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#ru flirting?
alicelinducha · 3 months
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Catra: d-did you just flirt with me??wtf
Adora: tbh I've been doing this for years, thanks for noticing
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movielosophy · 6 months
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A Journey To Love | You can kill me with your words.
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gretahayes · 7 months
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kyle: sorry i was a bit late i had to work-
wally: fucking kill yourself nobody asked
kyle: ?? why are you such a cunt i literally just-
connor: god this is going to be long trip
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bnbc · 4 months
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should I play through the whole RT again just to spot a moment when Heinrix stops addressing RT as You (respectfully) and starts addressing them and you (like a normal person)?
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chewingcyanide · 3 months
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𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐃 𝐁𝐄𝐒𝐓 | 𝐣. 𝐡𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐞𝐬
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₊⊹ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 — secretly pining over someone is never fun—even less so when they’re your childhood best friend, and dating someone else.
₊⊹ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 —all the angst, jealousy, thoughts of inferiority, cursing, big sadness from reader over here, not proofread i got better things to do
₊⊹ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 — jack hughes x fem!reader
₊⊹ 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 — my valentine’s day jhughes special (albeit a day late ☹️), as promised! sorry it took me so long. couldn’t figure out how to end it. this is unapologetically self-indulgent. also not a wip, but i HAD to do it to em. i’m sorry if your name is brooke or bianca. i love you. promise. maybe we’ll make a part two, if yall like it enough!
₊⊹ 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 — @dancerbailey3, @bellstwd, @kashee-h, @crazycat-ladys-blog, @brucewaynegfreal, @love4dlr, @jackhughesily, @leavethemonsteralive, @loveforaugust, @43hughes, @nathandoe, @choppedlamphandscowboy, @bunting58, @angelayse, @ru-kru, @sleepretreat, @nonsensical-nonsence, @maih23 (if your name is white, i couldn’t tag you!)
𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐋 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓
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Everyone knows the saying you never know what you have until you lose it. Truth was, you knew exactly what you had—you’d just never imagined you’d lose it.
You never imagined you’d lose him.
A shared childhood and mothers’ who found friendship with each other had brought you and Jack Hughes together, kept you glued even as skin stretched and futures diverged—where he’d gone on to be a star hockey player, you’d quietly came into adulthood, trekking through the difficulties of college.
In your younger years, Jack had always been there. Life of the party, a mirrorball everyone gravitated to for its decadent shine—you, contrastingly, felt like a sore thumb at parties, attending them only to see the smile on Jack’s face. Differing personalities and life routes aside, Jack was your person. The first person you called whenever you were sad, or happy, or bored. The one who knew all of your test scores first, who took hours long flights just to visit you during breaks in the season.
Distance nor time had left a lasting mark on your friendship, kept together by constant phone calls and texts. Whilst you remained imbedded in the hustle of Toronto, Jack was trapped in New Jersey—a gap that you closed every summer, when mutual desire to see one another (as well as his brothers) brought you and him to Michigan for a few months.
From childhood, to high school, to now—it had always been you two. Jokes passed in the years, swirling around with assumptions of the two of you ending up together, finally realizing it after years of proclaimed friendship. For Jack, it’d never been romantic. Loving and caring, a relationship he’d never trade for the world, but the intimacy ended there. Memories of him outwardly flirting with girls in front of you at bars or parties flashed in your mind any time you figured maybe; he’d never given any indicator that you were or would ever be more to him than his best friend.
For you? It was an embarrassingly different story.
College had stolen much of your time—left none for a love life. But truthfully, that didn’t much phase you.
Hookups, flings, boyfriends—all of them paled in comparison to Jack. A childhood crush perpetuated by maturation without loss of contact, Jack had just… always been there. Always a best friend, never a lover; the hanging axe of rejection was too dire a outcome for you to ever consider telling him. Killing a friendship you’d grown with would kill you. And maybe he felt the same way, maybe the kisses he reserved for the crown of your head and the guiding hand he kept on the small of your back meant something, but you couldn’t continue existing if they didn’t.
So, a dutiful friend, you kept quiet, spared the connection and suffered in unrequited love.
And it hadn’t really changed until Jack had gotten a girlfriend. In all your years of knowing him, he’d had a few—though they rarely lasted more than a handful of months, and a selfish and bitter part of you liked that. Sometimes they overstepped, viewed themselves above you in the ranking of Jack’s life; he made painfully clear they never would be.
And it felt good, to be that cherished. But then you remembered he didn’t actually love you and it felt a whole lot less impactful.
Not Brooke.
Brooke, a box-dye blonde with a less-than-stellar reaction to your friendship with her boyfriend, was unarguably beautiful—unapproachably so, someone you’d picture whenever thinking of the girl Jack would end up with. You knew it would never be you, but you hated that it was her, hated that it was finally cemented, the coffin wheeled out.
A friendship you’d cherished for years had been weathered down by the abrasive actions of his girlfriend. It left a bitter taste in your mouth; Jack never seemed privy to Brooke’s nonverbal dislike of you, and you never made comment of it. If Jack was happy, what did it matter? If you said anything, all you’d appear to be was a child throwing a tantrum, the attention torn from them. You refused to jeopardize Jack’s happiness, even if it meant shredding your own.
Brooke tolerated you; that was the best word you could think of. There was surely no excess of love, but you didn’t think she flat out despised you, either. Passive aggressive to the point of just being aggressive, snide looks whenever she didn’t think you could see, intentionally separating you from Jack whenever the two of you were talking—it all made you hate being around her, and by extension, him.
So when he’d invited you to dinner with him—and some of his teammates, a monthly ritual at his house—the knee jerk reaction had been to decline, lie, run while you were still free from the piercing glare of Brooke; because you knew she’d be there, clung to his side, as if you had any intention of taking him away.
… Well, you’d did have the intention. Never the will, so then again maybe she was right to hate you. Feelings you’d never act on, words you’d never say—none of it mattered. She had him. Not you. Never you.
You should’ve said no.
Pouting eyes and pleading lips caved you. As soon as you’d agreed, you’d regretted it—knew in your bones it would only serve to wedge the knife in your heart deeper, solidify the loss of a what you thought would be a lifelong partnership. Your platonic soulmate, twin flame pinched out by hateful fingers.
Getting ready for the dinner felt like preparing for a cage fight, where all night you’d have do endure blow after blow—them kissing, them touching, him loving her in a way you wished he’d love you.
Night blanketed the sky by the time you’d arrived to Jack’s home, shadows slipping by the window, shapes of people telling you that you were likely late—the stone in your stomach had slowed you monumentally. The torture was self-inflicted, you knew. There would be no pity when your heart finally gave out.
She did this to herself, they’d say. Hearts can only endure so much before they break.
Voices coalesced into one as you pushed open the door, welcomed by the familiar atmosphere of friendship and loud laughter. You’d completely forgotten to text Jack that you’d gotten here—and for some reason, as you crossed the threshold into the gaping space of his living room, you felt like an outsider. Sudden eyes landed on you like bullets, and all you saw was Jack—his side taken dutifully by Brooke, always beautiful, striking in a way you didn’t think you’d ever been.
Looking at her, it made sense why she was the one Jack chose. Why you hadn’t been. A best friend. Childhood acquaintance. Faded t-shirt he’d strung along for too many years, even as the design weathered away and the fabric weakened. He’d gotten a shiny new one, the novelty still in tact, yet he hadn’t let you go.
Some part of you, deep in the caves of your wounded heart, wished Brooke would ban him from your presence. Maybe then your hurt would lessen. You knew you’d never be able to let go on your own.
Jack’s eyes caught you, stood awkwardly in the mouth of the hallway. He attempted to stand, only for Brooke to tug him down by his t-shirt—the shirt you’d bought him for his birthday last year, impressed with two hearts holding hands. She said something to him, something low and hissed between clenched teeth. Before you could see his reaction, Nico was invading your space, arms winding around you.
“There she is!” he announced, the ground leaving your feet as he lifted you playfully. “We were waiting on you to eat. Sure do like to take your time.”
Residual bitterness faded at Nico’s words—Jack may have been your best friend, but years of being attached to him introduced you to his teammates; they were always kind, if a little overbearing. A big brother that toed the line of overprotective and well-wishing.
Grateful for the attention distractor, you allowed your shoulders to relax and lungs to decompress. The first cut at seeing Jack, still happily in love with Brooke, was already dealt; you just needed to get through the dinner, and not look like a hostage while doing so.
“Yeah, yeah,” you laughed, shoving Nico’s shoulder as he brought you towards where the others were gathered in the living room. “Make fun of me for driving like a grandma all you want, at least I’m safe.”
Not looking at Jack took more self control than you’d care to admit. Blurring in your peripheral, a mess of colors stacked atop one another, you knew if you glanced—saw the claim Brooke was staking for all to see—it would only make you want to leave. So you didn’t.
Luke was next to greet you, offering a pity-imbued smile. Despite never mentioning your affections for his older brother, you knew he knew; saw it in the way he would look at you, the frowns offered. In times when Brooke inadvertently talked you down, it was Luke who told her off, put balm on the wound.
A side hug and a soft smile—you barely were able to muster one yourself. “How have classes been?”
You graced Luke with an exasperated groan. “Terrible, thanks for reminding me. Economics is kicking my ass.”
Luke sat. You remained standing. A loose thread peeking from your sweatshirt seemed far more intriguing than eyes you were trying desperately not to meet.
“Tough luck,” remarked Luke, conversations reviving after the novelty of your arrival wore off. You recognized a couple of faces around you—Dawson, Jesper, Alexander, and John. Faces you’d become acquainted with in your years of being Jack’s friend.
The title felt a bitter reminder of your ceiling, never surpassing Jack’s best friend. Loved and cherished, a desired presence, just not how you wanted. Who were you to complain? It was better to be his friend than nothing at all; to have a little piece of him, proof that at one point, you’d mattered enough to get it.
You just weren’t sure if you did anymore.
Where once Jack’s name was a regular occurrence, flashing on your phone screen—texts, calls, FaceTimes, they all faded once Brooke came into his life. Movie nights on his couch, reruns of old films that you could quote down to the last line, stopped. You knew Jack cared enough to extend invites, but at this point, you figured it was more out of pity and shame than actual want of your company.
Beggars really couldn’t be choosers.
Eventually, everyone made their way into the dining room. Chairs lined a large wooden table, one chosen and haphazardly assembled by you and Jack when he’d first bought this house. Scratches imbedded in the finish sent flashes of dropped hammers and clumsy feet into your mind, memories that felt too far to touch.
Mind far afield, you sat down—somewhere between Luke and Nico, far enough from Jack to be inconspicuous but close enough to feel the sharp burn of his eyes. It was petty, you knew, to have still not greeted him. Not that Brooke would’ve likely even let you. A sadistic part of you wanted him to feel even a modicum of the agony that rattled you whenever you were forced to watch him and Brooke, wanted to wonder and question why you were so cold.
Then again, maybe he didn’t care.
Body detached from your mind, the last thing you expected was to be spoken to—least of all by Brooke. But there her grating voice was, verging on overuse, but you knew that was just how she talked. Chafing and annoying and awful—
“Still no boyfriend?” A venomous smile curled her lips; friendly to the untrained eye. You knew better.
Your fingers twitched. The food in front of you spoiled, appetite evaporated. Of course she asked that—both a jab and a reassurance; if you had a boyfriend, her relationship with Jack would be safe. Not that it wasn’t, regardless.
You wished you could scream at her, leap across the table and force her to hear your words: you’d never have Jack. Want him, yes. Spend years pining over a boy who looked to you like the sister he never had, absolutely. But actually have him, feel his love in every touch and kiss? No. That wasn’t on the cards for you; you’d folded long ago.
“Nope,” you drawled. The pressure of Jack’s stare caved you—you caught his eyes, eyebrows creased, the wrinkle of his forehead that made itself prominent whenever he was annoyed.
What did he possibly have to be annoyed about?
Catching Luke’s gaze only irked you further, alit the urge to push out of your chair and flee Jack’s home. Pity swelled in his eyes, the beginnings of a frown quirking down his lips. You didn’t want pity; didn’t want to feel like the entire world was in on some inside joke you’d never understand. Everyone saw it, your love for Jack. Saw the lovestruck comedy that was your life—girl loves boy, boy isn’t even aware of it, hilarity ensues.
Everyone but Jack. And honestly, that was for the best.
You didn’t think you’d be able to handle the frown when he found out. Jack Hughes, always kind, never malignant, searching for a way to politely turn down his best friend without taking an axe to the connection. Really, there would be no bloodless way to let it die—so you lived in moments between, where nothing felt impactful or important or real.
When Jack was without Brooke, you could almost imagine he was your Jack—the one who turned down every girl so that he’d be free to go to prom with you, the one who got banned from a restaurant for life for pouring a drink over your cheating ex-boyfriend’s head. The Jack who always protected you, always cared, even when all of his friends couldn’t understand it.
That Jack who currently hand his arm around the back of Brooke’s chair, shoulders touching—a casual thing, something you’d done with countless strangers, yet it felt impactful enough to make bile swim in your throat.
“Probably for the best,” Luke interjected after the conversation—if it even was that—between you and Brooke came to an awkward stalemate. “Guys are dicks.”
A tension somehow always existed whenever you were in a room with Brooke. One you never wanted, never fed into. Like a shadow, the morning mist, it hung thick as smog. Choking you, nearly forcing you from the room.
“You’re a guy,” you laughed weakly, offering Luke a pointed look.
“No one at college, then?” Nico piped up. You felt bad for not looking at him, but he was too close to Jack and Brooke—you didn’t want to see them.
Cozy, warm in a way you thought only you’d ever be with Jack. Familiar, united. Their relationship didn’t seem as superficial as his past ones had, woven together under the pretense of good sex and no real connection. Watching Jack love his new, perfect girlfriend made you physically ill; and maybe that was dramatic, maybe it made you a backwards person with failing morals—you couldn’t care anymore.
Years of hiding your love, months of watching his own be poured into a girl that wanted you out of his life—it wore you down to your bones, dangerously close to burning to ash.
“Most of them are… strange, to say the least,” you responded with a wince. And that was true; your major seemed to just attract men whose one quality was making women uncomfortable. “Plus, having a boyfriend would just distract me. Finals are coming up and I’m already worried about how I’m going to do on them.”
Luke scoffed. “Hookups exist.”
A wince followed Luke’s words. Eyes fell to where Jessica was rubbing her hand—Jack apologized, albeit half-heartedly. Confusion overcame you; had he squeezed her hand too tightly?
In the past, you’d had boyfriends. Not that they lasted very long. Somehow, there was always something wrong with them—something only Jack could see; he’d endlessly nitpick, nag, explain why your newest boyfriend wasn’t good enough for you.
They were too old, too uptight, not nice enough. Always something. And without fail, Jack was right—scarcely did they make it past the first date before some measly excuse fell from their lips. But maybe it wasn’t them; maybe it was you. So, with an aching heart refusing to connect with any other but Jack’s, you gave up. Delved headfirst into college work and stayed below the waves, even as they began to drown you.
All you offered in response to Luke was a shrug.
Conversation picked up then, thankfully fell away from you. Limelight sufficiently dimmed, you allowed yourself to watch Jack; a habit you’d never quite shaken, even in the embarrassing moments when he caught your peering gaze.
You weren’t sure exactly when you’d fallen in love with Jack—just that you had, and now you couldn’t touch the bottom of him. Water filled your lungs, suffocated you, but if drowning meant being near him, you’d happily do it. Dying in his platonic embrace seemed better than dying all alone.
Ruffled brown hair, the sort of charm that every boy-next-door seemed to possess, and clear blue eyes that shone every emotion like a transparent window to his soul—all of it made Jack Jack, the boy you loved, would admire even in moments he didn’t think he deserved reverence.
You’d seen it all: the self-deprecation after his failure of a rookie year, dwindling confidence, tears imbued with hurt and disappointment, frustration of someone who knew they were better. It was you who’d been by his side, proved an anchor to a person you couldn’t live without.
Yet he’d still chosen Brooke.
For most people, that would be the last step off the cliff, boneless body breaking against the canyon. Not you—so full of hope and dreams, undeterred by every sign the universe gave you. You weren’t his only, but at least you were one.
Jack’s lips parted into a smile, one you could tell was real—his kissed Brooke’s temple, pinched her on the side. An intimate moment in a crowded room. You felt almost as if you were trespassing, a stranger watching two people in love. Part of you didn’t even associate that boy as Jack, because you couldn’t understand how he could love someone so averse to you, so… mean. But then again, it wasn’t about you.
It was about him. Accommodations had been made for years—leaving parties early because you were uncomfortable, blowing off his guy friends to comfort you after a bad date, scrapping his wants and his plans because of something to do with you.
He was probably sick of it. Sick of you, dictating what he could and couldn’t do. Who he could and couldn’t date. Because who cared if Brooke hated you; Jack loved her, despite it all. And that was what made dread swirl into a storm in your heart, ribs nearly cracking under the rate it was thundering at.
Abruptly, you stood. Felt the chair nearly topple. Eyes came to you—Jack’s friends. Yours, yes, but Jack’s foremost. You were just intruding, butting into a life that no longer fit you. Time had passed, the wishful minds of children grown into adulthood. He didn’t owe you anything anymore, especially when all you were was a storm cloud over his parade.
Just as soon as you had, Jack stood, concern clear in his gaze. “What’s wrong?”
Your tongue felt like lead. “Nothing—nothing, sorry. I’m—I need to use the restroom.”
You didn’t wait much longer before leaving the room.
Air felt scarce, lungs punctured and deflating quicker than you could patch the holes. Clumsily, you pushed open the door to the bathroom, steadied your shaking hands on the edge of the sink. Looking at yourself, reflection marred by the onset of tears, all you could do was compare—compare to Brooke, to every girl Jack had ever wanted, ever liked, ever loved.
Was it their features, doughy lips that worshipped him in a way you didn’t? Was it their bodies, womanly and free in a way you didn’t like to be? Or was it deeper, were their souls crafted from the same light, in a way you’d always thought your own had been with Jack’s?
Idiot, fool, dreamer—you were all of it. Like a lap dog, bird in its teeth, you always returned, remained dutifully at Jack’s side for the moment he might open the screen door and finally let you in.
Brooke had every right to hate you. Perceptive in a way Jack wasn’t, she saw what everyone else did—the lovesick eyes, foolish faith chaining you to him, an unrealized desire that would never be acted on. Had you been in Brooke’s place, you would’ve hated yourself as well.
Water poured from the faucet, gathered in your cupped palms. Attempting to desecrate any evidence of tears, you gently splashed the water in your face—went to dry it when you heard the sound of the front door creaking open.
“Oh, thank God you’re here, Bee.”
Cold crept up your spine. Eavesdropping was wrong—you knew that, yet still found yourself leaning against the bathroom door to catch Brooke’s words.
“What’s going on?” came the response, likely the voice of Bianca, Brooke’s best friend. You’d met her once at a game (met was a loose word; she’d given you a snide look and taken to ignoring you the entire time).
Brooke’s voice lowered to the point where you were forced to strain to hear her speak. “You know Jack’s little pet?”
A lapse. Your heart seized, taken by some concoction of shame and surprise.
“No.”
“Yes!” responded Brooke. “She’s fucking everywhere. I asked Jack not to invite her tonight, and lo and behold—”
“Wait, I thought you talked to Jack?”
“I did.” Vexation laced every letter. “I told him it made me uncomfortable how close they were, how she was always around, blah blah. He got defensive, but he said he’d talk to her.”
“Clearly not,” Bianca muttered. “Look, I wouldn’t worry about it. They’re childhood friends, yeah? He probably feels like he has to stay her friend, or something. I mean, Jack’s a good guy, he wouldn’t intentionally hurt anyone; if he dropped her, he’d look like a douche. I’m sure she’ll get the hint eventually.”
Footsteps began, voices fading along with them. “I fucking hope. It’s honestly pathetic.”
Blood roared in your ears, drowned out the sound of your beating heart—if it was even beating anymore. Something bitter and hot invaded your airways, lashed like whips against your flesh. It was no secret Brooke disliked you, disliked the closeness of you and Jack, but to hear it, the vicious way it fell from her lips—it made your gut twist and constrict, pushing bile towards your throat.
Pathetic. They thought you were pathetic, hopelessly waiting, like a dead plant praying for flowers that would never come. Lovelorn, seeking affection that only came by way of friendship and never more; they were right, and it became evident with a strike of lightning to your body.
Is that truly how Jack felt? Was he waiting for you to give up, so to spare you the hurt of being let down? Had you become baggage? Chained to him, the memory of childhood the only thing keeping you relevant, when times were less impactful and his life didn’t center around being a professional athlete. The stain of youth, remaining only for its joyful memory; that’s all you were now—a memory.
Just like your love, it seemed everyone saw Jack’s hints but you. Rose-colored lenses blurred everything but what you wished to see; of course you missed them, ignored them so your narrative remained intact.
God, you were an idiot. A fucking idiot.
Head pounding, the squeeze of an oncoming migraine rattling your brain, you opened the bathroom door. Felt like a trapped bird all the way back to the table—you just had to get through dinner, only an hour or two, so as to not raise any suspicion, and then you could fade from Jack’s life.
Not that he’d notice. He hadn’t even spoken to you tonight, though no fault of his own; Brooke kept her claws deep, and it was clear he didn’t want to risk an argument. Not that you could blame him—she was his girlfriend. Her. Not you. He didn’t owe you anything.
Conversations filled your ears, ostracized you—every time you had opened your mouth before, it had felt wrong, the scratch on a vinyl everyone skipped over. You saw him first—noticeably tense, chair a bit further away from Brooke that it had been earlier. Tensed forehead, hands balled on the table; you longed to ask what was wrong, as you were used to doing. But you imagined talking to him, and it somehow felt wrong, a peasant addressing a king.
Then, your eyes fell to your seat.
No longer empty, occupied now by Bianca, who was talking casually with Brooke, as if her actions hadn’t changed your entire perception of the situation. There were no more seats. No more room. The metaphor wasn’t lost on you, hit with the same sting of antiseptic on a wound—there wasn’t any more room for you at the table, just as there was no room for you in Jack’s life.
Maybe this was always meant to happen. Childhood didn’t remain forever, and it seemed, neither was your friendship. You’d always wondered why Jack had chosen you, someone so dissimilar to himself and his friends. Eventually, you made peace with it. His friendship was a balm to everything negative. Now… here you were again, more ostracized than ever.
What were you supposed to do? The long haul wasn’t meant to have an end.
Everyone was looking at you now. Stage fright, you lost your speech, thousands of eyes from a crowd looking at you, spotlight centered on your face, and you couldn’t, couldn’t, couldn’t—
Blue eyes found you, stood stonily at the entrance of the dining room. Jack’s eyebrows knitted, confused as to why you were still stood. When he saw Bianca, his lip curled. Frustration sparked, bemusement painted over. Once more that protective streak flared, something you were so used to—it had once felt the greatest trophy, proof that the Jack Hughes cared enough to stand up for you. It felt a sore consolation now, a reminder that, as always, you’d be the meek girl from his childhood he was forced to drag along, defend, shield from his new life that he fit into perfectly, that you spilled out from.
“Get up.”
Then, the attention went to him.
Brooke glanced at her boyfriend, annoyance flashing on her face. Their conversation paused. “What?”
Jack nodded towards Bianca. “She took her seat,” he explained in a clipped voice. “Get up.”
Brooke rolled her eyes. “Jack, it’s not a big—”
“It is,” he interrupted. Tension sparked in the air like a misfired firework. “She needs to sit and Bianca took her place, so—”
“It’s fine!” The words spilled out before you could second guess them. They came out raw and pained and everything you didn’t want to appear as; pity pooled from everyone, that sort of second-hand pity you saw on strangers faces when you’d lose your footing and fall.
It was too much. Pins dug into your skin, all of a sudden too tight. You needed to leave. Now, before your bones crumbled and heart gave out and finally everything burst.
“I—um, I should probably get going, anyway,” you said, nodding as if trying to be convincing. “With finals comin’ up I should get in as much studying as I can.”
Determination was something you’d always admired about Jack; it only irked you now. He stood, shrugged off Brooke’s outstretched hand and came to stand before you, and God—it was a disservice to not admire him, even as annoyance creased his eyes and drew inwards his lips. Beauty, in such a raw form, it startled you. Growing up, he’d always been the center of everyones attention. The hockey prodigy, the first overall draft pick, the franchise player for the Devils.
You? You’d been nothing special. Yet he’d still chosen you. And here he was, apparently doing it again—but why? Why when he had a beautiful girlfriend and a perfect life and fun friends did he always come back, when clearly you were no more than a burden?
You tried not to seem spiteful. You did. But it was so hard to hide your wounds and ignore their pain. He may not have seen them, but they were unfortunately still there. And it seemed they always would be.
“You can’t,” he said, searched your gaze—he’d always been able to see straight through you, with such simplicity it frightened you. You tried to shuttered your expression, hide your pain. It wasn’t a conversation you wanted to have. “Dinner’s just started—”
“Really, J, it’s fine.” Heat bored into your face where you knew Brooke was staring, daring you to express any deeper connection with Jack past the sheltered friendliness you were currently forcing.
You weren’t going to budge. Jack saw that, and so he sighed and glanced out the window. “I’ll drive you home.”
Oh, God. Nothing was ever easy. Pushing and pushing and pushing until you weren’t sure you even wanted to get up anymore, to even try. Every time you did, right back down you went, encapsulated by everything Jack.
Freedom felt a forgotten thing. You couldn’t remember a time when you didn’t love Jack, when he wasn’t at the forefront of your mind, main star of the play.
And honestly, you were tired. Tired of wishing for something that would never happen. Tired of being viewed as the shackle around Jack’s wrist. Just tired.
“No need,” you muttered noncommittally, saw the way Jack’s face twisted with concern and confusion and everything you didn’t want to see. “It’s your dinner, J. With my grandma driving, I’ll get home safe.”
The attempt at a joke didn’t land. Smile didn’t even begin to twitch his lips. “It’s dark outside,” he stated, an obvious fact that held no weight for anyone but you and him. “I always drive you when it’s dark.”
That was true enough; your inability to see properly at night meant Jack became your chauffeur, not that he ever complained—even still, it was another thing he did for you, time sacrificed to accommodate you. Prepared to leave his own dinner, his own girlfriend, just to make sure you didn’t have to do something you were uncomfortable with. Conceptually, it was sweet, a sort of gesture that would’ve normally made your heart soar. Now? It made you feel like a burden, an incapable little girl still hiding in the shadow of her protector, afraid of the sting of daylight.
No more.
“I’m going to be fine,” you reassured. Jack didn’t appear convinced—he never was satisfied when it came to you, to your safety, unless he was directly involved. “Stay and have fun.”
“What if—”
“Let her go, babe.”
Brooke’s voice proved the nail in the coffin; a part of you heard the undertone of excitement shot through her words, the possibility of your leave alleviating any annoyance your presence had brought. Without you, Jack’s attention would be fully on her. Without you, he wouldn’t have to concern himself on whether you were having fun and if you were okay.
You. You. You.
You’d considered yourself Jack’s anchor, the grounding of his mind—unfortunately, you’d forgotten an anchor also keeps a thing in place, forcing inactivity.
Let her go.
It rang like a death knell, struck sharp as a poisoned dart, invisible but so unmistakably fatal.
Gathering what remained of your dignity, you grabbed your purse off of your—Bianca’s—chair, caught the commiseration shining in Luke’s eyes like a tarnished trophy. It only stung, reminded you that you needed pity.
Before you could flee the room like a scolded dog, Jack caught your wrist. Heat bloomed, a fever rushing to your head—his simple touch made you sick with want and need and something deeper that would never be realized or fostered. Something you had to let die.
“Text me when you’re home,” he said softly. Fingers gently squeezed your wrist. Where once you’d feel comforted, you just felt trapped. “Please.”
Not trusting your words, all you did was nod.
Honestly, you’d expected some dark cloud to cover you when finally you decided to move on. A procession of funeral goers flocking like crows, unable to understand why you’d abandoned a years-long friendship over something insignificant. Over words spewed from hateful lips.
But it wasn’t what you’d overheard. Deeper, a more sharp knowledge that even if Jack loved you, held you closer than anyone in his circle of friends, he’d never want you in the way you desired. And for a while, that was okay. Because he existed separate of everything—and then came Brooke, and it all crumbled.
You could handle him not loving you. You couldn’t, however, handle him loving someone else so openly.
Street lights blurred behind tears, a mess of streaky lights like a watercolor canvas. Flashes of nights when Jack would drive you home, insisting on taking the wheel so that you didn’t have to toe out of your comfort zone, they haunted you like a inescapable film reel on repeat in your mind. Memories fogged by lost youth, angry words from Jack’s lips as he’d stand up for you—never a party person, denounced for draining the fun. Jack never let those insults slip lip before he was barking at whoever said it.
A responsibility. A burden. The lines had become blurred in recent years.
The latter seemed more fitting.
Through a barrier of tears, you were able to send Jack a text as your car rolled to a stop in the parking lot.
me
at my dorm
j :)
ok good. u ok? u seemed off @ dinner
Fingers hovered over your screen. Make movements to draft a text. Nothing seemed sufficient.
You let the text stale. Sit stagnant on your phone. Jack would likely worry, eventually call—you just wanted to fall into a void and never return. Not after the mess you’d made of dinner.
The mess you’d made of your life.
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Making a ghost of yourself was far more difficult than you’d thought it would be.
Incessantly, Jack had texted you, called you—you didn’t answer any of them. Silence felt a balm to your shame. Selfish, you knew, to just ghost Jack without offering any explanation, but nothing would be sufficient, not without souring the connection you were hoping would die without pain.
Cowardice, craven, pathetic—you knew you were all of it. To you, you were giving Jack a chance to pull back, to fizzle the friendship of his own accord. Maybe then it would’ve stung less, if the desire of its end was reciprocated, mutual. As it were, it was not.
Even with your withdrawal, Jack still tried. Shot texts, called and punctuated them with voicemails, sent you TikToks and Snaps and everything he would normally do if everything was fine; but it wasn’t. And you knew he knew, could sense the urgency in his attempts at communication.
You felt dirty, filthy with shame and guilt.
Despite your best efforts, you didn’t appear as unaffected as you hoped. While your insides were shredding themselves, you tried valiantly to paint over your visage with the normal happy-go-lucky smile you always wore. Most people, if they noticed, didn’t comment on it.
Unfortunately, Kaylen did notice.
Since your freshman year of college, Kaylen had been your roommate—low maintenance, intelligent to the point of making you stupid without even trying. As such, she was far more perceptive than you gave her credit for.
There’d been times you confided in her about your feeling for Jack, sought out advice that never seemed good enough. Because no one but yourself could fix the valley that had split between Jack and you. You could seek outward help all you wanted, but nothing would change unless you did something—and, really, you weren’t sure that was even a good idea anymore.
Two days of moping resulted in Kaylen’s intervention.
“Get up.”
Sunlight bled through your shut eyes, forced a wince. Hands rolled you onto your back, the somewhat stiff mattress of your bed providing a measly cushion. Sleep intruded on, your hands extended, attempted to push away the figure you knew what trying to rile you.
“Go away,” you grunted, throat thickened by sleep and other terrible emotions.
“No,” Kaylen hissed. When finally you opened your eyes, her squinted expression invaded your vision. “Look, I’ve let you be miserable for two days, but it’s getting ridiculous. What the hell happened with you and loverboy?”
A jolt nearly paused your heart mid-beat. Thinking about Jack stung in a way you didn’t like to admit, mainly due to the fact that it was painfully embarrassing that he had such a control over you.
“Don’t call him that,” you muttered, bit your tongue to stop anything else from spilling out.
Kaylen’s eyebrows quirked. “So it is about him?”
Nails scraped your lungs. “No—yes—fuck,” you moaned, sitting up and balancing your forehead on bent knees. “It’s… all fucked up, K. I don’t know what to do.”
A sigh left her lips. You felt the bed dip as she climbed beside you. “I can help if you tell me.”
And so you did, started at the beginning of dinner to the end, as you left like a dog defeating in a cage match, heart crying blood. Comforting circles were rubbed into your thigh, but all they did was remind you how Jack used to trace shapes onto your leg, or arm, or back—how he touched you, just to know you were there, with him. He said it placated him.
It was shameful, how bile teased your throat even imagining it.
Rationally, you knew everything was your doing. Loving Jack, torturing yourself by being in his presence whilst he focused his attention on his girlfriend. Expecting any semblance of affection or intimacy even as another held his heart, branded her name over your own. It was always going to happen—knowing that didn’t make it hurt any less.
When finally you finished, the conclusion of your mournful, self-pitying tale followed by the sting of unwanted tears, Kaylen’s thoughtful silence waned. Her lips pursed, fingers twitching. You expected her to berate you; what had you expected, stupid girl? He has a girlfriend!
Instead, Kaylen hugged you. “Shit, babe, I’m sorry,” she murmured, pulled back with that pitiful smile you’d seen one too many times—one you’d be fine with if you never saw again. “He cares about you—”
“Not how I care about him, though,” you finished, and Kaylen gave a weak nod.
“I mean, if you told him what Brooke and her little bitch of a friend said, I’m sure he’d leave her. He’s done more for less.” That much was true. Regardless of whose lips it came from, Jack didn’t tolerate disrespect towards you—cut long time friends off for assuming they had any authority to speak poorly of you.
And you knew—knew with the same certainty that you knew your own name—that Jack would break up with Brooke if he knew how she’d spoken of you.
That should’ve made you giddy. Bursted bright light in your chest at the prospect of having Jack to yourself once more. Instead, it made you feel heavy, sand packed into your bones. Who were you to invade his happiness? If he’d chosen Brooke, so be it.
Sure, she’d disparaged you, but Jack’s life wasn’t yours to dictate anymore. If he wanted Brooke, he’d have her, until he decided to leave—not because you decided for him.
“It doesn’t matter anymore.” Eyelids heavy, the residue of late-night tears remaining on the skin, you felt the fight leave you. Kaylen frowned. “I just want it all to be over.”
She didn’t look convinced. “Seriously? You’re giving up on an eight year friendship because of something some dickface said about you? I thought Jack meant more to you than that.”
Kaylen’s words stung. Made you defensive, because she was right—you were giving up and you did care about Jack, but the pain had become too much. “It’s not—it’s harder to explain than that. He’s outgrown me, K. Everyone can see it but him. I’m an obligation, a burden, and yeah, maybe he loves me as a friend and maybe he wants me around, but his friends never have—his fucking girlfriend doesn’t. And at this point, I just want it to end, I want him to be happy without the conditions of making me happy.”
Silence followed. Contemplation showed clear on Kaylen’s face. You could tell, even without her words, that she didn’t agree—but, she didn’t comment on that. Rather, she placed a hand on your leg and squeezed.
Just like Jack always did.
“It’s your life, babe,” she conceded. “And if you want to do this, I’m not going to stop you—but you have to be content with it.” She gestured to you, the nest of blankets and red-rimmed eyes. “Because this? This isn’t happiness over a good choice. You’re miserable without him, and it’s been barely two days. Think about what you’re doing before it’s irreversible.”
With that, Kaylen got up and went to her own bed, and neither of you made comment of it for the rest of the day.
Her words came again and again like a fractured turntable. Of course you were miserable—Jack had been a constant in your life for eight years, consistently preserving your peace, including you when you’d never felt more like an outsider. Happiness was synonymous with Jack, his smile, his presence, him.
Did you regret your decision? Yes, and no. You regretted the way you’d gone about it. The petty silence, ignoring a person who’d made your younger years bearable. Your friendship deserved a better death than that, a reason rather than just… fading from existence, as if it never mattered in the first place.
That wasn’t the message you wanted conveyed, and so with fingers unsteadied by aftershocks, you texted Jack.
You weren’t sure how you’d explain, if you could tiptoe around the actual reason. Maybe you couldn’t, and maybe that was okay.
me
i’m so sorry for everything. i’ll explain in person. can we meet up?
Your response came half a second later. As if he were waiting. That selfish part of you prayed he had been.
j :)
ofc. my place tn?
me
yeah. that’s good. brooke won’t be upset?
Asking after her made you want to puke, but you knew it was necessary—she didn’t like Jack even breathing near you, having an entire sit down conversation with him was certainly out of the question.
Thrice, the little text bubble appeared and disappeared on your phone screen. You could sense the apprehension without any background knowledge.
j :)
not a problem. we broke up.
It was shameful, the backwards type of pleasure that brought you.
Maybe you were a terrible person. A terrible friend. You tried to reason that it wasn’t wrong to love someone, to wish they were yours.
me
shit j. i’m sorry
j :)
i’m not. i’ll see u tn. 7:30 work? have dinner w the guys.
me
yeah, that’s fine. see you soon, j.
j :)
be safe. i’ll text you when i’m home.
The hard part wasn’t even over, and your heart was already breaking in two.
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Sweat beaded at your palms, the cold claws of apprehension raking down your spine. Countless times you’d been stood here, facing the lifeless beige of Jack’s apartment door. This time, however, you stood here knowing it was the last time. A silent farewell to familiarity, the ties finally cut. Jack would fight, you would cry, and maybe he’d be able to change your mind—it seemed such an unlikely outcome that it calcified every inhale in your throat.
Shaking hands rapped the wooden door, where behind would come the execution of a friendship you’d held like a crutch for years upon years. Your childhood had died, and maybe it would’ve been better had it been left there as well, so as to spare you this heart-rending pain.
Even still, you wouldn’t have traded those years for the world—everything they taught you, through pain and happiness. It made you who you were, brought you to his doorstep with melancholy eyes and a failing heart.
Footsteps echoed on the other side of the door, urgent in a way that picked up your heart rate. The next moments you imagined with brutal clarity—Jack’s hopeful gaze, blue in a way no one else’s ever had been, the soft slope of his nose you teased him for, scrunched whenever he was particularly concerned. How he’d usher you in, hear your words, plead for a moment to explain, and then admit his love for you.
That was how you dreamt it. Unsurprisingly, it was not how it went.
Instead of the door opening to reveal the man you’d love for a lifetime, the squealing hinges were followed by a face that nearly knocked you backwards. Previous indifference smeared into flat-out disdain as Brooke’s eyes caught your figure, engulfed in one of Jack’s faded hoodies and likely disheveled in a way she’d never experienced herself.
Arrows punctured your lungs, sole your breath and defaulted your barely beating heart. Brooke was here. At Jack’s apartment. After they’d supposedly broken up. Had he lied? Was he tricking you, making you the fool? He never would, you knew that, but your wounded mind spun falsities to perpetuate your pain, as if punishment for trusting him in the first place.
“What do you want?” Brooke grunted, leant against the doorframe. Lips twitched into a smirk, the smile of the victorious.
You’d never considered yourself a violent person, but the urge to punch her in the teeth itched your fists. “Is Jack here?”
Her face fell. Something dark flashed in her face—she hesitated a moment, tossed a look over her shoulder. “Yes.”
The curt response was better than nothing, you supposed. “Right, well, can you tell—”
Brooke ran a hand through her hair. Adjusted the clasp of her necklace. “We were kind of in the middle of something. Come back later?”
The axe struck down.
Gravel filled your throat. Suffocated you. If Brooke knew the affect of her words, for once it didn’t show on her face. Years of life had taught you many things, drug you through agonies you wouldn’t relive for anything, yet somehow, this was the worst pain.
To be betrayed, trust snapped by a single action, it stung. Wormed venom in your veins and contaminated your bloodstream, poisoning your heart. Realistically, Jack hadn’t actually done anything wrong. He was allowed to hook up with other girls, to love them—he had, for years.
That wasn’t the issue.
No, it was the fact that he’d set a time, invited you over, and somehow forgot? Or had he set it all up, just to rub it in your face, get his lick-back for your prolonged silence towards him? Either way, it hurt, hurt like a bitch.
Made stone, all you did for a moment was blink at Brooke before a voice called from the background, “Who is it?”
Jack.
Fright found you then, broke away your shell of stone. You couldn’t let him see you, the dog wishing once more to come in from the cold. If he’d planned it, and saw you, he knew he’d won. If he hadn’t planned it, then he realized that—irrecoverably—he fucked up. Both choices felt like a criminal trial you didn’t want any part of.
“I—um—have a good night,” you rushed out, feet stumbling over themselves as you practically ran away from Jack’s door.
So much for closure.
So much for being broken up.
Maybe this was your sign. The one you needed to finally pull away.
Because Jack Hughes didn’t love you. Not past platonic soulmates—a relationship stained with past memories, ones that made both of you incapable of letting go, even as you outgrew it.
You were done being second best. Done trying to squeeze into a place you didn’t fit anymore.
If Brooke was Jack’s choice, so be it. You didn’t want any part of it anymore.
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1K notes · View notes
xxblairexxss · 10 months
Note
hey lovely
could i request something about Charles x Brazilian actress reader where reader brings Charles and his family in Rio for vacation, but no one knows they are together yet and people keep thinking that she is in a relationship with a Brazilian footballer (like Richarlison) and then Charles kinda does a hard launch??
(i really hope it makes sense)
Thank you!!! Have a great day/night! Kisses 🩷🩷
Wrong guess
Pairing : Charles Leclerc x brazilian!actress!reader
Thank you for the request, love! I enjoyed making this! ❤️
﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎
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ynusername
Rio de Janeiro, Rio de Janeiro
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Liked by vinijr, sashacalle and 1,267,879 others
ynusername primeiro dia no rio 🇧🇷💚💛
username1 stupenda 🥰
username2 Lindaaaa
username3 ❤️
username4 LINDA LINDAAA ❤️
footballwags
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537 likes
footballwags Vini and Eder recently in Rio
username1 anyone else saw vini sneaking in y/n likes?? 👀
username2 is he with y/n??
footballwags we are not sure about that but she wasn’t seen on the boat
username3 typical
username4 eder def looks sad after his breakup 😂
ynusername
Rio de Janeiro, Rio de Janeiro
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Liked by charles_leclerc, vinijr, and 1,444,297 others
ynusername 🍸🍸
username1 VINI SIR WE SEE YOU
username2 is my ig glitching but is that charles leclerc in her like
username3 girl be collecting footballers and drivers like uno card
username4 bestie we need the pic of you and vini on that jet ski 😏
footballwags has added to their story
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charles_leclerc has added to their story
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ynusername has added to their story
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f1wagslove has added to their story
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ynusername
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Liked by charles_leclerc, and 1,937,304 others
ynusername summer was fun! ❤️🇧🇷
username1 girl we DO NOT NEED the soft launch 🙄😩
username2 dibs on ruben dias
username3 LOLOLOL THAT’S SO RANDOM! 😂😂
username2 it’s bcs he be flirting with everyone 😭😭
username4 doesn’t look like vini to me
username5 is EVERY1 IGNORING CHARLES IN HER LIKES HELLOO?? AM I THE ONLY ONE SEEING THIS
charles_leclerc
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Liked by ynusername, arthur_leclerc and 2,386,290 others
charles_leclerc Summer break with my girl 🇧🇷
ynusername 🥹❤️
charles_leclerc meu bebê
username1 IM TELLING YOU THE WAY MY JAW DROP
username2 okay charles she’s your girl sorry we guessed it wrong 😔🙏🏼
username3 am i the only one getting jealousy vibe in here
username4 he’s pissed off 😤😂
username5 I WAS NOT EXPECTING THIS BUT YAAAY FAV COUPLE ❤️
username6 CHARLES I KNEW IT WAS YOU FROM THE BEGINNING WHEN EVERYONE ELSE JUST RANDOM GUESSING Y/N’S WITH A FOOTBALLER
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f1wagslove
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2387 likes
f1wagslove NEW WAG! Y/N Y/L/N is a 22 years old Brazilian actress! Charles Leclerc’s current girlfriend
username1 is it confirmed?
username2 girl have you seen his ig update
f1wagslove I think the pictures he updated on his Instagram is enough to confirm the rumours! 🥰
username3 OMG YES I FUCKING LOVE HER
username4 i thought she was vini’s gf 😭😭😭
username5 YAAAASSSSSS ❤️
✧.* general tag list! @i83andrew @cltrlne @karmabyfernando @ohthemisssery @ru-kru @tastebaldwin @f1obessed @love4lando @shinrjj @ietss @leclerc13 @darleneslane @buckybarnessweetheart
If your usernames were crossed, meaning I can’t tag you! Let me know if you would like to be removed or to be added to the tag list! Or if I missed anyone!
1K notes · View notes
libraryofloveletters · 8 months
Text
insta file: his girl
summary: a glimpse into y/n’s instagram post monaco grand prix  
author’s note: enjoy this one, I promise the next one will be better lmao
all photos are from instagram and/or pinterest :) 
call my name masterlist // add yourself to the call my name taglist!
youruser added an Instagram story.
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youruser
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liked by charles_leclerc, carlossainz55,  joris__trouche and 126,430 others 
youruser: 🏎️🏁 x 🇲🇨 
location: monte carlo, monaco// tagged: charles_leclerc, scuderiaferrari 
view 1,032 comments 
charles_leclerc: my lucky charm ❤️
comment liked by youruser
user5: yn wag era unlocked 
joris__trouche: why didn’t you show what happened after? 
↪️youruser: you mean when you fell on your face? I wouldn’t dare expose you like that, J. 
↪️joris__trouche: you hate me
↪️youruser: lies! you’re my beloved 
↪️charles_leclerc: 🤣🤣🤣
user81: omg ??? the outfit??? No one does it like yn!!!
carlossainz55: only podium drivers make it onto the photo dump? 
↪️youruser: didn’t stay long enough for me to get a pic of you mr sainz
user16: ^are they flirting ?? 😐
↪️user4: shut up they’re friends, she can’t join with her boyfriend’s teammate? 🙄
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charles_leclerc
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liked by youruser, carlossainz55, scuderiaferrari and 1,454,804 others
charles_leclerc: P3 AT HOME !! 🇲🇨
thank you to the fans, to my family and my love. this one’s for you.❤️
location: monte carlo, monaco // tagged: scuderiaferrari
view 3,242 comments 
joris__trouche: brb crying 
↪️youruser: me too 
↪️charles_leclerc: vous êtes tellement dramatiques tous les deux (you two are so dramatic) 
user16: FUCK YEAH 
scuderiaferrari: we love to see you on the podium!!! ❤️❤️
comment liked by charles_leclerc 
user55: you’re so !!!
carlossainz55: congrats mate 👊🏼🔥
comment liked by charles_leclerc 
user3: ^lame ass comment lmaooo 
comment liked by youruser  
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tags: @aadslovesmads @lieswithoutfairytales @steephanie07 @topguncultleader @darleneslane @barnestatic @ravisinghs_wife @elisaa-shelby @piggyinthesea @cmleitora @kmc1989 @sophee.g @madds-2298 @luanemone @omgsuperstarg @gaypoetsblog @jaehyunluvcult @racingheartsworld @therealcap @charlaos @andreea-15-25 @raevyng @buckybarnessweetheart  @baryzsreputation @novotnasara17 @hiraathrhapsody @blupblupfish @belennasif @valel07 @jenniferrvsesi @bluethperson @cutelittlefakejourneys @roseseraj @chrlsleclerc @mangodreamsicle @ruane.krg @ru-kru @trifoliumviridi
656 notes · View notes
Text
Nah Bro!
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University Student Wooyoung x (F)Reader
Summary: No, he wasn't an idiot, he knew what he wanted and he always had, the only problem was he wasn't sure if she wanted the same. He was her friend, her biggest supporter, and her shelter on rainy days- but he was NOT her bro.
Genre: Fluff/Angst
Word Count: 7.6k
Est. Read Time: 37 min
Warnings: language, suggestive content, Woo's a perv and she ain't any better.
Rating: Mature
Networks: @cromernet @k-labels
Banner: @cafekitsune
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"Wooyoung?" 
His head whipped in her direction, his signature smile gracing his face as he saw her approach her with her usual expressions filled with scepticism. 
"In the flesh" he smiled down at her, the students around then slowly disappearing into nothing, the world halting at the perfect time when the rays of light seeping through the glass windows, reflecting off her lashes and skin, giving off an ethereal glow, the way the wind was just blowing right, her summer dress swaying like nature itself was flirting with her, asking her for a dance, how the birds began to harmonise, in the joy of her being here and-
"Is calling someone girlie pop considered flirting?"
"Ye- what? Who's flirting with you?" all too quickly the world around him shattered, coming back to its usual hustle and bustle, the frat boys a bit too loud and a bit too annoying, the girls passing by distracting her as one of them called her out, asking her to have lunch with them, and just to top it all off, Choi San just happened to pop by tapping his shoulder, to ruing the mood.
"Get lost, Choi."
"What? I DIDN'T DO ANYTHING!"
"GO."
"FINE."
The two exchanged a look as the taller male caught the way his friend was eying the girl talking to the other girls, giggling about something- no, someone. Bloody Park Seonghwa.
"You should tell her." he nudged Wooyoung who swatted his hand away and whispered back, "And you should f**k off."
With that he marched away, leaving San standing there in the middle of the hallway. The idiot also forgot that when she turned around to look for him, she couldn't find him, but she saw San making her way to him she smiled, "Did Woo leave?"
"Uh- yeah he had a class."
"Really? Did he take a course I'm not in?"
Never had Choi San in his life felt the urge to murder someone, it would be Wooyoung for leaving him alone with her, knowing fully well he couldn't really lie to her, especially when she was looking around for her Woo like a lost puppy.
Clearing his throat the feline-eyed man nodded towards the exit, "I think he went that way, I'm gonna go there too if you wanna tag along..." he trailed off when he noticed she wasn't listening anymore, in fact, she was too busy staring at someone else, a certain literature major, one who had the face structure of a Greek god but the personality of a pleasant old lady, Park Seonghwa- oh. Seonghwa wasn't a bad person, no, he was great, but his reputation of being a flirt was somewhat of a bother- perhaps because he was a senior and his merry band of friends comprised every handsome man in the lot, music major Kim Hongjoong, IT genius Jeong Yunho and the upcoming model, plus business major Kang Yeosang- truthfully, San doesn't blame her for basking in the attention Seonghwa had started giving her, most girls would throw themselves at them- then often politely get rejected (unless of course, you had the unfortunate luck of confessing to Hongjoong, who'd often have his earphones plugged in, ignoring you and walking all over you heart as he walked away), and if Seonghwa had actually put in the effort of talking to her, then there was something about her that had intrigued the shy extroverted man.
"Hmm?" She looked away, ducking her head to hide the blush that had spread across her face when Seonghwa passed by, giving her an acknowledging smile, damn, Wooyoung really did need to step up his game.
"Wanna go look for Wooyoung?"
"Oh! YEAH! LET'S GO SANNIE! HE HAD TEACH ME HOW TO FLIRT!” She yelled, much like the lunatic who was hopelessly falling for her each day, grabbing San's bag as she dragged him out, or trying to, because she really couldn't move him an inch "Let's go-"
With a soft chuckle, he took her bag from her, watching her glare up at him all confused, "It's the other way, come on, little minx."
.
"Ow-" he hissed, his hand going to the back of his head, as he turned to glare at San- "AYE CHOI, YOU WANNA DIE?" He threatened the taller man who was wearing two backpacks, each slung over one shoulder- wait why is he doing that?
"It was me, idiot." He heard from beside him, as he turned to look at her before pouting, "Teach me how to flirt." His pout morphed into a face of disgust, moving a step back from her, crossing his arms over his chest as he scanned her frame, making sure she would become hyper-aware of his gaze and self-conscious, borderline uncomfortable.
"I'll..." San turned his head to spot a small ice cream stall, man, he loved business week, "Get us some ice cream."
Pulling her jacket closer to her she whined, kicking her feet, "D-dont look at me like that." 
"Why?" He asked moving closer, enough for her to take a step back as she looked up at him, his gaze piercing through her, keeping her rooted at the spot when he took one final step closer to her, making sure to maintain eye contact, a rocky little smirk made its way on his handsome face as he invaded more of her personal space, eyes flicking to her lips, the residue of the shiny gloss teasing him, taunting him, tempting him, though the way her lips quirked into a frown had him scoff, and glance back up at her, feeling her palms flatten against his chest. Still, she didn't push him, of course, giving him unintentional mixed signals was her favourite hobby. He pressed his forehead against hers, whispering, "You wanna learn how to flirt but can't even look me straight in the eye."
"I-I" her hands gripped onto his shirt, twisting it in her sweaty grip as she felt him let out an airy chuckle, when she continued, "I-this isn't..." Taking a deep breath she closed her eyes, causing him to smile, following along, enjoying the -
"MOTHER F*CKER- YOU BI- WHAT THE HELL!?" Stumbling back, he yelled like a madman, pressing his palm against his nose before feeling the blood trickle out, "ARE YOU INSANE? THAT'S WHY YOU'RE ALWAYS GOING TO BE SINGLE!" His shrill causing the student passing by to give them strange looks.
"What...the hell guys...I was gone for 10 minutes?" San mumbled, walking over to them with ice lollies in hand, the sight before him annoying, but not new or unexpected- this was a common occurrence, one he had been forced to see since the first semester of starting his not-so-peaceful university life.
"He was harassing me."
"HARASSING- HARASSING YOU? YOU FREAKY GREMLIN YOU SLAMMED YOUR HEAD ON MY NOSE!? FOR WHAT!?" He snatched the cold packaged good from the quiet man, who gave him a look of concern, "Go to the nurse Woo-"
"SHUT UP CHOI." He hissed, pressing the packaged ice good against his nose as he walked over towards a bench, ignoring the whining menace following him behind, calling him out as she sat down next to him, wrapping her arms around his arm, pulling him closer, clinging onto him she placed her head on his shoulder, "Come on Woo, I'm not gonna do anything bad or careless, I'll keep you well informed."
Letting out a huff he leaned his head onto hers, of course, he was still angry, but his body would often react on his own around her, a fact he discovered back in middle school, the first time he had seen her, the first time he had embarrassed himself in front of her.
The 10-year-old boy, the 'king' of the playground, was busy ordering his loyal servants around in the sandbox when this little critter popped up, marching over to him with watery eyes and a runny nose, her fists clenched by her side as she stomped into the sandbox shoving away his 'royal guards' and pointing at him, "Are you the king?"
"Who wants to know!?" Smirking he adjusted his robes- towels, the guest towels he stole from home- atop his head that his paper crown, an ugly orange colour might she add.
Sniffing she wiped her eyes with the back of her hand before looking at him, "I want to ride the swings!" She yelled at him, before moving closer to shove him- mind you, she only did so because her parents had always told her never to back down when she was in the right- and two mean boys not letting her on the swings because their king said so was not right.
Steadying himself he glared at her, eying her up and down, he was a feminish or fashionist or something like that, his mother told him to be one too, so equal rights it is, which is why he shoved her harder watching her land on her butt, laughing in the process as his loyal servants began to laugh too- that his until he saw the dejected look on her face, he had assumed she would fight back like most kids, but she got up, wiped her eyes and slowly walked away with her head hung in shame, something about the little girl all sad in her floral summer dress had him feel all funny in his stomach- or chest? The point is he initially ignored it, too focused on his victory, happy the king remained all-powerful.
What he did not expect was the peasant girl to come to his house with her parents- what a snitch. That night Wooyoung had to apologise to her, not because he took the swings because as his mother quoted while pinching his ear, "A FEMINIST DOESN'T HIT A WOMAN. HE BEFRIENDS HER." Ah, so it was feminist. Though her parents had not come to complain, they had actually moved in as neighbours and wanted to meet their neighbours, his family, but who knew the youngest (for now) child of the Jung household had left a bad impression on the Lee Family's one and only Princess. Since that day his mother had forced him to befriend her, to go over to her house and play, to drop her off to her class- thankfully they were not in the same section, but that's because she was smart and well...he was good-looking. 
Perhaps it was fate that had him slowly understanding her awkward and shy nature, how she was somewhat similar to him when it came to what she wanted, she'd whine and complain but the only difference between the two was that she'd always find a way to get it- want a Lego set? Get good grades and you will- she did. Want to eat ice cream? Eat your veggies, she did, she even ate his.
Wooyoung, nah, he wasn't one to take such big risks, to come out of his comfort zone. In fact, after the arrival of the youngest new addition to the Jung family, Wooyoung wasn't happy, what teenager wants a baby brother? Who does that? The night his brother was born, he wasn't at the hospital like his father or his older brother and the Lee family, including her, no, he had climbed up the rusty pipe she had told him a billion times not to use, plucked open the lock of her window and entered her dark room- yes, her parents knew he would do that, his parents knew too, he was the only one allowed to that, for a king is ever ready to go to his queen, especially at the time of distress. He took a step into her bedroom, taking off his shoes and placing them on the small shoe rack set next to the window for him, and hopped onto her bed, stuffing his face into her pillows, her peach shampoo smothering him with affection, before letting out a strangled cry, which opened the flood gates to a tsunami of everything, he had been bottling up since the news of his mother's pregnancy had surfaced. The way his friends teased him, calling it gross, the way everyone was now busy not paying attention to him, the way he was no longer important. Why were they having another child anyway? Was he not enough? Of course, he wasn't as perfect as his older brother but were they only trying again because they were fed up with him? He was leaving for college soon- were they replacing him?
He really didn't know how long it went on for, but a few too many tears later, his eyes had dried out, but his laboured breathing hadn't ceased, that us until he felt calming fingers sift through his hair, the bed dipping beside him as he heard a gentle, "Woo...I knew I'd find you here- staining my sheets with your snot, you giant baby."
Ah, she never was gentle with her words, perhaps that is what karma was, making him fall for her, probably harder than he had pushed her when they were kids, watching him simmer in her snarky comments and such mixed cues of attention- well perhaps that's what he deserved for being a b*tch all the time- I'd didn't matter, for a king always gives into his queen.
Sighing he tried to move, only to freeze when he realised her entire weight was on him, his eyes meeting San who was frowning at him, though the broad-shouldered man holding a raspberry lolly looked comical, especially when he glared at him like that.
“What?”
“She’s asleep Jung.”
“No way? Really?” He scoffed, gently manoeuvring her to lay her head on his thigh, brushing the hair out of her eyes, before reaching for San’s cap on the wooden table, ignoring the man as he placed it on her eyes, shielding her from the horrid, too bright and ugly sun.
“You’re hopeless.” He huffed before standing up, collecting the trash and slinging his bag over his shoulder, “Just…don’t do something you’ll regret, man.”
“What are you? The Magic-Eight ball or something.” He mumbled, before waving him off, “Be gone, now, I’m sure that girl from ‘Philosophy’ is waiting for you at the library to pull out books from the top shelf for her again.” He smirked, watching the way San’s face flushed at the mention of his somewhat secret crush, mumbling some very vulgar words at Wooyoung before stomping away.
.
“Okay, there, all better.”
“Kiss it better.”
She moved back to stare at him, extremely close to smacking him once more but decided not to when he sat there with his eyes closed for her. Rolling her eyes, she leaned closer placing a quick peck on the tip of his nose before quickly hopping off the bed, mumbling about what kind of idiot he was, not catching the way he was smiling like an idiot at her. She was wearing one of his hoodies, he liked that, they were in her dorm room, he liked that, he was surrounded by her, he really liked that- truth be told he had followed her to this university as well, honestly, sometimes he did think of blurting it out to her- but was it worth ruining everything with her, just to satisfy his itty-bitty heart that had begun to beat for nothing but her.
“So, will you help me or not?”
Her question caught her off guard, eying the way she sat down across him, placing a bowl of chips between them, “Woo, will you teach me how to flirt or not?” pushing the bowl towards him as he sighed before shrugging, “Why do you wanna learn anyway-
“Because I like Park Seonghwa!” she whined, “He’s so pretty and sweet and he’s a wonderful senior and-
“If a guy likes you, he likes you for you, not because you learn how to flirt.” He cut her off before picking up a chip and placing (shoving) in her parted mouth, cackling when she choked on it, smacking his hand away as she turned around and swallowed, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand and turning to glare at him, “Funny how I’ve been doing that since high school and I have never even gone on a date- I am not even remotely likeable.”
“You don’t need to go on a date to deduce if you’re likeable or not.”
“How can you say that!? Do you like me?”
“Yes.”
For a moment his quick sat between them, staring at the two as she looked at him wide-eyed, scanning his face like a curious, scared kitty, only to be met with an intense stare, his eyes staring- no piercing through her soul as if he were trying to say something without saying it, do something without doing it, feel something without feeling it. Ever so slowly he moved closer to her, watching her breath hitch, fingers gripping her sweatpants as he stopped to look at her before giving her a soft smile, trying to read her, yet his signal was not transmitted for once again their frequencies did not match, causing him to move back and look away, scanning her studio apartment, a piece of him was in this room- no, several little pieces of him were present within this canvas, traces of his soul, the scent of his being; from his spare sneakers to his scarf on the kitchen chair, to the coat hanging off the coat hook on the main door, to his ‘special morning Garfield mug on the dishrack.’
“Woo…” she whispered, causing him to slowly turn back to look at her, a small melancholic smile gracing his features, one she noted as she gulped, though her parched throat made swallowing difficult- no, she was reading this wrong, Wooyoung deserved, Wooyoung wanted far more than her, he always had, he always will.
“Let’s do it.” Smiling he stood up before stretching, ignoring how she was staring up at him as he scratched his head before looking around, “It’s getting late, I promised San I’ll cook tonight.”
“Yo-you don’t have to, I can-”
“Classes start tomorrow, after four, there are two conditions.” He cut her off, walking over to the door as he pulled off his coat, staring at it for a moment before hanging it back on her door- why not let his presence be there till it was time to move out- “First, I will accept your payment in meals, after every lesson you will treat me to a home-cooked meal and secondly, you will do whatever I say, do we have a deal?”
Walking over to him she stood in the hallway, staring up at him in awe, the warm light above him hitting just right, accentuating his features in a way that her heart may as well have hopped onto his palm if she were to stare at him for any longer, so all she could do was nod at his deal, all she could do was stand there when he placed his hands on her shoulders and gave her a gentle squeeze before pressing his forehead against hers, mumbling, “See you tomorrow, my little gremlin.”
.
“God, I- I am not wearing this” she huffed throwing the top back at him as he rolled his eyes, holding it up by the strings, “This, is a summer dress, with spaghetti strings, many girls wear it and I think- Seonghwa would like it.”
Sighing in defeat she took it from him, before walking over to the washroom to change, leaving him sitting on the bed as he looked around her room, lying down as he sighed, arms behind his head as he stared up at the cheap 3D glowing stars on the ceiling, one’s they had put stuck up on the ceiling the on the first night she had moved into her dorm, making the zodiac constellation for him and her, then the two had laid there, side by side, staring up at it until they eventually fell asleep in each other’s arms.
“H-how do I look?”
His eyes snapped open at her voice turning his head to inspect her, only to end up feeling like he was punched in the gut, the air knocked right out of him, slowly sat up as he turned to her, eyes roaming every inch of her frame, he had seen her wearing his clothes so much, that he had forgotten that she indeed was much smaller than him- no- she indeed was a girl.
“W-Woo?”
Clearing his throat, he stood up and smiled at her, “You look like you can flirt.” Giving her a thumbs up he grabbed her hand and walked towards the main door, making sure to grab his wallet and phone, ignoring her babbling, “Now, we see what you do on a date- you gotta experience it girlie, a café date is the best of its kind.”
That was exactly how she had found herself stuck to him as the two walked down the pathway to the local café, the setting sun doing her a favour and not burning against her skin, though the wind only had her feeling conscious, especially when the ends of the tied strings would tickle her shoulders or the hem of her dress would tease her, causing her to grip his arm, pulling him closer for some form of support. Wooyoung on the other hand, no he was having the time of his life, never had he felt something so soft and warm press up against him and he thanked that horrid magazine he had found with dating advice for the choice of dress he had picked for her, the pastel pink mid-thigh dress really did do her wonders, really did make him feel like he was in high school again-
“Woo…I feel like everyone is s-staring.” She mumbled, pressing her face into his arm as he sighed, “Babe, it's not like you’ve never worn a dress before, sure this one is a little more on the bolder side but-” his words came to a halt when his eyes met with a glossy pair, one pleading him to save him from the way the boys around them were eying her down, sizing her up.
.
“Thank you, Woo.” She smiled, pulling his denim jacket close to her frame as she sat on the opposite chair, glad that most of her body was covered again, especially from prying eyes, “I knew I could count on you.”
Taking her out was a bad idea, not only was she gaining a lot of attention but she was making it difficult for him to hold himself back, to keep those three words, not the redundant and overused "I like you" but a feeling he had been covering with layers and layers of sarcasm and petty fights, a feeling his heart could never truly accept, could never truly feel, could ever truly float in, even if it were drowning in it, "Love me too".
The cafe trip was cut short when the very nice waitress was kind enough to point out how cute of a couple they were, and instead of letting her correct the waitress, he cut her off with a small thank you, then looked at her. What did that mean? Was he trying to teach her? Was this part of flirting? She did not understand. 
It irked him how she was clueless, how she wanted him to spell it out for her but he wasn't going to, not when the fear of rejections loomed over him, waiting for the right moment to slice the beating pound of flesh in his chest in half. The walk home had been uncomfortable, she was no longer clinging onto him, and the jacket had provided her enough cover, but he'd be lying if he were to say he didn't like it on her. At least there was part of him she was willing to hold onto, even if it was temporary. The walk home was silent, eerie, quiet and perhaps a bit too loud with the sound of anything but them, that is until he finally stopped at the door of her dorm room, staring at her when she unlocked the door and walked inside, leaving it open for him, only for her to turn around in the small, dimly lit corridor of the entrance to look at him, look up at him all confused and doe eyed, in his garment, covering her frame, her eyes swirling with a form of curiosity that had his fingers twitching, his soul begging to be set free from the confines of his useless flesh, "Woo?"
"Next lesson...is...indoors, I'll text the details." With that he had closed the door but did not leave, instead, he waited outside, waiting for her to lock it, his forehead resting against the mahogany, counting till ten, sighing in relief when he heard the gentle click. This was a bad idea. He was so pathetic he told her he would help her, yet he couldn’t even pull through one day properly, some best friend he was.
.
She lay awake the entire night, tossing at turning in bed as every 10 minutes she would check her phone for his text, but there was none. He had not even responded to her goodnight message, prick. That was exactly why she was late to class, and almost thrown out too but the lecturer had not been too busy trying to actually figure out how to use the projector. She had slipped in, trying to find an empty spot, which she did after a couple of minutes, choosing to sit in the only available seat at the corner of the class, she sighed, taking out her book, only to pause when she heard someone groan next to her, turning to the source of noise she let out a small gasp.
“What the hell happened to you?” she whispered, leaning closer to the hunched-over figure in black, as she yanked back the hood of his hoodie, earning another small whine.
“Stop…yelling.” He mumbled, pressing his forehead against the table.
“I’m not, Woo.” With a sigh she ran her fingers through his hair, trying to figure out what on earth he had done this time. It was uncommon for her to find her Wooyoung this battered and bruised, it was uncommon for her to find her Wooyoung this tired, just blatantly showing all his bits that he wasn’t proud of, to her or the world, “Were you drinking last night…I thought you were going to text me the details.”
‘I was drinking to get you off my damn mind’, is what he wanted to say, but when he snapped his head in her direction, he was met by a gaze so endearing, a gaze that held a certain affectionate warmth to it, one that made him wonder if he were ready to let this very being that frustrated him and infatuated him with an unimaginable amount of love slip through his fingers. So, after a moment of thinking, he turned back to the board and slowly nodded, “I…Let’s go after class…next lesson…wake me up at the end?”
“Why were you drinking mid-week anyway?” she asked, though he never answered, instead he slowly pushed her upper body away from the table, only to lean down onto her lap, his head resting on her thighs as he closed his eyes, mumbling an, “Don’t ask questions you won’t like the answer to.”
What did that even mean? Honestly, he had become very difficult for her to read, sometimes she assumed it was because he had no interest in her, other times she just thought it was not difficult because of the crush she had developed on him- one that was pointless since he never really noticed the hints she’d drop, she knew for him, she’d always be the goody-two-shoes that lived next door. But then again, she was never his type, she was not like any of his exes, in both physical presence and mentally- well, she didn’t want to be like them in terms of mental state- most were more interested in his physical presence than who he was as a person- then he’d come running back to her, and every time he would she’d tell him the same thing, “That’s what you get for someone dating someone who doesn’t like animals.” Though he’d argue with the ‘Yah! Do I look like a dog to you?’, that wasn’t it though- or maybe she was calling him a dog, who was to say? The fact of the matter was, at the end of the day, she would always be his just best friend, and this is why Seonghwa had happened to slip into the picture, she needed to move on, and maybe someone as sweet, smart and smokin’ hot (she should stop spending so much time with Wooyoung) would be good for her.
.
“Wakey, wakey, you successfully slept through an hour-long lecture.” Carding her finger through his hair she frowned when he clenched his eyes shut, why was he being so difficult? Was he trying to avoid her or something else? Was he tired of her being around him all the time? Did he not text her last night because he wanted her to drop it? The whole Seonghwa thing because maybe he knew she was hopeless, if him knowing her for years led to nothing, how would a stranger, a handsome, well-mannered, angel-like stranger like her and-
“Are you constipated?”
“Huh?” Casting her eyes down at him, she met a curious, droopy gaze, it was only then that she realised that she had been absentmindedly caressing his cheek, drawing intricate patterns on his soft skin, though even at the realisation she did not stop- how could she? Perhaps this was the last time she’d ever touch him, ever be this intimate with him. Sighing she shook her head, mumbling, “No…why?”
“Then why are you frowning like that?” he groaned, sitting up, stretching his arms over his head before letting out a loud, ungraceful yawn and scratching his head, looking around the empty class- if he were to make out with her right now, they would never even be caught- Wooyoung, you’re not even dating her- true, but the way she had been pouting just made him want to- “Where are you going?”  he turned to her when he heard her shuffle, standing up and collecting her stuff, pausing to look at him, “Going back to my dorm… I’m tired.”
With that she walked away, not sure if she was mad at him, or upset at the thought of the hemlock of reality she was to swallow eventually, maybe she just wanted him to somehow disappear- rather if he was out of sight, he’d be out of mind- right? It’s not like she had spent all night staying up waiting for his text. It’s not like she rolled around in bed before devouring an entire pastry (she had been saving for the weekend) in tension and anticipation. It’s not like she had cried herself to sleep knowing that tomorrow she’d have to wake up and pretend her heart did not beat for a man who had carelessly dropped it years ago.
“W-wait!” running after her he jogged up to her until he was walking beside her, glancing down to note how she was not even trying to look up at him with her usual smile- shit. He really messed up, he didn’t know she was so determined for Seonghwa- this thought just added more salt to the nasty green that brewed within him, the ugly, vomit-like green that had him ranting to San all night, chugging down one too many beers, enough for him to wake up with a horrible hangover that even San’s hangover juice couldn’t fix- what did that f*cker know anyway, he didn’t drink and the girl he had been pinning over had been secretly pinning over him- not that he’d help San figure out, he had his own issues, honestly liking your academic rival isn’t the smartest thing anyway.
“Well, see you later.”
With that she walked into the building, only to have him follow her, she turned to look at him as he looked down at her with a sheepish smile, a nervous chuckle breaking the silence when she raised a brow, only to die down when she turned back around and started climbing up the stairs again, only for him to follow hot on her trail. Once again stopping right behind her when she stopped to open the door-incorrect, he had bumped into her, only for her to turn around and glare at him for a good minute, only turning when he gently gripped her shoulders and turned her around to the door, mumbling, “We still have one lesson left- I’ll combine two in one, special deal for my special girl.”
Cringing at the words, that stung her heart harder than imaginable, opening the door for and entering, not really waiting for him to enter or not, as she kicked off her shoes and flopped face first on the bed.
For a moment she could hear only the clattering of pots and pans, and the sound of a microwave and then the usual, gentle, unforgettable humming began to float in the air, dancing around her being, at this point, she didn’t even know what he was singing but that it was smoothening enough to lull her to sleep.
She didn’t know how long she was asleep, but she woke up when he gently shook her, whispering nonsense in her ear- oh wait no he’s talking about food. Soon enough she was sitting on the floor, sitting in front of her was the idiot, platting for her and himself, yapping about how he spent the entire afternoon sleeping and all she did was sleep, but that’s okay because she needed the rest, the list continued; Yangnyeom Chicken, Tteok-bokki and even ordered something sweet just for her-
“Why are you being so nice?”
Her words caused him to stop, as he looked at her, eyes narrowing at her for a split second before he took a deep breath, thinking about his words then speaking, “For ghosting you last night-”
“No, that’s not what I asked, and you know it- first you said no to even helping me, then you suddenly decided to help, you made me dress differently than I do, you didn’t even let me correct the waitress when she called you my boyfriend and- and then you just let her!” she didn't know when she started yelling, but when she stopped to take a deep breath, her eyes caught the whirlpool of emotions, she probably should’ve stopped, but she didn’t, years of it boiling and bubbling within her- she felt exploited, she felt cheated and misguided- hell she was even mad at herself, she was his best friend but was that enough of a reason for her to keep hurting? Perhaps she was hurting, but she wanted him to hurt too, even if that meant she would never see him again, “Then you ghost me like I don’t even exist! What is your problem!? Don’t you see what you’re doing to me? How can you do this!?”
“BECAUSE I LOVE YOU!”
The next couple of seconds were probably the worst he had ever spent in silence, his chest burning with every breath he heaved in, staring at her, the grip on his glass tightening, feeling the world around them constrict, squeezing in around them- or so he thought, he had yet to face the worst and when that moment arrived, it felt like he was slapped in the face, enough to have it stinging for days, especially when the words settled around them, the two words that she had, oh so casually, thrown at him like it didn’t matter at all like he didn’t matter at all like they never mattered at all. Instantly his brain had switched off, tuning out anything and everything that he could sense, wanting the earth to swallow him whole, wanting nothing more but to take a cold shower, to possibly feel something again, to possibly let out all he was feeling, to possibly forget her- forget them.
“Nah, bro.”
.
Did she f*ck up? Yes. Was she aware she f*cked up? Again, yes. She had realised what she had done as soon as the words had slipped past her lips- mind you, in her many years of being friends with this moron she had picked up a few bad habits from him, like staying up late at night, reading the end of a book first (just in case it had a sad end so she could throw it away) and perhaps losing the ability to think before she spoke- this one was a new trait she had acquired, one she had discovered just last night, as soon as he had slammed the door in her face, running away, ignoring her as she yelled out his name, waking up almost every other girl in the building. And no, he chose not to answer her calls or her texts- hell she even woke up poor San, who wasn’t at the dorm, weird, where exactly was he sleeping on a Thursday night if not at the dorm, she should ask Wooyo- oh wait, she can't! Because she F*CKED UP AND HE WAS IGNORING HER! Like hell!? She didn’t even mean the ‘Nah, bro.’ as an insult or a rejection, but for some reason after he dropped the ‘L’ bomb on her, that was all her brain could process at that given moment, perhaps because she was so stunned by the fact that he didn’t just like her back, he loved her! And she loved him. So, the nah bro was more like an ‘oh damn’, or an ‘oh god’ or an ‘oh wow’- okay, none of those seem like good responses when someone confesses to you, but see! That’s the point, it was so spontaneous- maybe she should’ve just kissed him- nah, she wouldn’t trespass his physical being like that- maybe she should’ve patted his shoulder? - wait, what if he hated her now? Realised it was a mistake and he was glad she messed up so he’d never have to see her again- oh no.
Slamming her hands on his door she let out a shaky breath, the intensity of her knocks increasing, this was not how she had expected her Sunday morning to go, breaking into the boy's dorms at university, slamming her fists so loud that the whole block may as well be awake. Was she risking expulsion, probably, but was he worth it- oh for sure.
"WOOYOUNG!"
"WHAT!"
The door slammed open, revealing a dishevelled Wooyoung, in nothing but his underwear, eyes widening at the realisation that it was in fact not Yunho who was bothering him in his early hours of brooding, but the source of his heartbreak had come to him. Now, mind you, the man lived with other men and never in his life did he imagine the girl he had been simping for, his own best friend, would come up to him in his domain like this, the same girl he had confessed to the night before, laid his heart bear and open for her to trample over like a wench- "Is that my hoodie?"
She stared at him, no, she shamelessly ogled at the boy-man- she had spent bullying and playing around with in her younger days. In front of her was not her annoying, stupid, dumb, irritating best friend but a who the fk, what the fk, why the fk- her chain of thought broke at his question.
"Wh-what?" breathing out, still trying to catch her breath from the extensive running she had done up the flight of stairs- curse him for living in a building with no elevator- that and the sight before her had her all hot and bothered even more. Note to self, this was- no wonder he was the king of the playground, she’d be his queen any day- well he did want her to be one until she managed to ‘wooyoung’ herself.
"Why-" shaking his head, he rubbed his face before crossing his arms over his chest and leaning against the door frame, did she look all adorable, flushed pink, hair a mess and in his hoodie? Yes, was he still mad at her, definitely- so he wasn't going to give her the satisfaction of getting a quick reaction this time. He had spent all night crying, all night wondering and thinking of all the possibilities and incidences that could have her give this kind of response, this king of rejection, for her to just…just say something like that. He tried calling San but that useless butt was sleeping at someone’s (of course it was that girl from Philosophy 101- he’d seen them giggling like teens way back in the library- see, even he had someone, public or not- so no, he was not going to give her the satisfaction of him giving into her so easily, “What do you want?"
"I- you- I mean- oh my god- we like- f*cked." the words jumbled up, tumbling out of her mouth before her brain could from the sentence, "I f*cked up, my god, I do like you."
He knew what she meant, but he wouldn't be Wooyoung if he said so, hence the crooked smile that adorned his slightly puffy face, eyes heavy and droopy with sleep, "Unfortunately we haven't, but we could if you'd like”.
She stared at him for a good second, trying to process his response before raising her hand and slapping him across the face, enough for it to echo across the corridor and him to let out a mixture of a whimper and growl, hand on his burning cheek as he glared at her through bleary eyes, “WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?”
“ME? YOU CAN’T YELL I LOVE YOU AND THEN RUN AWAY-”
“YOU REJECTED ME! YOU CALLED ME BRO?!”
“IT WAS JUST AN EXPRESSION- I WAS SHOCKED OKAY! I DIDN’T THINK YOU LIKED ME BACK I-”
“I DON’T LIKE YOU BACK! I LOVE YOU!”
“And I’d love to report you two, but considering how I know she’s usually triggered by your stupidity, I’ll let you off with a warning.” The two turned around (well she did, he just frowned and scoffed before mumbling something and going inside the apartment), quickly bowing and apologising she stood up straight, face flushed with embarrassment, only to receive a gentle smile.
“Didn’t know you two were so dense, most of us thought you two were already dating…. anyway, please take this inside, we can’t have others know there's a girl here, as the Prefect I’ll keep it a secret since you’re my junior.” He winked before walking away- Park Seonghwa was so cool- OH WAIT WOOYOUNG.
Closing the door behind her she ran to his room only to find him putting on a shirt- dang- before he sat down on the bed and stared at her, raising an eyebrow at her pout, especially when she walked over to him and whined, flopping onto him- falling onto him- only to hiss when their heads collided as he threw her off her (next to him on the bed), whining “Are you stupid?”
“Yeah…” she whimpered, rubbing her forehead as she lay on her side, looking at his side profile, admiring his side profile, could she do this openly, since they were now a couple- or at least were going to become one? “Stupid for you.”
Turning his head to her, grimacing at the choice of her words, well, he needed to get used to the poor pick-up lines, not that he would mind of course- “I love you too.”
Her words brought him back to them, sighing when he felt her press her hand against his pink cheek, feeling her thumb caress the stinging skin, scooting closer to her as he carelessly draped an arm around her waist pulling her even closer- he wanted more, the proximity between them to completely finish, but he couldn’t push her, he could never- he knew she took things slow and he’d let her no matter how long he had to wait- his eyes widened at the sudden pressure he felt on his lips, though it was gone as soon as it came, causing him to whine, looking back at her as she covered her face with her hands, mumbling an, “I couldn’t help myself.”
“Same, sis.”
“Hey!” sitting up she glared down at him only for him to shrug, “Now you know how it felt.” He smirked all smug before moving further up the bed until his back was pressed against the padded headboard, opening his arms wide for her, a gesture the two understood all too well, a small smile gracing his lips when she instantly snuggled up in his arms, melting into his embrace when he kissed the top of her head, only for him to giggle when she returned the gesture by pressing her lips against his pulse point, feeling her warm breath against him as he sighed, “So…no more Seonghwa?”
“Only needed him to move on from you.”
“Damn…”  he sighed, squeezing her closer, not that she minded, she was finally getting the attention she deserved, the love she deserved, the love they deserved. It was a moment of purity, a moment of joy, a moment of sincerity that nothing and no one could ruin- “I was my own c*ckblock.”
“Shut up.”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
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A/N: Well that was a long wait- not like I have a project due on Monday but damn- I'm glad I finally finished this- I really hope it is worth the read.
Taglist: @edenesth @yessa-vie @the-kpop-simp @mlysalt @spooo00oky @slaayysis
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boyfhees · 2 years
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WHEN YOU'RE JEALOUS
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ft. oikawa, kuroo, tsukishima, suna, akaashi, osamu
w. don't know mate lmk if you spot any
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OIKAWA
"what was that for?" you ask, pointing at the box of chocolates as he stuffs them in his bag. "oh these? i helped a classmate with one of the assignments so she wanted to thank me," oikawa replies, missing the sour look on your face. "yeah okay, let's go," albeit, it didn't take him long to notice the pout on your face as you walk a few steps ahead of him, unlike usually. "are you jealous?" he asks mockingly, nudging your shoulders. "am not," — "you are," — "am not," — "you are," — "i am not jealous, 'ru." he pauses, looking at you as you avoid eye contact with him. "then you wouldn't mind if i eat the chocolates, and help her more frequently, right?" you shoot him a glare, blinking away just as quickly before walking again. "yeah, whatever," — "see, you are jealous ! oh my god, and you called me lame for being jealous over that boy last week !"
KUROO
he may deny it, but kuroo gets jealous easily. it doesn't even have to be a human, you can fawn over a character and manage to get him jealous. of course, he's good at hiding it, but you're even better at catching on with the taunting remarks. so when he notices your glare possibly burning holes on the florists back, he knows it's his time to shine. "can i get your numbe—" she asks, only for you to cut in the next second. "no. my boyfriend doesn't have a phone," you blurt out, completely ignoring that kuroo has been holding his phone in his hand. he laughs, putting hand around your shoulders, "i'm sorry, apparently i don't have a phone." you're quick to leave the scene before he catches up to your pace, eyes sparkling with teasing remarks. "jealous now, are we?" he mocks, earning a scoff in return. "shut up," — "jealously is a disease, yn. get well soon."
TSUKISHIMA
one thing you didn't expect today was some random girl crash your date with tsukishima after he helped her with certain things. and while it's clear that she's thanking him but it has been ten minutes and you're growing impatient. ( not to mention, you've got bookings for a movie ) so, you just stand at the distance, watching him as he's trying his best to have his way out of the conversation. "by the way, do you have a s/o?" she asks, a little too loudly and kei has never seen you so raged, or to put it in better words, restless. "yeah, they're standing there." and with that, he walks up to you, drinks in his hands as he passes one to you. "maybe if you'd've helped me, you wouldn't have to wait so long," he snickers as you roll your eyes. "actually, i thought you wanted to watch the movie with her." — "are you jealous?" you know he doesn't need an answer to know that you are.
SUNA
fortunately, or actually unfortunately enough, for you, suna is no stranger to confessions, compliments, or even flirty remarks. and usually, he dismisses them knowing that you don't want to see people hitting on him. however, this time he was having a blast watching you glare at the barista as she flirted with him while he made the payments. "can we meet up sometime—" she asks, tucking a strand of hair behind her ears which makes you roll your eyes and prompts you to interrupt the two. "no," you pause, standing next to suna. "my boyfriend isn't interested." you feel him chuckle next to him, brows furrowing at the sight of the barista breaking into giggles. "yeah no, pretty, it's a prank. just wanted to see your reaction," he clarifies, his words followed by a swift apology from the other girl as you snicker before pushing him away. "you suck," — "didn't see you complaining when she was asking me out."
AKAASHI
you feel your patience running thin with every second that akaashi spends with the girl from his physics class. it's not like you have a problem with him interacting with other people, but you do have a problem with her because she's clearly trying to flirt, very well aware that you're dating him. "keiji, shall we go?" you interrupt, lacing your hands with his. "let's meet on sunday—" she speaks but you beat her to it. "we're going on a date on sunday." cue akaashi going '???' with his eyes wide open because out of everything, a date was never on the list for weekends ( not like he complains, though ) good for you, she left without anymore questions, though with a bitter expression but you couldn't care less. "these people need to accept the truth that you're taken and stop flirting." you mumble, followed by his giggles as you send him a confused stare. "what's so funny?" and he laughs even more at your expression. "you're jealous." — "i'm not!" — "oh my god, you're jealous. i'm telling bokuto," he's isn't letting you live that down.
OSAMU
you've had enough of people confessing to him every other day, just because your relationship was private. well, it was your decision, and you already regret it. so when you spot another girl approaches him with a box of chocolates, you're quick to rush to the scene, wrapping your hands around his arms before shooting her a forced smile. "he appreciates the effort, but we're dating," first of all, he's shook because first, you're suddenly announcing the relationship publicly, and secondly, you're jealous, which is new for him. the girl leaves on her own accord after apologising, thankfully, and that's when osamu turns towards you, shooting a perplexed look. "you're jealous." you kind of dislike how he states it as matter of fact, especially with a straight face that morphs into a taunting expression within seconds. "what do you mean?" he chuckles at this newly found side of yours. "i just lost a bet with tsumu because i said you don't get jealous," — "you both made bets on this?" — "my money, yn."
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lumidotexe · 10 months
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flirting while fighting ;)
Animation i made of Macaque and Ru based on the most recent pages of my LMK fan comic!
Patreon Members got to see this early, consider supporting it!
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sunkissed-zegras · 3 months
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𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐛𝐣𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧. 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐚𝐢𝐥𝐬 𝐚𝐭 𝐚 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐟𝐮𝐧𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐩𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐭𝐡. | delicate au, jack hughes
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౨ৎ ─ summary | this takes place in late august of 2023, a little before the njd season started. jack hughes dm's the girl the whole internet thinks he's dating and invites her to a pre-season get-together at his house.
─ word count | 1.9k
─ warnings | anxiety, some flirting? nothing else!
─ taglist | @dancerbailey3 @valluvsu @daisysnhl @dasiysthings @iminlovewithtz11 @literatureluster @lvrzegras @lxvleyzoe @bowen-power @ru-kru @jackhughesily @hearts-for-luke
─ ev's notes | please lmk ur thoughts on this au so far! i, of course, always read ur guys feedback so anything would be very much appreciated.
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Accept message request from jhughes (jackhughes)?
jhughes: have you seen twitter? we're trending 🤣 jhughes: looks like i'm your bf now 🤷🏻🤷🏻
libbytf: yeah um i don't even know how that happened😭 libbytf: they're crazy, that's not either of us?
jhughes: it does really look like us though haha 🤣 i don't blame them
libbytf: the more i look the photos the more i disagree lol, i hope they figure it out on their own 😭
jhughes: haha yeah [seen]
jhughes: me and luke are having a pre season party, you should come if ur free jhughes: oh and if leon wants you to hahaha😭
libbytf: when is it? i'll see if i can come and if i'm in town
jhughes: next saturday at our new place
libbytf: i'll let you know!
jhughes: k lmk ( 👍🏻 )
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Libby stared down at her screen, trying to comprehend what had just happened. Did she just get asked out?
She received the message later that day and she was surprised that Jack Hughes had messaged her. She wasn't starstruck or anything but he didn't seem like the "dm" type, he looked more like the type to approach you in public.
She shook her head, she didn't even know if he was hitting on her. He probably wasn't even trying to come off that way, he probably just needed more people at his party. And the truth was, after the whole "Josh" thing, she didn't really have anything to do because everyone in the world was seemingly against her. The messy breakup with Josh had left her feeling exposed, as if every aspect of her personal life was now fair game for public scrutiny.
She had been under the spotlight for years now, long before she had even considered the idea of being a singer. Her sister and father were already apart of the "Hollywood" circle, she has seen this kind of stuff before. She's never been apart of the gossip, though - this was the first time she'd been in the spotlight for a bad reason.
Growing up in the shadow of her sister's and father's fame had accustomed her to the entertainment industry and all the drama that came with it. But now, as the fallout from her breakup with Josh engulfed her, Libby found herself thrust into uncharted territory. The barrage of rumors and gossip had stripped away the layers of privacy she had worked so hard to preserve, leaving her feeling vulnerable.
Libby couldn't even turn to her music anymore, she felt like it was no use because the whole internet (and their moms) hated her for no reason other than her relationship, or lack thereof.
She was pulled out of her thoughts as she felt her phone buzz on her bed. She reached for it lazily and opened it, reading the message.
leon 😛 are you down for something this weekend?
Libby typed out a quick response.
libs 🥸 depends
leon 😛 me and some of the team are gonna have a party this weekend to celebrate the start of the season, they told me to bring someone and ur all i have
leon 😛 unless u say no i'll ask someone else
libs 🥸 jack already asked me so sure :)
leon 😛 wait so ur his plus one?
libs 🥸 no bc he's the literal host, he just invited me😭😭
leon 😛 thats weird but okay, can u still be my plus one
libs 🥸 idk if that'll change anything but sure!!
She sighed at her brother's slight stupidity. It sounds like she was going to be going to the party this weekend. As she agreed, Libby couldn't help but feel a twinge of anxiety about attending Jack's party. The thought of facing a bunch of strangers, each with their own preconceived notions about who she was, made her stomach churn.
Before she could turn off her phone, her phone buzzed and she looked at the notification.
jhughes (jackhughes) started following you!
──
"Have you been on Twitter?" Leon spoke up as he drove, his eyes glancing toward Libby before focusing back on the road.
She shrugged, "Yeah. Why?"
"Everyone thinks you're dating Jack, it's kinda funny. Isn't this like, your first time meeting him?" Leon replied with a small laugh, shaking his head.
"It's pretty dumb, isn't it?" Libby replied, her voice tinged with amusement. "Well this is like my second or third time meeting him so it's not like we're strangers but still, we're far from strangers."
"Are you sure about that? He messaged you." Leon joked as he smirked at you as you rolled your eyes. She knew he was joking but a part of her thought that maybe he was flirting with her. But Libby could not even mention that to Leon because it'll make him go crazy, staying quiet was the better option.
"Shut up," Libby mumbled as Leon laughed. "The pictures aren't even us, you know?"
"The guy looks a lot like Jack but not you. It's so funny especially because everyone swears that they know you so well but they can't even tell the difference you and some other person." Leon grinned, clearly enjoying the absurdity of the situation. "Well, I guess the internet just loves drama. Can't blame them for trying to spice things up, it is fun."
"I just hope people figure it out soon," Libby sighed, glancing out of the car window at the passing city lights. "I mean, it's not like I need more rumors right now."
Leon shrugged. "Yeah, I get it. But you know what they say, any publicity is good publicity."
"Yeah at least I'll know my new album will get tons of new streams, thanks to Josh's fangirls."
"You mean dickriders? Jesus, have you seen the comments?" Leon scoffed, making a turn to Jack and Luke's home.
Libby sighed, her shoulders slumping as she leaned back against the car seat. "Yeah, I've seen them. It's like they're just waiting for the opportunity to tear me apart completely, I can't even go on Instagram anymore."
Leon's expression softened with empathy as he reached out to place a comforting hand on Libby's arm. "They're just fucking bored, that's all. They have to tear someone down to feel better. Don't let them get to you."
Libby nodded, grateful for her brother's words of encouragement. "I know, it's just hard sometimes, you know? Feels like I'm constantly under a microscope."
Leon nodded in understanding, his gaze unwavering in its support. "Yeah, I get it. But remember, those comments don't define you. You're so much more than what people say about you."
Libby managed a small smile as they reached Jack's home. The night air was crisp as Libby and Leon made their way towards Jack's home. The distant noise from the party spilled into the quiet neighborhood as they walked towards the entrance.
The home was pretty big but you weren't surprised, they were really good and popular hockey players so of course they had a big home. However, as you walked into their porch, you noticed how clean it was. Not many boys in their twenties kept their homes so clean and organized but Libby was pleasantly surprised at how clean their home was and she hadn't even been inside yet.
Leon gave the door a few knocks before the door opened to reveal Jack, a big grin on his face and a backwards cap on his head. "Leon! You made it!"
"Yeah, and I brought Libs!" Leon grinned back at Jack as his gaze finally fell on Libby, she felt his eyes scan her body before they landed on her eyes once again.
Libby felt a slight flush rise to her cheeks as she met Jack's gaze. His warm smile putting her at ease as she returned it, trying to ignore the flutter of nerves in her stomach.
"Awesome! Come on in, guys." Jack ushered them inside, the sounds of the party becoming more pronounced as they stepped inside.
"There's some chips in the kitchen and you guys can just help yourself to the drinks inside the fridge, just don't drink any of our protein smoothies." Jack side glanced to Leon playfully, in which he responded with a quick fine. "Everyone's in the living room playing pool."
"I'm gonna go get a beer, if y'all don't mind." Leon called out as he headed towards the kitchen, leaving Libby and Jack by the entrance.
As Leon left, Libby shifted her gaze to Jack with a warm smile. There was a brief awkward silence before Jack broke it, "I didn't know that you lived in Jersey."
"Well I don't but ever since Leon's moved here I've been spending every second at his place. I actually live in New York City but it gets a little hectic, I need a break sometimes from... everything." Libby explained as she recalled all the drama from the summer, from everything with Olivia to Josh, it was eventful.
Jack nodded, his expression sympathetic as he listened to Libby's explanation. "I get it. New York can be intense, especially with everything going on."
Libby sighed, feeling a weight lift off her shoulders as she spoke about the challenges she faced. "Yeah, it's been a lot to deal with lately. Sometimes, it's nice to escape to somewhere quieter, you know?"
Jack's gaze softened with understanding. "I get it. I'm sorry by the way, with the whole uh... thing." Jack didn't really want to specify but they both knew as Libby nodded.
Libby gave him a sweet smile but before she could respond, Luke came in wearing a Devils jersey. "Dude I've been looking everywhere for you, there's something wrong with the-" He cut himself as he noticed Libby.
"Hey Luke." Libby greeted the tall curly-head with a grin as he walked over to where Libby was and gave her a side hug as Jack observed.
"Libby! I haven't seen you in a while, how's everything?" Luke asked casually as he pulled back.
"Can't complain." You spoke with a small grin as you looked in between the boys. "You?"
"Very excited for the new season, I don't know if you could tell." Luke chuckled as he looked down at the jersey.
Libby couldn't help but chuckle at Luke's enthusiasm. Even though she's never formally met Jack, her and Luke have a pretty good friendship through Leon. As soon as they met they clicked and now they're practically tied at the hip. "Hmm... I couldn't tell. Go Rangers, right?"
"Hey, hey, hey!"
"Whoa, don't you dare step foot in our homes and disrespect us like that. That is a like a slur around here." Jack shook his head playfully as him and Luke exchanged looks before all three of you busted out laughing.
"Sorry, sorry won't happen again!"
"It better not or we're gonna have to kick you out." Luke threatened with a mock-serious expression. "But seriously Jack, the TV isn't working and everyone wants to play Fifa for some reason."
Jack shrugged as he motioned to Libby towards the living room, "I don't even know if we own Fifa..."
They all entered the spacious living room where everyone was. There were some teammates who she recognized and some people she'd never seen before. Jack and Luke ventured off toward the TV, leaving Libby to go stand by the couch. She'd enjoyed the night so far but as she stood there, anxiety began to creep into her stomach.
Everyone here knew somebody and right now the only people she was close with was her brother, Luke and Jack and they were all playing Fifa right now.
"Libs, get a controller we need one more player!" Jack shouted from the coach and waved at her to come over. Libby hesitated for a moment, feeling a familiar pang of anxiety at the thought of joining a group of people she didn't know well. But as she stared back at Jack, she swallowed all her fears and walked over, taking a controller.
As she settled in next to them, Libby felt a sense of normalcy wash over her. For the first time in a long time, she felt like she could just be herself, without the weight of everyone's expectations or the glare of being perceived.
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↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !
↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡
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Note
>:)
S/o appears, dressed up nice for a date that skelly promised and forgot about until now. What will he do?
Undertale Sans - Uh oh. He plays it casually like he totally didn't forget, saying it's just his normal clothes because he hid the dating one under. Just give him a second. He teleports in his room and runs like his life depends on it to his closet, trying to find something to wear in an emergency. He can hear Papyrus in his head screaming at him for never noting everything and that one of these days he's not going to be here and he will mess up bad. Well guess what, Papyrus was right!
Undertale Papyrus - He looks at you in shock. Wasn't it tomorrow? He swears it was tomorrow. When he goes into the kitchen to check the time and realizes he messed up, he screams in panic and runs to his room to change. Thank god he still prepared what he was going to wear three weeks before so he's fine in the hand. He clearly knew it was today!
Underswap Sans - .... Ah. He starts to sweat profusely, looking more and more distressed as you keep saying you two are going to have a lot of fun tonight. He forgot to book the reservation because he had too much work this week, and he forgot to tell you you should probably do that another time. He has no idea how he's going to save this honestly. He will completely improvise your date lol.
Underswap Papyrus - He has a sudden rise of anxiety and decides it's better to faint right here right now than assume in front of you he totally forgot your date. Good luck with that.
Underfell Sans - He is completely oblivious, flirting with you and commenting on your choice of clothes. That's only when you ask him after some time if he's ready to go that his smile suddenly disappear in horror. Oh shit. Uuuuuuh.... He's not sure how to tell you he completely forgot.
Underfell Papyrus - His eyes widened in shock seeing you. You widened even more as he suddenly rips off his clothes to reveal his dating clothes he was obviously wearing under his regular clothes. Ok, maybe he didn't have to rip off his clothes, but he panicked a little.
Horrortale Sans - Oopsie. He forgot. He just apologizes and goes to change. He's not sure where you were supposed to go though, and you quite realize it after he takes you to twenty different locations, watching your reaction to find out which one is the good one lol.
Horrortale Papyrus - He acts like he didn't forget at all, but he cooked dinner and kinda put everything on the table already so that's quite a big indicator. He pretends it's all for Oak but Willow literally cooked for 20 people so... Yeah, he's defeated. Sorry he forgot...
Swapfell Sans - He looks at you, then raises an eyebrow. "you're getting out tonight?" "Yes? With you? Like we planned last week?" ..... Nox freezes, then cough and sit straight. "of course i knew that." He's lucky he always dresses nicely or you would swear he's lying.
Swapfell Papyrus - He's lying on the couch, stuffing his ribcage with rubber chicken. He stares at you weirdly, but keeps doing it. You cross your arms. "You're not forgetting something?" He looks at you, confused. "no, i stuffed all 120 in there." "What?" "what?" You facepalm. Rus still has no idea what you're talking about though.
Fellswap Gold Sans - "IT'S TOMORROW." He's in denial and he refuses to say he forgets, so he acts like it's your fault and that you're too early. He won't give up with his bullshit. He organized the date, he knows when it's happening and it's tomorrow, now leave him alone.
Fellswap Gold Papyrus - "Are you ready to go out?" "... go out? like, outside the house? why?" "Our date?" He stares at you in complete silence. You try to wave in front of his face, he's not reacting anymore. Coffee crashed...
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gatorbites-imagines · 7 months
Text
Kinktober day 25
Aaron Davis + Reunion sex
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Couldnt find any gifs or good pics of Aaron from the game, so heres a pic.
This can be read as both spiderverse and Insomniac Aaron. I was imagining Insomniac Aaron cuz I’m playing the game, but yall can imagine whoever you want.
Kinktober 2023 masterlist
They called you Bullseye because of your incredible aim, able to fling any blade, shoot any gun or trip any enemy. Youd appeared shortly before Spiderman had started out, meaning you’d been in this business over many years at this point, meaning you’d made a lot of friends and enemies along the way. Though, it was mostly enemies.
You were mostly a thief, but you’d taken money to kill people before, especially if you found out the person you were hired to kill was a horrible person. Then you would almost do it for free, but you couldn’t, as people would assume you were shabby or easily manipulated.
That’s how you met The Prowler for the first time, he had been in the business longer than you and knew his way around. You were both thieves, and both worked under Kingpin as long as it paid. In the beginning somewhat of a rivalry went on between you, as you both started going out of your way to pick the others targets, just because you could.
Later on in life you would both admit it was flirting, just your own way of doing it. You were a couple years younger than Aaron, but not anything too crazy, people were honestly more surprised that Aaron Davis was openly in a relationship with another man, than anything else.
Because that’s what it became, neither of you put a name to it for years, even as you moved in together and worked together as The Prowler and Bullseye, or when Aaron had to patch you up after the vulture had gotten you in the side after being a little too annoyed by your presence.
Even when you got to meet his cute nephew, and the first thing the kid asked was if you were Aaron’s husband. You did end up getting married, but it wasn’t anything big, just signing a couple of papers mutually deciding to wear a necklace with your ring instead of putting it on your finger.
Aaron had started to slow down over the years, and though you didn’t slow down just as much, you started taking smaller hits and even stopped killing, it was just hard to stop stealing after all these years. Your relationship with spiderman became better too, he didn’t even throw you into the raft, as you’d return the item you stole half the time.
Then everything happened with Miles being bitten, figuring out Aaron and your own secret identity and rightfully feeling betrayed, Aaron getting arrested and covering for you, leaving you to walk free as he was locked away. It was hard to be away from your husband, and it was hard seeing the distrust in Miles’s eyes when he looked at you.
But when Aaron was finally free from the raft, it was hard to not jump him immediately as he stepped in through the door. His beard wasn’t as styled as it had been before, and he looked slimmer, but he was still your husband who got your blood pumping.
Aaron had grinned in that way only he could grin, the way that had your heart racing, as he put his bag down and opened his arms to accept you as you advanced on him. Hands desperate and gripping, your lips mashed together like you were both starved and the others lips was the only thing that could fill your stomachs.
Kissing him after so long apart felt like coming home, like a part of you that had been ripped out had finally returned. The stumble to the bedroom was blurry, as both of you had been way too focused to kiss and touch and grab, to notice that you had stumbled into the bedroom. Things in your bedroom was pretty much the same as the day he was taken away, but none of that mattered.
You felt like you were on fire as Aarons hands slid up under your shirt, digging his nails into the tight muscle of your torso and dragging them down in the way that had your skin raising into goosebumps. He chuckled hotly as he groped your pecs, rubbing his rough thumbs over your hardening nipples as his eyes seemed to almost glow, like he wasn’t just as starved as you were for this.
Lips slick with spit and bodies growing hot, clothes were thrown all over the room as desperate hands pulled and tugged, the noise of ripping fabric registering somewhere in the back of your brain as Aarons hands gripped and pulled at your t-shirt. It had just been some cheap shirt, anyone could have torn it, but Aaron doing it had a hot shiver running down your spine like thick honey.
Your hips ground together as the last strips of fabric left your bodies, a deep hot groan leaving Aaron’s chest as you shuffled between his thighs, grabbing at the muscle there to lift them. He wasn’t as flexible as he had been years ago, but neither were you, the curse of your over-the-top lifestyle and age, but one of his legs still found its way over your shoulder.
He laughed as you licked the inside of his knee before biting into his leg, grinding in your teeth just enough to leave an indent. He laughed even harder as you grabbed the lube from the drawer, the same place you two always kept it, your husband making some joke about how you hadn’t even changed it up since he had been gone.
You scowled as he mentioned his time away, slicking up a couple of your fingers and getting to work stretching him out, starting slow as you had been apart for so long. Aaron had never made much noise, but the ones he did were like music to your ears. Any soft grunt or groan, or the few times you could get him to whimper when you brushed his prostate.
As you opened him up with your fingers, adding another when needed, you leaned down and kissed him again, your chin brushing against his faintly greying beard. His lips were dry, but you loved them like that, because it meant you got to flatten your tongue of them before taking them between your teeth and giving them a pull.
Aaron’s hand found its way into your hair, gripping on, his brows giving a furrow as you removed your fingers from inside him. You both knew he was ready, and Aaron was growing impatient, his leg falling to hook around your hip to pull you in close. “Come on, get inside me already” he grumbled, his eyes softer and face warmer than usual.
And who were you to reject his wish, reaching down to lead your cock into him, slowly pushing in and letting you both adjust as you bottomed out, a groan leaving you both at the completeness it made you both feel to be together again like this.
His hand gripped your arm and gave it a squeeze, and you knew it meant he wanted you to move but couldn’t find the words to ask. Normally you might have teased him a bit, get him to ask, but now all you wanted was to be near him.
Starting out slowly, you moved your hips in a slow and deep pace, this wasn’t just a normal roll in the sheets, it was making love. Aaron must have felt the same as you, as his arms found themselves around your neck, pulling you down so your lips could meet once more as he gave a grumbled demand for you to go faster.
The sound of pants and groans filled the room for the first time in the year Aaron had been gone, the slick noises of your kissing and of the lube only adding to the ambiance. The bed creaking the way it did only made your toes curl as you leaned back, gripping his hips so you could move your hips harder, making sure to strike that spot you knew always had your husband seeing stars.
The time apart had left you both needy and backed up, so it didn’t take long for you both to grow closer, Aarons noises growing in volume and going form groans to moans, his head falling back onto the pillow as his eyes clenched.
Seeing him so close, you reached down, wrapping your hand around his slick back, jerking it in pace with your thrusts until Aaron moaned the loudest you had gotten him to moan this entire time as he came, shooting spurts of white into your hand and across his torso.
The sight was enough to have your eyes roll back into your head as your jaw dropped, a moan leaving you as you bottomed out inside him, letting the rush of orgasm crash through your body as you came. The orgasm left your vision swimming for a moment, finally coming back to Aarons breathless chuckle as he pulled you down on top of him.
If you had been younger, you two would have gone a couple more rounds, but now it just felt like enough to hold one another after being apart for so long. You would have to get up and shower, and then change the sheets, as neither of you wanted to deal with that mess tomorrow. But right now holding Aaron and inhaling his scent took priority, your eyes sliding shut to just let yourself bask in it for a while.
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scarletevening · 8 months
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𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 [ 𝐉𝐎𝐇𝐍 𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐄 ]
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𝐨𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟖 | 𝗰𝗼𝗿𝗿𝘂𝗽𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻
cw: suggestive, age difference, inexperienced reader, foreplay, teasing, illegal work relations/abuse of power, fem!reader
notes: a corruption kink is when one enjoys ruing another innocences/inexperience.
𝐂𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐍 𝐉𝐎𝐇𝐍 𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐄 was who you were placed under when you first join the task force. you were new, and it was expected that there was some distance between you and the team, but between you and john?
there was no line that wasn't crossed.
he was always by your side, even when you didn't think the situation was right. like maybe when you were ordered your first punishment run, he was running there with you because,
"just for fun, love,"
you smiled and nodded, he was your captain, who were you to ask? so you ran with him, conversing, laughing, flirting, with the struggle of cardio, but it was fun. It was an interaction that you never expected to occur so many time, albeit not during a punishment.
you didn't mind it, how he was always there, like a pillar, someone to hold your nervous hand. that was until that friendliness turned into something else.
so there you were, sitting on your captains laps, your back against his chest, gasping in pleasure. his beard nestled against your neck, a sensitive spot from his teasing bites. you captains hot breath fanned across your neck, his hands sinking between your thighs, ones now naked as he 'ordered' you to take your uniform off.
"do you know where you want me to touch you?"
letting out a shaky breath, you shook your head, nervous, teary eyes staring up at him over your shoulder. his cigar-nipped lips split into a wide grin, leaning down to gently coo in your ear, his rough fingertip pressing against your clothed bud. you jolted, gasping in surprise as his chest vibrated against your back, a playful chuckle making him grin into the supple skin of your neck,
"my, my, you sure are sensitive aren't you, love?"
you pant, eyes unable to tear away from the sight of his hand between your thighs. prices' palm was grinding against your clit, making you take sharp breaths, twitching at each circle of his palm.
"c-captain,"
whatever you were going to say was probably unimportant anyways, as his fingers met to pinch your clit, cutting youself off with your own yelp and whimper, confused by the strange mixture of pain and pleasure,
"shh," he cooed, "i know this is all new, but thats what i'm here for, love."
his voice was low, the lust in his tone tangible, making the hairs on the back of your spine stand straight, his other hand soothing your shaking lungs as he rubs your thighs. the captain couldn't help it was he looked past your confused, whiny face, staring at he watched his hands repeat his movements over, and over, and over again. his eyes shifted, a sly stare meeting yours, that same erotic voice groaning into your ear,
"now relax, let me teach you, sweetheart."
-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈
i almost forgot to post this #grateful for tmmrs break
༒︎ 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫; 2023 ༒︎
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be-my-ally · 1 year
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Attention needed. (Jealous Elvis Request)
Dearest anon, darling, here you are! Apologies for the *slight* delay, work has kept me far too busy and tired this week - and also, I intended this to be a very quick 1-2k, and somehow that turned into 4k….so hopefully you enjoy!!! I found it a little hard to make it Jerry, who I can’t see knowingly flirting with Elvis’ girl, but I hope I did the prompt justice by making it a -teeny- bit of miscommunication.
pairing: afab!reader x elvis
summary: Reader wants Elvis’ attention, but he refuses to give it to her so she tries to make him jealous, going so far to cozy up with Jerry.
warnings: 18+, jealous!elvis, physical altercation b/t elvis + jerry (not with reader), oral sex (elvis receiving), hurt/comfort with slightly injured!elvis.
wc: 4.4k (whoops)
You hate when he ignores you like this. It’s worse because you know it's calculated, intentional. It’s not just that he’s busy recording, or messing around with the other guys (although he is) but he’s toying with you, in his twisted version of flirting, playing with you. The trouble is that the rules to his games never get shared with you. You’re left guessing how to react, or what his aim is - does he want you to fight him? Argue until you’re forced to be “taught a lesson”? Submit - simply allow him to do whatever, ignoring both your heart and brain? Or some strange, acceptable combination of the two? It seems to change every time, and it’s impossible to guess his reactions at the best of times, let alone when he’s intentionally trying to keep you unbalanced.  And it is, certainly, intentional.
It has to be intentional; his determined actions to ignore your glances over at him, ignoring you lingering in the doorway of the recording studio, your hand on his thigh in the car. In fact he’d brushed you off, not in a malicious way, but in a  - I’m talking to my boys and having fun and moved my leg and didn’t even realise you were there - way. Which in some ways annoys and hurts you more; because you can’t wholeheartedly accuse him of doing it on purpose, and to bring it up would imply that you don’t want him to have fun with his friends, which of course you do. 
So, it has been building the whole day, leading to where you are now. Sulking on the edge of the bed, as you hear him play-fighting with the other ‘boys’ outside, although you can’t see them - its summer and it’s warm enough that the windows are open, but even with the curtains drawn it’s too dark to see. It was late, Elvis’ schedule didn’t conform to trivial things like day and night. So, despite the lateness of the hour, it’s only just coming up on dinner time. He’ll be up in a moment to change - it’s not required for any reason, it’s just family tonight - no-one special to impress, or photographs to be taken but he still likes to look his best. Especially considering he’ll be undoubtedly rumpled and muddy from their roughhousing. All you can think is that you don’t care to think of him looking his best, you just want him to really look at you. See what you’re trying to communicate with him. 
You hate how he makes you feel like it’s you who’s lacking, or who has to put in the extra effort. But still you do it - it annoys the hell out of you but you still do it. You’ve changed into a little powder blue set, teased your hair up high - just how he likes, determined to get his attention back. Your intention, is to make him look at you, force his attention onto you, which means a grand entrance. Which means that you’ll have to hide when he comes up to change and allow him to go downstairs alone before following. He won’t be able to ignore you coming in by yourself. You roll your eyes internally, at the ridiculous lengths you go to for him. When you hear them all coming into the house you dive into your little dressing room, locking the door behind you. You can hear him humming to himself - as he thuds about the bedroom, you can hear the closet door opening and closing and the water running in his bathroom as he gets himself ready and then, a few minutes later, his quick footsteps as he hurries out and back down the stairs. It’s what you wanted, but you can’t help but be annoyed that he didn’t even attempt to look or call for you. 
The annoyance grows, as you wait, when he doesn’t come himself or send someone to get you for dinner, forgetting in your sheer annoyance that he has no idea where you were. You head down the stairs after a few minutes had passed, you can hear the noise of the dining room as soon as you leave the cushioned sound proofing of his upstairs suite. When you walk in, late, you expect a reaction. Sure you’d wanted him to look at you, appreciate you, but you had also expected a little more. To be denied anything else - him simply glancing up at you, and pointing to the empty chair saved for you to the left of him at the head, was borderline offensive. Normally he’d have commented either in annoyance, or out of a protective worry - checking that nothing was amiss, that nothing had kept you. But tonight he does none of that, simply turning back to his conversation - not even waiting to see if his silent order was obeyed. It was, but you’d argue simply because it was the last seat available, not because you’d wanted to. 
That particular place puts you directly next to Jerry, and just out of Elvis’ reach. It’s not an unusual place for you to sit, you’d normally sit as close to him as possible; sometimes sitting up with him or him sitting with you, sometimes even on his lap, but it is rare for him to tell you where to go. He’s commanding and wants his own way, but he’s not normally so demanding in such normal circumstances. You humph to yourself but nonetheless do as he wordlessly commands - you wanted his attention though, not half a glance and an order. You’re quiet through the meal, despite the rambunctious energy from the rest of the table - everyone in high spirits from the finished recording session, and time off they had that evening. 
Elvis ignores you entirely, laughing and joking with Sonny and Red who were sat closest to him, but also joining in on the conversations happening around all sides of the table - shouting down to be heard when necessary. It’s a bit of a squeeze on the table tonight with so many of the closest knit memphis mafia boys staying, extra chairs added and the table extended. Which means that while Elvis, as ever, remains with more than enough space you’re knocking elbows with Jerry. You smile apologetically at him whenever it happens and he responds in kind back at you. You like Jerry, he’s always been nice to you and you’ve never felt the competitive edge that some of the other members of the ‘mafia’ seem to have from him. You chat politely to him, but you don’t have huge amounts to talk about tonight and he’s more preoccupied with the other conversations happening around you so you mostly eat in silence.
Being this close together though does give you an idea of how you might catch Elvis’ attention. You lean over to top up Jerry’s wine glass, using your left arm across your body so that you have to place your right hand on his thigh for balance. You can feel him look down in surprise at you, clearly taken aback at the forward action, uncertain as to whether he should pretend it didn’t happen or acknowledge it. You stroke his thigh once as you linger your hand before pulling it away and he appears to hold his breath until you’ve picked up your own glass with it. You don’t look at Elvis. If he wants to ignore you, you can do the same. Time to play with him for a change. Jerry shifts a little, and you smile at him, allowing him the opportunity to pretend nothing happened. He does so, but you can tell he feels slightly uncomfortable at the suddenly charged atmosphere. You risk a sneaky look over at Elvis, and see that his jaw is tight, although he doesn’t give off any other impression of anger. Your own frustration grows, as he continues to stare away from you - even though you can see him chewing his cheek almost every time you look over - as if in silent signal that he can tell you’re watching. Still, he doesn’t say a word to you. 
When dinner finishes Elvis leads the way into the TV lounge, and you follow. You need to figure out how to up the ante a little, but without taking it too far. Little did you know the chance would come quite quickly. Elvis immediately settled himself onto the large sofa, cigarillo ready to be lit, and some of the others followed. It was pretty crowded, and it wasn’t long before they broke out to some of the other rooms around, spreading out a little. It made it easier to keep one eye on Elvis, while you considered your options. You were stood near the bar - it wasn’t like you were the only one still standing, every place to sit in the room taken up (despite the fact that normally Elvis would have insisted they make room for you - you’re a lady after all), when Jerry came up to it to pour himself a drink. He asks if you want one too and when you agree he does enough for two, handing you the glass as he comes back out. You chat about nothing in particular, and Jerry seems legitimately interested in what you have to say, and you drink, until you’re significantly more relaxed - almost forgetting about your mission. 
You’re two drinks in now, and that plus the wine at dinner has made you a little brazen. You lean against the wall, and you can feel Jerry’s eyes track down your body as you, subtly, push your chest out a little. You continue your conversation, not really talking about much, but you can tell he’s panicking slightly about what to say or do to you. You look over at Elvis again who’s busy entertaining - regaling a couple of the boys left behind with tales from tour, and sigh. Jerry tracks your eyes, and frowns for a moment, 
“Why’d you put up with it?” You look up at him, surprised he would be so direct, 
“What do you mean? I don’t, he’s just…” You’re annoyed with him but you still don’t want to badmouth him to one of his best friends so your trying to choose your words carefully, “Look, you know probably better than anyone that you can’t tell him what to do, or what not to do. So you just have to…go along with it.” His brow furrows as he looks down at you, and he turns so that you’re both facing each other while resting sideways against the wall - if you turned your head slightly you could rest your cheek on the cold wallpaper. 
“It’s just - you’re a swell girl, you’re so pretty, real bombshell like, and you could have anyone, hell he won’t even say he’s in a relationship with ya!” You smile and inch a little closer, not wanting to be overheard. 
“Well, thank you that’s very kind. I’m not… blind to my own attractiveness Jerry. I’m not, … look, here’s the thing. I’m not super needy, or desperate to be liked for my own self worth, but I like him, and that might make me an idiot but I do! So, I’ll put up with a little more than I normally would, because I like him, and that’s all there is to it.” He continues to stare, with a slight commiserating look in his eye. You know he understands more than most. You’ve somehow ended up even closer to one another, barely a few inches between you now. 
“I just don’t think he treats you right.” He shakes his head, and you go to say something in reply but you’re interrupted by Jerry’s arm being abruptly grabbed and pulled away from you, 
“What the hell you doing Jerry? Hitting on my girl like that! What’s wrong with ya!” Jerry stumbles back, and rubs his arm where Elvis had grabbed him, 
“Jesus- EP, we were just talkin’ is all. We weren’t doing nothing.” You can sense that Elvis wasn’t believing him, 
“Looked from over there like you were about to do more than that. Looked like you were about to try and kiss her. You going around kissin’ my girls now?” You shake your head, starting to protest, and he whirls onto you, holding up a hand, “I’ll deal with you in a second little girl. Come on now Jer - you now saying you don’t want to kiss her?” Jerry stutters back at him, 
“No-I uh, god, no offense y/n. I wouldn’t E!” 
“No? Sounded like you’d try, I heard you Jer, ‘he don’t treat you right’ is what you said ain’t it!” It’s like watching two cars collide in front of you, you simultaneously feel panicked by the way the conversation is going, but also can’t look away. Jerry suddenly seems to have had enough of being accused or perhaps simply aware of the inevitability of the next event and draws himself up, 
“Well, so what if I did - it's true.” The sentence is barely out of his mouth before Elvis’ fist is flying. 
“What the hell! Elvis! His nose!” You’re horrified at the action unfolding, but you can’t help but be a tiny bit pleased that Elvis is at least fighting for you, even if it is with a pinch of guilt that it’s at Jerry’s expense. Jerry is, unlike some of the others, not afraid of Elvis - and not unwilling to fight back, although you can tell he’s purposefully not aiming for Elvis’ face. So they scrabble together, Elvis stumbling back onto the edge of the sofa after a particularly hard shove from Jerry. 
“Elvis! Jerry! Someone stop them!” You’re shouting at the other men in the room, but it’s too late - the pair go crashing over the top of the sofa, and hit the coffee table on the way down. Both of them lie flat on their backs for a moment before Jerry stands, offering Elvis his hand. He takes it, and is immediately pulled up, shirt ruffled, hair a mess (although he’s faring better than Jerry with a black eye forming and a red nose) and you step forward - “What was that all about! Of all the childish stupid things to do! Look at the pair of you!”  Elvis looks over at you, his eyes blazing, panting, before storming out of the room. You turn to apologise to Jerry, and he accepts it with a small nod of his head, heading over to the little bar for a drink after the drama. He’s not one to hold a grudge, and to be fair neither is Elvis - they’ll be friends again in half hour. 
You can hear Elvis shouting to himself as he tears through the house and you’re in half a mind to let him wear himself out before going in to him, but the other half of your brain is telling you not to let him rile himself up any more than he already is. So you follow, but slowly, and by the time you get into the foyer he’s sat on the sofa in the music room, leaning heavily against its back, his head tipped back and his eyes closed.  You can see his chest heaving with breaths from the exertion, and can tell, from his brief wince on the inhale that he’s obviously hurt a rib. You find it hard to be sympathetic though, since it was of his own making. 
“El-“ 
“Don’t you start little girl - I saw you flirting like a goddamn teasing whore, trying to turn me the fuck on. With Jerry of all people.” You wince at his tone - eyes wide in an attempt to protest your innocence, 
“That’s not fair - he wasn’t - … you weren’t paying me any attention! He was just talking to me!” He scoffs at you, 
“Well, you’ve got my attention now.” He swings his head forward to look at you and he’s calm, but you know that can sometimes precipitate further emotion from him. You can’t help but think he looks good, even as you can tell there’s bruising forming under his shirt; slightly sweaty, hair ruffled, and his shirt coming untucked. Actually, he looks a lot, and you blush as you recognise the thought, like he does when you’ve had sex. You start to stutter out some apology or explanation but your mouth has gone dry as he continues to stare at you. He crooks his fingers, the same two fingers he always does and you follow him closer.  He pats his thigh and you warily approach, half expecting to be flung over his knee, he’s unpredictable like this. You try to perch delicately but he pulls you up and across with a slight grunt. Probably from his rib, you look down at him, 
“This is silly - you’re hurt! Let me have a look.” You start to pull at his shirt, as if attempting to get underneath to assess his injury. But he stops you with a tight hand on your wrist. 
“I’m fine, nothin’ that won’t be sorted after a shower.”  His dismissive tone does nothing to reassure you, but you can’t protest when he shakes you slightly with his hold around your wrist and waist. “Now, baby, what was all that about. You gonna try and tell me again you didn’t do it on purpose?” You falter for a second, you don’t want to lie but you also don’t want to admit to your actions; you’re a little embarrassed to have stooped to such a level. “You’ve been doin’ it all evening - god, all fucking day, trying to get on my damn nerves.” Now that you will protest. 
“Elvis! I haven’t! Not all day! I was jus-“
“Ah-ha!” He crows at you, “So you admit, you were this evenin’ though huh honey?” You wince, refusing to incriminate yourself any further. “Trying to rile me up all night you have - turning up to dinner late, and you think I don’t know you were hiding in your bathroom?” You look back at him, slightly stunned to be so called out, his hand leaves your wrist, trailing up to your face. He strokes the side of your cheek from the bone of your eyebrow to the base of your chin. You tremble, feeling goosebumps springing up on your flesh.  He does it again, stroking down before he, with the same fingers, grabs hold of your face, gripping your cheeks in his fingers - squeezing them together. 
“Say you’re sorry, say ‘sorry Elvis’.” He mimics you in a high pitched tone. You start to protest and his fingers dig in tighter, 
“So-rry Elvis.” You repeat back to him, he hums back at you. 
“Got a nasty habit of arguing with me, little girl. I ain’t gonna put up with that anymore. Not from you.” You nod, and his hand, almost in praise, travels up your thigh. You squirm, your heart beating fast, suddenly aware of your pulse - you wonder if he can tell. He trails his fingers down your cheeks, stopping near your throat, resting for a moment before skipping down to hold you around your waist again. He leans his head close to yours, his breath tickling your ear. “You want my attention darling, you just gotta ask. I ain’t dealing with this bratty shit no more.” His hand strokes your inner thigh, “Understand?” You frantically nod back, 
“Yeah, yeah of course, of - uh - course.” You probably shouldn’t find it so hot to be told off but you do.  He shifts you from leaning so heavily on his side, and you sit up completely, looking over at him sternly - you knew he was in pain. He interrupts you before you can say anything though.
“Been tryna get you to just ask me for what you want all goddamn day. But Lord did you make it difficult for me.” His eyes have a certain glint in them, and you’re not wholly surprised when the next words out of his mouth are, “Guess you oughta make me feel better then little one, you gonna make it up to me? - Go on, baby, get on those little knees for me.” You half roll your eyes, not convinced you’ve done anything that requires apologising but still you slink off his thighs to kneel between his legs. It’s not something nice girls should admit to, but it’s not a hardship for you to take him in your mouth, in fact, quite the opposite. So you kneel, letting him unbutton his trouser - his hardening cock immediately jumping free. 
You lean forward, stroking him gently to full hardness. You go to kiss the tip, and his hands find their way into your hair, bracketing your head, his rings catching a couple of strands that sting a little. But, in a good way that causes your thighs to clench with each little pull. Your fingers go to gently stroke his balls, and you watch as it prompts a bead of white to form at the end of his uncut cock. He grunts down at you, 
“Don’t tease me baby, that’s not how you say sorry.” He pulls your head closer, and the tip of his dick nudges your lips. You let it in, letting it sit for a moment while you adjusted to him being in your mouth again - it’s not something you’re especially skilled at, and you don’t do it often enough to be entirely used to it all but you’re certainly enthusiastic about it. You let it slip out of your mouth with a little pop, taking the time to lick a stripe down his full length, before circling the tip back in your mouth. 
“Thatsa good girl, c’mon now, take it in.” You do as he commands, bobbing down again, tasting his slight salty tang, the sweat from his exertion adding to his general manly musk. Your nose brushes against his base as you open your throat, taking shallow breathes in from your nostrils. His hips jerk as you take a moment to suck, causing his dick to knock against your throat - you can’t help but gag, and you pull off coughing slightly - his hands tugging you off quicker than you’d have gone by yourself. “Sorry sweetheart,” he strokes your cheek as you catch your breath, “God you’re fucking gorgeous.” You blink up at him, through your watering eyes and he groans, his head falling back again. “Lord, if you could see yourself right now.” You smile slightly, going back down on him. Your hands come up to hold his thighs and you dedicate yourself to the task at hand. Bobbing the length of his cock, You’re more prepared this time when he can’t help but move his hips and you go with him, fighting your gag reflex. Your hand finds where your mouth can’t comfortably reach, and gently holds him in place while your other goes down to delicately stroke his balls. You go with where his hands in your hair tug you, up and down, as you feel his thighs clench. 
You don’t have any particularly strong opinions about swallowing, it just depends on your mood and although he’s made it quite clear he’d prefer for you to swallow he’s not about to force you into anything. Today though, as you look up at him through your wet lashes, you can see the glint in his eye as he murmurs that he’s close, and watches you glance about, realising that in the living room you don’t have much choice, unless you’re planning on dirtying your sleeve or the couch. You make eye contact and it seems to be the catalyst to send him over the edge, swearing as you swallow him down. He breathes heavily for a few moments as you finish licking him clean before pulling off to wipe your mouth and chin clean. He tucks himself away, “That’s it. Good girl,” he sighs,  thumbing any lasting traces of wet on your face away, “that was a mighty nice ‘pology.” You smile up at him. Pleased that he’s pleased. 
“I really wasn’t flirting with Jerry,” You tilt your head, “…much.” He guffaws back at you, his previous black mood forgotten, looking down at you with half lidded eyes, 
“S’ok darling, sorry I lost my lid with ya - shouldn’t, shoul-dn’t have. Knew you wouldn’t really.” He pulls you up into his arms, although you protest, and he starts to try to lay you on the couch. “Lemme take care of you now baby, lemme take care of you.” 
“Elvis,” You start tentatively, pushing back on his hands to sit upright. “Wouldya, would you let me have a look at your side? That’s how you can take care of me, let me have a look.” He looks at you, eyes wide, 
“You, you don’t hafta baby, it’s my fault.” You hush him, shifting to be sat next to him and pull his top up, he allows it - lifting his arm to help you roll it up and get a clear look. You tut at the red marks mottling his side, can see where it’s going to develop into a nasty bruise right along the line of his rib, clearly where he’d crashed into the coffee table. He winced when you push into it, but (despite your lack of medical training) you’re pretty sure that it doesn’t feel broken or cracked. Just bruised.
“Let’s get some ice on that, and then I’ll put some cream on it later, ‘fore we go to bed.” He blinks at you for a second, 
“Yeah, yeah sounds like a -ah- plan.” He grunts as his arm comes down, his facial expression changes quickly, a little smirk forming although he’s still got that soft expression on his face, the one that always appears when he’s being taken care of. “You gonna nurse me back to health? Get you a lil’ cap and gown?” You shake your head at him, 
“In your dreams, buddy. C’mon,” You shake his arm as you stand, “Let’s go get that ice.” He nods, following you like a lost puppy.
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melanieathene · 7 months
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Suptober 2023 Day 13 - Flirt
“Refill, sugar?” the waitress trilled, leaning over the table so her cleavage was perfectly in line of sight. Or would have been, had Castiel bothered to raise his eyes from his phone.
“No thank you,” he murmured politely. “Dean, look at this.” He passed his phone over to the hunter. “I think I've found our witch.”
“Oh, witches are yesterday's news,” the waitress said, determined not to be ignored. “So dark and gloomy. I'm going as a mermaid this Halloween. Hair down to here, all curvy and sparkly and – ”
“The bill, please,” Dean interrupted.
The waitress pouted, but retreated to the counter.
“If she'd batted her eyes at you any harder, those fake lashes would have fallen in your coffee,” Dean grumbled
Castiel tilted his head to one side. “I don't understand that reference.”
“She was flirting with you, Cas,” Sam said helpfully.
“Oh. I didn't notice.”
“Dean sure did,” Sam chuckled. “What's the matter, Dean? Jealous that she didn't flirt with you?”
“She's not my type.”
“What? Young, blonde, pretty, stacked. What's not to like?”
“The bill, sir,” the waitress tossed a slip of paper at Dean. “And if you decide you'd rather hang out with a mermaid, sugar...” She tucked a second paper in the angel's pocket, and mimed 'call me'.
Dean tossed some money on the table – just enough to cover their meal, plus an insultingly small gratuity. Sam and Castiel trailed him out the door. As they crossed the parking lot, Castiel retrieved the paper from his pocket and studied it curiously. “Is this another flirtation?” he mused.
“That's a damn sight more than flirting, Cas. That's a brazen attempt at seduction.” Dean snatched the phone number from Castiel's hand and ripped it into tiny bits which he scattered to the wind.
“That's littering, Dean.”
“Sue me,” Dean said and stalked off without so much as a backward glance.
“Sam?”
“Yes, Cas?”
“Did I do something wrong?”
Sam patted the angel's shoulder. “No, Cas. Dean's just being a dick. You know, it's not too late to go back inside and get her phone number.”
“Why would I want to do that?”
Sam rolled his eyes. “Never mind, Cas,” he said.
“Morning, sunshine,” Dean greeted as Castiel entered the kitchen. “Coffee?” He waved the pot questioningly.
“Yes, please,” Castiel replied as he took a seat.
Dean leaned over the table until their foreheads almost bumped and deposited a steaming mug close to Castiel's hand.
Castiel wrapped both hands around the mug and breathed in the enticing aroma before taking a cautious sip. “What is it about coffee that makes its molecules so pleasing?” he wondered, taking a second, deeper swallow. By the time Dean had stuffed the last of the bacon in his mouth, Castiel's mug was empty.
“Refill, 'sugar'?” Dean trilled, with a wink and a light touch that caressed the angel's shoulder.
Sam's head popped out from behind a newspaper in time to see a funny look cross Castiel's face.
Call me, Dean mimed after refilling the mug. He turned away, setting the pot back in it's holder before calmly sauntering out of the room.
“W-was... was that a flirtation?” Castiel sputtered.
“I don't know,” Sam said, shaking his head from side to side. “It could have been... but, then again, sarcasm is equally likely.” Sam shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine.”
“I see.” Castiel sat quietly sipping his coffee for a few minutes, before suddenly pushing his chair back and rising to his feet.
“Where are you going, Cas?” Sam asked, already knowing the answer.
“To speak with Dean.”
“I'm not sure that's a good idea.”
But Sam's words fell on empty air. Castiel was already halfway down the hall.
He didn't bother knocking.
He burst into Dean's room with such force that the door crashed back against the wall, cracking the plaster. A second bang slammed the door shut again.
Dean looked up from from where he was seated at the end of the bed, a partially assembled gun held in his hands. He dropped a cleaning rag to the floor, but showed no other reaction to the obviously angry angel's rude intrusion.
“What was that?” Castiel demanded.
“What was what?”
“Don't play stupid. You know very well what I mean.” “Maybe I do, maybe I don't. Why don't you spell it out for me, Cas.”
“In the kitchen... Was that a flirtation, Dean?”
“Would you like it to be?”
“You're making fun of me.”
“No,” Dean admitted quietly. “I'm not. I'm really not. Answer my question, Cas. What if it was a flirtation. How would you respond to that?”
The fear in Dean's green eyes was obvious as he waited for a reply.
Castiel found himself at a loss for words, his silence lasting so long that Dean carefully set the gun aside and rose to his feet, retreating to the far side of the room.
“Never mind,” Dean muttered. “Forget it. I'll just –we'll just – Let's pretend this conversation never happened.”
“I don't like ambiguity,” Castiel finally responded, advancing step by slow step. “I don't 'get' flirtations or sarcasm. I prefer honesty. Directness. What I'd do, how I'd feel, if –if – I truly believed you were interested in me, wanted me... the way that I want you...” The last few words were spoken so softly they almost were inaudible. As they trailed off into silence, Castiel stood as still as a statue, and let his eyes do the speaking for him.
Dean closed the distance between them and drew Castiel into a tight embrace. His lips were warm and tender as they connected with the angel's: negating the need for any further words, nurturing the hope that shone in Castiel's eyes, erasing the fear that had clouded his own.
“Is this direct enough for you, 'sugar'?” Dean whispered as their lips finally parted.
“Yes,” Castiel breathed, and leaned in for another kiss.
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