind. 

“I want to go home,” you insisted. 

But Tyler shook his head. “You need to get your head checked out first.”

“Tyler, please–” you whimpered. 

He glanced down at you– seemingly noticing the way your voice cracked. His face softened the moment he saw the tears sliding down your cheeks. 

“Hey–” he said gently. “Baby, you’re okay. Everything’s going to be okay.”

“I just want to go home,” you repeated. 

“I know, baby. I know,” he soothed. “But your head– I really want them to take a look. Then we can go home.” 

You sunk your teeth into your lower lip. After a moment, you nodded defeatedly and let Tyler lead you the rest of the way to one of the many ambulances parked near what was left of the mall. 

The paramedic who got to you first was a middle aged man with a kind smile. He told you how brave you were as he shined a flashlight in your eyes, checking your pupils. 

When he moved to the wound on your temple, now coating your entire hairline in gooey blood, you grimaced. 

“This is gonna need a few stitches,” he said after inspecting it. 

Tyler sat beside you and let you squeeze his hand as tightly as you needed while the paramedic stitched you up. He applied a local anesthetic but you felt every second of the needle threading through your skin. 

You held onto Tyler like your life depended on it, trying to allow his words of affirmation and comfort to consume you. 

“Almost done,” the paramedic said before clipping the remainder of the thread. He placed a clean bandage on the side of your head and offered you a soft smile. “You did great,” he told you. 

Although you were feeling detached from just about everything right now, you nodded in response before letting Tyler pull you to your feet. 

“Think you can walk?” he asked. 

You nodded again, although you didn’t entirely hear him. 

“The parking garage collapsed– but Boone’s on his way. He’s gonna give us a ride home.”

“Okay,” you mumbled softly, letting yourself melt into Tyler’s side again. 

The road where you met Boone was a short walk, and you were thankfully starting to get feeling back in your legs. But even still, you let Tyler support the majority of your weight as he guided you towards Boone’s familiar, beat up truck. Tyler held open the door and helped you climb inside.

“Christ–” Boone said, turning in the driver’s seat to get a good look at you. 

“She’s okay,” Tyler answered, sliding into the backseat beside you. Although he sounded like he was trying to convince himself more than Boone. 

“How the hell did you guys make it through that?” Boone asked as he surveyed the destruction around you. You forced yourself not to look. Instead, you rested your head against Tyler’s shoulder. “The blockade guy told me the entire storm shelter collapsed. I guess too many people crammed inside, so they couldn’t shut the door good.”

You swallowed thickly. If you hadn’t found Tyler, the storm shelter was going to be your plan B– 

“We hid under the staircase,” he said as Boone began down the road. “Had Dexter been tracking anythin’ out this way?” 

The two proceeded to talk about the sudden impact of the storm and whatever else tornado chasers cared about. Meanwhile, Tyler’s thumb trailed up and down your bare arm soothingly, allowing you to tune it all out. 

When Boone pulled down your dirt driveway and put his car in park fifteen minutes later, he turned to face you. “I’m real glad you’re okay.”

You offered him a weak smile. “Me too.”

After thanking his friend, Tyler helped you out of the car and towards the house, his hand never leaving your waist until you were inside. 

“Couch or bed?” he asked, shutting the front door behind him. 

“Couch,” you murmured. The bed meant stairs, which you weren’t sure you were ready for quite yet. 

“You got it,” he said. 

Gently, Tyler helped lower you to the couch, where you curled up against the corduroy fabric and sighed. 

But your eyes snapped open quickly as soon as you realized that Tyler wasn’t laying down with you. 

“Where are you going?” you asked, trying (and failing) to mask the panic in your voice. You shifted and sat up, a sudden wave of pain hit your head, causing you to squeeze your eyes shut. You tried your best to mask it and force your eyes back open. It felt pathetic, but you didn’t really want Tyler out of your sight right now. 

He turned around instantly. “I was just gonna get you some water and an ice pack, baby. I’ll be right back.”

“Okay,” you said uneasily. Your eyes remained trained on him the entire time he maneuvered around the kitchen. You could tell he noticed, too. His eyes kept flickering up to check on you. 

He was back in less than a minute– but still you sighed a breath of relief. He set the glass of water down on the side table before taking a seat on the other end of the couch. 

He handed you the ice pack and watched sadly as you placed it on your temple with a wince. 

“Can I get you anything else?”

“Will you– will you lay down with me?” you asked him. 

Tyler nodded. “Of course, baby.” He opened his arms, making a spot for you to lay between his legs. With your back resting against his chest, Tyler wound one arm around your middle and used the other to hold the ice pack against your head for you. 

Using what little strength you had, you gripped his forearm. “Just... please don’t go,” you begged. 

Tyler pressed his lips on the top of your head. “I won’t– I’m right here,” he assured you. “Not goin’ anywhere.”

You exhaled a sigh of relief and laid your head back against his chest, finally feeling content.  

After a while, you were finally able to drift off in his embrace. Your body ached and your head throbbed, but everything felt more bearable when you were in Tyler’s arms.

[humanjarvis]

i learned from you

synopsis: while talking with your colleague, you realize caleb is the closest thing you have to a mother figure. 

pairing: caleb x reader, reader is mc tags: light angst, comfort, fluff, reader had a rough childhood, reader has a period, reader and caleb's relationship is ambiguous but he kisses her head once, reader questions existence, reader is kind of a crybaby, grandma josephine implied to be a bum in this no shade to her word count: 1.3k

a/n: i hope this doesn't read weird #imnotintothat i just keep thinking about how caleb fulfills like 6 different roles in mc's life. he is so gender studies to me

“What do you mean you don’t know how to straighten your hair? Didn’t your mom ever teach you?” Tara asks in genuine confusion. 

With your sandwich halfway to your lips, you freeze. Although you were close with your colleagues, you weren’t all that open about your upbringing, for obvious reasons. Before now, everyone had always accepted your reticence on the topic. They’d never been people to overstep, but you guess there’s a first time for everything. 

“I don't remember much about my parents,” you respond carefully. “My memory from before the Wanderers came is a little blurry, sorry.” 

Tara’s mouth forms a small ‘o’ as her cheeks turn scarlet. “I didn’t mean to—” she starts. “I wasn’t trying to—I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.” 

You knew she didn’t know. That was kind of the point. Your whole thing was to move through life ignoring your early childhood, pretending you’d simply spawned into Linkon as a tween. But you couldn’t tell Tara that—she was sweet, it was an honest mistake, and she didn’t need your baggage at noon on a Friday.

Scrambling for something to break the tension, you blurt out, “I think she did teach me how to dry it, though!”

The peace offering is bland—to most people, drying hair is nothing special—but it works. Tara jumps back into the conversation, tactfully choosing to talk about her childhood so you could keep yours locked away in the depths of your mind. Crisis averted, you think. 

Except as the minutes tick by and Tara drones on, you realize the crisis is very much not averted. You’d brought up your “mom” teaching you to dry your hair to save you both from an awkward lunch, but when the lie left your mouth, it wasn’t your mother you were thinking of. It wasn’t Grandma Josephine. It was Caleb. 

Caleb had taught you how to dry your hair. It’d happened when you were twelve; a rowdy classmate had snuck up behind you and pushed you into the pool, leaving your hair a tangled, matted mess. When Caleb had found out your teachers were letting you go home early, he’d skipped his last two classes to be right by your side, running a shower for you while you sulked by the bathroom door. After you’d dried off and changed into the pajamas he’d left on the counter, Caleb came in from the hallway, carrying the same towel he’d used to dry your hair countless times before. Section by section, he’d squeezed the water from your hair, showing you how to without frizzing it up. “Not saying that ‘wet cat’ is a bad look on you, but I get the feeling you don’t want to look like that all the time,” he’d quipped. 

Caleb had been there for you for as long as you could remember, you realize. As you walk back to the Hunters Association, halfheartedly entertaining Tara’s chattering, the memories flood your brain: Caleb teaching you math. Caleb nursing you back to health when you had the flu. Caleb packing your lunchbox, Caleb doing your laundry, Caleb holding you through your first period. For all your firsts, all your milestones, and even the dull moments, he had been there. Your head spins as you stare at your desk, not even remembering sitting down. All your life, has Caleb been your only mother figure? 

You go home lost in thought. 

You stay that way for the whole afternoon, nearly forgetting about the movie night you’d planned for that evening with—you guessed it—Caleb. As you float around your apartment on autopilot, tidying up your living room and throwing on comfier clothes, the doorbell rings. He’s right on time. 

“Hey, pipsqueak,” he greets as you welcome him in. “I hope you’re hungry—I brought your favorite snacks.” 

You thank him with a smile, hoping his observant eyes can’t spot the way it wavers. Just two hours, you think. Two hours and then you’ll be free to question your existence all weekend.

The movie plays as normal. It’s easy to escape the worries on your mind with a fantasy blockbuster stealing your attention. It’s only when Caleb offers to make you a late dinner that the weight of your day falls back down to your shoulders. 

“No, that’s okay. I can just order something after you’re gone,” you refuse shyly. Having returned to your earlier haze of overthinking, you make a mistake. As Caleb moves to ruffle your hair, you flinch, dodging under his hand. The ensuing beats of awkward silence are all it takes for him to register that something is off.  

“...You just pulled away from me. You never do that unless you’re upset. Talk to me, pips—did I do something wrong?” He pauses. “Do you want me to leave?”

“No!” you rush, throwing your hands out in front of you. “No, it’s just…”

When you trail off, he steps closer. “It’s just…what? I can’t fix it if you don’t tell me,” he presses. 

“It’ll sound silly. And weird,” you say quietly, avoiding his gaze. 

“Nothing about you is silly, pipsqueak. Except when you’re actin’ cute for my attention,” he adds, gently poking your nose.  

You reward his efforts to put you at ease with a shaky giggle, finally finding the will to talk. “Earlier, Tara just asked me about my parents—wondering if my mom had ever taught me to do something.” 

Caleb grimaces. 

“And with Gran so busy all the time…and with her…gone…now… I just realized the closest thing I’ve ever had to a mother figure is you,” you breathe, your voice breaking at the end of your confession. 

Caleb’s unreadable gaze makes the tears arrive faster. “It’s just…you’re everything to me, Caleb. You’ve been with me through everything,” you sniffle. “Every role in my life you could possibly play, you play it, and I didn't even notice until now. You’ve spent over half your life guiding me through mine, and I just feel so helpless. I don’t even know if I'd be alive without you, and—”

Your tears constrict your throat, forcing you to pause if you want to breathe properly.

Even though he knows now is a bad time to dote on you, given the circumstances, Caleb would rather eat glass than turn a blind eye to your tears. He quickly shushes you, letting you cry into his sweater, and the more you relax in his embrace, the more you hate yourself. You really can’t do anything without him.

Settling you both on the loveseat, Caleb rocks you for a few moments before he begins. “I didn't know you felt that way, but it seems like you didn't either. Look, pipsqueak,” he sighs, tilting your head up to make eye contact. “Don't ever feel bad about how you were brought up. I won’t let you keep stressing yourself out over something that was never in your control.” He pauses, as if weighing the consequences of his next words. “And if it means anything, which I hope it does, I thank the stars every day that the universe was kind enough to let me take care of you. To see you grow,” he murmurs, pressing a long kiss to your temple. “Any way you'll have me in your life, I'll be there. Never feel ashamed for that.” 

With your heart pounding, you peek up at him, hesitant awe on your still-teary face. He meets your gaze with a soft smile, softly stroking your back, and you wonder what heroic deeds you accomplished in your past life to deserve him. “I’m sorry for pulling away from you earlier,” you whisper, nestling your head into his shoulder. 

You don’t know how long you stay there curled beside him, but the moon is high in the sky when he next speaks.

“So…mother figure, huh?” he asks, voice mischievous now that your tears have dried. “Better me than anyone else. You might have liked her more than me—can’t have that.” 

Lifting your head, you swat his chest. “Caleb!” you groan.  

[kiss-me-muchoo]

𝐛𝐨𝐲, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐥 || 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

summary_ it’s fun to play with the salesman knowing he is head over heels for you, until it’s not because he appears at your door with a notice to marry him.

warnings_ AGE GAP (reader in her early 20s and American), immigration inaccuracies, enemies to lovers, dub-con marriage, angst, misogyny, abuse/violence (not directly the salesman to the reader), questionable morals, do not romanticize irl. NOT PROOFREAD

notes_ I’m obsessed with chill from LISA’s new album, it’s so obsessed salesman begging reader for a chance coded.

♫ ♪ the worst playlist 4 gong yoo

✰ Index (+ fics here)

୨ৎ───୨ৎ───୨ৎ───୨ৎ───୨ৎ

The door makes a loud click after you head out. The frontman was demanding you to hand over the file with all the names of the VIPs and who were sponsors for the games of the year. You could say you were free from stepping in the island for a couple of months. The rest of your job was in Seoul, keeping everything in secret and getting rid of possible nosy people.

You make your way through the long dark halls and press the button of the elevator.

Exactly at the same time as another man.

You turn to look at him and he offers a little friendly nod, to which you don’t reply.

You silently step into the elevator when the doors open and the man in suit steps behind you.

You could feel his eyes on your hair, shoulders, silhouette under your dress, and your naked calf. You knew the man was the recruiter and one of the favorites from the late Il-Nam.

The salesman had rarely seen you. He couldn’t remember your face but after hopping into the same elevator as him, he was sure he wouldn’t forget your face and features.

You caught his eye. The last time a woman infatuated him was when he was a late teen.

And he knew that was a danger. Because if you passed his internal tests, he would get obsessed with you.

He wasn’t expecting to talk to you, but he sure felt disappointed when the elevator reached the first floor and you quietly headed out, without acknowledging him.

…

Grey and black everywhere.

Those were your favorite colors, but not in a place that should be called home.

You roll your eyes, feeling a warm arm around your waist.

It shouldn’t hurt so much to feel awkward about casual sex.

You gently move away from said arm and you spot a sleeping salesman.

His disheveled hair made him look a lot younger. Adorably appealing…

But you hated him and he didn’t deserve to have your caresses.

When he started to appear almost everywhere you worked, subtly showing you he was deranged and insane, you ended up agreeing to share the same sheets as him.

The salesman was just for the thrill, he didn’t mean anything.

He had a great physique, perfect cock and gave good aftercare. Perhaps he was just acting to keep his place between your legs but you liked it.

Except when he started to hint at something more serious. More than sex…

You’d get scared, irritated and so you would run.

You quietly get dressed and then you turn to give the man one last look.

He was in good shape to be an old asshole…

Back at your place you shower and take your plan b because you weren’t on any medication or contraceptives. The salesman was always sure to put on a condom but he liked to tease you about cumming inside you.

Fuck him (indeed, you were doing it)….

Beep beep, there is no ringtone but your phone vibrates.

You roll your eyes at the number.

“I told you not to call me to this number” you spit out, moving towards the kitchen. “In fact, I told you to not call me at all”

“You left without saying goodbye…” you wondered why he tried to sound like he was hurt, it was pathetic.

“That was the whole point” you answer like it was the most obvious thing.

“Don’t be like this, angel” he says. “We had a wonderful night, Don’t you remember your own voice saying how good I touched you?”

He was grinning, perhaps holding his breath to not cackle. He was mocking you.

“Enough, you’re a fucking asshole” he knew you were angry when you started speaking English, either angry or very relaxed.

He was well aware since your dirty talk always came in English.

“Just admit it, y/n” You roll your eyes once again.

“Oh, I’ll gladly accept that your cock makes me so happy. But it’s a shame it comes glued to you. And don’t call me again!” you harshly almost yell before hanging up.

The salesman smirked, ready to stretch out and start his day.

…

It is not a workday, you are going home after picking up a dress from the dry cleaner. It’s uncomfortable to carry the dress in a plastic bag across the station.

It’s very late, and the place empty.

Your train is about to arrive when you hear a loud slap followed by a male groan.

Your lips immediately form a smile.

When you turn around, on the other side of the train tracks, there is your salesman.

Definitely not your salesman.

You see him with his nonchalant demeanor, the careless but savage expression of arrogance.

He is too damn cheeky.

The young boy takes the money and leaves, looking back at the man and holding his swollen cheek while walking away.

You clap, making fun of the salesman.

He turns and smirks softly as if he was content to see you there.

“You really have a firm hand,” you say.

“What do you have there?…” he ignores your comment and points at the dress hanging from your shoulder.

“A dress…”

“Dress… For what occasion, exactly?” you shrug, debating whether to tell him or not.

“None of your business, sir” You decide to keep the girlfriend’s dinner private.

“Perhaps a date?”

“Perhaps I’d rather not?” Both of you look at each other smiling.

“Have a date with me” the salesman leaves you speechless for a couple of seconds.

You can’t have a date with him.

You hear the train coming, and then you turn back to look at him.

“It would complicate things even more” he knows it’s dangerous, to form interpersonal relationships with while having a vile job. “But even if we could, I wouldn’t…”

It hurts his deepest and most intimate feelings.

The salesman gets his vision obstructed because of the train. But he can see you hopping in and turning to give him a look at your back.

Maybe he should give up. He was wasting his time and he firmly believed nobody deserved so much of his attention.

Including you…

And just as he was leaving the station, his phone vibrated.

…

Be a ghost while we find something else to dissipate this; the frontman had said to you a week ago.

Apparently, In-ho trusted you enough to tell you his brother Hwang Jun-ho was looking for you after finding your ID was not renovated and your tourist permit had expired months ago.

The frontman told you that he couldn’t lose you because you already had a good record of your job. He said that you shouldn’t draw any attention from the authorities and if needed, you would have to reside on the island.

But he would find a solution. In-ho was your friend after all…

You are drinking sparkling wine and watching a TV show when you hear a knock on your door.

You don’t bother to grab a sweater, you are in a silk nightgown and it’s quite a cold day, but your place is warm.

After a new soft wave of knocks, you finally stand up and answer the door.

There is your salesman.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” You ask with eyes wide open and notice he is eyeing your outfit. “How do you know where I live?”

The truth was, you were never invited to spend the night at your place, it was either at a hotel or his bachelor’s apartment.

“The frontman has the perfect solution for your situation” he hands you a perfectly neat folder with papers.

You eye him, doubtful.

As you start reading the papers, your eyes only open more and more till you look back at the salesman in pure shock.

“I have to marry you?” You nearly scream at him.

“It’s the fastest solution. Marrying a Korean citizen will revoke your felonies and offenses” you sigh.

“And of course, it had to be you…” he shrugs, looking uninterested but you know he is dying to know your answer.

“In-ho knows I’m your closest workmate” Well yeah, In-ho didn’t know you hated the salesman, that you could barely stand him, and that you were fucking him.

But you also know he would try to give you the easiest gateway chance. There’s not much to think about. Even less when you remember the type of you’re into.

“Take me to the nearest civil registry” his eyes opened, surely surprised.

His heart beat as his hands started to sweat. He was marrying you…

What an odd sentence. Not that he minded…

…

“Y/n, come back here!” The salesman yells as he jogs behind you.

“Leave me the fuck alone!” You yell back.

Through an empty park, you are walking with no exact direction. You’re so angry, frustrated, and anxious even.

It was bad that you got married in a nightgown, flat shoes, and some random coat. Even worse when you waited almost an hour for the judge to arrive.

Upon entering the little room, the salesman appeared with a little bouquet of white roses and handed them to you.

Tears pooled in your eyes as you signed the paper and the bastard kissed you when it was over and a random photographer appeared to take a picture.

And that’s when you ran outside, towards the park over the street of the civil registry.

You stop when you feel like getting out of breath, the trail running uphill.

“This is ridiculous!” the salesman yells, grabbing your wrist. “I know it wasn’t a fairytale wedding but at least you’re out of trouble now!”

“Shut the fuck up!”

And you slap him.

He retrieves, looking at you surprised.

“I’m sorry…” you say as you almost whisper.

Your feet drag you to sit on the bench and sigh, holding your head and refusing to cry.

The salesman takes pity on you, he sits beside you and dares to gently rub your back.

“I’ve always been crushing for you” you admit.

“What?”

Oh, so that caught him off guard…

“Since I was a newbie and you were already an officer” you reveal, not daring to look at him but keeping your eyes on the sunset.

“I had high hopes of you acknowledging me one day” he gulps, already worried about something he hadn’t remembered yet. “Until the day you and your friends came to kick my ass”

He froze.

“It was you?…” he asks and you nod, finally eyeing him.

015, a circle, a woman. It was you…

His friends received a warning directly from Il-nam for ruining two corpses in perfect conditions, when it had been your fault.

Despite his avoidance of anger, need of vengeance, and mocking, the salesman followed his friends to the guards’ dorms and entered their room to beat the hell out of them.

Once they turned on the lights and saw it was a woman, they cowardly ran out.

“I thought my ribs were broken” you try to joke, but he remains silent.

The salesman remembered only watching, he was too drunk to actually throw some punches. But he had the key to open the dorms, he caused everything.

“I’m truly sorry,” he says.

To be fair, you weren’t expecting an apology from an arrogant man like him.

But was he arrogant enough? To subtly keep up with his approaches towards you, For literal years?

“You’re sorry?” He nods, taking your free hand, you almost backed away, but he didn’t let you. “I can do horrible things, y/n. But not to you…”

“Okay”

“Okay? Just like that?… y/n, What the fuck?”

you stand up, shrugging while finishing your cigar.

“Can we just go home?… So we can fuck?” he chuckles, surprised at your careless vocabulary.

“So now it’s home, angel?” now you roll your eyes, trying to hide a little smile.

“My place, of course” he nods, a smile also lingering over his face. “Sure, sweetheart”

“I have a name, you know?”

“But you’re my wife now”

“Yeah, cheers to that” he knows you’re joking, you roll your eyes and make a disgusted face, but now he knows the truth.

You also feel the same way he does.

“Can I have some chicken nuggets or something?” he nods and watches you leave towards his car.

He chuckles.

The salesman looks down at the marriage certificate and then back at you, listening to how you started to curse like a lunatic because he hadn’t unlocked the doors yet.

He was in love.

…

You let him wander all across your place. He opens some of your books, your high school yearbook, your community college certificate, your bachelor’s degree, and everything.

All while you sat and ate your chicken nuggets and listened to a podcast.

The salesman eyes you every now and then and he knows you were nervous, even anxious about the whole idea of suddenly being married.

He softly nods when you announce you’ll take a shower. And within the sound of water running, he can hear your quiet cries.

He feels awful to his own surprise.

His fingers trace the framed pictures on one of your shelves. With your family, that seemed little but real, with also few friends but fun and you alone.

The salesman wondered who the woman he married was? , he wanted to know more, he even questioned if he would ever meet the people in the pictures. Was that even possible?

And then, he heard you open the door.

You were sitting by the edge of your bed when your husband appeared, standing on the frame of your bedroom.

Husband… My husband; you internally vowed.

What was a husband? Certainly not a man who randomly appears at your door with a notice. Not a man you resented and slapped him after signing the marriage papers.

What would your family and friends think? An older, wealthier, insane husband.

At least you knew his real name and age now.

He appears at your door, and you tilt your head, gesturing for him to walk inside the room.

He steps forward, stepping just in front of you, you ignore his perfect black socks.

“Are you okay?” He asks, startling you.

“I guess so” you answer calmly. “Though, I’m glad it was you and not anyone else”

“Why is that?” The salesman asks, feeling slightly hopeful.

“Because I know you and you know me” he nods. “As much as I hate to admit it”

“When did you start to like me?” You ask him he shrugs, but revealing how nervous he is.

“The day we ended up in the same elevator”

“Really? Why?” You question with genuine curiosity. The salesman chuckles, patting your leg. “Because you looked very attractive to me. I didn’t remember you and I thought I had never seen you before”

“Would you do it again?” He frowns at your question. “Let your friends beat some random woman as punishment?”

“No. But there still would be punishment. Just not like that… That’s not what a gentleman does” You nod, not fully convinced but giving him the benefit of the doubt.

You hear the distant droplet of water splatting the floor made of tiles on the shower. You don’t know what to say.

“Now what? I thought I’d never marry…” you admit.

“Me neither” the salesman kneels, perfectly eyeing you so you can’t refuse to know him. “But I’m sure we can work out some sort of agreement”

“A marriage is not supposed to be a contract,” you say.

“I want to commit to you…”

He what?…

“For real?” He nods, his hand fishes something out of his pocket, and takes your right hand.

He places two cold rings in your palm.

Two white gold bands. One has a square-shaped little diamond and the other is simply the band.

You look at him, surprised.

“Yes, I want you to be mine”

“Will you be faithful? Calm? Attempt to get to know me? Be willing to love me one day? Will you listen to me as I will listen to you? Can we be friends before husband and wife?” You realize you have bombarded him with many questions.

But when you lock your eyes with him, he only smiles.

“That’s a promise,” he says.

And for the first time, you can’t hate him. You lean to kiss your husband.

______________________

I’m right at episode 5 of Coffee Prince and I’m already cooking a Han Kyul fic that looks promising to me, with TOO many Y2K references and a brother’s best friend plot IT HAS ME EXCITED !!!!!

[weneeya]

Can I request Sakusa or Atsumu accidentally revealing they have an s/o during an interview or something.

Like they’ve been in a relationship for quite a while, but both of them want to keep things private. But during an interview the question leads to a slip-up where they reveal they have an s/o. And they feel really bad for that, but in the end their s/o isn’t really mad about it

secret revealed m.list | rules

pairing. msby x reader

characters. atsumu, sakusa, hinata, bokuto

note. omg thank you for your request i love the idea so much!! as i really wanted to do both sakusa and atsumu, i decided to do it with the msby quatuor, hope you don't mind <3 please don't hesitate to request!

Atsumu

If it would have been him alone, Atsumu would never have you hidden from the cameras. Not that he wanted you to be known by everyone especially ; but he was a proud man and he wanted to show you off to the world. You were amazing and he loved absolutely everything about you. But you wanted to keep it low, so he respected this. Doing anything that would make you uncomfortable was the last thing he wanted ever. 

It was a simple interview, nothing different from the usual. He was used to their questions, especially those about his private life. Atsmu was good at lying so acting like you didn’t exist was not something so difficult for him ; even if he hated it. He was sitting next to one of his teammates, when he glanced at the backstages, thinking about his answer. 

And what he saw ruined every plan he had in mind. He saw you there, waiting for him like you did it from time to time. But what was weird was that you were generally waiting outside to avoid the questions. Except that today, you were inside, and this guy from the sound was clearly hitting on you. Atsumu trusted you, obviously, but it still made him react almost right now. 

He turned his head to look at the journalist, and a bitter smile appeared on his lips. “I have a girlfriend, yeah. She’s right here yer know, waiting for me.” He said before glancing back at you, waving at little. It caught you off guard, and you looked at your boyfriend with wide eyes. The poor guy who was trying something previously felt terribly stupid, and he quickly moved away from you, understanding the message. 

After the interview, you were walking outside, arms crossed and not answering the poor Atsumu who was almost begging you to look at him. “I’m sorry, please!” He was almost falling on your back, trying to force you to acknowledge his presence. You glanced at him and he had this adorable pout over his lips. You rolled your eyes, before a sigh left your lips. 

“You’re an idiot,” you started, and a smirk appeared on his face at the sound of your voice. “Yer idiot.” He left a kiss on your cheek and you couldn’t restrain the smile that got on the corner of your lips. Surely he was your idiot, yes.

Sakusa

Sakusa Kiyoomi was a discrete man, especially when it came to his private life. He didn’t like to talk about himself in general, but when it came to you, the one he loved, it was even worse. He knew how people could be when they were a fan of someone, and seeing you hurt because of this was the last thing he wanted. So after talking about it together, you decided to not announce anything officially and to be careful. 

He was supposed to spend today with you but there was a sudden change of schedule and he had to go to an interview. Not only was he annoyed because he hated interviews, but even more because he had to cancel his peaceful day with you. He sat there, and everyone could understand that Sakusa was in a bad mood. 

The interview got on, and the questions about his private life quickly arrived. Soon or later, the journalist was asking him about his lovelife more particularly. Even if Sakusa was usually so cautious about it, today was different because he couldn’t see you as much as he wanted, so the words slipped out of his mouth. “Yes, I have someone in my life. And if it wasn’t for this, I would have been with her right now.” 

His tone was harsh and cold, and it quickly ended all the discussions about his private life. When he left the building, he simply got back to your place in no time. A long sigh left his lips when he finally got rid of his shoes, joining the kitchen where he saw the light. You turned around to look at him, and the smile he saw on your lips eased his heart so easily. 

“I may have made a mistake,” he started, and it made your eyebrows rise slowly. He explained to you, and your only reaction was to chuckle gently. It caught him off guard, because he didn’t expect such a reaction. Weren’t you angry that he revealed your secret? You looked back at his eyes, smiling once again. “People needed to know one day, so it’s fine.” 

Sakusa nodded slowly, leaving a soft kiss against your temple. You were right, you couldn’t keep it to yourself forever. He would have wanted to show you to the world differently, because you deserved better, but at least he wouldn’t have to hide anymore.

Hinata

You didn’t really care about being known as Hinata’s girlfriend, but the boy was less enthusiastic than you. Knowing that he met you during his time in Brazil, and knowing how his country was, he was just scared that people would say anything bad about you. Even if he was a real sunshine, he would never accept any bad remarks towards the person he loved the most in his entire life. This is why both of you decided to keep your relationship private. 

But Hinata Shouyou was not really good at hiding things, especially not when you were making him so happy. It wasn’t his own interview ; actually it was Kageyama who was getting interviewed after their match against Hinata’s team. He was answering some questions with his usual awkwardness when a voice came from behind. It was Hinata yelling at him. 

“Hey, Kageyama! Look, she’s here!” Hinata pointed at you before waving with a huge smile, and Kageyama simply offered you a little wave. Obviously, the interviewer asked about who you were, and Tobio was as much of an idiot as Hinata, so he simply told the truth. “It’s his girlfriend,” he said, and Hinata quickly arrived behind him, giggling like it was nothing. “Isn’t she pretty?” 

You saw the camera turning in your direction, and you quickly ran away from it. You didn’t care, but you wanted to respect your boyfriend’s choice. Except that you wouldn’t run too far, Hinata grabbing you during your escape to hold you tight. This is how the whole volleyball world knew about Ninja Shouyou’s girlfriend. 

“I thought you didn’t want people to know,” you said to him while you were walking to your apartment. He giggled like only he could do it, rubbing his nose against your cheek. “I don’t care, I’ll protect you from anything.” He looked back at you with his adorable smile, and you swore you heard your heart stopping in your chest. It wasn’t even surprising anymore with Hinata.

Bokuto

He wasn’t the type to be careful about a lot of things, except for people he loved the most. And you were probably the person he cared the most about in his whole life. You were able to keep up with his mood swings without being annoyed or anything, and he simply loved you so much. So he wanted to keep you all for himself, and as you weren’t a fan of celebrity, both of you came to the arrangement that you should keep your relationship private. 

It wasn’t a problem, and it didn’t become one until this interview. It was at the end of a match they just won, and Bokuto was over excited by the victory. He was smiling like crazy, running everywhere ; it was almost too difficult to keep him in place for the interview. So when the question about someone sharing his life arrived, he didn’t think twice. 

“I have my beautiful girlfriend waiting for me! She’s the best!” He almost yelled in the microphone, leaving everyone in shock, especially you behind your screen at home. His teammates had to calm him down before he let out too much about you, knowing well that it was supposed to be a secret. And after the interview, they had to remind Bokuto what he said. 

When he entered your apartment, he was completely down. The victory was nothing next to the idea of him disappointing you like this. He slowly walked to the couch, sitting next to you, his head almost immediately falling on your lap. “I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have.” 

Your fingers slowly moved to his hair, trying to ease his heart a little. How could you blame him? You knew how he was, so you were expecting this to happen one day. You smiled softly, leaving a kiss against his cheek. “It’s okay Kou, it’s fine. I’m good,” you told him, and he quickly sat back. He looked at you, eyes wide and bright. 

“Really? You’re not mad?” You chuckled slightly, before slowly shaking your head from left to right. “Of course not.” You reassure him, and in a second, Bokuto’s excitement came back like before. You would never get mad at him, and especially not for him loving you so much.

thank you!!

[rothpie]

❝FIDELITY❞ |part8

MASTERLIST -`✮´- Rafe Cameron x Kook!Reader x JJ Maybank

Summary: Kook!Reader’s world is upended by betrayal, and her only way forward might lie with the most unlikely person—JJ Maybank. But as they build a new life together, old flames and past mistakes refuse to stay buried.

Warnings: slut shaming(?)

previous - next

Could you really call yourself an adult now?

I mean, honestly, is there some magical age that makes you a certified grown-up?

If it’s all about age, then nope—you weren’t an adult. Maybe a “young adult” at best, but even then, the life you were living? Let’s just say it was… a bit different.

When everything started happening so quickly, keeping up felt impossible. And let’s face it, that was normal. If you managed to juggle everything with calm composure, you’d probably qualify as Wonder Woman. Life came with its ups and downs, but throw pregnancy symptoms into the mix, and things got extra tricky.

You liked to share what you wanted with others. Talking about your plans openly was just how you were. It wasn’t about bragging; you just enjoyed sharing your happiness. But every single time—without fail—whatever you talked about? It never happened.

That Venice trip you’d been set on for the summer? Canceled.

The dream university? Rejected. That car you were this close to buying? Nope, didn’t happen.

It was like clockwork. Every time.

And the thing was, you never learned. Not really. You’d repeat the same mistake again and again. Life’s law, right? Someday you’d figure it out… though that day clearly wasn’t anytime soon.

Pregnancy, though, wasn’t exactly something you could go shouting about to everyone. That was off the table. But moving?

If you weren’t pregnant, there’s no way you’d have kept quiet. You’d have made sure the entire island knew. And naturally, that would’ve meant it wouldn’t happen.

This time, though, you zipped it. The only person who knew was JJ—and, well, he didn’t really count. Or, okay, maybe he did. Of course, he was important, but not the kind of person to stand in your way. On the contrary, he had your back. He even offered to help you with the whole moving process.

Things happened so fast, you could hardly believe it.

Your dad came home from his work trip, you visited the mainland, met with a realtor friend of his, checked out potential homes—it was like someone had hit the fast-forward button.

You couldn’t decide on anything. You were even okay with a cute little apartment. The list of occupants was simple: you and your daughter. You didn’t need much more.

Your mom, however, had her opinions. She didn’t want a mansion either, but she was firm about the house having enough rooms. One for you, one for your daughter, and a guest room—because naturally, grandma duties. And a yard, because she wanted to watch her grandchild play outside.

So apartments were out. Houses it was. After seeing what felt like a million empty ones, you were ready to scream.

But finally, you found it. The perfect house. The yard alone sold it. You could already picture the memories you’d make there with your daughter. Maybe a swing or a hammock… some comfy furniture on the porch.

You never imagined you’d get so close to your dream so quickly.

It had the three rooms your mom insisted on, was two stories, and honestly, it was beautiful. You loved it. But the idea of living there alone was terrifying.

Still, the deal was sealed.

It didn’t take long—two weeks, tops. When your mom insisted on hiring an interior designer, you didn’t argue much. Secretly, you liked the idea. And once your belongings were packed, it was all done.

All that was left was you.

There weren’t many people to say goodbye to on the island, which was, honestly, fine. Who were you supposed to bid farewell to? Rafe? His family, who didn’t even know you were pregnant? Your friends, who’d probably broadcast the news to the world? No thanks.

Except for JJ.

You’d have been a total ass not to acknowledge his help. Even if his support wasn’t entirely physical, his presence had been a huge emotional lift.

So saying goodbye wasn’t hard.

Ignoring the support he’d given you would’ve been dumb. When you decided to give him a nice surfboard as a thank-you gift, you didn’t overthink it. You just thought about who JJ was—someone who loved the ocean and surfing. Beyond that? You didn’t know much. So you kept it simple. Spoiler alert: he liked it.

You hesitated, thinking a gift might make things unnecessarily sentimental, but he deserved it. Nobody else in his position would’ve treated you as kindly. Even Kooks barely treated each other well. Expecting a Pogue to go out of their way for you? Yeah, no.

But JJ had.

You weren’t super close, but during one of your conversations, he’d mentioned how much he liked the rare nights when his shift ended early. He worked at a pub. In your head, you’d given him two weeks before he got fired—or kicked out after starting a fight. You were that sure of it.

A week ago, knowing the end of his evening shift, you parked near the pub, sitting on your car hood to wait for him. The plan? Give him the surfboard. Maybe even give him a ride home if he needed one.

Fifteen minutes passed. He hadn’t come out.

You started questioning everything—maybe you’d gotten the wrong day? Or maybe you’d messed up the time?

Waiting around for nothing felt miserable. You should’ve paid better attention when he’d been talking about his schedule.

Not that the gift had been planned or anything. The idea had hit you on a whim. You just wanted to do something before you left. After all, there weren’t many people to say goodbye to. And texting JJ a quick see ya felt way too impersonal.

“What are you doing here?”

You snapped out of your thoughts, your eyes shooting up from your phone. JJ stood a few steps away, mid-turn before he stopped and faced you fully. His eyes scanned the car before landing on you.

Quickly, you shoved your phone into your pocket. “Making sure you didn’t pick another fight.” Sliding off the hood, you smirked.

JJ rolled his eyes, flashing you a sarcastic smile. “Ha-ha. How funny.”

Unlike him, your grin was genuine. Why should he have all the fun pissing people off? It was your turn.

Unlike him, your lips curled into a genuine smile. Was it always going to be him getting under your skin for his own amusement? No, this time, it was your turn.

You heard him say your name, his tone serious. “No, really. What are you doing here?”

Keeping surprises wasn’t exactly your specialty, but you couldn’t resist messing with him a little. After all, this was the first time in days you’d left the house—and only in your baggiest clothes. Might as well enjoy it.

“Just hanging out.”

He frowned, his eyes scanning the area before gesturing around. “Here? Outside the pub?”

The confusion on his face was nearly comical—borderline annoyed, maybe?

You mirrored his glance at the surroundings, raising your eyebrows. It wasn’t much to look at. Just… a place. “What’s wrong with here?”

JJ let out a frustrated sigh, and for a moment, you couldn’t believe you’d actually managed to annoy him. He genuinely looked upset. “Are you serious right now? You—” He stopped himself, clenching his jaw as he stepped closer. Lowering his voice, he added, “You can’t drink. You’re not even supposed to be hanging around.”

So, he thought you’d come here to drink? That’s why he was so worked up?

It was kind of… cute. But poking the bear was way more fun.

You let out a dramatic hum as you crossed your arms. “Not allowed? Says who?” You tried not to laugh at the look he shot you, a mix of exasperation and disbelief, like you’d lost your mind.

“Me. You’re not drinking. Not here, not anywhere. Have you lost it?”

Your lips pulled into a grin, and despite his attempt to scold you, his irritation only made it funnier. Especially since you hadn’t even done what he was accusing you of.

The second JJ caught onto what you were doing, his annoyed expression melted away. As your laughter echoed, he pinched the bridge of his nose, clearly unimpressed. “Yeah, yeah. Hilarious. Now, can you just tell me what you’re actually doing here?”

You clutched your stomach, your laughter dying down into a lingering smile. Sure, he wasn’t amused, but you were, and that’s all that mattered.

“I’ve got something for you.”

JJ’s eyebrows shot up. He straightened, intrigued. “Yeah?”

You stepped away from the car’s front, glancing back to see him still rooted in place. You gave him a quick head nod to follow. With a sigh, he finally moved. “If this is a gun for self-defense, just so you know, I’m not really clear on the rules here,” he joked with a wink.

You snorted, shaking your head. “Please. If I gave you a gun, you’d be arrested in, like, two seconds.”

He laughed, but you could tell he was curious now. Opening the back door, you reached inside. “It’s a thank-you gift. Kind of.”The surprise on his face was priceless. He clearly wasn’t expecting this. Honestly, neither were you until the idea struck.

JJ tilted his head, his expression skeptical. “Thank you? For what? For telling you not to pick fights?”

You rolled your eyes. He couldn’t be serious. “No, JJ. For helping me out.”

He smiled, but it was that classic, goofy grin of his. Any trace of his earlier irritation had completely vanished. He didn’t even glance into the car. “Oh, I get it. Like a ‘without JJ, my life would’ve fallen apart’ kind of thank you? Go on, feed my ego. I live for this.”

For a split second, you considered slamming the door and driving off. Instead, you laughed. Sure, there was some truth to what he said, but no way were you letting him win.

Taking a deep breath, you opened the door wider and stepped back. “Nope. It’s just a small gesture. Don’t read too much into it.”

JJ walked over and held the door open, his eyes going wide when he spotted the surfboard wedged into the backseat. His fingers ran over the smooth edges and the blue-and-white design. “You got this for me?” he asked, his voice softer now as he inspected it.

You couldn’t suppress your grin. “Yeah. I mean, I know it’s kind of random, but I figured you could use your own board for a change. For everything you’ve done—” You hesitated, trying to find the right words. “It meant a lot.”

JJ’s smile was different this time. It wasn’t cocky or teasing. It was genuine. “If I don’t take this, I feel like you’d be really annoying about it,” he muttered, pulling the board from the car.

“Absolutely. You wouldn’t want to hear me talk about how I poured my heart into its design,” you teased.

He froze, eyes narrowing. “Wait—you designed it?”

You smirked, holding his gaze. “No. But it’s nice that you believed it for a second.”

JJ laughed, shaking his head as he leaned the board against the car. For once, he wasn’t mocking or making jokes. Instead, he looked at you with something softer, something you couldn’t quite place. “This is… perfect. You didn’t have to do this.”

“I know. I just wanted to.”

He hesitated, glancing at the board before meeting your eyes again. “I was just trying to help. I didn’t think it was that big of a deal.”

And that was it, wasn’t it? That’s how it felt. Deep down, you’d even envied the way he was with his friends. He didn’t know you. In fact, he hated your group. But if he treated you like this—who knew how he treated his friends?

You weren’t used to people doing things for you without expecting something in return. Sure, you had a hunch JJ liked money. Not just you—everyone on the island knew that. But still, the way he talked to you, made time for you… it mattered. It broke the prejudice you had against him.

It wasn’t anything grand. He didn’t buy you houses or cars. He didn’t shower you with jewelry. But he talked to you like no one else did. He made you feel—like you were someone. Like someone whose decisions shouldn’t be dictated by anyone else’s words.

And that? That was worth more than jewelry. More than anything money could buy. It was something most people—Rafe included—didn’t have.

From the moment he heard, he didn’t tell anyone. What friend would do that? Ruthie? Sophie? Who?

JJ did.

And he wasn’t even your friend.

That’s why it mattered. He was just being himself, and you needed that.

“It felt like that.” JJ was holding the surfboard, his eyes catching yours. A strange silence fell between you. Neither of you had expected such a gesture—not just surfing, but the support he’d given you.

You hadn’t expected his support; that was his gesture to you. And he hadn’t expected a surfboard from you; that was your gesture to him.

JJ lifted the board to examine it, the usual smirk still on his face. He was clearly trying to ease the tension hanging between you. “So, I have my own board now, huh? I don’t have to give this one back, do I? Because when it comes to stuff like that, you’re pretty stubborn.”

“No, it’s yours,” you said, smiling. You were grateful for his teasing—it cut through the awkwardness. You could’ve stayed silent for hours. “But if I catch you getting into another fight, I’ll beat you with that board.”

JJ laughed, shaking his head. His gaze flicked between the board and you. He was ridiculously excited about the surfboard but trying hard not to show it. “Fair deal. But just so we’re clear, every cool move I pull off with this board? I’m crediting you. ‘Thanks to Princess for this wave,’ that kind of thing. You’re my sponsor now.”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t deny his antics made you laugh. He was fun to be around. You were glad the whole “status” nonsense between you two seemed to be fading. It wasn’t just you—he had his own assumptions about you too. But it felt like you’d both moved past that. “Okay. Sponsorship’s over. Go find your wave.”

JJ carefully propped the board against the wall, his expression softening. “Jokes aside, thanks. I mean it. This means a lot. Just don’t tell anyone I said that—gotta protect my image.” He smiled, dimples showing as he ran a hand through his hair.

You smiled back, nodding quickly. “Don’t worry, your secret’s safe.”

As you both grinned, JJ’s eyes flicked from you to the surfboard. Following his gaze, your eyes drifted to his hands, gently tracing the board like it was fragile.

“I’m leaving the island tomorrow.” The words tumbled out, and you saw his hands freeze. His gaze landed on you, but you kept your focus on the board, pretending to admire its design. It really was a beautiful surfboard. “So—I wanted to say thank you.”

His blue eyes pierced through you as if that was even possible. JJ didn’t say anything to make the moment heavier, just nodded. For several seconds, neither of you spoke. Realizing the air had gotten heavier, you shifted your tone to something more casual. “I could drive you home if you want.”

You weren’t the kind of person to offer, but making him carry a surfboard all the way home felt cruel.

JJ opened his mouth to respond, but a car horn blared from down the street. Both of you turned toward the sound. Outside the car, John B and Kiara were leaning against it, with Pope, Cleo, and Sarah visible through the windows. Pope waved at JJ from where he hung halfway out of the window.

When Sarah’s eyes met yours, you instinctively tugged at your shirt. There wasn’t anything visible, but still—you felt uneasy. “Wow,” you said, feigning amusement. “Your entourage is here.”

JJ hesitated, looking momentarily torn. Finally, he sighed, a guilty smile creeping onto his face. His gaze dropped to your hand still fidgeting with your shirt. For a split second, it seemed like he wanted to grab your hand, to stop you.

“Nothing’s showing,” he said, his eyes lingering on your waist. You knew that, but the idea of anyone finding out still terrified you. Especially someone from Rafe’s family. He didn’t want them to know, and neither did you. That’s why you felt the need to be extra cautious around Sarah and Wheezie.

“I know. It’s just—” You stopped, shutting your eyes briefly before opening them again. It was paranoia, but understandable. “Relax. No one knows, I swear.” His hand almost reached out to your arm, but he stopped, remembering his friends were watching from the car.

“Go,” you said, shrugging. You composed yourself. “Looks like you’ve got a ride after all.” You smiled.

JJ paused for a beat, then flashed a crooked smile. He hated the awkwardness lingering between you. “If this board isn’t as good as you said, you’re getting an earful. I’ll call you.” He walked backward, teasing. You couldn’t help but chuckle at his words.

As you walked toward your front door, you noticed his movements slow. He stopped, turned, and looked back at you. It was like he’d remembered something he’d forgotten to do. Placing the surfboard down gently, his eyes briefly darted away from yours.

Then he walked up to you and stopped right in front of you. After a brief, silent pause, you felt his arms wrap around you. Was he… hugging you? Seriously? The gesture caught both of you off guard. You’d never imagined this kind of closeness. But then again, you hadn’t imagined buying him a surfboard either. So, it didn’t feel wrong. If buying him a gift made you feel this close, then it wasn’t strange that he’d feel close enough to hug you.

You returned the gesture, wrapping your arms around him. His grip was firm, and the scent of salt and ocean filled your senses. How did he always smell so much like the sea?

The hug was short, but both of you felt the strangeness of it. Once again—you felt like you’d crossed a line. Broken some unspoken rule.

JJ shrugged as he pulled back. “Yeah, that’s it. See you, uh… whatever.”

You took a deep breath, watching him stand there. You hated goodbyes. You were going to miss this island, and now—

“Yeah… goodbye.” You pushed your hair behind your shoulders, trying to steady your voice. You didn’t understand why you felt like you were losing a friend. Like you were going to… miss him?

Stop. Don’t even think about it.

JJ nodded, picking up the surfboard as he walked toward the car. You watched him for a moment before turning to the front door and stepping into your car. Through the windshield, you caught a glimpse of Kiara muttering something to Sarah. Whatever she was saying, you couldn’t hear.

When JJ got into the car, he paused, lowering his head for a brief moment before looking outside again.

He mouthed something to the group. Not to you, but to the friends in the car. “Just shut up.”

When he gave you a quick nod, you returned it before starting your car. Watching them drive off, you felt a strange mix of relief and melancholy. You’d thanked JJ, and that was all you wanted. It was done.

Except for the quiet ache of losing a friend.

You’d left only a few clothes back at the house on the island. The furniture and everything else stayed in your room. Your parents insisted the room remain untouched—they wanted you to know there was still a home for you there. They even promised not to change a thing.

The first few months were bound to be hard; you knew that. Living alone was going to take some getting used to. But you hoped it’d all be worth it when you finally held your baby.

Now, you were sitting on the couch in your new place, sipping a green smoothie. You’d have given anything for a coffee, but pregnancy meant sacrifices. A little caffeine might not hurt, but you didn’t want to risk it. The smoothie was healthy, though it tasted awful.

It had only been six days since the move. You’d allowed yourself time to explore the area, taking walks around the quiet streets. Your parents had offered to stay with you for a few days, but you politely declined. You wanted to settle in on your own. Leaning on their warmth and presence only to have it ripped away later would have made the loneliness worse. You couldn’t let that happen.

Morning sickness had eased enough for a few walks, so you’d wandered the calm streets near your house. Quiet, orderly, nothing like Outer Banks. You couldn’t help but compare the two. Everything here was different. The people, the lifestyle—it all felt so structured and tame. But a part of you missed the chaos of the island. The freedom. The absurdity of going to the store in a bikini without anyone batting an eye. That tight-knit community where everyone knew each other’s names.

You’d visited the local park a few times. It was rarely crowded, and you hadn’t met anyone yet. By the time you arrived, most of the adults and kids were just beginning to trickle in.

So, here you were: your own place. Did that make you an adult?

How did adults even make friends? Scratch that—how did anyone past a certain age make friends? As a kid, it was easy. Just ask someone to play with you, and that was it. Middle school? Same thing.

But now? You didn’t know a soul here. What were you supposed to do? Walk up to someone and introduce yourself?

Terrifying thought.

Still, maybe worth trying, right?

-

Socializing wasn’t supposed to feel like this.

Your eyes scanned the park’s scenery. The leaves rustled gently in the breeze, and birds chirped in the branches above. A group of kids played in a sandbox, their laughter mingling with the faint sounds of distant traffic.

You clasped your hands over your stomach, exhaling deeply. “Maybe this is good for me,” you thought.

But the whole idea still felt horrifying. Sitting at home would’ve been worse, though. At least you were out, breathing fresh air.

Introducing yourself to someone, though? Out of the question. No anxiety attacks, but your chest tightened just thinking about it. No, you’d just sit and enjoy the park for a bit. That would be enough.

Your gaze dropped to the book in your lap: Healthy Nutrition and Development During Pregnancy. You fiddled with the corner of its cover. Would someone else find this funny? Carrying a guidebook instead of a novel wasn’t something even you would’ve expected a few months ago. But here you were, on the verge of a whole new chapter. Screw what anyone thought—you were preparing for your future.

Suddenly, the bench shifted slightly as someone sat down beside you. The movement snapped you out of your thoughts. You glanced up to find a middle-aged woman with an energetic demeanor. Her dyed-blond hair revealed a hint of gray at the roots, and a steaming coffee cup rested in her hands.

“Ugh, I hope I can finish this before it goes cold,” she muttered to herself before calling out to the playground. “Tati! No running, sweetheart!”

She waved toward the child before turning back to you with a wide smile.

“Lovely day, isn’t it?” she chirped.

You gave her a polite smile, nodding. “It is,” you replied, subtly shifting your book closer to your lap. Her eyes flicked to the book in your hands, narrowing slightly as if trying to make out the title. “Is that a… guidebook?” she finally asked.

You tilted your head slightly. “Yes,” you said simply, hoping that’d be enough to end the conversation.

“A pregnancy guide?” she pressed, her curiosity accompanied by a cheerful smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “How sweet! Helping out a sister or expecting a niece?—Oh, where are my manners? I’m Viola.”

Her question caught you off guard. You hesitated briefly before giving your name. “Uh, no. It’s for me,” you said with a small smile.

Her expression shifted instantly. Her eyes widened, her grin turning stiff and awkward. “For you? Oh…”

You nodded, feeling heat creep up your cheeks. She had seemed friendly at first, but the subtle judgment on her face now was impossible to ignore.

“How far along?” she asked, as if the question was perfectly natural.

“Sixteen weeks,” you mumbled, pretending to smooth the book’s pages. The weight of her gaze made your skin crawl.

“Ah, so young,” she murmured, taking a long sip from her coffee. When she lowered the cup, her eyes lingered on you, as though dissecting every detail. “How old are you, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Twenty,” you replied, keeping your tone neutral but feeling the words land heavier than you intended. You watched her eyebrows knit together as she took a sharp breath.

“Twenty? You look barely old enough to drive!” she exclaimed, clearly not trying to be subtle. Then, almost conspiratorially, “But… you must be married, right?”

Your hands instinctively moved to rest on your stomach, but you hesitated to respond. The silence must have been answer enough because her eyes flicked from your belly back to your face.

“Oh,” she said knowingly, her smile tightening further. “So… is the father still in the picture?”

What was this, an interrogation?

You swallowed the lump forming in your throat. Was it the tone of her voice? Or the audacity of her questions? Whatever it was, it stung. “That’s not something I need to discuss with you,” you said firmly, fighting to keep the frustration out of your voice.

Viola shrugged, but her scrutinizing look didn’t waver. “Fair enough. But raising a baby at your age, and without… well, you know. It’s going to be tough. Don’t you think this was a bit… impulsive?”

Her words hit like a cold wind. You tightened your grip on your stomach and tilted your head slightly. “That’s none of your business,” you said, your voice harder now.

Viola didn’t back down. “Yes, maybe you’re right. But people talk, sweetheart. And usually, they judge the ones they think made the wrong decisions…” She paused, pursing her lips. “Well, they judge.”

That was all you needed to hear. You tucked your book under your arm like you were putting it in a bag, got up, and said, “I think it’s time for me to leave,” your tone colder than even you expected.

Viola raised a hand as if trying to smooth things over. “Oh, I didn’t mean to offend,” she said, but the look in her eyes betrayed the opposite. “I’m just saying this for your own good.”

You could shove your “thoughts” up your ass.

Turning on your heel, you walked toward the park’s exit. The sound of her coffee cup being placed on the bench and her murmuring words echoed behind you. A fresh start sounded nice, you thought. But a new beginning wasn’t a guarantee of escaping old judgments.

There was no way you were going out to socialize again anytime soon. You hated that woman. With every fiber of your being. The way she judged you with that smug little brain of hers—it made your blood boil. You had no memory of how you even made it back home.

You made yourself some hot cocoa, hoping it would calm your nerves. Honestly, lying flat in the grass wouldn’t have been enough to shake off the anger at this point.

Even though you tried to distract yourself—knowing full well that stress wasn’t good for the baby—it wasn’t working. The incident replayed in your mind on a loop. You were certain you’d shiver every time you walked past that park again.

Who did she think she was, anyway? How could someone pass judgment on a stranger like that? The sheer audacity—it was baffling.

The sound of your phone notification pulled you out of your spiraling thoughts. Glancing over, you reached for the phone resting on the couch.

You waited for a reply, but when nothing came, you set the phone down again. At least one of you was having a good day. Even though you felt like you were on the verge of exploding, you took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself.

The sudden ring of your phone startled you. You looked over, eyes narrowing slightly in surprise. JJ Maybank was calling you. Right now.

Pressing the phone to your ear, you grabbed the half-full cocoa mug from the table with your other hand. You weren’t going to drink it anymore. You were too annoyed to even think about washing it, but you figured you could at least move it somewhere out of sight. JJ’s voice came through the speaker, and despite everything, a small smile crept onto your face. For all his antics, he was a decent guy.

Heading toward the kitchen, you heard the cheerfulness in his voice as he began, “Used it this morning.” He was talking about the surfboard, excitement practically dripping from his words.

Frowning slightly, you placed the mug on the counter. This morning? Shouldn’t he have been at work? “This morning? Weren’t you supposed to be at work?”

There was a brief pause before JJ let out a muffled laugh. “Got fired,” he said casually, like it was the most normal thing in the world. Honestly, with him, it kind of was. You couldn’t help but laugh a little.

You weren’t surprised—of course, you weren’t. With the phone still pressed to your ear, you wandered over to the window and glanced outside. “Figured,” you said, your voice laced with playful sarcasm.

JJ didn’t miss a beat, his tone now teasingly accusatory. “Wait a second. Did you bet on me?”

Smiling, you shook your head even though he couldn’t see it, your attention momentarily caught by a cat wandering down the street. JJ cleared his throat, bringing you back. “No, but I wish I had,” you said.

His response came in the form of a dramatic groan. “That’s the meanest thing I’ve heard all week. You’re better than this.”

You turned around and walked toward the kitchen, your tone a little sharper now. “Get used to it.”

JJ responded immediately, his voice carrying a hint of challenge. “Never,” he shot back. Then, after a brief pause, his tone softened, but he added a teasing edge. “Pregnancy hormones have turned you into a completely different person. And it’s only been six days.”

The way he always knew how to push your buttons—and somehow make you smile instead of snap—was maddening. You found yourself tapping the corner of the table with your fingers, a habit you didn’t even notice until it happened. “I take pride in that,” you said, a playful grin tugging at your lips.

JJ came back stronger, more confident this time. “Hey, do you think it’s the hormones, or is it because you haven’t seen my handsome face for six whole days?” There was that familiar cocky tone, but you could tell he was trying to make you laugh. “I’d bet everything it’s because you haven’t seen my handsome face.”

“Even your surfboard?” you teased, your voice lifting just enough to show you were fully invested in the banter now. You moved toward the living room and dropped onto the couch, your gaze briefly flitting to the TV. But your attention was fully locked on JJ.

“Not a chance,” he replied instantly, almost defensive. “The board’s off-limits. Too precious.”

You chuckled, grabbing the nearby blanket and pulling it over your lap. “Then you’ve lost everything except the surfboard,” you said, shaking your head in mock disapproval. JJ’s laugh echoed through the phone, rich and warm, before he quipped, “You’ve been extra rude lately,” his voice carrying a mix of mock hurt and teasing amusement.

You didn’t just roll your eyes—you sank deeper into the couch, grabbing a pillow to prop yourself up. Of course, he’d called just to mess with you. Was he bored? Had he decided you were the best target for entertainment? “I’ve always been like this,” you replied with a shrug he couldn’t see.

“Nope,” JJ shot back instantly, his tone softer but still certain. A brief silence followed, filled only by the sound of your own breathing, before he spoke again. This time, his voice was a little more sincere. “So… how’s it going? Living alone and all?”

You didn’t hate that he asked. Actually, it felt nice to talk to someone. As an adult—or whatever weird in-between phase you were in—socializing wasn’t exactly easy. It hadn’t been easy on the island either, but at least that had been your choice. This wasn’t.

You took a deep breath, realizing the question was harder to answer than you’d expected. “It sucks,” you admitted finally, the honesty not surprising you in the slightest.

“Why?” JJ’s voice was softer now, laced with just enough concern to feel genuine but not suffocating. It was like he always knew how to navigate these moments without overstepping. And honestly, it was strange—good strange.

You tried to sort through the chaos in your head. “I don’t know,” you said with a faint sigh. “I haven’t really connected with anyone. I don’t know anyone here.”

JJ, ever the problem-solver in his own weird way, jumped in with his trademark ease. “Then make friends with the stray cats,” he said, that classic carefree tone of his bringing a smile to your face despite everything.

“I already have you,” you teased back, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “I couldn’t possibly betray you.”

His laugh from the other end of the line was contagious. “Not funny.” 

Fidgeting with the edge of the blanket, you hesitated before mumbling, “Are you okay? How are you?” Somehow, over the phone, it felt easier to ask—less intimidating than it would’ve been face-to-face.

“I’m amazing,” JJ said, his voice taking on a flat, almost robotic tone that screamed deflection.

“Your ego is exhausting,” you retorted, matching his sarcasm. Why couldn’t he just answer the question for once? Did everything have to be a game? “Seriously. How are you? After… you know, that day.”

JJ exhaled deeply, and when he finally spoke, his voice was quieter, almost reluctant. “I don’t live with my dad anymore.”

You sat up straighter, grabbing the remote to lower the TV’s volume. “Wait, really?”

“Yeah,” he said simply, like it wasn’t a big deal. “Packed up my stuff and left.”

It wasn’t exactly shocking. In fact, you were relieved he’d done it. Knowing he’d been living with someone who hurt him was unbearable. But still, you couldn’t stop your brow from furrowing. You couldn’t shake the worry. “Are you staying with John B?”

JJ’s silence was unexpected. You listened to the sound of his breathing, the faintest hitch before he finally answered. “Kind of?”

“What does that mean?” Your voice sharpened with concern. Why was he dancing around the answer when he could just tell you?

JJ sighed again, his tone shifting as though he’d stepped further away from the phone. “They don’t know I left yet. And I don’t want to talk about it.”

He hadn’t told his closest friends? Why? They weren’t the type to judge him. You didn’t know them well, but you were sure of that much. It didn’t make sense.

Even as your worry grew, you knew pressing him wasn’t the right move. “So where are you staying?” you asked cautiously.

JJ’s tone hardened. “I said I don’t want to talk about it.” There it was—his three-year-old tantrum mode. Did he really think people didn’t have the right to worry about him? Idiot.

You pinched the bridge of your nose, already feeling your patience wearing thin. “As your friend, I’m allowed to be concerned about your safety, JJ. Just tell me where you’re staying.”

His tone shifted again, this time lighter, more teasing. “Friend, huh? That’s nice. Kook and Pogue forever.”

“Shut it,” you snapped, your irritation clear. All you wanted was to know he was safe. “Just tell me already.”

JJ paused, then let out a soft laugh—the kind you knew was covering up something deeper. Even a toddler could tell. “I stayed with them for a few days. Been figuring it out since.”

You frowned. That wasn’t a solution. “You need to tell them,” you said gently.

He responded with the same stubbornness you’d come to expect, but his tone hinted at a smirk. “This is my problem, princess.” Then, as if to shift the mood, he added, “This is the first time we’ve talked on the phone. Cute, right? Now, tell me about your day.”

Despite the worry gnawing at you, you relaxed just a little. He wouldn’t be joking around like this if things were terrible… right?

You hoped so cause—JJ is your friend.

[rootedinrevisions]

Terrified to Lose You Two

Summary: Jake is gone. And you don't know when or if he's coming back. Left to navigate the aftermath of that night on your own, you try to convince yourself it was nothing. But when weeks turn into months, and an unexpected scare leaves you spiraling, it becomes impossible to ignore just how much his absence weighs on you.

Warnings: Mentions of Pregnancy, Pregnancy Scare. Also just a lot of angst and worrying. Maybe mutual idiots with feelings?

Word Count: 3,551

Author’s Note: This took WAY longer than I planned it to. But honestly I hadn't originally planned on this to have a Part 2 but since there was interest decided to see what I could come up with. I know the ending is kind of open ended. I'm not sure i I want to have a Part 3 or not. So I tried to leave it so that this could be the end or there could be more. I hope you all enjoy it and that it ends up being worth the wait. xx

You don’t know how long it’s been exactly. Days blur together when there’s no news. No updates. No messages. 

Just an empty space where Jake should be.

You wake up in the middle of the night, stomach twisted in knots, reaching for your phone before you remember he’s not going to text you.  

Not yet. Maybe not ever. 

And that thought is a black hole, threatening to swallow you whole.

So you keep yourself busy. Work. Exercise. Anything to outrun the restless energy clawing at your ribs.

But your body feels…off. It’s subtle at first. A gnawing exhaustion that sleep doesn’t fix. A vague nausea that lingers in the back of your throat, never quite enough to make you sick, just enough to make food unappealing.

You brush it off as stress. The lack of sleep. The sheer weight of waiting for Jake to come back. Or even just to hear news that he and the others are okay.

Then you check the date. 

Your heart stops.

No. You count again.

No. Your stomach lurches as you double check your calendar, fingers tightening around your phone as if that might somehow change the numbers.

Late. You’re late.

And suddenly, the exhaustion, the nausea, the hollow ache in your chest…it all feels suffocating.

No. No, it’s stress. It has to be stress.

You can’t be. That doesn’t make sense. You’re on the pill. You never miss a dose. You’ve taken it every day at the same time like clockwork.

This isn’t happening. It can’t be happening.

You take a slow breath, pressing your fingertips against your temples. Stress messes with your cycle. That’s all this is. The waiting, the worrying, the exhaustion, it's all too much, and your body is just reacting to it.

You try to shake it off. You try to be rational.

But then the symptoms start feeling more real.

A wave of nausea hits you out of nowhere while you’re brushing your teeth. You gag, barely managing to stop yourself from getting sick. Later, in the shower, the steam makes your head swim. The next thing you know, you're gripping the tile wall, knees nearly buckling, blinking against the sudden dizziness.

Your heart pounds. You breathe through it, shaking your head. It's fine. You just stood up too fast. You didn’t eat enough today. Except you did eat. You had half a sandwich, a protein bar, and a coffee. It wasn’t much, but it was enough. Wasn’t it?

The doubt creeps back in. By the time dinner rolls around, even the thought of food makes your stomach turn. You stare at your favorite takeout sitting on the counter, appetite gone, throat tight.

Panic wraps around your ribs.

No. No, this isn’t happening.

You can’t tell Jake because he’s not here.

You can’t tell anyone else because they’re all gone too.

You're alone.

So what do you do?

You do the worst possible thing. You start Googling.

And suddenly, every symptom lines up perfectly. Fatigue. Nausea. Dizziness. Loss of appetite.

Sitting on the bathroom floor phone gripped tight in your hands, you stare at the search results until the words blur together.

The answer is simple. You need to take a pregnancy test.

But you don’t move. You don’t get up. You just sit there, legs curled up to your chest, heart hammering in your ears.

What if it’s positive? What if it’s not? What if—

You squeeze your eyes shut.

You tell yourself it’s fine. You tell yourself you’re overreacting. You tell yourself to wait it out.

But no matter how many times you try to push it away, the what if won’t leave you alone.

And deep down, you already know you won’t be able to breathe until you know for sure.

So you make the appointment. And then you drive yourself there. Alone.

The waiting room is small, sterile, and too quiet. You sit stiffly in one of the plastic chairs, phone gripped tight in your hands. You refresh your notifications. Again. Again. Hoping for an update.

Nothing.

You swallow hard, tapping your foot against the floor. The walls feel too close, the air too heavy, and for a second, you consider just walking out.

Maybe it really is just stress.

But before you can make up your mind, a nurse calls your name.

You force yourself to stand, legs unsteady as you follow her back. The blood pressure cuff tightens around your arm, the pulse oximeter clips onto your finger, and you try not to wince when she frowns at the numbers.

“Heart rate’s a little high,” she notes.

You swallow. “Yeah. That’s probably just—” You hesitate, glancing away. “I’ve been anxious.”

She nods, scribbles something on the chart. “What brings you in today?”

You exhale slowly. “I haven’t been feeling great. Lightheaded. Nauseous. My appetite is weird. And, um… I’ve been having some stomach pain.”

The nurse hums, nodding along, but then her next question knocks the air from your lungs.

“Could you be pregnant?”

You freeze.

Your first instinct is to say no. You’re on birth control. You’re careful. This shouldn’t even be a question.

But you’re late. And you do feel off. And there’s that sliver of doubt you haven’t been able to shake.

So instead, you hesitate.

“Maybe.” Your voice is small, unsteady.

She nods again, like she hears that answer all the time, and scribbles another note before setting the clipboard aside.

“We’ll do a test,” she says gently. “Just to be sure.”

And then you’re left alone in the exam room, staring at the speckled tile floor, hands twisted in your lap, heart hammering against your ribs.

You tell yourself it’s fine. You tell yourself you’ll handle it, whatever it turns out to be. But no matter how many times you try to convince yourself, your hands are still shaking as you wait for the results.

Alone.

The knock on the door is soft, but it makes you jump.

The nurse steps back inside, glancing at the chart in her hands. “Your test was negative.”

You exhale. Your shoulders dropping, lungs finally expanding. But it’s not a relief. Not really.

Because nothing has changed. Jake is still gone. You’re still waiting. You’re still alone in this.

Your fingers curl against the paper lining of the exam table, the crinkle loud in the silent room. You should feel better. This should ease something. But all it does is leave a hollow ache in your chest.

Because the fear is still there. The uncertainty. The realization that for one brief, terrifying moment, you’d considered what this could have meant.

You press your lips together, nodding vaguely as the nurse talks. She is going on about something. You think she might be recommending rest and hydration. And there’s something about stress management.

You barely hear her.

Because all you can think about is Jake.

How much you miss him. How much you need him to come home. And how utterly terrified you are that he won’t.

By the time you’re walking out of Urgent Care, stepping into the cool night air, the weight of it all crashes down on you.

You wrap your arms around yourself, blinking hard against the sting behind your eyes.

You don’t want to be alone in this anymore.

But for now?

You have no choice.

* * * * *

It happens when you’re least expecting it.

You’re at The Hard Deck, nursing a drink that you don’t really want, when Nat slides onto the stool next to you. She greets you casually, like she always does, but something in her expression shifts when she gets a good look at you.

"You look like hell," she says.

You huff a laugh. "Feel like it too."

She leans in slightly, voice lower. "Jake’s back."

The words hit like a sucker punch to the ribs. You blink. Swallow. 

“What?”

“Got back a few days ago.” 

She says it so easily, like it’s nothing. Like it’s not the most important thing you’ve heard in weeks.

Your fingers tighten around your glass. A few days. Jake’s been here. Alive. Breathing. Walking around San Diego like everything is normal. And he didn’t tell you.

The realization stings. You force yourself to breathe through it, to keep your face neutral as you take a sip of your drink. “Good for him.”

Nat studies you, like she can hear all the things you don’t say.

If it meant anything to him. If that night, the things unsaid, the way you held onto him meant something, wouldn’t he have reached out?

Wouldn’t he have wanted to see you?

You tell yourself you don’t care. That it doesn’t matter.

But deep down, it does.

Because while he’s been fine walking around, acting like it was just another mission, just another day, you’ve been going through hell.

And now? You don’t know what to do with that.

So you don’t tell him right away. Not about Urgent Care. Not about the nights you spent staring at the ceiling, sick with worry.

But the moment you see him later that night? All of it comes rushing back.

The moment you spot him across the bar, your heart slams against your ribs.

Jake looks exactly the same. Same cocky smile. Same easy confidence. Same damn twinkle in his eye as he laughs at something Coyote says, a beer dangling from his fingers like he doesn’t have a care in the world.

Like he didn’t just vanish for three months. Like you didn’t spend sleepless nights wondering if he’d ever make it home. Like that night…the way you curled into him, the way you needed him meant absolutely nothing.

You wait. Wait for him to look over. To acknowledge you. To do something. But he doesn’t. He doesn’t even glance your way.

Your stomach twists, but you shove the feeling down. Maybe this is your answer. Maybe you were the only one who spent the last three months thinking about that night.

Maybe it was nothing to him.

If he’s going to act like this never meant anything, like you’re just another face in the crowd then fine.

You can act like that, too.

You tell yourself you won’t look again, but your gaze betrays you. Every few minutes, your eyes flick to where he stands. And every damn time, you catch him already looking.

A half second too long. Just enough to make your pulse stutter.

But neither of you move. Neither of you say a word.

Hours pass like this stolen glances, fleeting eye contact, both of you waiting for the other to be the first to break.

"You know he asked about you, right?" Natasha says, nudging your arm as she slides into the seat beside you.

You blink. “What?”

“While we were deployed,” Bradley adds from across the table. “Not all the time, but enough.” He shrugs. “It meant something to him. That night you went home with him.”

Your chest tightens, but you shake your head. “If it meant something, he would’ve reached out.”

Bradley gives you a look. “He just got back.”

“It’s been three days,” you counter.

“Maybe he thought you would reach out,” Natasha offers.

You scoff, leaning back in your chair. “Well, then I guess we’re at a stalemate.”

They exchange a glance, and then Bradley huffs, shaking his head. “Fine. Be stubborn. But you’ll never know unless you talk to him.”

Natasha smirks, tipping her glass toward Jake’s direction. “And for the record? He hasn’t stopped looking at you all night.”

Your breath catches, but you force yourself to keep your expression neutral. You won’t be the first to move. You won’t. The ball is in his court. It’s his move.

But somewhere between your resolve and your next drink, you realize that if you don’t talk to him tonight you’ll regret it.

So you stand and start making your way over to him before you can overthink it or talk yourself out of it.

Jake spots you coming the second you stan. By the time you come to a stop in front of him he’s already turned towards you, his beer poised halfway to his lips.

For a moment, neither of you say anything. Then, he exhales. “Wanna step outside?”

You hesitate, but only for a second. “Yeah.”

The night air is cooler than you expect, a welcome contrast to the warmth inside. The sounds of the bar fade slightly as you both step onto the patio, stopping near the railing.

Jake leans against it, looking over at you. “How’ve you been?”

You don’t answer. You just wrap your arms around yourself, and that—more than words—tells him everything he needs to know.

His jaw tightens. He looks away for a beat, then nods, exhaling softly. “Yeah,” he murmurs. “That’s what I thought.”

Silence stretches between you.

Jake shifts, rubbing the back of his neck. Then, quietly he says,“I would’ve called. Sooner, I mean. But I didn’t know if you wanted to hear from me.”

You let out a small, humorless laugh. “I spent the last three months thinking about that night. Wondering if you would come back home.”

“Were you really that worried about me?”

You let out a small humorless laugh. Then before you can second guess it and change your mind you just say it. “I was late.”

Jake turns fully toward you now, his brows drawing together. “Late? Like…”

Your throat feels tight, but you push through. “Yeah. And you…you weren’t here…none of you were.”

Your eyes are locked on the wooden planks of the patio below you. But you still hear the audible inhale of air that Jake takes. 

He clears his throat before he says anything. His voice is quiet when he finally speaks. “So are you…”

You shake your head. “No.”

Jake exhales, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “Shit.”

Neither of you speak for a few minutes. Then he shifts closer to you. Not close enough to touch, but close enough that the warmth of him brushes against you.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

You glance away from him, your eyes look out past the sand at the water and the horizon as the last remnants of the sun dipped below the edge of the horizon.

You take a deep breath and then look over at Jake. Your eyes meet his, and for the first time tonight, you let him in. You let him see the fear, the uncertainty, the weight and pressure that you’ve been carrying around for the last three months.

“I guess I didn’t know what you’d say,” you admit, your voice barely a whisper.

Jake goes silent again. And you feel the way the air shifts between you, the way his eyes stay locked on yours but his mouth doesn’t move. Your stomach twists. Your hands start to shake. And suddenly it’s too much.

The weight of the last three months. The waiting. The worrying. The wondering if you’d ever see him again.

You feel your chest tighten. You need to get out of here. Before he can see the way your breathing picks up, before he can see you break, you take a step back. Then another.

Jake doesn’t move.

You turn to go but before you can take another step, his hand closes gently around your wrist.

“Wait.”

His voice is quiet but firm. Steady.

You freeze.

“Just…wait.”

His grip is light, barely holding onto you, like he’s afraid if he pulls too hard, you’ll slip right through his fingers.

You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to breathe through the lump in your throat. “Jake, I can’t—”

“Please.”

That single word makes you stop. There’s something there in his voice…something raw.

Slowly, hesitantly, you turn back around.

Jake watches you, jaw tight, something heavy in his gaze. His fingers loosen, but don’t let go.

“I didn’t know,” he says finally, voice rough. “I swear to God, I didn’t know.”

You swallow hard. “I know.”

He nods, but his brows furrow, like that’s not enough. Like he needs you to really believe it.

His thumb brushes over your wrist absently, a slow, grounding motion. “I wouldn’t have left you alone with…that.”

You open your mouth, but nothing comes out.Because part of you believes him. And part of you doesn’t know what to do with that.

Jake takes a breath. “Come sit with me?”

Your instinct is to say no. To run. To protect yourself before he can hurt you again. But when you meet his eyes, all you see is sincerity.And maybe you’re too tired to fight him anymore.

So you nod.

Jake leads you to one of the patio benches, waiting until you sit before he lowers himself beside you.

For a moment, neither of you say anything. The sounds of the bar filter through the open doors, but out here it feels quieter.

“I should’ve called you when I got back,” he admits, voice low.

You blink at him. “You think?”

Jake exhales through his nose, shaking his head at himself. “I thought about you. More than I probably should’ve.” He huffs out a laugh, shaking his head. “Nat and Rooster were ready to throttle me with how much I talked about you.”

Your heart stutters. “Then why didn’t you—”

“Because I was scared,” he cuts in, meeting your gaze. “Scared I’d come back and you’d tell me that night didn’t mean anything. That I didn’t mean anything.”

Your lips part, stunned into silence.

Jake laughs softly, shaking his head. “Turns out, I’m an idiot.”

You watch him, the raw honesty in his expression, the vulnerability he rarely lets show.

You take a steadying breath, forcing yourself to ask the question that’s been haunting you since the morning after you last saw him.

“That night…” Your voice comes out softer than you intend, barely audible over the distant hum of the bar. “Did it mean anything? To you?”

Jake’s eyes snap to yours, something unreadable flickering across his face. For a moment, he just looks at you, like he’s weighing his answer.

“Yeah.” Jake exhales, running a hand through his hair before settling his gaze back on you. “It meant too much.”

Your breath catches. “Jake—”

“I thought about it,” he continues, voice steady but raw. “More times than I should admit. But I convinced myself it was better to leave it alone. That if I reached out, you’d tell me it was a mistake.” He lets out a dry laugh. “Hell, I figured you probably regretted it the second it happened.”

You shake your head instantly, the words slipping out before you can stop them. “I didn’t.”

You swallow hard, hands gripping the edge of the bench. “I never regretted it,” you admit, voice barely above a whisper.

Silence settles between you, thick and weighted.

Jake watches you like he’s searching for something—like he’s waiting for permission to believe you. Then, slowly, he leans in, elbows on his knees, voice quieter now.

"So where does that leave us?"

You don’t know.

All you know is that after months of silence, of doubt, of wondering—Jake is here. Right in front of you.

And maybe that’s enough.

[2amriize]

.ᐟ friend!RIIZE flirting with you ༉‧₊˚.

req: I js discovered your blog and im obssesedddd😭 could you do riize as friends flirting with you on party and being very bold? thank youuu

pairing: friend!riize x reader —masterlist

⭑.ᐟ shotaro

Your group of friends had decided to throw a party to celebrate the end of your first year at university. The party was pretty crowded, and although you didn’t usually enjoy these events, you were having a good time. At one point, Shotaro, one of your closest friends, came over to talk to you, and the two of you spent a long time chatting while sipping your drinks. You weren’t sure if it was because the music was so loud or because Shotaro had had a bit too much to drink, but he kept moving closer to you, leaning in to your ear every time he wanted to say something. You didn’t expect him to place his hand on your hip and whisper:

"You look too good tonight, and you smell amazing... Should we find somewhere more private?"

.ᐟ eunseok

Since you arrived at the party, you’d been hanging out with your friend, dancing and having some drinks. The moment you noticed Eunseok watching you, you couldn’t stop wondering why he was staring. When your friend stepped away, Eunseok wasted no time approaching you to start a conversation, offering you a drink while his eyes swept up and down your figure. After a few seconds of silence, he brought his hand near his lips and said:

"Wow... I've been waiting all night to come up to you, and I don’t know if I can wait any longer to get even closer."

⭑.ᐟ sungchan

One of your friends suggested playing truth or dare during a small party your group had planned. After some time drinking, you all decided to make things more exciting with the game. The questions and dares grew increasingly bold, which made the situation even more interesting. You didn’t expect that one of the dares would result in you spending five minutes alone in a closet with Sungchan. It felt strange being so close to him, and you couldn’t help but notice how he was looking down at you.

"People will probably think we’re doing something in here..."

"I mean... I wouldn’t mind giving them something to talk about if it’s with you."

⭑.ᐟ wonbin

Although you’d known Wonbin for years and were part of the same friend group, the two of you had never really talked alone, so you didn’t know much about him. One night, your group decided to go to a nightclub together. You spent a long time dancing and drinking with your friends, but gradually, they began pairing off with others or heading off with their significant others. At one point, you stepped outside for some fresh air and ran into Wonbin. You ended up talking for a while about how it seemed like everyone had someone except for the two of you. After a moment of silence, he surprised you by saying:

"If we were together, everyone would be jealous of us... Don’t you think? I think we’d make a great couple."

⭑.ᐟ seunghan

You weren’t a big fan of parties, but Seunghan had spent weeks convincing you to attend one that a classmate was hosting, so you finally agreed. You didn’t plan to stay long, but at least you could keep Seunghan company for a while. When you arrived, you went over to him, and he offered you a drink. The two of you ended up talking for a long time. You were good friends and got along really well, but something about the way he was looking at you that night felt different. Every chance he got, he’d touch your cheek or your shoulder. When Seunghan stepped away to grab some snacks, a guy approached you to ask for your number. As soon as Seunghan returned and saw what was happening, he placed his hand on your arm and said:

"Hey, back off. I saw her first, she’s mine."

⭑.ᐟ sohee

It always surprised you how much Sohee’s personality changed after a few drinks. You were at a party he’d organized at his house, and although he was usually calm and adorable, just one drink made him outgoing and energetic, chatting with everyone. But for some reason, Sohee had stuck by your side all night. At one point, you stepped out into his garden to get some fresh air, and the two of you sat on the grass. After a few seconds, you noticed Sohee was staring at you.

"Mgh? Is something wrong Sohee?"

"I don’t know if it’s the alcohol or you, but my heart’s been pounding all night when I’m around you. I can’t stop looking at you, y/n."

⭑.ᐟ anton

Your friends had decided to celebrate the end of exams with a night out at a nightclub. You were with a big group, and you’d spent hours dancing and drinking with your friends. At one point, when you went to the bar for a drink, you ran into Anton, one of your friends. You chatted for a few moments while waiting for your drinks. Once they arrived, you turned to leave, but you felt Anton grab your hand. Confused, you turned back to face him. Pulling you closer and placing his hand on your arm, he leaned in and whispered:

"I’ve been watching you all night, y/n, and I need to know if I have a chance with you or if I should just pretend I’m not obsessed with you."

masterlist // taglist: @regularsuh @gacktsa @totheseok @kkumistars @taroddori @enhacolor @ladylilith @electric-hearts @astrobymarwa @layluv123 @sunflowers1610 @nctrawberries @synkjellies @ramyeonzprincess

[marvelouslizzie]

A Lonely Night

summary: Your crush on your roommate gets out of hand. His smile ruins you in a way you never expected.

pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader 

word count: 1.9K

warnings: 18+, masturbation (fingering, vibrator use), fantasies, daddy kink, no mention of y/n 

A/N: I actually planned this as a 3 part story where we see his POV as well. I hope to write the remaining 2 parts. I hope my inspiration lasts.

The gif represents the smile that ruined the reader. Who can blame her?

Thank you so much @notafunkiller for beta-reading and editing on such short notice. You're a lifesaver!

All work is mine, please do not repost or translate without my permission.

Read more tag starts after the second paragraph of the story.

You don’t know how you ended up here. You had no intention of doing something like this. You didn’t intend to think about sex at all, especially not while your roommate is home. But when you saw his charming smile and those shiny blue eyes, you felt a jolt of electricity running through your body. It somehow felt like a 0.5-millisecond orgasm. It doesn’t matter how short it was, though, because you can feel the dampness of your panties, so you have no other choice but do something about it.

The TV is on, and it sounds like Bucky is watching the news. That’s not the sexiest thing to hear while touching yourself, yet you are grateful there’s something that covers the noises you make. It’s not like you are a really loud person. Especially not while touching yourself, but this time… You feel there’s something different about this time. The way your body responds to your own touch is not something you’ve experienced before. Neither is the wetness that is dripping out of you. It’s like your body is desperate for this. Desperate for attention and release.

You keep rubbing your pussy, touching all the different spots that make yourself feel good, and your whole body starts to shake, your ears buzzing, and your mind completely blank except for the image of Bucky. His smile and those blue eyes... You want him to be on top of you, touching you the way you like it, fingering you, telling you to be a good girl for him, and making you come over and over again. Then when you think it’s over you want him to push himself inside you, making your abused pussy clench with need. You can imagine how tired you would feel yet how wonderful it would be to finally have him inside you. He would start slowly, making you ask for it. You would either beg him to give you a break because you can’t come one more time or beg him to go harder, faster so you can just lose yourself. The thought of him consumes you while you are coming. It’s such a sweet orgasm, not all-consuming. It feels like you are floating in the air. So good. Exactly what you needed. What you don’t expect is how long it lasts. 

You don’t remember the last time you felt like this. Self-pleasuring is something you do often, but it never felt this good. Normally you would be done by now: already reached the top and breathing heavily while enjoying your after-glow, but this time it’s like your body wants even more. You can’t stop touching yourself. It just doesn’t stop feeling good, no overstimulation. At least not yet.

So if your body wants more, you are going to give it more. You will continue until you feel absolutely satisfied. That’s why you keep touching yourself, testing what feels the best and using your wetness. You haven’t used an ounce of lube since you started and yet your fingers are unbelievably sticky. You can’t help yourself but raise on your elbows and look at your pussy. You move your fingers apart and the wetness creates a bridge between them.

“Oh my god…”

He just gave you the most charming smile on the face of the earth. Nothing more. Why are you so freaking wet?

You can actually think of a couple of reasons. One of them is not having sex for a while. You don’t remember when was the last time. You can only remember it wasn’t impressive so you came home and took your vibrator out and rode it until you collapsed on the bed, finally feeling satisfied enough to sleep. Since then, you either used your fingers or your vibrator to get off, and your body needed more. A lot more.

The other reason is, your growing crush on Bucky. You knew this would be a problem when you decided to be roommates with him, yet it didn’t stop you. It’s delightful to see his handsome face every day, but it’s also torture. Seeing him getting out of the shower, with only a towel around his waist, or half naked while working out… It’s impossible not to get a crush. And on top of that, he’s super kind. Always considering you. He doesn’t sleep much, you know that, but he never makes any noise at night. Never disturbs you. Never eats your food. He never even brought someone over. At least not yet. You are dreading the day that might happen. It will hurt so badly, and there’ll be nothing you can do about it. Maybe that will help you get over your silly crush. But truth be told, you’d rather have it forever than hear him fucking someone else.

You keep rubbing yourself, over and over again until your head is thrown back. There’s this hunger building inside you. God, you feel like begging even though you are the one touching yourself.

“Please, please, please…” You try to be as quiet as possible. It’s just a whisper.

“I really need it, please…”

You do. You really do. You need to come so hard that you can’t breathe. Maybe then it will be enough. Maybe then you will feel satisfied. Your fingers start working even faster. You can feel your second orgasm, but there’s something on the back of your mind that’s holding you back. The thought of Bucky finding you like this. You don’t want that to happen. So you are holding back a little. You can’t risk it, can you? Otherwise, you won’t be able to look at him. You keep rubbing different spots trying to find the best one for this orgasm. Nothing works until you hear a sound from the living room. Probably Bucky moving around in the apartment. Somehow that sets you off. Your orgasm comes crashing in, taking your breath away while you silently keep touching yourself. You keep going until you can’t anymore. You feel buzzed, breathing heavily. That might be the best orgasm you had lately. You take a deep breath in, and then out. The thought of him catching you was terrifying yet you couldn’t stop. You didn’t want to stop. Can you be actually terrified and excited at the same time? If so, that’s exactly how you felt.

You lay there, in the comfort of your bed, and try to collect your mind. A part of you feels guilty because of what you’ve just done. Not the masturbation part, but pleasuring yourself at the thought of Bucky because he has no idea. He probably never even looked at you like that. Still, you can’t help but feel attraction, and it’s not just a physical thing. His personality is making everything worse. If he was just an asshole, everything would be easier, but he had to be the most amazing guy you’ve ever met. So, it’s his fault if you are masturbating to the thought of him, right? He’s just too perfect.

You breathe in and out, trying to deal with the guilt and your racing thoughts. Normally, this would be more than enough. Two back-to-back orgasms and the second one was so fucking intense yet you can still feel the need. It’s right there. Your core is silently begging while your wetness keeps dripping out of you. When you close your eyes and imagine Bucky pushing himself inside you, your muscles contract and your whole body begs for more.

Sighing, you open your bedside drawer. Here it is, your beloved vibrator. You close the drawer and look at it for a couple of seconds, trying to decide if you should really do this. He’s still in the living room, you can still hear the TV. It’s possible you might get caught, yet the hunger inside you takes over any rational thought. 

After a couple of seconds, you finally give in. Slowly, you push the vibrator inside you and your pussy clenches around it. Even without moving or turning it on, it feels amazing. The feeling of being full… You missed it so much. Then you start to move it in and out, slowly. You close your eyes and imagine it’s a real cock inside you, but it’s hard to get lost in that thought. The texture of the vibrator is far from realistic and the size isn’t that impressive. When that doesn’t work out, you turn it on and let yourself feel it. It’s better. Much better but still not enough. 

“God…” You complain silently while changing your position. You flip around and go on all fours, pushing your ass out as much as you can, the way you would do during sex. That finally hits the spot. You grab your pillow with haste and push your face into it, trying to cover any noise you might make.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck.” Your muffled moans can’t reach Bucky. He’s watching the TV after all.

“Yess, right there.” The words leave your lips before you are able to process them. Where are these words coming from? Who are you talking to? Is it a fantasy? You don’t know, but it feels good to let it out.

“Oh please, fuck me.” You try to push all the rational thoughts aside. It’s not the time for that.

“Fuck me, daddy, please.” You close your eyes and imagine Bucky again. Him taking his sweet time, edging you until you beg for release. You would give anything, absolutely anything to do this with him.

“Harder, please, daddy, I need it harder,” you mumble and then turn and press the vibration button again. It starts to pulse faster inside you and you feel like there is no air in your lungs anymore. You choke for a second, raising your head up from the pillow, and take a deep breath while your orgasm rips you apart. It’s nothing like you’ve experienced before. A part of your brain thinks you’re unlocking another level of orgasm while the other part is trying to enjoy this feeling while it lasts.

“Yes, yes, yes. Right there.” You let your head fall back on the pillow as you keep imagining Bucky. You have no idea how long your orgasm actually lasts. It’s definitely the longest one you’ve ever had. When your pussy starts to feel too sensitive you take out the vibrator and turn it off. 

Finally, you are feeling satisfied. You place the vibrator on top of your nightstand while you get on your back again. After taking a couple of deep breaths, you notice the lack of TV noise.

Shit.

Why did he turn the TV off? And more important, when? You look at the clock on the wall in front of you and the news program is not over yet. Did he hear you? 

God, please... Don’t let that happen.

You quickly stand up, putting your clothes back on quickly, and then you open the door as carefully as possible. The living room is empty. All you can hear is the shower running.

Thank god!

Bucky is taking a shower. So even with no TV on, he couldn’t have possibly heard you. The sound of the water would cover your moans, right? You hope so at least.

You go back to your room, clueless about the fact that Bucky heard everything, how he paid attention to every single detail, trying to memorize how you sound while coming. How you moan, how you rub yourself, and how needy you are.

Feeling like a creep, he jumped in the shower. Clearly, you were imagining someone else, and he had no right to listen to something as private as this. Yet he couldn’t stop himself. He couldn’t stop imaging how it would be the one that you call daddy. And he definitely couldn't stop his left hand from wrapping around his cock.