corazón de melón.
tldr; the one time you have a proper conversation with itoshi sae ends up unleashing a series of events you never imagined could’ve happened.
wc. 10.2k
¿?: roommates to lovers, college!au, idiots in love, this is pure domesticity tbh, fluff, lowk word vomit, ooc-ish sae (he’s a silly lil guy sometimes this is the hill i’ll die on), slow burn ig ??, swearing, someone’s mean to you (not sae), not proofread (no surprise)
a/n: i have so many emotions in my heart for sae, SOMEONE SEDATE ME PLEASE FREE ME FROM HIM I CANT LIVE NORMALLY ANYMORE, turned rue into a sae liker for this so real of me, @rintosei, enjoy ur meal my children this is probably the longest thing i’ll write in a hot minute
when others think of itoshi sae, many words come to mind: genius, talented, jerk, asshole, rude, mean, scary, lashes, pretty—the list goes on.
you have no particular thoughts about sae. all he is to you is your roommate. you’d like to have an opinion of him, but that seems impossible with the way you can count the number of times you’ve spoken to him with one hand.
though, if you had to be honest, the only common thread in the few interactions you’ve had is that he very clearly does not care for your company—or anyone’s company, for that matter.
not that you blame him. if you had to deal with having to go to practice after a day of classes, you wouldn’t want to interact with anyone else, either. (you’d also not have the energy to do anything.)
it’s why you’re used to hearing him get back to the apartment while you’re eating dinner; why you started leaving some leftovers for him to eat whenever he wants to.
it’s also why you’re surprised when he comes back from practice earlier than usual. you jump when you hear the front door open, placing your hand over your heart.
your turn to the door, eyes widening slightly when you see sae walk in. you don’t greet him—you never do—you don’t think he’d appreciate it. (he never greets you either, so you assumed it was fine.)
so, you turn your attention back to the tv, reaching out to grab the broom. you quickly start sweeping, humming a tune while the noise of whatever drama is playing in the background fills the apartment.
you barely register that sae’s door doesn’t open, but the thought quickly leaves your mind when something dramatic happens to one of the leads.
you take a step back, an unceremonious yelp leaving your lips when your back bumps into something. a second passes by before you slowly tilt your head back.
your eyes are met with a pair of teal ones. a sheepish smile tugs at your lips, “hi?”
he raises a brow, “what are you doing?”
“cleaning.” you move the broom from side to side in hopes to draw his attention to it. (he barely glances at it before his eyes snap back to yours.)
you take a step forward, moving to face him. he just stares at you. an awkward silence settles between the two of you.
“you’re back early.” you hope he didn’t hear your voice crack.
he blinks, clearly uninterested. “practice ended early.”
you hum, nervously bouncing on the balls of your feet. you huff, tapping your fingers against the broom. “i see.”
it’s clear both of you feel uncomfortable. still, neither of you makes a move to leave. you’re more surprised sae’s still standing in front of you. (sae’s mildly intrigued you’re attempting to talk to him.)
you open your mouth to speak, but promptly shut it close. you repeat the action two more times before sae interrupts you, “what?”
your eyes drift away from his. you gnaw on your bottom lip. “it’s nothing.”
he glares at you. “just spit it out.”
your eyes widen, snapping back to look at him as you dismissively wave your hand. “it’s really nothing, you can just leave!”
“you clearly have something you want to say to me,” he deadpans, “so i suggest you get it over with so we can put an end to this lukewarm conversation.”
you take a deep breath, wiping one hand against your shirt, gently swaying the broom with the other. “i was just wondering, y’know since you’re back early–”
“hurry up.”
“do you wanna eat together?” you look at the ground, feet shuffling uncomfortably. the silence feels unbearable.
“that’s it?” the confusion in his voice confuses you. you lift your eyes to stare at him, confusion etched in your face.
your head tilts to the side in confusion, “what do you mean ‘that’s it’?”
“you wanna eat with me?” he points at himself. his brows knit when you nod. sae owlishly blinks,
“okay.”
his eyes widen in confusion when he sees an elated smile bloom on your lips.
“i won’t start cooking yet, since i at least have to finish sweeping,” you hum, “but if you’re hungry you could get started on something and i’ll join you when i’m done.”
“i can’t cook.” sae awkwardly coughs. he shoves his hands into his pockets, looking away from you, a soft flush spreading through his cheeks.
“oh,” you blink, smiling at him. “that’s fine! i can cook something while you clean instead.”
the blush on his cheeks deepens as his brows furrow. “i don’t know how to clean.”
your smile tightens, eyes squinting as you inch closer to him.
there’s a beat of silence. “what can you do then?”
“play football.” you wait a few seconds for him to say something else.
“that’s it?”
“yeah.” he says it as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. (as if it was the only thing that mattered.)
you rub your forehead, a dry laugh escaping your lips.
if you were to tell others of this discovery you’re sure they wouldn’t believe you. you’re not even sure you believe him, yourself.
at least you didn’t, until he took the broom from your grasp. you have to bite back your laughter when he can’t even hold it properly. you wonder how he’d manage to survive alone.
itoshi sae is basically useless outside of football, you conclude. (and you’re not sure if this is the opinion you want to have about your roommate.)
it’s been a week since you learned about sae’s lack of ability to do seemingly anything other than kick a ball around.
it’s also been a week since he started coming back from practice earlier. you have mixed feelings about it. on one hand, you find it strangely comforting knowing you’re not alone in the apartment. on the other, sae just stares at you while you clean.
you’re sick of feeling his eyes follow you around. it feels like a predator watching its prey. having his eyes trail you makes you feel judged, and you’ve had enough.
so, you tighten your grip around the mop in your hands, turning around to look at sae. you take a deep breath, “why are you staring at me?”
he blinks, propping an arm on a couch cushion and leaning his head into his palm. “i’m trying to learn.”
confusion paints itself all over your face, “learn what?”
“learn to clean.” you hate when he says things like they’re the most obvious thing ever. it makes you feel as if he expects you to know what goes on in his head.
“by staring at me?” you raise a brow.
he simply shrugs, “i’m a visual learner.”
you don’t know if you believe him.
so, you place one of your hands on your hips, tilting the mop back and forth with the other one. “in that case, you should try cleaning today.”
his eyes widen, mouth curling into a fine line. “i don’t think i’m ready for that.”
you take a step closer to him, holding the mop out to him. “well, i think that after a week of watching me you should start practicing what you’ve learned.”
“don’t ever think again.” he frowns.
“oh, please,” you roll your eyes, “don’t tell me the itoshi sae is afraid of a little mopping.”
that makes him get up. you bite back the satisfied smile threatening to creep up your face when he snatches the mop from your hands.
“i’m just supposed to move this side to side, right?” he stiffly holds the mop, looking at you with a raised brow.
“‘m not gonna help you out,” you make your way to the couch, mimicking his earlier position. “if you’ve been learning from staring at me for a week then you should know what to do.”
“i know what to do.” he rolls his eyes, “i just don’t know how to do it.”
“figure it out, then.” you lean forward against the palm of your hand, trying to hide your smile behind your fingers.
he glares at you and scoffs, redirecting his attention to the object in his hands. you fail to stifle your laughter when he moves the mop in a sweeping motion.
“don’t laugh!” his grip tightens around the mop, heat rushing to his ears.
you bite your tongue, the ghost of a smile still lingering on your lips, “i’m not.”
he tsks, slightly pouting. he walks towards you, dragging the mop behind him. you look up at him, you eyes flutter closed when he flicks your forehead.
“teach me.” your eyes snap open, flickering to meet his. a confused noise leaves your lips as your brows furrow.
“teach you what?” your eyes flutter when he flicks your forehead again.
sae’s eye twitches in annoyance, “are you stupid or something?”
you glare at him, “not everyone thinks the same things you do!”
he clicks his tongue, rolling his eyes. he points at the mop and then at himself. “teach me to clean.”
“i thought you said you were a visual learner.” you deadpan.
“consider this your punishment for laughing at me.” he huffs, a condescending smile blooming on his lips when he sees your pained expression.
his face leans closer to yours, “i look forward to learning from you, teach.”
you dumbly stare at him as he places the mop in your hands. he flashes you a shit-eating grin before retreating to his room. you blink twice before coming to your senses, punching the couch cushions in anger.
you wish you hadn’t found out itoshi sae was a little shit. you much preferred when you only thought of him as your useless roommate.
itoshi sae is the most infuriating student you’ve ever met.
you thought someone described as a genius would be a much better student than he actually is. he doesn’t pay attention to anything you say at all. you wonder if his teachers just let him pass the class because they don’t want him around anymore.
you have a newfound respect for his actual teachers. you don’t know how they manage to stand him for a whole semester when you don’t think you can even last two weeks. (it’s still longer than you expected.)
“sae,” you loudly sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose, “you’re doing it wrong. again.”
his grip around the broom tightens, his knuckles turning white, “i’m doing what you told me to do!”
“you’re not!” you groan, running a hand down your face, “gosh, how do you manage to do everything i tell you the wrong way?”
“what, so i’m the problem?” his eyes narrow, he takes a step closer to you, “have you ever thought that maybe you’re a bad teacher?”
an angry gasp leaves your lips, “excuse me?!”
“you heard me.” he grits his teeth, “you’re clearly the most lukewarm teacher ever. how do you expect me to learn when you don’t care about teaching me properly?”
“have you ever considered that maybe i don’t want to teach you because you forced me to?” you rub your temples in a poor attempt to prevent the coming headache.
he scoffs, brows knitting in annoyance, “you could at least put more effort into making sure i’m learning.”
“you think i’m not?” you point him square in the chest, glaring at him. “i’m doing my best here, okay? it’s not my fault you’re a shit student.”
“you–”
“you listen while your teacher is speaking.” you seethe, grabbing a fistful of his shirt, “i’m trying to do the best i can. i’m not qualified to teach you anything, especially not with how you don’t even pay attention to what i say!”
he frowns, “well, i–”
you shake him as hard as you can, angry tears pooling in your eyes, “you’re the most ungrateful, useless piece of fucking shit i’ve ever met in my life!”
sae grabs your wrists, letting the broom fall with a clang to the floor. he stares at you with wide eyes. you blink, heat creeping up your face in embarrassment.
there’s a beat of silence. sae’s eyes scan your face. “you good?”
he lets out a soft sigh of relief when you nod. “are you going to punch me if i let go?”
he relaxes a little when you shake your head. he looks at you as he slowly lets go of your hands. you stare at him, wide eyed as he gently walks you over to the couch and sits you down.
sae plops down on the other end of the couch, glancing at you. he opens his mouth to speak, but promptly closes it. you stop yourself from laughing at his awkwardness. (it reminds you of how you must’ve acted when you talked to him a couple of weeks ago.)
you twist the hem of your shirt in your hands, looking away from sae, gnawing on your bottom lip. “’m sorry about that.”
“don’t apologize.” he coughs awkwardly, crossing his arms, “i probably stressed you out too much.”
“yeah, but, still,” you turn to face him, “i shouldn’t have said something so rude.”
“it’s fine. i really did deserve that, after all.” an amused laugh escapes his lips, “i’ve never heard you so mad before, though.”
you tilt your head to the side, “what do you mean?”
“i mean,” a hint of amused smile tugs at the corners of his lips, “you tend to get really loud when you complain about your classes. i can hear you all the way to my room.”
your face heats up in embarrassment. you slump against the couch, hiding your face behind your hands. “sorry.”
“stop apologizing,” you slightly relax when you hear a sliver of empathy in his voice. “it’s better to let your emotions out instead of holding them in.”
you lower your hands from your face, staring at him. “do you do that?”
“it depends,” he hums, “feelings are lukewarm most of the time, so when i get angry or whatever i’ll let it out so i can get it over with.”
you narrow your eyes at him, scanning his face. “how does that even work?”
he shrugs nonchalantly, “if i get mad at someone i’ll say it to their face while i’m still mad so i can stop being angry.”
you mull over his words, “so instead of having pent up feelings and reaching your limit, you just act on your emotions as soon as possible so you go back to feeling nothing?”
“pretty much.”
a small hum leaves your lips. silence settles between the two of you before a loud growl echoes through the apartment. laughter bubbles in your chest, spilling out of your mouth when sae’s face flushes.
“shut up!” he hides behind his hands, “i haven’t eaten all day!”
you stand up, walking over and extending a hand out to sae, “wanna help out with dinner?”
he lowers his hands from his face, glancing between your eyes and your hand. he blinks, “i can’t cook.”
“i know,” a smile blooms on your lips, “you can consider it your first lesson.”
sae’s eyes light up, the corners of his lips tilting up ever so slightly. “you’re still gonna teach me?”
“i can’t let you stay useless forever.” you stick your tongue out at him, smiling when he grabs your hand.
a huff of laughter escapes his lips when you fail to tug him up. you flip him off before leaving him behind on the couch. a smile lingers on his face when he follows you to the kitchen.
he’s not a good assistant. (and he’s an even worse cook). in fact, if you’d known that letting him into the kitchen would’ve resulted in having to evacuate the building due to the fire alarm, you wouldn’t have asked for his help at all.
however, you do appreciate that he invited you out for dinner later as an apology for stressing you out.
(it makes you think he’s more considerate than he pretends to be.)
you’ve lost track of the times you’ve had to apologize to your neighbors over sae activating the fire alarm.
it’s embarrassing enough that seemingly everyone in the complex goes to your college, but sae seems to make it worse by glaring at anyone who so much as looks in your direction with a judgemental stare.
“i can’t keep going on like this,” you cover your face with your hands. you shrink into yourself when you feel multiple eyes staring at the back of your head.
“stop overreacting.” sae clicks his tongue. still, he discreetly grabs the hem of your shirt and gently pulls you closer to his side.
you lower your hands from your face, frowning at him as tears of shame pool in your eyes. “everyone’s judging us!”
“just ignore them.” he awkwardly pats your head, “they’ll forget about it soon enough.”
“sae, this happens almost every week!” you cry, gnawing your lower lip, “some guy yelled at me last time because we interrupted his studying! do you have any idea how long i had to apologize for?”
his jaw clenches as anger flashes through his face for a split second before his uninterested expression returns. “what’d he look like?”
“i don’t know,” you blink, “he was tall. he also had brown-ish hair, i think?”
he shoves his hands in his pockets, tilting his head in the direction of the building, “do you know his apartment number?”
“no,” you sigh. “why?”
the corners of his lips quirk up into a mischievous smile. “i was thinking of baking him some apology cookies.”
you cover your mouth in a feeble attempt to stifle your laughter. (if everyone was staring at you in judgment for triggering the fire alarm, now they’re judging you for laughing in this situation.)
sae tugs you into the building when you’re all cleared to enter, glaring at a few neighbors who shoot dirty looks at both of you.
you smack his arm, “stop doing that, you’re embarrassing us!”
he scoffs, flipping off anyone who’s still staring, “does it look like i care? they’re all too scared to say anything to my face, anyway.”
“yeah, but they always say shit to me when you’re gone,” you click your tongue, frowning. sae drags you up the stairs to your apartment.
both of you stand in front of your door when sae puts his hands on your shoulders, staring at you in the eyes. his eyes are a pretty shade of teal, you note.
“if anyone gives you shit when you’re alone, just remember what they look like, ‘kay?” he flicks your forehead, a malicious gleam in his eyes, “i’ll make sure to personally apologize for the trouble.”
a smile blooms on your lips, “you’re so mean.”
“shut up,” he rolls his eyes, pinching your cheek, “as your roommate, i’m the only one allowed to give you a hard time.”
“whatever you say, freak,” you rub your cheek, smile widening, swatting his hand away when he reaches out to pinch your other cheek.
sae bites back a smile as he nods his head toward the door. “did you bring your key?”
you reach into your pockets, feeling around for the key. your head tilts down, eyes widening in panic when you don’t find anything.
an embarrassed chuckle slips past your lips when you lift your head back up to look at sae. he pinches the bridge of his nose.
“gosh, you’re so useless.”
you kick his shin, sticking your tongue out at him, “you don’t get to say that to me.”
he sticks his tongue out at you in return, crossing his arms. “whatever. just go and ask the landlord for a key.”
“me?” you raise your brows at him, haughtily tilting your head to the side, “you’re the reason we had to evacuate the building in the first place! i think it’s only fair that you get the key.”
sae opens his mouth to tell you off, but seemingly decides to sigh loudly in annoyed defeat instead, “fine.”
you smile triumphantly, turning to face him, your eyes closing as your chest puffs out in pride. sae rests his index finger on your forehead. your eyes flutter open in confusion at the contact, smile dropping into a curious pout.
“tell me if anyone bothers you while i’m gone.” he flicks your forehead one last time before turning around and walking away. a content smile blooms on your lips as you stare at his back, sliding down to sit next to the door.
you don’t tell him the tall guy from last time dropped by to yell at you again. sae didn’t even have to ask to tell something was wrong with the way your smile seemed dimmer when you told him you’d take over making lunch.
he doesn’t tell you he’s going to give that asshole the ‘apology’ cookies he’d mentioned before. (and he definitely doesn’t mention that he got his apartment number from the landlord when he got the key to your apartment.) but you had an inkling of what he was going to do when you saw him take out some bowls and a whisk from the cabinets. (you didn’t stop him.)
you bake him some actual ‘thank you’ cookies and place them by his door before heading to your room for the night. the next morning you find a post-it with an ‘anytime’ messily scribbled on it and a ‘thanks for the cookies :)’ on the other side.
you smile fondly at the teal-colored square. you think it resembles the color of his eyes. (it makes you feel warm and fuzzy.)
sae’s gotten slightly better at cooking. he’s able to make at least one meal without triggering the fire alarms.
you feel proud. you suppose that’s what teachers feel when their most lazy, unmotivated student finally manages to put effort into something.
it makes you feel proud enough that you take a detour to the convenience store on your way home. a fond smile lights up your face when you walk out of the store, plastic bag in hand with a chocolate bar and a pack of star stickers.
there’s a skip to your step as you head home, swinging the bag back and forth.
you’ve barely even opened the door to your apartment when it swings open. your eyes widen in surprise when they meet sae’s.
his eyes narrow, “what took you so long?”
a slightly burnt scent wafts the apartment. your nose scrunches, “is something burning?”
“answer my question first,” he points the spatula in his hand at you.
“i got you a reward,” you smile, lifting the bag in your hands.
his eyes light up, “what’d you get me?”
you quickly hide the bag behind your back when he reaches out for it. “answer my question first.”
a small smile tugs at his lips. he rolls his eyes, “nothing is burning. i turned off the stove before opening the door just to be sure.”
you reach out to pat his head, a teasing smile on your lips, “good job, sae!”
he scoffs, a soft blush dusts his ears. “you make it sound like you’re praising a dog.”
you huff, “stop complaining when you’re getting praised.”
“whatever.” sae pouts, brows knitting, “when are you giving me my gift?”
“so impatient ,” you tsk, shaking your head, “let me in first, i don’t wanna stand in the hallway any longer.”
he grabs your arm and pulls you close to him, kicking the door closed. you bump into his chest, eyes widening as heat rushes to your ears.
the first thing that pops into your mind is that he smells nice. there’s a hint of a burnt scent that clings to him, but he still smells nice. (you note that he feels warm too. it makes you feel warm.)
you feel a slight pressure against your brows. it makes you blink as you slowly snap out of your stupor.
“you good?” your eyes meet sae’s worried ones. he leans in closer to you, scanning your face. you awkwardly nod.
his brows furrow. “are you sure? you zoned out for a bit. are your classes stressing you out too much?”
you shake your head, slightly leaning away from him. your lips press into a fine line. sae’s eyes narrow as he scans your face. he steps back, his hands resting on your shoulders. the spatula lightly digs into your skin.
“is it that guy again?” he tightens his grip, making you wince when the spatula presses harder against your skin, “is he still bothering you?”
“i think you scared him away,” you quickly swat his arms away. “i’m fine, though.”
“are you sure?” he sighs when you nod, “why’d you zone out then?”
“i got distracted,” you gnaw on your bottom lip.
his expression morphs to confusion, “with what?”
your eyes widen slightly. you don’t want to tell him he’s the reason you zoned out. so, you settle for the only thing that comes to mind, “the smell of something burning. are you sure you turned off the stove?”
“yes.” he groans in annoyance. there’s a small pause. sae turns around, tugging you into the kitchen with him.
“look!” he points at the stove, “it’s off. stop making me second-guess myself.”
an amused smile blooms on your face, “i can’t believe you had to come check if you actually turned it off.”
“i can’t believe you actually haven’t given me my gift yet,” he scoffs, pouting.
you laugh, reaching out to flick his forehead. “patience is a virtue, sae. it’d do you well to have it.”
“whatever.” he tries to grab the bag from your hands. “just give it to me already.”
you smile, pulling out the chocolate bar from the bag. laughter bubbles in your chest when you see his stunned expression.
“chocolate?” he glares at the bar in your hand, “do you know how unhealthy that is for me?”
“if you don’t want it i’ll just keep it, then.” you nonchalantly shrug.
he snatches it out of your grasp. “i never said i didn’t want it.”
his eyes twinkle when he unwraps it. he glances up at you, “do you want a bite?”
“just a small one,” you reach out to grab the bar.
sae moves the chocolate out of your reach, “open your mouth.”
you blink, tilting your head in confusion. he sighs, “i’ll feed it to you. i need to make sure you don’t bite off half of the bar.”
“do you trust me so little?” you scoff, crossing your arms. still, you open your mouth, heat rushing to your ears when sae tells you to take a bite.
“is it good?” he stares at you, taking a bite of the chocolate when you nod.
you both swallow at the same time, a smile lighting up your face. “i think you deserve another reward for sharing.”
his brows raise in intrigue, “another? gosh, you’re really spoiling me today, aren’t you?”
you take the pack of stickers out of the back, waving it in front of him. he gives you an unamused look.
“i bought these for whenever you do something nice,” you place a sticker on his cheek.
“that’s stupid,” he frowns.
“shut up, you look cute.” you pinch his other cheek.
he clicks his tongue, “whatever. now get out of my kitchen i need to continue making dinner.”
laughter spills out of your mouth when he pushes you into the living room. “do you want me to help?”
“no.” he huffs, “i can do it myself. now go relax or something, i’ll come get you when dinner’s ready.”
“are you sure you’ll be fine on your own?” you snicker, “i’d hate to have to evacuate the building.”
he lightly smacks your shoulder, “i can cook by myself!”
“sae–”
“just let me cook something for you this once,” he mutters.
a soft, defeated sigh leaves your lips, “okay.”
“i’ll let you cook alone,” you smile, “just this once, though. i can’t leave you unsupervised for too long.”
he hums, patting your head before heading back to the kitchen. a small smile lingers on your lips as you make your way to the couch, turning on the tv.
it doesn’t take long for sae to walk over, two plates in his hands, and a self-satisfied smile on his lips.
you’d be lying if you said the meal was good. it was slightly charred, and a little too salty. you’re sure you would’ve managed to turn it into something decent if he’d let you help.
still, as bad as the food was, you can’t help but eat it with a smile on your face, a warm, fuzzy feeling tugging at your heart.
sae groans in annoyance when you place another sticker on his forehead. (your heart leaps when you notice the soft flush to his cheeks.)
he lets you help him wash the dishes, complaining when you flick soapy water in his direction. laughter fills the apartment when he flicks water back at you. time seemingly slowing down to let you savor the moment just a little longer before you head back to your room.
you drift off to sleep with a smile on your face. your heart drums against your chest when you recall the smile on sae’s face.
(you wish he’d smile at you more often.)
you’ve discovered sae is much better at cleaning than he is at cooking. you’ve also discovered that he’s more thoughtful than he lets on.
he tends to clean the apartment while you’re in class. he claims it’s because he absolutely must practice cleaning in order to get better. (you don’t believe him.) he swears he ensures the apartment’s clean by the time you get home because he can’t stand your nagging. (you still don’t believe him.)
it’s why you’ve had to go out and buy more stickers to reward him with. it’s also why you’re a little surprised to see him still mopping the apartment when you get back.
you take your shoes off, quickly putting on your slippers. “you’re still cleaning?”
“i’m almost done,” he hums, “practice ended a little later today.”
you make your way to the couch, careful not to slip on the floor, “why? is there a match soon?”
“there’s one tomorrow,” he turns to look at you, frowning when he sees you pull out a pack of stickers with a teasing smile on your face. (he still makes his way over to you when you tell him to come closer despite knowing your intention.) he watches you place the sticker on his shirt, a concentrated look in your eyes.
he sticks his tongue out at you when you look up at him with a satisfied grin. sae rests his hand on top of your head. “wanna come watch?”
you tilt your head to the side, “i’m not a big football fan.”
he playfully shakes your head, brows knitting, “have you ever even been to a football match?”
“no,” you pry his hand off your head, “but i don’t really see the point of going when i know i’ll get bored.”
he rolls his eyes, “you won’t.”
“how do you know?” you lean closer to him, raising a brow, a playful grin on your lips.
he leans closer to you, nose playfully scrunching, “because i’m going to be playing.”
your face scrunches up in mock disgust, “you’re making me not want to go even more.”
he teasingly clutches his heart in faux pain, a smile on his lips as he tries to hold back his laughter, “you’re so mean. you’re hurting me right now.”
“are you trying to make me feel bad?” you bite back a smile, fondly rolling your eyes. “because it’s totally working.”
“your sarcasm wounds me,” he frowns, shaking his head. “i can’t believe my roommate won’t support me at my match.”
you punch his arm, “keep this up and you won’t be eating any dinner.”
“fuck,” a hearty laugh escapes his lips, “when’d you get so mean?”
“i learned from the best,” you stick your tongue out at him. a soft laugh leaves your lips when sae scoffs, looking away.
“are you really not going to go see the match?” he turns to you, pouting. you hate when he uses that little pout to guilt you. (you hate that you fall for it even more.)
you sigh, slumping against the couch, “i’ll think about it.”
“just give me an actual answer, damn.” he taps your forehead, “are you going, yes or no?”
a teasing smile creeps up your lips, “maybe.”
you laugh when he calls out your name in annoyance. he groans, glaring at you, “i hate you.”
“no you don’t,” you smile at him, “if you did you wouldn’t have asked me to go see you play tomorrow.”
his face flushes in embarrassment. “you’re not even going anyway!”
you rest your head on your hand, “i am, though.”
he stares at you, unimpressed. there’s a beat of silence before he huffs, the corners of his lips quirking up, “i really can’t stand you sometimes.”
“it’s not my fault you’re fun to tease!” you laugh. he flips you off before turning around to continue mopping. you sigh, stretching your arms up. a couple of seconds go by before you get up to make your way to the kitchen.
“where are you going?”
“the kitchen,” you hum, turning around to look at sae. your ears burn when your eyes meet his. you wish you knew what goes on in his head when he stares at you so intensely. you wish you knew if he even knows he’s staring at you so intently. a small, awkward cough leaves your lips, “i wanted to get started on dinner.”
“you’re not even going to wait for me?” you fiddle with the hem of your shirt at his teasing tone.
sometimes you wonder if he knows how domestic your dynamic has become. if he’s aware that people have started associating him with you, and vice versa. if he’s aware of the effect his words have on you. (you really wish you could take a peek inside his mind.)
“you’d just get in my way,” you tsk, “besides i wanna finish quickly, my head hurts a little.”
he quickly walks over to you, dragging the mop behind him, “have you taken any medicine?”
“i’m fine,” you wave off the hand he placed on your forehead, “it’s probably because i’m hungry.”
“are you sure?” your heart pounds against your chest at his concern.
you give him a reassuring smile, “i’m sure. if it still hurts before i go to bed i’ll take some medicine.”
“fine.” he huffs, lips pursing, “but if you still feel bad tomorrow, promise you’ll let me know.”
you feel your heart squeeze. you gnaw on your bottom lip, twisting the hem of your shirt with your hands.
“i promise.” your voice is barely above a whisper, it’s just loud enough for him to hear.
he smiles, patting your head, “don’t push yourself too hard, ok?”
sae turns around. you stare at his back, his name tumbling out of your lips before you can stop yourself. he turns around with a curious hum.
you feel like your heart rests on your throat. he patiently waits for you to continue. heat rushes to your ears and you wipe your hands against your shirt. “i also promise i’ll go see your match.”
the smile that lights up his face makes you wish it was tomorrow already. you want to go. (because you like seeing him smile.) you want to go see his match. (because it’ll make him happy.)
you want to see him do his favorite thing in the world. you want to share that happiness with him, despite not caring much for the sport. (because you think it’ll make him happy to see you there, even if he doesn’t say it. you want to be the reason he feels genuine happiness.)
you’re not there.
it’s the first thing sae notices when he looks at the stands. it’s what he keeps noticing whenever he turns to look at the stands throughout the match. when they reach halftime and you’re still not there, so he texts you. the second half starts and you’re still not there.
the game ends and you never showed up. his brows knit when he checks his phone only to find out you never even read his messages. concern carves itself into him.
he makes his way back to the apartment as quickly as he can, secretly hoping that nothing bad happened to you.
his heart beats faster, anxiety seeping into him when he opens the door and he doesn’t see your figure on the couch.
sae hastily kicks his shoes off, dropping his duffel bag somewhere on the floor. he lets out a deep breath when he stands in front of your door, quickly knocking.
a couple of seconds go by before he knocks again, frowning when there’s no reply. he quietly opens the door, mentally apologizing. his eyes quickly scan the room for you. there’s a lump in his throat when he sees something stir under your bed sheets.
he quietly walks over to your bed, slowly lowering your comforter. his chest tightens, brows knitting with worry when he sees your face twisted in pain, a slight sheen of sweat on your forehead. he grabs a tissue from your nightstand, gingerly wiping the sweat away.
he sharply inhales when you stir under his touch. sae stares at you as you slowly open your eyes. his eyes fill with concern when he notices how heavy, and unfocused yours look.
he presses the back of his hand against your forehead, brows furrowing even more, “gosh, you’re burning up.”
“sae?” he can barely hear your voice. “why’re you here?”
he clicks his tongue, wiping more sweat off your forehead.
“what about the match?” you blearily look at him, voice laced with soft concern. you try to keep your eyes open when he heads out, grogginess catching up to you when he returns with a bowl in his hands, a hand towel over his shoulder.
he dampens the towel, wringing out the excess onto the bowl. sae gently presses it against your forehead, “have you had a fever all day long?”
“did i miss it?” his heart aches at how choked up your voice sounds.
“i thought i told you to tell me if you weren’t feeling alright, dumbass,” he nags, carefully lifting your head up to prop another pillow under it.
“‘m sorry.” your eyes fill with tears, a pout tugging at your lips. he gently adjusts the towel against your skin.
“don’t apologize,” he softly tsks, “worry about getting better, not about missing the game, idiot.”
he panics when a tear rolls down your cheek, hastily brushing it away. his heart squeezes in pain when more tears freely roll down your cheeks.
“i didn’t,” you sniffle, “didn’t wanna miss the game.”
he shushes you, grabbing another tissue to wipe your tears away. “it’s fine.”
“‘s not,” your breath quickens, brows knitting in sadness, “i promised.”
he firmly calls out your name, “it’s not your fault.”
“i promised,” you hiccup. sae frowns, reaching out to remove the towel from your forehead, pouting when he notices you’re still burning up. he quickly dampens it again before resting it against your skin once more.
“i’ll go get you some medicine,” he whispers, turning around to exit your room.
sae stops in his tracks when he feels something weakly tug at his fingers. he turns to look at you, sucking in a shaky breath when he sees you holding on to him.
“don’t leave.” you weakly try to pull him closer.
there’s a slight flicker of hope in him that tells him you’re aware of what you’re doing despite your raging fever. but he quickly extinguishes it by reminding himself that you probably think you’re dreaming. (because there’s no way you’d tell him to stay with you otherwise, he’s sure of it.)
“i have to get you some medicine,” he mutters. still, he makes no attempt to free his hand from yours.
“stay.” he wants to. he wants to stay with you more than anything. but he needs to get you something to relieve your fever.
he sits on your bed, readjusting your grip on his hand, “i need to go get your medicine.”
he gingerly readjusts the towel on your forehead, slightly smiling at you. his heart pangs with worry when he notices how clammy your hands are.
sae’s eyes widen when you lift yourself up, wrapping your arms around his neck. the towel on your forehead drops into his lap. he feels you rest your head on his shoulders, frowning at the heat emanating from you. (still, he wraps his arms around you so you don’t fall.)
his worried eyes meet your hazy ones when you slowly lift your head to look at him, a sleepy smile on your lips.
“so stubborn,” your hands cup his cheeks.
sae freezes when he feels your lips press against his. his heart beats faster, blush spreading through his face like wildfire.
a sharp inhale leaves his lips when he feels your hands drop from his cheeks, your body tilting back. he cups the back of your head before it hits the pillow.
his eyes scan your face. he lowers his head when he feels your feeble grip on his jacket. his eyes flicker to yours when you weakly tug him closer in an attempt to press his lips against yours again.
he slowly lifts your head up, a soft huff of laughter slipping past his lips when a glimmer of anticipation flashes through your eyes. he presses his lips against yours in a short peck, a startled noise leaving his mouth when you pull him back in.
his face heats up more and more every time you chase after his lips when he pulls away for air. he pants when you pull away, trying to catch your breath. he rests his forehead against yours, his breath fanning against your lips.
you softly call out his name. butterflies erupt in his stomach. he really hopes you know you’re not dreaming.
his arm tightens against you, the hand resting on the back of your head gently tilting it to the side. he doesn’t think twice before pressing his lips against yours again, a content sigh escaping him when you melt under his touch.
he presses his lips against yours over and over again, gently lowering you back onto the bed. your kisses feel like they’re the very air he breathes. like he’ll suffocate if he’s apart from you for more than a second.
sae kisses you silly until he feels your grip against his jacket soften. he pulls away, panting, face ablaze, eyes looking at your sleeping face with a softness that is so unlike him.
he carefully removes your hands from him, lifting your comforter to tuck you into bed. a smile lingers on his lips as he places the towel on your forehead again.
he quietly makes his way out of your room, pressing the pads of his fingers against his lips. his heart feels like it wants to jump out of his chest. a deep sigh leaves his lips. he makes his way to the front door, quickly putting on his shoes to go buy your medicine.
sae really hopes you get better soon. (he wants to kiss you again, and he wants to be sure you’ll remember it properly.)
if you thought sae was a bad student, he’s an even worse patient. he is the most uncooperative sick person you’ve ever met in your life.
you suppose it’s only fair to put up with him since he took care of you while you were sick. (even if it makes you want to knock him unconscious.)
still, it never fails to make your blood boil when you find him wobbling around the living room with a broom in his hands.
“would it kill you to stay in bed?” you stomp over to him, prying the broom off his hands before propping it against the wall.
he blearily looks at you, pouting. he sniffles, “yes.”
you frown, grabbing his hand and dragging him to his room. he glares at you when you force him to lay down on his bed.
“stay here while i get your medicine,” you point at him, glaring back. “or i’ll suffocate you with a pillow until you fall asleep.”
“you can’t be rude to me while i’m sick!” he angrily crosses his arms, scoffing.
it’s still surprising that he’s still in bed when you get back. it’s even more surprising that he’s staring at the door, his face lighting up when you enter.
his nose scrunches up in disgust when he sees the cough syrup in your hands. he burrows himself in his comforter, turning his head away from you.
“sae.” you gently call out, sitting next to him. a small smile blooms on your lips when he slowly turns to look at you. “you know you have to take your medicine to get better, right?”
“if i take my medicine,” he sneezes, “will you give me a reward?”
“yeah, sure, i’ll give you a sticker.” you absentmindedly hum, uncapping the syrup.
“no,” he shakes his head, “i want another reward.”
your brows raise in confusion, your turn your attention to him. “what kind of reward?”
he smiles, lifting a hand to tap his lips and then tapping yours. your face heats up, jaw dropping. you gently swat his hand away, pouting. “you shouldn’t tease like that.”
“‘m not,” he sticks his tongue out at you, “i want another kiss.”
“another?” you blink in surprise. your eyes widen slightly when a cheeky smile creeps up his lips.
“you kissed me when you were sick,” he snickers, nose scrunching up when you force the syrup into his mouth.
“no i didn’t,” you frown. he forces himself to swallow the cough syrup, a choked gasp leaving his lips.
“you don’t remember?” he whines, sniffling when you shake your head.
you feel a pang in your heart when sae looks at you, eyes swimming with sadness. “‘m sorry, sae.”
“‘s fine,” he playfully smiles, “i’ll just have to make up for it later.”
heat spreads through your face. a pout tugs at your lips, “don’t say stuff like that. i might take you seriously.”
“i’m being serious,” he sniffles, “wanna kiss you again.”
you shyly stare at him, shrinking into yourself. you suppose being sick must’ve made him bolder. or maybe he just wants to get back at you. but you have to admit it gives you the perfect excuse to make him stop being so difficult.
“i’ll kiss you if you stop complaining about taking your medicine,” you quietly huff, fingers playing with your shirt.
your ears feel like they’re on fire when his face lights up. “but only when you get better! i don’t wanna get sick again.”
he nods, a satisfied grin blooming on his lips. “sounds good to me.”
there’s a beat of silence before you stand up. sae’s eyes widen, “where are you going?”
“i’m gonna go make you some soup,” you hum, “you should sleep while i’m gone.”
sae pouts, “‘m not tired.”
“that’s too bad, then,” you stick your tongue out at him. he clicks his tongue.
“i’ll be back soon,” you pat his head. he huffs, pouting.
you barely take a step forward, yelping when you feel something yank you back. your brows knit in annoyance when you feel sae wrapping his arms around you.
“sae.”
“‘m only going to sleep if you stay with me.” he mutters.
an amused smile tugs at your lips. you’re starting to think he’s cute when he’s sick. a little clingy, but cute. (you also think you might indulge him just this once.)
“fine,” you sigh. “but i’m leaving as soon as you fall asleep.”
you don’t.
you’re not sure exactly when you fell asleep, but you’re sure it wasn’t dark outside when sae pulled you towards him. part of you wants to stay with him, just to let him sleep longer. but you also know you need to make him some soup.
so, you gently try to pry yourself off of him. a soft groan leaves your lips when his arms tighten around you.
his name tumbles out of your mouth. “i have to go make your soup.”
“‘m coming with you.” his voice sounds hoarse. (his nose sounds stuffy, too.)
“sae,” you try to pry his arms off, “you need to rest.”
“‘m going with you.” he huffs, “there’s nothing you can say to make me not join you.”
you begrudgingly decide to indulge him again. which is why he’s slumped over your shoulder as you make your way to the kitchen. it’s why he’s holding onto your waist, burrowing his face in your neck as you move around the kitchen.
(it’s why your face feels like it’s on fire when he nuzzles closer to you, smiling.)
and you think that maybe him being a little too clingy isn’t that bad.
when a girl in your class asks you what sae is to you, you’re not sure what to say.
you could say he’s your roommate, like you used to. but you don’t think he’d make himself extremely comfortable in your personal space if he was just your roommate. you could also say he’s your friend (much to everyone’s surprise.) but you’re not sure if he’d be so obsessed with kissing you whenever you’re both home if he was just your friend.
(still, he’s not exactly your boyfriend, either. you’re not sure what he is. neither of you have brought it up before.)
either way, she wouldn’t be satisfied with the answer you give her. at least, that’s what you think with the way she glowers at you.
so, you just say he’s nothing. (which is a lie. but she doesn’t need to know that.)
the result is what you expected, some angry huffing and empty warnings to stay away from sae. (not that it’d work seeing how you live with him.) except, things take a turn for the worse when your phone screen lights up, displaying sae’s name on it while it rings on the table.
a pained expression flashes through your face when she clears her throat. you tilt your head up to look at her, an awkward, tense smile on your lips.
“i thought you said he was nothing to you?” she scoffs.
“he is.” you internally curse how fast you replied. you hope she didn’t notice.
she rolls her eyes, “then why do you have his contact saved with a star on your phone?”
you blink, your lips pressing into a fine line. “because he’s a star?”
she doesn’t look convinced. (neither are you.) a loud, annoyed groan leaves her lips as she looks you up and down, crossing her arms.
“listen here, idiot,” she glares at you. anger flashes in her eyes when your phone rings again. “i don’t know who you think you are–”
(you don’t know who she thinks she is, but with the way she seems to be unaware that you literally live with sae, you assume she must be some clueless freshman who happened to go to one of the football matches, saw sae, and became one of his many fans.)
“–but if you even consider the idea that sae might be into you–”
(you don’t even have to consider the idea, it pretty much solidified itself as a fact given with the way he kisses you until both of you are struggling to catch your breath whenever you two are alone.)
“–then you’ve got another thing coming,” she grabs your wrist, digging her nails into your skin. “i don’t know how someone like you got his number, but he doesn’t need freaks like you bothering him.”
she looks at you with contempt, “so stay away from him, or else–”
“or else what?”
you both turn your heads to the door. her grip on your wrist loosens. you bite back a laugh when she removes her hand, shyly tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.
“sae,” she takes a step closer to him. you hide your smile behind your hand when you see his clearly annoyed and disgusted expression. (you note he looks disheveled. you also notice his duffel bag slung over his shoulders.)
“or else what?” you snort at the clear anger in his voice. he glares at her, crossing his arms. she shrinks into herself, clearly nervous.
“i was just trying to keep this freak away from you,” she plays with her hair. you feel embarrassed for her when she continues, “you shouldn’t have to deal with–”
“who the fuck even are you anyway?” he cuts her off, scowling.
her eyes light up, “i’m–”
“leaving? i sure fucking hope so.” he scoffs, walking over to you. his face softens when he looks at you.
sae extends his hand out to you, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips when you slip your hand into his. he reaches out for your backpack, quickly shrugging it on his shoulder before you can protest.
“i thought you were one of the first people out of class,” he hums, lacing his fingers with yours.
your eyes flicker to the girl, who is still standing next to the table, face flushed in embarrassment. “i got held up.”
sae glances in her direction, scoffing in annoyance. “you’re still here?”
you can’t help but feel a little bad for her when her eyes well up with tears of embarrassment, her hands bunching up her skirt. “i thought–”
“you thought wrong,” he clicks his tongue, “now get lost.”
her eyes snap to yours, anger replacing the embarrassment, “i thought you said he was nothing to you!”
sae gasps, looking at you, hurt written all over his face. you look away, biting the inside of your cheek. he calls out your name, “why’d you say that?”
“i didn’t know what else to say,” you mumble.
“say i’m your boyfriend!,” he huffs. “or do you not want to say that?”
heat floods your face. you hide your face in sae’s back when you hear choked sobs. you tug at his jacket, “can we just go home already?”
you take a peek at the girl from behind sae’s shoulder. “i don’t want to talk about this here.”
“fine,” he mutters, “but this conversation is not over.”
he drags you out of the classroom. you don’t look back, but you gnaw your bottom lip when you hear muffled sobs coming from behind you.
you both walk in silence for a bit. a small smile blooms on your lips when sae slows down his pace to match yours.
“i’m surprised you didn’t tell her off.” he hums.
“you got there before i could,” you fondly shake your head, “i would’ve loved giving her a piece of my mind.”
a soft laugh leaves his lips, “i’m sure you’ll find another occasion to do so.”
the walk home feels quicker than usual. you suppose it’s because sae’s actually with you instead of over the phone.
you’re barely past the door to your apartment when sae wraps his arms around you, pulling you close. he relaxes when you wrap your arms around him.
“if someone asks you what i am to you,” he nuzzles his face into your neck, “just tell them i’m your boyfriend.”
“are you sure?” your hands clench around his jacket.
he pulls back slightly to look at you, confusion written all over his face. “yeah? am i not your boyfriend already?”
“i don’t know?” your brows knit in confusion.
“i thought it was clear?” he blinks. “it wasn’t clear to you?”
“i don’t think i would’ve been threatened by one of your fangirls if it was clear,” you deadpan.
“oh.” he presses his lips into a fine line. “well, now you know.”
your jaw drops, “you’re not even going to ask if i want you to be my boyfriend?”
“i think it’s safe to say we’re well past asking,” he stares at you.
“still,” you pout, “it’d be nice if you did.”
“what, are you going to give me a sticker if i do?” he scoffs.
“i was gonna give you a kiss, but if you don’t wanna ask, then–”
“would you let me be your boyfriend?”
laughter spills out of your lips, “you didn’t even let me finish!”
“just answer my question.” he smiles. “and hurry it up too, i have to clean.”
you playfully shake your head, “so demanding. but, i suppose you can be my boyfriend.”
sae’s lips are on yours as soon as the words leave your mouth. you gasp in surprise when he nips at your lower lip.
you’re not sure how long he kisses you for, but you feel dizzy when you pull away. you angle your head away from his when he chases after your lips again.
“i thought,” you pant, “thought you said you had to clean.”
“it can wait.” he breathes out.
“i have to cook.”
he angles your head back to face him, “it can wait.”
“but–”
he calls out your name with a smile, “it can all wait. just let me kiss you again.”
“okay.” you smile when he tilts your head towards his.
you think you’re starting to understand sae’s obsession with kissing you.
when you think of itoshi sae, the first thing that comes to mind is: boyfriend. you’re not sure if you’re ever going to get used to calling him that. you’ve told him it still sounds weird, he simply says it sounds perfect.
you’re also not sure you’ll ever get used to the many pairs of eyes staring holes into the back of your head. (you blame sae for insisting you wear his spare jersey to his games.)
still, you suppose you could put up with all the staring if it means you get to see sae play.
(even if it means you have to endure his showing off for the next hour.)
“did you see how great i was out there?” he puffs out his chest.
“you were the best!” you smile when he laces his fingers with yours. “i think you deserve a reward.”
you bite back a laugh when his head turns to look at you, eyes twinkling with anticipation. “close your eyes.”
you can practically feel the excitement rolling off of him as he closes his eyes. you let go of his hand, snickering when his brows furrow. you quickly reach into your bag, pulling out the sticker sheet you stashed in there.
a laugh leaves your lips when you gingerly place a star sticker on sae’s cheek. “you can open your eyes now.”
you heartily laugh when sae touches his cheek, glaring at you when he feels the outline of a star. he huffs, “you’re the worst.”
“shut up, you love them.” you flick his forehead.
he tsks, poking your nose. “when you said i deserved a reward, i thought you meant a kiss.”
“i can kiss you if you want.” you cheekily smile at him. he huffs, crossing his arms.
he turns his head away from you, “you ruined the moment with those stupid, lukewarm stickers.”
“you say that as if you don’t stick them against your mirror.” you stick your tongue out at him, the corners of your lips lifting into a smile when his cheeks flush.
“i hate you,” he frowns, looking at you.
“no you don’t,” you peck his cheek.
“whatever,” he grumbles, “let’s just go home already.”
you laugh when he grabs your hand, tugging you in the direction of your apartment. (you don’t mention the smile on his lips.)
“i’m going to cook today,” he laughs when you groan in disgust. “i’ve gotten better!”
“yeah, right.” you quip. “i think it’d be better if you clean while i cook.”
“what if we cook together?” he hums.
“you’ll just get in my way.” you smile, laughing when he shakes your arm.
“what if we go out to eat?” he shrugs nonchalantly. (you still notice the flush on his ears.)
“itoshi sae!” you gasp dramatically, “are you asking me out on a date?”
he scoffs, cheeks turning bright red. “don’t make a big deal out of it.”
“i’d be honored to go out with the itoshi sae,” your voice drips with mischief. a soft gasp leaves your lips when he tugs you to him, wrapping his arms around you.
“i think it’s me who’s honored to go out with you,” he mumbles. you hug him back, nuzzling into him.
“we still need to head home, though,” he pulls away, “i want to take a shower.”
“want me to join you?” you laugh when you see his scandalized expression.
“you’re so shameless!” he bites back a laugh, hiding his face behind his hands.
“oh, please, like we haven’t showered together before.” you playfully scrunch your nose.
he clicks his tongue, “as tempting as it sounds, i really would like to go eat early today.”
you fondly roll your eyes, tugging him towards your apartment. “fine.”
“but i’m not opposed to taking a shower with you when we get back.” he bites back a smile when you smack his shoulder.
the walk home is filled with laughter, teasing smiles on both of your faces. and, for once, you’re glad to have an opinion of sae.
(especially because it’s based on the version of your sae, and not the one everyone else thinks he is.)
2K notes
·
View notes
Adoration
Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader
Part 1 <3
MDI!! 18+
Warnings: Mentions of sex work, mentions of alcohol abuse, mentions (very light and brief) of physical abuse to readers mother, oral (m receiving, vaginal sex, masturbation, dirty talk, talk of public sex
Word Count: 4.1k
A.N: ITS HERE. Part two of infatuation \^-^/! I had so much trouble trying to figure out how to extend this story, but as soon as I wrote this I was overwhelmed with ideas on how to continue it. I am so sorry I have been so very inconsistent with writing, I am nearing finals so I have been so low energy and motivation. (College is awful). For those who have sent me requests- they are coming I promise! Anyways my loves, here is Benedict Bridgerton and you being Benedict Bridgerton and you <3 I hope you enjoy it, and as always, thank you for your overwhelming support and love >_<
It has been two weeks since that lovely, lust-filled night with Benedict. Two weeks since you had officially become his mistress. Two weeks, and you still made sure to keep your past a secret, and the significant fact that you worked as a maid for the family that lives right across from him. There was a certain shame that came with both, a feeling that he would not want you to come to his townhouse anymore if he found out. You thought he might find it odd that you work so close to his house. Perhaps he might even come to the assumption that you were seeking him out at the party, that he would find you strange. None of that would ever be true, of course. Benedict adores the time he spends with you, he makes it clear every time you meet, but there is still an underlying sense of dread. Especially today.
Indeed, that dread is the same dread that is lingering in the back of your head now. You are chaperoning Penelope to tea with Colin, much to her excitement. You had spent almost three hours getting her ready beforehand, insisting that she looks good in whatever she wears. The both of you walked across the street, the young debutante grinning ear to ear. You, on the other hand, were a ball of nerves. You had met Benedict in his bachelor's lodgings just last night, but you decided not to speak of what he may see today. You were regretting that decision now as you knocked on the door with a shaky hand.
“Y/N, you are shaking. Whatever is the matter? Are you feeling well?” Penelope asks, looking at you with pure concern. “It is only a headache, my lady. Nothing you have to worry about. Today is about you.” You assure, smiling as brightly as you can as you fib. She smiles back, her face brightening. The footman, John, answers the door and grins. “Lady Featherington. Lord Bridgerton is in the drawing room. Please come in.” He says, opening his arm towards the entryway. You collect Penelope's shawl before bowing your head to the footman politely. She starts down the hall and you take a deep breath before faking a sparkling smile, following her into the drawing room.
Sure enough, Benedict is there, sprawled out across the sofa with his sketchbook and charcoal in hand. He looks up lazily when Penelope walks in, but his expression quickly changes to one of shock when you follow. Your face shifts from a bright smile to an apologetic one, trying to communicate your worries silently. A silent prayer that he will pick up on your lingering anxieties about working for his neighbor.
He clears his throat and comes to the door, where you are patiently standing. “You… for them?” He whispers as he approaches, his expression unreadable. You only nod in response, knowing that if you say anything it will come out a jumbled mess of stutters. “Why did I not know before now?” He asks, settling into a polite position near you. To anyone on the outside, it looks as if he is merely speaking to a maid about his brother and her mistress. “I... I suppose I did not find it important.” You fib.
“Well, I certainly do. You are so secretive.” He sighs, looking over at you. Your eyes settle on your feet, not daring to meet his. “Y/N. If you are going to be my mistress there must be some semblance of transparency between us.” He says softly, his pinky extending and curling around one of yours. The action makes your cheeks heat up. “I did not know if you would think it strange. I have worked there for so long… I thought you would perhaps think less of me.” You whisper, the reasoning sounding silly now that you have said it out loud.
"And why would I think that?" He asks, sensing your nerves and giving your pinky a comforting squeeze as if to say that he is not put off. "You do not find it strange that I have worked across the road from you for ages? I thought that you would think I somehow... sought you out." You whisper, a bit tense. “No, I only pity that you have to be in the same home as Lady Featherington, the woman is a wench.” He mumbles, nudging your hip with his own. You have to suppress a laugh as you look up at him. He looks down at you with an expression of adoration.
"Y/N, I do appreciate honesty. I wish for you to tell me things like this. You do not need to feel anxious around me." He says softly, turning from playful to concerned like a dime. "I do not. I promise. It is more anxieties that linger because of past experiences I suppose." You whisper, looking down at your feet. He senses that there may be something more underneath, and he also senses that you do not wish to speak about it any longer. "My statement still stands. I am not others, I shall not judge you for being a woman who needs to support herself. I certainly shall not judge you for being apprehensive of telling me the place of your employment either." He assures.
“Thank you.” You breathe, looking away before you slip up and do something entirely untoward. You watch Colin and Penelope interact, a small smile gracing your lips as you observe how sweet they are to each other. “Colin. Does he hold any affection for any of the debutantes this season?” You ponder quietly as you watch Penelope smile shyly at the young man. Benedict looks over as well and a knowing look crosses over his features. “He has been secretive about it. Unusually so.” He whispers back. “And Penelope?” He returns. “Penelope is ever hopeful about one.” You hum before returning your gaze to him.
He meets your eyes and nods, giving your pinky a squeeze with his own. “She is a sweet girl. I have no doubt she will be successful in making her hopes a reality this season.” He murmurs. You nod and look away once more, stolen glances getting all too much paired with the grasp of his finger around yours. “Have you opened yourself up to the idea of marriage, Benedict?” You ask though you do not wish to know the answer. Some strange ache spreads through your chest at the thought of him marrying someone.
He visibly tenses and shakes his head. “No. No, I wish to focus on my art. Improving it, getting ahead in the academy. No time for… marriage right now.” He nods, clearing his throat and quickly returning his gaze to his brother. You nod, something about his vehement denial of the idea of marriage making you calm slightly. “It is quite suffocating. The idea of having to give your whole heart to a person with the risk that they break it. Then you would be… stuck.” You whisper and he looks down at you.
“You believe so?” He asks, his brows knitting together. You look up and nod. “I… what if the person changes once you make your vows? What if they hurt you? I find it terrifying.” You admit. “You do not?” You ask and he shakes his head. “No. I find the risk all the more romantic. If you find someone who truly makes your heart swell, someone who you find you cannot breathe without, who plagues your mind day in and day out, would it not be worth the risk?” He asks and you cannot respond.
“Finding a woman that makes you feel as though you have discovered the reason behind why poets speak of love so greatly, the way that artists paint the feeling so vividly, is well worth the risk to me. It is what makes life so exciting, finding your person. Your reason.” He finishes, and your heart is practically hammering out of your chest. “That is a very beautiful outlook on love, Benedict.” You manage to whisper back, and he smiles. “It is the naive artist in me.” He whispers back, his tone right back to playful and you nod, smiling to yourself. Whoever Benedict marries is a lucky woman, you decide.
Soon, Penelope and Colin part ways and you are forced to let go of Benedict’s pinky. With a quick curtsy to the Bridgerton brothers, you lead Penelope into the entryway where you wrap her shawl around her shoulders. You curtsy once more to the footman before walking the young debutante back home.
She speaks of Colin the whole way back and for the rest of the afternoon. You find it endearing, the amount of love she holds for the young man. She has never once admitted it outright, but it has always been quite clear to you in the way she speaks and looks at him. Your heart used to break for her when she would come crying to you about the things she overheard him say about her, but recently that has all changed. They are both clearly in love.
It makes you think of what it would feel like, to be a young debutante in love. To have all of the dresses in the world, to have your every wish only an arm's length away, to have your every need catered to. You had concluded long ago that love was a privilege, just as happiness and comfort. After all, you never saw any of those things in the neighborhood you grew up in. Not in the families you were surrounded by, and certainly not in your own.
Your father worked in a factory and your mother, though she would never admit it, was a prostitute. When your father reached the age of forty-five, the factory laid him off on the claim that he was getting too old and slow to keep up with the children. That is when your father began drinking. You were about ten and seven at the time, and you had picked up a job under a modiste in town where you met Genevieve. Every night when you would return home you would find your father screaming drunken insults at your mother. Drunken insults turned into drunken actions that he would swear would never happen again, and one day your mother stopped coming home from her nights on the streets.
Then, when you would come home, your father would yell at you. The minute he even hinted at being physical with you, you packed your bags and never looked back. Happiness and love were dead, a silly idea that only people with money could have. You spent another three years living with Genevieve before the job at the Featheringtons was presented to you. You accepted Lady Featherington’s offer gratefully and have been working as a lady’s maid for Penelope ever since. The only person who knows the full story of your past is Genevieve, as transparency is another comfort only granted to those with money. Who knows what would be said about you if you openly admitted that your mother was a lady of the night?
“How do you know Benedict, Y/N?” Penelope’s voice snaps you out of the trance you had been in while brushing her hair out before bed. Your blood runs cold. Had she overheard your conversation? “Whatever do you mean, my lady?” You ask, playing dumb. She snorts and smiles knowingly. “You were talking with him like you had known him your whole life, not to mention the way the both of you were looking at each other.” She says.
“My lady I-” You start, trying to think of any excuse to explain the way you were speaking to Benedict, but she quickly interrupts. “Y/N, you know that whatever you share with me shall be kept with me. I promise.” She says with a comforting smile and you chew on your bottom lip, deciding if you want to tell her the full truth or the half-truth. You quickly decide that there is no point in lying, as you are quite terrible at it.
“We met at a party a few weeks ago.” You whisper as your cheeks turn pink. She turns, making your hands fall to your side. “Really? My God! He is handsome, is he not?” She says with a grin and you smile shyly. “He is indeed, my lady.” You agree and she laughs. “Have you met with him? Has your friendship grown?” She asks and you nod. “I do. I meet with him whenever I am able.” You reply and she nods. “You deserve something wonderful, Y/N. Perhaps he could-” She starts but you shake your head. “It is nothing like that, my lady. I am quite content with my life here, working for you. I see no need in chasing something I am not allowed to have.” You say and her face falls. She nods understandably nonetheless, turning back to the mirror so you can continue to get her ready for bed, the idle conversation turning to one of the books she has read recently.
You make your way down to the servants' quarters after making sure Penelope has everything she needs for the night. As you walk past the other servants one of the other maids stops you with a gentle hand on your shoulder. “Grace, what is it?” You ask and she grins. “You have a letter, Y/N. A young man snuck it in while you were taking Penelope shopping this afternoon.” She says with a knowing smile, passing you a small letter.
“Thank you.” You hum before making your way to your small bedroom. You walk in and shut the door behind you, lighting the candle on your desk. “Meet me at midnight, where the world sleeps and the stars whisper secrets. Let us share a moment under the moon's gentle gaze, just you and me, lost in each other's embrace. B.B.” You grin at his somewhat sloppy handwriting, tucking the note away in the lockable drawer in your desk before getting ready to go to his townhouse.
You pin your hair up and put on one of Genevive’s more risque creations, made just for you. A gift for your nineteenth birthday that you have never had a use for until now. It is a baby pink, almost seethrough material that hangs loose on your body. However, it hugs the assets that you find Benedict likes the most. You cover it up with a cloak to walk and slip on your stockings and shoes before making your way out of the Featherington estate.
He had thought of nothing but you since you arrived at his home, even now as he paints in the small drawing room of his townhouse his thoughts are plagued by you. He is trying to be patient, but he wants nothing more than to run to the Featherington residence and have his way with you. His grip on the paintbrush in his hand tightens as his thoughts turn to the way your body moves when you are in his bed. The way his thighs feel hitting yours when he is buried to the hilt inside of you, the noises he draws from your perfect cunt, the way your breasts bounce when you are on top of him.
He groans and drops the paintbrush, burying his head in his hands as his trousers become tighter. He closes his eyes and jiggles his leg, trying to take his mind off sex. How humiliating would it be if he answered the door with his cock fully hard already? He groans and runs a hand through his hair, standing up and moving to the sofa so he can take care of the problem himself. He leans back and unbuttons his trousers, letting his cock spring free against his clothed stomach.
He sighs and spits on his hand beginning to stroke himself to the thought of you. Your face when you reach your peak, the way you moan when he drinks from your body, how your lips wrap around his cock as your eyes look up into his, always so eager to please. He moans at the thought of your perfect breasts pressed against his chest, your nails dragging angry red marks into his back as he fucks you so hard his hips leave marks on your pelvic bone. God, he wants nothing more than to mark you as his for the rest of the world to see. He wants to parade you around all of London completely naked and on all fours.
You smile to yourself as you walk to the back entrance, deciding to surprise him. You are happy to find the back door unlocked and you let yourself in, expecting him to be in the drawing room sat in front of a canvas. You hang up your cloak and seak deeper into the home, making sure your bare feet touch the cold wood as quietly as they can.
You freeze when you hear a loud moan from the drawing room, your heart dropping to your feet. Surely he does not have another woman here, you thought that you had made your boundaries quite clear when he made you his mistress. You did not want to fuck him after he had just fucked another woman, the thought made your stomach roll over with disgust. You chew on the inside of your cheek as you peek inside the drawing room, your lips parting when you are presented with a very much-alone Benedict stroking his cock on the sofa.
Heat pools in your core as your eyes lock in his hand, moving up and down quite quickly. The tip is already an angry red, dripping with hints of his arousal. You take a deep breath and make your way into the room as quietly as you can, biting your lip to stop yourself from moaning when he lets out a very breathy, and wanton, “Y/N.” You drop to your knees in front of him, pressing a light kiss to his knee in hopes of not startling him too much.
His eyes shoot open and his hands automatically go to cover himself. You laugh at his startled expression and he sighs in relief, moving a hand down to cup your cheek. “How did you get in?” He breathes, running his thumb along your cheekbone. You hum and lean into his gentle caress. “You left the back door unlocked. So irresponsible, Bridgerton.” You murmur and he chuckles, the deep sound making your thighs all wet and sticky.
“Perhaps I was being hopeful.” He whispers back and you smile. “You have not commented on the dress I have on. I worked so very hard to look good for you.” You tease, jutting your lip out playfully. He rolls his eyes and gestures for you to stand, making you giggle as you do. “Jesus fucking Christ, Y/N. Are you trying to give me a heart attack?” He grunts, placing his hands on your hips. You swat them away and he huffs in frustration. “Do not pout, I want to please you. Please.” You whisper and all of his resolve suddenly disappears.
He watches as you sink back down onto your knees between his legs, slowly slipping his trousers off. Once his legs are bare, you begin to pepper the inside of his thighs with wet, open-mouthed kisses. He groans and slides a hand into your hair, making the pins fall out. He plays with your curls and grips as you press a kiss so very close to his twitching cock, his reaction making you smirk.
Without warning you take his tip into your mouth, sucking on it like an ice lolly. He groans and rolls his head back, his hips bucking up as he grips your hair to try and push you onto his cock. You allow him to guide you, tears gathering at the corners of your eyes as your nose gets pressed into his pubic hair. You look up at him just as he looks down at you, a cocky smirk plastered across his face as he begins to thrust into your mouth. The action makes you moan, your hand sneaking between your legs to soothe the ache that has settled there.
You whine and grind down onto your fingers, the vibrations making him grunt and stall. You gag and tap once on his thigh, pulling off of him when he lets go. Drool dribbles down your neck and between your breasts as you pant, looking up at him with glassy eyes. He curls his fingers around your chin and leads you up onto your feet. “So perfect.” He whispers as his hands find their way to the soft flesh of your rear. He squeezes and you gasp, moving to straddle him as if on instinct.
He hums and presses a kiss to your lips as he begins to undo the ribbons on your dress. The fabric falls and he lifts your hips, his lips still locked with yours. He throws the dress somewhere across the room and his hands come to your waist, moving you so you are lying flat on the sofa. He breaks the kiss only to lick a stripe down your neck as your legs wrap around his waist. He hums and bites your collarbone as his fingers plow through your folds, making you cry out loudly. He smirks and rubs his thumb around your clit, slipping one long finger into your entrance.
Your eyes roll back as his finger curls into that spongey spot he somehow knows how to find right away each time. He adds another finger and begins to twist, slowly getting your body ready for him. You pant hard and crowd a hand into his thick hair, tugging him up from your neck so you can steal a sloppy kiss full of tongue and tooth. You whine when the feeling of his fingers disappears and buck your hips up into his, silently begging for whatever he wants to give you.
He parts the kiss and presses his forehead against yours, his tip nudging your entrance. You whine and close your eyes, at which he grips your chin. “Look at me while I fuck you, Y/N. You know the rules.” He breathes and your eyes snap open. He grins and buries himself completely inside of you with one thrust, making you cry out as he grunts. “Fuck. Fuck, you… God. So tight.” He breathes, beginning to pound into you at a brutal pace. You grip his arms, your mouth hanging open as loud moans and whines slip past your lips beyond your control.
He pounds into you, your nails dragging down his back with every thrust. His hands press down onto your hips so hard you are sure that his fingerprints will be embedded in your skin. He revels in the slick noises he draws from your cunt, sucking a mark on your chest where he knows it will not be seen. The sound of thighs meeting thighs fills the small space, the smell of sex making your mind foggy. His pelvis slams against your clit with every thrust, making an utterly intoxicating feeling of pain and pleasure wash over your body as he fills you to the brim.
He is so close already, what with palming himself and a quick suck from you. He presses his head into the crook of your neck and bites down, your nails digging into the skin of his shoulders. His hand sneaks between both of your bodies and his thumb finds your clit, circling fast so that he can get you to where he is. It works wonderfully and your cunt clenches around him ad you call out his name. He pulls out quickly, spilling himself on your stomach as his fingers take you to your climax. A pinch to your clit takes you over the edge, seeing stars and babbling nonsense about how good he is as you do.
He lifts himself off of you and cuddles into your side, making you smile. He peppers your shoulder with kisses and you laugh. “Stay?” He whispers after a moment of nothing but kisses and the sounds of your breathing. Your cheeks heat up at the adorable, hopeful expression that crosses over his face. “Mmm. I think I can, Mister Bridgerton.” You tease, flipping him onto his back and crawling over him. “Jesus Christ. You are utter perfection.” He whispers, claiming your mouth again.
Perhaps, love is not that far away.
344 notes
·
View notes