For Your Love || Jeff Atkins x Asexual!Reader
I’m glad you asked, because I’ve seen a few imagines with asexual readers and I noticed a repeat of something that really bothered me. Always by the end, they were magically cured by ‘the one’. Like, no. If that’s someone’s sexual orientation, or lack thereof, they’re not going to change it for one person. If people truly desire our asexual cupcakes, they’re not going to constantly be trying to convert them.
Word Count: 1,174
Warnings: Mild Bullying, Sexual Dialogues
You had thought your relationship was going well. Marcus Cole, straight-A student and President of the Honor Board, was what most would consider a perfect gentleman. He would hold open doors for you, carry around your bags; basically, treat you like you always thought guys should treat their girlfriends. But it was on the night of the back-to-school Winter Formal that you saw him for who he truly was.
The two of you had just taken a break from dancing to go grab some punch. Upon hearing from Montgomery that it’d been spiked, you stuck to grabbing a soda, watching Marcus pick through the large platters of snacks with a frown.
“Hey, do you want to get out of here?” he asked, nodding towards the door. “We could go back to my place and hang.”
Are you not having a good time?“ you responded.
He shot you that that sly smirk, never failing to melt your heart. "I just thought maybe we could have a little bit more if we were alone.”
The smile that had begun to itch across your face faded quickly, replaced by a concern that furrowed your brows and forced you to cast your eyes downward. “Can’t we stay longer? I wanted to ask Tony if he could get some slow songs playing.”
You felt Marcus’s hands slide around your hips, drawing you against his chest—what might have been comforting under normal circumstances, but now it just served to make your stomach twist with nerves. “Come on, Y/N. You know you can trust me.” He leaned down, teeth nipping at your ear. “I’ll be gentle.”
You shoved your hands against his chest, scrambling backwards a few feet. “Wait! I really need to tell you something.”
“What?” he asked, sounding, and looking, pretty offended.
“I’m asexual,” you said quickly. “It’s not like I don’t like you, I really do. It’s just… I don’t enjoy sex like that.”
He seemed taken aback for a moment, before finally clearing his throat to speak. “So you don’t think we’d be having sex any time in the nearby future?”
“I’d rather if we didn’t,” you replied, feeling as if your chest was rattling with broken glass. “We could still have a good relationship together.”
“Look, Y/N,” he began. “You’re a gorgeous girl. I mean, every guy in this school wants you, and plenty hate me for being the one you chose. I just don’t think you’re ever going to find someone who’ll keep you if you keep holding out like this.”
You stared at him in shock. “Wh-what?”
He patted your shoulder, shaking his head sadly. “This just isn’t going to work out between us. When you get over this phase, or whatever this is, call me, okay?”
“What the hell, Marcus?” you asked, voice raising. “Did you only start dating me to get in my pants?”
Heads had turned from the crowd, people poking other people in the sides to draw their attention over. Marcus had turned a light red, glaring down at you for calling him out in front of everyone.
“Like you didn’t start dating me just to get brownie points towards your school record,” he snapped.
“I started dating you because I thought you were the one person who would understand that there are more important things than sex!” you cried.
“You’re just a prude freak,” he replied, his voice breaking with anger.
A few of his friends, who had grouped together near the front of the crowd, snickered quietly. One punched Marcus on the shoulder, telling him to let it go. Another claiming that he had something that could open up those legs.
You felt tears stinging at the corners of your eyes, their words squeezing around your neck like a tightly knotted rope. You tore through them, racing out of the gym and down the hall. You didn’t stop until you had pushed open the door to the girls’ bathroom and collapsed against the wall, knees drawn to your chest and wetness streaming down your cheeks.
To think you had once told yourself you loved him.
Barely a few minutes had dragged by when you heard the door creak open. You looked up, surprised to see the tall, broad figure of Jeff Atkins slipping inside. His hair was moused into a swoopy wave of black hair, white tuxedo crisp and perfectly tailored.
“Can I come in?” he asked.
You shrugged. “I guess. If you want to hang out with a prude freak.”
“Fuck Marcus,” he said. “You’re not prude, and you’re definitely not a freak. Last time I checked, you were just Y/N, and that’s fine with me.”
He moved to sit down next to you. At closer glance, you could see he had replaced his normal white studs with a pair of snowflakes. You laughed, making him turn his head to smile at you.
“What’s up with the earrings?” you asked.
“I’m being festive,” he replied, motioning at the matching pattern on the hem of your dress. “And twinning with you, apparently.”
“Looks like fate wanted us to meet each other in this bathroom,” you said with a soft sigh. “You don’t have to waste your night with me, you know.”
“Assuming that any of my time spent with you is wasted.” He placed his hand over yours, bringing it into his lap. “My night is already ten times better.”
You brushed away a stray tear, trying to pull away. “We won’t work out. It never does.”
“Why?” he asked, tightening his grip. “You’re an asexual. So what? That’s not something that matters to me.”
“You say that now, but imagine if we somehow managed to make it out of high school. Years from now. I’m not opposed to the idea of sex some time in a long term relationship, but I’m not going to be able to be sexually attracted to you. Are you willing to live your life like that?” you responded.
You could tell by the expression on his face that he was seriously considering this. You were just bracing yourself for him to stand up and walk out when he gave a nod.
“Jeff, are you sure?” You turned to face him, sitting back on your heels. “This isn’t a joke.”
He nodded again. “Yes. I am one hundred percent positive. I’m not sure if this is a little too early or not, but I think I’m in love with you.”
You laughed. “What?”
“No, I’m serious,” he replied, lunging forwards to scoop you into his arms. He pulled you in for a hug, resting his head on your shoulder in a maternal kind of way. “I was pissed when you started dating Marcus. Ask Clay. He’s the one who watched me purposely tear book pages every time I had to turn them.”
You felt yourself relaxing against him. “Wow, okay. That’s certainly something.”
He gave a low chuckle. “Do you want to go back to the dance?”
“Yeah,” you whispered.
For once, you had a feeling your relationship actually was going to work out.