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padawan-snack-packer · 3 months ago

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[You Give Them a Hug — Bad Batch (+ Omega!) Edition]

(aka: You broke them. And now they’re in love with you forever.)

So you peeps seemed to love the Clones Edition over here, so here is the Bad Batch version of it!!!

⚠️ TW: Not Canon. Just Vibes. ⚠️

This post contains: – Excessive hugging. – Deeply non-canon affection. – Clones feeling emotions they were not properly equipped to process. – A concerning lack of military professionalism. – Irreversible softness.

If you're looking for canon compliance, emotional restraint, or literally any kind of plot... you're in the wrong galaxy, sweetheart.

This is just me projecting unhinged love onto traumatized war orphans with muscles.

Proceed at your own risk. Hug responsibly. 💥🤗💥

Hunter

You hug Hunter and he just… stops functioning.

Like you initiated it mid-mission and this man has full-on emotion-induced lag.

“...Why’d you do that?”

“Because I wanted to.”

Loading Hunter.exe

He gives you this soft, stunned look like he didn’t know he needed physical affection until just now.

His return hug is slow, careful, warm. His arms wrap around your back and he doesn’t squeeze—he holds.

Stays silent for a moment. Then a low murmur: “...thanks. I needed that.”

From that point on, it’s Hunter Hug Radar Mode™.

You’re sad? He’s already moving.

You’re happy? Hug.

You yawned vaguely near him? “You look tired. C’mere.”

Somehow always smells like leather, dirt, and safety. It's like hugging your childhood treehouse and a protective panther.

Wrecker

OH.

OH YOU’RE IN FOR IT NOW.

You hug Wrecker and he goes FULL GOLDEN RETRIEVER MELTDOWN.

“AWwwwWWWWWWW!!! C’mere!!!”

Picks you up. Swings you. Spins you around until you’re dizzy and giggling and possibly concussed.

His hugs are LIFE-THREATENINGLY STRONG. Like being hit with a loving freight train.

“You’re the best! I’m gonna hug you every day forever now!!”

Immediately makes you a “You Hugged Wrecker” award out of scrap metal. It has glitter glue.

He initiates hugs constantly now. If you don’t hug him back fast enough, he starts whining like a sad bantha.

Tells Crosshair about the hug with tears in his eyes. Crosshair pretends not to care.

“They hugged me, man. Me!! WRECKER!!”

“Yeah, yeah. Don’t start crying again.”

Tech

You hug Tech and it’s like hugging a 3D-printed anxiety machine.

Freezes.

“Wh—what are you doing? Is this…physical bonding? Are you malfunctioning? Am I??”

Absolutely stiff as a board. One arm hovers near your back like he's trying to remember what humans do.

You explain it’s just a hug. Tech mutters: “Hmmm. Fascinating. Increases oxytocin. Improves cardiovascular health. Reduces cortisol. Hm.”

But then you do it again.

And he goes quiet.

Softer.

Then his hands gently rest on your back and he melts like butter under a Tatooine sun.

You pull away and he clears his throat 14 times and then gives you a 12-slide presentation on “the measurable benefits of repeat physical affection among squadmates (with graphs).”

Secretly loves it. Won’t say it, but builds you a hug simulator in case he’s unavailable.

Crosshair

Oh.

OH YOU BRAVE, BRAVE FOOL.

You hug Crosshair and it’s like hugging a sniper rifle possessed by the ghost of unresolved trauma.

“...What the kriff are you doing?”

Arms at his sides. Staring down at you like you're a wild animal. Clearly thinking “kill or cuddle?”

You say “just hugging you.” And he just…blinks. Once. Twice.

Then you feel it: the tiniest shift. He leans in. One hand—just one—lands gently at your waist.

It’s not a full hug. It’s not even half a hug.

It’s 0.5 seconds of fragile vulnerability.

Then he pulls back and growls “Don’t make a big deal out of it.” …But his ears are pink. And he doesn’t move away from you for the rest of the day.

Later that week, you find a ration bar left on your bunk. It’s the good flavor.

Written in Sharpie on the wrapper: "Since you like touching people. Here's something to touch your mouth." (he tried)

Echo

Echo is a man held together by trauma, stubbornness, and like...two screws and a charging port.

You hug Echo and it’s like hugging a haunted vending machine with trust issues.

He doesn’t react at first. Just stiffens. Hard. Like his brain didn’t even register this as an available interaction option.

“...Why?” he asks, very quietly. Not suspicious. Not annoyed. Just… genuinely confused. Like he doesn’t think people do that to him anymore.

You say, “Because you deserve it.” And he. Short circuits.

It’s all in the eyes. That distant, shell-shocked clone stare goes soft. And sad. You get half a breath of “I don’t—” before his voice goes hoarse and he just leans in.

One arm—cold metal, whirring servos—wraps around you. The other presses tight, his hand fisting in the back of your shirt like he’s scared you’ll vanish.

His forehead rests on your shoulder. You feel him exhale. And it’s the sound of a man finally letting go of a weight he’s carried since the Citadel.

When he pulls back, his face is unreadable. But he says “...Thanks,” with such quiet, aching sincerity it wrecks you for 48 hours.

The next time you get hurt, Echo’s at your side before the medic droid.

He doesn’t hug you again right away. But he touches your shoulder now. Bumps your arm. Stays close.

Then one day—randomly, silently—he hugs you first. No words. Just that same warm, quiet grip. Like saying: I’m still here. And so are you.

Omega

YOU HUG OMEGA??

SHE SHRIEKS WITH GLEE AND TACKLES YOU LIKE A TINY STAR-WARS THEMED KOALA.

“HUG TIME!!!”

Wraps every limb around you like she’s a baby monkey and you’re a tree.

Refuses to let go for 10 minutes. It’s warm. It’s pure. It’s the most healing hug in galactic history.

Immediately declares you her “hug buddy.”

Makes you a friendship bracelet with “❤️ HUGS THUGS 4 LIFE ❤️” on it.

Tries to get the rest of the squad to join in. “Group hug! Come on! HUNTAH YOU’RE NOT TA COOL FOR LOVE.”

Eventually becomes hug ambassador. Sneak attacks everyone until the whole squad is touch-positive.

Hunter now does “the forehead touch.” Wrecker hugs everyone at breakfast. Tech nods politely and lets her sit in his lap. Crosshair lets her hug him while muttering “don’t tell anyone.”

🧸 BONUS: Bad Batch Group Hug™

You say “GROUP HUG” and Wrecker YEETS HIMSELF AT YOU FIRST.

Omega screams “YESSSS!!” and jumps on like a koala.

Tech mutters “Oh no it’s happening again” and gets absorbed into the chaos.

Crosshair stands two meters away looking like a feral cat. But you hold out your hand and he sighs, grumbles, and slinks in like he’s being drafted into a cult.

It’s warm. It’s slightly sweaty. Someone’s armor is digging into your hip. But everyone’s breathing slows down. There’s peace.

You say “I love you guys” and Hunter goes silent. Then softly replies: “Yeah. You too.”

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lostintransist · 9 months ago

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Fallen Angel | Iced Coffee & Scary Movies

AO3

>It seems you saved my life 💋 can I take you out for a drink to say thank you?🪳

Staring down at your phone you read the message again. This had to be Simon’s friend that you kissed before they all left for a job. He had been fun to talk to, a little shell-shocked when you layered on lipstick and proceeded to cover him with it before sending him out the door, but still fun.

< I'm still not calling you that. There is a cute early morning cafe I've been wanting to try if you're down.

The reply takes a while to come in. They must have just gotten back from their secretive jobs that take them out of the country. That thought brought on another one. Simon would be coming home and you hadn’t bought a single item of food since he left. He would notice but you prayed that he wouldn’t comment on it.

Your late-night coffee shop hadn’t been doing well. Either word had not gotten out to people that a place existed that wasn’t a bar to hang out late into the night or the universe was out to get you. Maybe you should print flyers to pass out at AA meetings. Now there was a thought.

Your coffee date met you at the cafe you suggested. You'd been wanting to try for months now, but most of your mornings were consumed by sleep since your shop stayed open to customers until 2 AM this was your first chance. Standing in the single beam of sunlight outside of the shop you waited.

When someone stepped close to you and stopped you opened your eyes and smiled.

Hi, ready to go in?

He still wore sunglasses and a surgical mask.

You nodded and turned to catch the door handle. Halfway open he caught the handle from behind you and opened it the rest of the way. He walks by your side as you move close enough to see the menu. A latte could tell you a lot about a coffee shop. Decided you turned to look at your date. His head shifted from side to side as he read the board. When he finally looked at you, he lifted a brow.

Smiling you signed your question.

Do you know what you want? I can order for us.

Iced caramel macchiato, large.

Your date waited with you; hands shoved in his pockets. You didn't take offense, bit hard to know where to go when you had assaulted him with kisses and sent him out the door.

Stepping to the counter you waited your turn. When your turn arrived, the barista called from the espresso machine.

"I'll be just a minute."

"Take your time." You knew how hard those rushes could be.

A few moments pass when the stressed but customer smile in place the barista is ready for your order.

"Hi, what can I get you?"

"Can I get a large iced macchiato and a medium lavender latte?"

"That everything?"

"Actually, I run After Dark a few streets into and I was wondering if you also get milk from one of the local farms."

The barista's brows shoot up, "I've been meaning to try your shop! Your open late right, like midnight?"

Que the awkward smile, "Two actually, but yeah."

"Oh man I love the idea of a late-night spot that isn't all about alcohol. To answer your question yes, has your milk been going bad really fast too?"

"Yes! I didn't want to stop ordering from them without asking another shop. I worried that I was just getting bad batches."

"Nope, not just you. Now I'll just be a moment to get these ready for you," he quoted the price, and you winced internally. You hadn't been paying yourself beyond rent for a couple months.

A card tapped to the POS from beside you. Your date pressed the 20% tip without hesitation, raising your opinion of him already. Stepping to the middle of the shop you waited for your drinks.

You signed as you spoke.

"Since I refuse to call you a bug, I'll just have to guess your name. Is Roman?"

His shoulders shook slightly in a laugh as he shook his head.

You tapped your chin with a finger.

“Hmm, must be Tilly then?”

You watch him laugh again, and shake his head.

“Ah, must be Galahad then!” You exclaim.

The smile the cracks under his mask can be seen in the way his cheeks pull to the side and the tips of his ears take on a splash of pink.

Gary. My name is Gary.

“Hi Gary, it’s nice to meet you.”

You would sign everything you could to him today. His ears must be on fire with how red they are.

Before he can reply your order is called out. Grabbing both, you hand him his drink before taking a sip of your own.

The warm flavors slide across the tongue and the lavender sits well in your nose.

“Good flavor, not overpowered by either the coffee or the lavender. How is yours?”

Gary shrugged. When he looked at your face you lifted a brow.

Watching the realization wash across him that you understood sign and even expected him to share his thoughts could be called magical.

Good, I like caramel.

“Did you want a sip of mine?” You tilt your cup to him.

He takes the cup, looks down at his hand full of drink and passes off his to you. He lifts the mask enough to try the warm drink. From his brows creeping above the sunglasses, you assume he is surprised but liked it.

Once his mask is settled back in place you trade drinks again.

Did you want to try some of mine?

“Sure,” you lean forward and sip the straw. The chill of the drink is interesting compared to the warmth of your still in your mouth.

“I like it. The weather is decent, did you want to walk?”

At his nod you head for the door. Again, he catches the door before you can hold it for him. Rolling your eyes with a smile you let him handle it.

“Do you like your job?”

Gary waggled his hand to and fro.

“Do you blow stuff up like Johnny?”

A croaking of a laugh has you smiling into your coffee. Taking that as a no.

Do you like having a coffee shop?

“I love it. I love the people who come through and making drinks and giving people a safe space to hang out that isn’t the bars.”

You can see the question in his shoulders.

“I don’t drink, for lots of reasons so going to bars has always been a bit boring for me.”

I would love to come by if you don’t mind.

“I would love if you came by, I even know your order now,” you bumped him with your shoulder.

Gary didn’t stand as tall as most of Simon’s men, but he had to be as solid as any of them. He didn’t move an inch.

What is your favorite science fact?

“Tough question.” You take a sip of your drink giving yourself time to think. “Flames don’t cast shadows.”

Gary stopped.

You made it two steps before you noticed.

Turning back, you can see him pushing up his sunglasses to send you a bewildered look. Biting your tongue you fight back a laugh.

“Do you need a moment?”

Shaking his head he settles his glasses back down on his nose as he falls back into step with you.

---- are more likely to get struck by lightning than people.

“What are?”

He signs the unfamiliar word again.

“Can you spell that for me?”

He pulls out his phone and after a few taps he shows you a giraffe.

“Oh! Is that what the sign is? Cool. Thanks for showing me. And that is an interesting fact.”

Conversation goes on like that until you see a small outdoor market. Gary doesn’t object when you drag him to every stall, showing him interesting art or magnets. You were taken by a pair of earrings, beautifully crafted, handmade and so out of your price range that putting them back didn’t hurt. Gary chatted with you about silly shirts and funny hats.

He warmed up to the date as it went on. Sharing jokes and observations that left you in stitches the day wore on. After you had looked at every booth, Gary took your hand, pulling you along this time. When he neared the movie theater he asked about a show.

Scary movie?

“I’m not a fan but I will make silly comments to you in the dark, so I don’t get too scared.”

Gary held your hand as he bought the tickets, and the popcorn. You visited the restroom before heading in for the movie. No use going into jump scares with an even semi-full bladder. He took your hand back up as you left the bathroom. The theater was empty when you looked around.

Top seats? You signed to him.

Lifting your joined hands towards the stairs you take the lead. Settling below the projector you reach up at hand. A shadow large as life of your hand appears on the blank screen.

“Yes! I thought this theater might be the one,” turning to him with a grin you continue. “My brother and I would pick these seats when my mom would take us to the movies. We would have to stand on the seats to do it, but we would play shadow puppets while waiting for the show to start.”

You focus on contorting your fingers into a bunny. A dog appears and takes a shadow chomp of your bunny’s ears. Glancing over to Gary you caught sight of his smiling eyes. He had moved his sunglasses to hang off his shirt. The ten minutes until the previews started were filled with your giggles as Gary played shadow puppets with you.

When the movie starts you slide your hand into Gary’s and hold on for dear life as scare after scare tried to take you out. He typed out silly messages on his phone that he showed to you every time you jumped, leaving you laughing instead of cowering.

The walk to the flat you shared with Simon followed the pattern of laughter. When you got to the front door you turned.

“Did you want to come in? I have about an hour before I need to get at the shop.”

Gary shook his head. I have a few things to accomplish today.

“Okay, I can understand that,” you gave him a small smile. You truly didn’t mind; Simon often would be gone for long stretches even when he was home getting things done. “Thanks for the date Gary, I had fun.”

Me too. Hold out your hand.

You do, palm flat.

The pair of earrings that you had regretted not having the money to buy sat in your hand. When you could close your mouth and look up Gary had made it quite a distance.

“Gary!”

He turns enough to wave and keep walking.

Touched beyond words you watch him until he disappears. Looking back to your earrings you decide on an outfit to match them for work tonight.

Fallen Angel Masterlist | Masterlist

#Fallen Angel COD #cod #fanfiction #cod x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #price x reader #soap x reader #soap mactavish #john soap mactavish #soap cod #roach x reader #gaz x reader #john price x reader

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veephoenix · 29 days ago

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zutto — chapter twenty-four | wc: 3.8k | series masterpost | prev. chapter

Chapter summary: Bad Omens start their summer festival shows and things don't go quite as planned.

Reading time: 15mins aprox.

Tags and trigger warnings: swearing, implied anxiety, implied physical abuse, burnout, lia falls sick

General trigger warnings: this work addresses and depicts issues related to addiction, abuse, & violence, contains explicit sexual content, and explores themes of childhood trauma. Reader discretion is advised. +18

Things didn’t quite go as planned.

Noah and Lia had spent the past couple of months trying to move in together, but reality had other plans. Every apartment they checked was either in the wrong location, overpriced, or snatched up before they could even apply. When they finally found the right one, Bad Omens was scheduled to perform at several festivals in different states across the country over a span of just two weeks.

So the timing was a bit of a mess.

Lia had already ended her lease, but the new apartment was still mostly empty, missing essentials like a fridge, dishwasher, and a washing machine. The living room and bedroom furniture they’d chosen hadn’t been delivered yet either and wouldn’t arrive until the end of the month. So for now, they were staying at Noah’s house, along with Jesse, who was also struggling to find a place of his own. They were all practically living out of boxes. Noah’s room at the house had become a makeshift storage unit. Stacks of labeled cardboard, open duffel bags, tape guns, markers. Lia’s things were scattered between the two apartments and the tour trailer, making her feel like she existed in three places at once.

And now, standing in the dusty merch booth of a sunbaked festival ground, surrounded by more boxes, Lia was about to lose it and start screaming.

It was early morning. No crowds yet, just staff and vendors and a band running soundcheck on the main stage.

Lia was holding a t-shirt in her hands. She was looking at it with eyes wide open, and she couldn’t believe what she was seeing.

“What the hell…?”

Steven looked up from the inventory sheet, alerted by the tone in Lia’s voice.

“What’s up?”

She held the shirt out toward him, turning it so he could see. And he saw the problem.

The design—Lia’s design—was cracked. The ink was uneven, and parts of it looked like they hadn’t cured properly.

When she ran her thumb over the print, flakes of ink came off. The whole thing looked like it had been printed two years ago and left out in the sun.

Steven’s eyebrows shot up in slow motion. “Shit. That… doesn’t look good.”

“Doesn’t look good?” she repeated, incredulous. She dropped the shirt onto the merch table and yanked another one from the box, then another. “Oh, my God.”

They were all the same. All fucked up. From size S to XXL.

“They’re all like this.” She kept flipping through shirts, eyes scanning every one like she might find a decent batch buried somewhere in the pile. “These can’t go on sale, Steven. We’ve got hundreds of shirts that look like they were printed by a high school screen-printing class.” She held one up again. The ink was already lifting at the edges. “The print is literally peeling off. It’s tacky to the touch, like it didn’t even dry. We can’t sell this.”

Steven exhaled through his nose. “There must’ve been an issue in production. Ink didn’t cure right, maybe they were packed too fast—”

“They’ve never messed up before.” Lia’s voice was low but tight. “We’ve been working with them for years.Did you not check the order when it came in?” she snapped, grabbing another t-shirt, inspecting it, and tossing it aside in frustration.

“I did a spot check,” he said defensively. “The samples they sent were fine.”

“And the actual order?” she pressed, voice rising. “You didn’t open any of the boxes when they arrived?”

“I mean... they were shrink-wrapped. Everything looked clean. I figured it was fine.”

“You figured it was fine?” Lia echoed, staring at him. “Are you serious?”

Steven shifted uncomfortably.

“We literally talked about this, Steven! You were in charge of this while I was managing the exhibition!”

“I didn’t think they’d send us garbage. We’ve trusted them since… forever!”

“Well, they sent us garbage this time. And now we’re stuck with hundreds of t-shirts we can’t sell!”

She turned away, fingers digging into her temples. Her heart was pounding. Between the stress of managing her first exhibition, the chaos of moving, the lack of sleep, and now this mess, it was all getting too much.

Steven shrugged helplessly behind her. “The joggers and hoodies are good. The flags are clean. Everything else is perfect. Maybe we just push those and offer some discounts?”

Lia turned back to him slowly, face a mask of disbelief. “Push joggers. At a July festival. When it’s 95 degrees by noon.” Her voice was steady, but the sarcasm sliced clean.

He blinked, feeling the frustration creeping up his neck now too. One of his hands dropped from the clipboard.

“Look, Lia. You told me to sign off if everything matched the PO. I did. And I don’t mean offense, but you were off at the gallery instead of here, sorting all of this out, which has always been your job. You could’ve picked a different time for the exhibit.”

She stared at him for a beat, her expression going blank, but her eyes flared with something dangerous. Anger.

She didn’t say a word. Instead, she turned away from him, pulled out her phone, and walked briskly toward the back of the tent.

“What are you doing?”

“Calling the printing company!”

Her hands shook as she scrolled and found the number she was looking for. She hit the call button and pressed the phone to her ear, jaw tight, breathing shallow. Her pulse roared in her ears louder than the generators. She was sure she was getting a headache. A bad one.

Lia paced behind the tent, away from the tables and boxes. The first few rings gave her just enough time to draw in a breath and force her voice into something steady.

“Hey. Yeah, it’s Lia, from Bad Omens.”

A pause.

“No, everything’s not okay. We just opened the boxes from the latest run. All the t-shirts are misprinted. The ink’s cracked, flaking, some of them didn’t even cure properly.”

She exhaled through her nose, pressing her fingers into her temple and listening to the woman talking to her on the other side of the line. Lia started to shake her head.

“They were folded before the ink dried. It’s like they came straight off the press and into the box.”

Another pause.

“We have four festival dates in a row starting today. These were our main stock. And now every single one of them is unusable. I need a full reprint and I need them overnighted. I need them in hand in the next twenty-four hours.”

She stopped pacing, listening.

“What do you mean, we cover the shipping cost?” She let out a cold, raspy laugh. “Are you messing with me? No. No way. This was your mistake.”

Her voice stayed level, but there was a sharpness cutting through now.

“They’re completely unsellable. You know how important merch is for the band. You’ve never delivered something like this before. I didn’t change the file, the specs were the same. If the curing unit failed or someone packed them wet, that’s your responsibility.”

She went quiet, jaw tense, letting them speak.

“No, don’t transfer me to someone else. I want to talk to Marcus, the manager. Now.”

Another pause. She blinked slowly, trying to keep her tone cool, but her fingers were twitching by her side.

“He’s busy? Are you kidding me?”

A long silence. She swallowed.

“Fine. Tell him I need a call back in the next hour. We’re on a four-show festival run with no shirts to sell because your production line screwed the entire thing up. I want—I need this fixed before tomorrow or we lose serious merch revenue, and I’m not eating those costs.”

She didn’t wait for the full reply before tapping to end the call.

For a second, she just stood there, staring at the cracked pavement behind the trailer with a ragged breathing. With one hand, she pushed away a few loose strands of hair that had escaped from her bun.

“Lia.”

She turned, and she found Folio, Matt, and Noah at the merch booth. Noah was heading toward her with concern in his eyes. Steven lingered in the same spot he’d been, arms crossed, clearly still raw from their exchange and the mess they had in their hands.

“The shirts,” Noah said. “Steven said the whole run’s fucked?”

Lia nodded once, jaw tight.

“They are.”

She remained still, her phone in her hand, like she was waiting for it to ring again. When it didn’t, she exhaled shakily and ran a hand over her face.

“I don’t know what to do.”

Noah moved past Steven and looked into the boxes, carefully picking up one of the ruined shirts to inspect it. Lia’s beautiful design was distorted, the ink cracked along every fold like old peeling paint.

“What did they say?” he asked without looking at her.

“Nothing.” Lia crossed her arms. “Marcus has to call me back. I told them I need a full reprint, overnighted for tomorrow.”

Noah set the shirt down, managing his own annoyance internally.

“And?”

They said it’s possible, but…” Her lips pressed into a thin line. “They want us to pay for it.”

Noah blinked. Next to him, Folio interjected, “What?”

“Yep.” Her voice was clipped. “Shipping cost is on us, even though it’s their screw-up.”

For a moment, they all stayed silent. Lia looked up at Noah, as if he had the power to fix everything.

“Shit,” he cursed, nibbling at his lip and looking around. He put his hands on his hips. “Okay, then we just don’t sell t-shirts tonight,” Noah decided in an attempt to stay calm. “It’s not ideal, but it’s not the end of the world, either.”

“It feels like the end of the world,” she snapped before catching herself.

Noah’s brow furrowed as he looked at her more closely. She looked pale under the lighting filtering through the tent, her arms held too tight around herself. There was a stiff halo surrounding her.

“Lia,” he said, staring intensely at her, “it’s okay. These things happen.”

“No, they don’t,” she retorted, sharp enough that even she flinched. She ran a hand through her hair, forgetting it was tied up in a bun, and her nails caught in the strands. “They don’t happen. Not with me. I always make sure this never happens. Just one time—one time—I’m not there to double-check everything, and it all goes to shit.”

Noah was startled by her reaction. Worry for her quickly replaced the problem at hand.

“Nothing has gone to shit. It’s just a bunch of t-shirts,” he gestured toward them with his arm “And you’re doing enough. You’ve been working nonstop for months. Between getting the new drop ready and prepping your show, us moving out… you haven’t stopped for a second. You need to give yourself some credit. And some space to breathe.”

“We can sell them half price or something,” Matt offered, from nearby. “I mean, they’re not destroyed. Fans will understand. Some might even like that they’re misprinted, like, weird collector’s items or something.”

Lia nearly scoffed, but didn’t say anything. All she could think was that she had failed. She had failed the band, the fans, and herself. Her mind raced through everything she should’ve done differently, the dominoes that had fallen the second she’d taken her eyes off one piece of the puzzle.

Noah could see the storm of thoughts shifting behind her brown eyes.

“Lia,” Noah stepped forward and reached for her hand.

She didn’t pull away, but she didn’t meet his eyes either.

He could see it all in her: the flickering panic, her thoughts spiraling. Her body was upright, but her wires were crossing, misfiring, and he could tell she didn’t even realize how close she was to burning out.

Quietly, he said, “Let us handle it for a minute.”

“I am handling it,” she said, too fast, too sharp. She rubbed her forehead again, harder this time, like she could scrub the pressure out of her skull.

The air around her bristled, and Noah started tracing circles with his thumb on her skin.

“You can’t control everything, Lia.” He made a pause. “You’ve been juggling, like, five different lives,” he continued. “The gallery, the merch, the new place… Honestly, I don’t know how you haven’t lost it yet.”

“I’m fine,” she said, a little too flatly.

“You’re clearly not,” he said. “You’re tired, I’m tired, and we’re trying to keep a thousand things moving. But I’m not asking you to be perfect. No one is. And this?” He looked back at the piled boxes of useless t-shirts. “This is just a minor mistake.”

She looked away, sighing. “I just want things to be done right. And the one time I delegate, this happens.”

“Okay, but blaming yourself—”

“Or someone else,” Steven cut in, shooting a pointed look and making a face at Lia.

She was about to snap at him, but got stopped by Noah’s hand pointed to him, warning him silently to keep his mouth shut.

“Blaming yourself doesn’t fix it,” he said to Lia.

“I know that.”

“Then stop acting like it’s all on you.”

She bristled. “I’m not—”

“You kind of are.”

She huffed through her nose. She wasn’t angry, just… strained. She looked over her shoulder to the far distance, where she could her the chattering and laughter of the fans gathering at the gates.

“This is fucked up. I need to walk, or scream, or—I don’t know.”

She pulled away from Noah’s hand, making him frown and open his hands in confusion. That was not the reaction he’d expected. Lia stepped away from the tent.

“Seriously, Lia?”

She walked away, not bothering to reply to him.

“Lia!”

She didn’t look back.

And he didn’t follow.

He stood there, running a hand through his hair.

Lia walked briskly away from the merch tent and the noise.

The din of crew voices and buzzing speakers faded behind her as she rounded a corner past the last row of pop-up stands. Her feet carried her down an empty gravel path that curved around the back of the venue, where the tour trucks were parked in a line.

She stopped abruptly when she understood what was happening. She could feel that slow, creeping weight rising from her stomach to her chest. Tight. Familiar. She rested a hand against the metal siding of a truck trailer to steady herself.

Breathe, Lia.

She closed her eyes and inhaled slowly, measuredly through her nose, then exhaled. Her hand pressed harder into the cool steel of the truck. It’s fine. You’re fine. It’ll pass. She knew it. She knew this was just her head messing up with her uselessly. But her body hadn’t caught up yet, and her mind was doing backflips trying to stay in control.

After a moment, she let herself sink back against the wall of the trailer, her spine hitting the hot surface with a soft thud. She looked up at the sky, squinting into the bright blue. No clouds. Just heavy, disorienting sunlight.

She lowered herself into a crouch, elbows on her knees, fingers pressing into her temples like they could somehow stop her thoughts from spiraling.

A few quiet seconds passed. A couple of minutes of talking to herself, fighting against the other voice inside her head.

“Hey, you okay?”

At the voice, Lia blinked and looked up.

A girl stood a few feet away, cautious, concerned. She was probably about Lia’s age, maybe younger. A crew lanyard hung from her neck, the same festival pass Lia had on hers clipped to it. She wore a white ribbed tank top tucked into high-waisted jeans, scuffed Converse, and had shoulder-length hair that framed her soft, gentle features.

Lia realized she’d been staring, a bit dazed, out of focus.

“What?”

“Do you need help?” the girl asked gently.

“No,” Lia said quickly, shaking her head. She rose stiffly to her feet, grimacing as her knees cracked. “No. I’m okay. Just needed a minute.”

The girl smiled sympathetically. “This heat is getting brutal.”

“Yeah,” Lia muttered, brushing back a loose strand of hair that stuck to her temple.

“I can get you a bottle of water if you want. There’s a stash just around the back,” she said, pointing.

“That’s sweet of you,” Lia said genuinely. “But no, I’m okay. Really.”

“You sure? I can call someone. Or at least walk you back—”

Before she could finish, Lia suddenly sneezed.

What the hell is wrong with me today?

“Oopsie! Bless you.”

“Thanks,” Lia replied, back of her hand to her nose and mouth, half-laughing, a little embarrassed. She sniffled, rubbing her wrist under her nose. “Might be the dust back here getting to me.”

The girl nodded but didn’t move right away. “Alright… well, just don’t stay out too long under this sun. You look kind of pale.”

“I’m fine,” Lia said again, a bit bothered now. “Just a lot of work...”

“Sure.” The girl gave a polite smile and turned to walk back somewhat reluctant, as if she felt bad for not being able to provide Lia with whatever help she needed.

However, it was when she was walking away, that the preoccupation transferred to Lia as she noticed a flash of purplish skin at the back of the girl’s bare left arm. Bruises, discolored in a way that didn’t look like the result of bumping into something. More like the shape of fingers…

Lia could recognize marks those too well.

Her stomach tightened, as if she weren’t having enough on her plate that morning.

She stood there for a moment longer, too many things flashing in her head, until she realized there wasn’t anything that could remove that heaviness from her chest.

She exhaled and pushed off the truck.

The back of Noah’s hand pressed against Lia’s forehead.

It was just past 11 p.m., the hotel room dim and quiet, the air conditioning switched off after Lia had started sneezing uncontrollably minutes earlier.

As the day had gone by, Lia had worsened. She’d eventually accepted that they could not sell t-shirts that night, and after talking to Marcus from the printing company, he assured her that they’d do a reprint including 100 extra pieces free of charge to make up for the mistake, and he’d have them delivered at the next festival stop in twenty-four hours.

After ending the phone call and letting Matt do whatever he wanted with the ruined t-shirts, Lia’s worry began to ease, though she still felt disappointed in herself. Her mind was calmer, but her health was deteriorating. As the hours passed, she felt increasingly exhausted, dizzy, with an intermittent headache and constant sneezing.

They were staying the night at a hotel in the city, but they would be on the road the next morning to drive to the next state, where the following festival awaited the day after.

Noah cursed silently, because given Lia’s condition, she should be home resting, not on the move.

Lia was sitting cross-legged on the edge of the bed, wearing one of Noah’s oversized t-shirts she sometimes used to sleep, and Noah stood in front of her, freshly showered, hair still slightly damp, wearing a black tee and merch shorts. He looked every bit the tired frontman: tall, tattooed, and slightly worn down from the day’s chaos. But right now, his furrowed brows were full of concern.

“Light fever,” he muttered, pulling his hand away.

Lia’s shoulders dropped, and an exasperated sigh escaped her lips as she flopped backward onto the mattress.

“Not fair,” she groaned, the words muffled as she pulled the blankets up to her chin and buried half her face in the pillow.

“Your body is literally telling you that,” Noah said. “It’s asking for a break.”

“I can’t take a break. I have work to do.”

He knelt one knee onto the edge of the mattress. “Yeah, and—”

“And I want to work,” she cut in stubbornly.

“I know,” he said patiently. “I know you do. And I get that we’re stuck on the road for another week and a half. But once we’re back in L.A., you’re taking a break. A real one. No laptop, no sketchbook, no packing boxes, no spreadsheets. Just rest. Sleep. Sunshine. Good food.”

Lia let out a low groan. “I’ll be fine,” she insisted, voice quiet. “I’m just tired. I’ll sleep it off.”

“You’ve been tired for weeks. This didn’t come out of nowhere.”

Lia didn’t answer, just turned her face deeper into the pillow, a bit too soft for her liking. “Can you get in bed?”

Noah sighed but didn’t argue. He checked his phone, turned on sleep mode, and tossed it onto the nightstand. He removed his shorts, and as he slipped under the covers beside her, she was already curled up like a baby.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to call room service? Get you something warm to drink?” he asked.

She shook her head weakly. “I can’t even think of drinking anything hot right now. I just want to sleep.”

Noah watched her for a second, her face pale, eyes heavy, hair fanning in soft waves across the pillow. He brushed a strand from her cheek.

“I keep thinking maybe I shouldn’t have brought up the idea of moving together now,” he murmured. “I thought the timing was right. I didn’t stop to consider it would all collide like this.”

“No. No.” Her eyes opened. Her hand reached out from under the sheets and wrapped around his wrist. “I want us to move. I want that. As soon as we’re back. Nothing’s going to stop us from doing it.”

“Your health could,” he said, quiet but serious. “And I’m not playing with that, Lia.”

“Just give me two days,” she whispered. “I’ll be back to myself by the time we make it to Columbus.”

Noah looked at her, unimpressed. “If you’re not, I’m cancelling the rest of the shows.”

Her head snapped up, then, as if someone had just poured a bucket of cold water over her.

“You’re joking,” the words came out measured from her mouth. “You better be joking, Noah Sebastian. I am not letting you do that.”

He raised his eyebrows in that signature way that said watch me.

She glared at him, offended and half-asleep.

“You want me to recover? Don’t say stuff like that. That’ll just make me feel worse.”

He rolled his eyes and lay back, folding one arm under his head as he settled in beside her.

“Besides,” she mumbled against the pillow, drifting, “you can’t win that battle anyway. You couldn’t cancel the Japan tour even when you tried. I’m stubborn. There’s nothing you can do about it…”

He turned his head to watch her. She was already slipping into sleep, voice fading into the covers, breathing slow.

Yeah, she was a stubborn one. She’d been that way since she was six years old, against all odds.

Noah laughed quietly, more breath than sound, shaking his head.

He leaned over, kissed her warm forehead, and gently smoothed her hair back before resting his hand on the back of her head.

“I know,” he whispered. “Believe me. I know.”

— previous chapter | chapter twenty-five

✨ Author's note: I wrote the next chapter months ago, so you can expect another update in the next couple of days after i've adjusted it and done some editing :)

Taglist:

@somebodyels3 | @respectfulrebel | @digitaldesiresx | @bluestdai | @lacy1986

@sweetwombatpizza | @missduffsblog | @shilohrosechicken | @jilliemiw86 | @alwaysfightforwhoyouare

#noah x lia #the inevitability of love at second sight #noah sebastian x ofc #noah sebastian fanfiction #noah sebastian fic #bad omens fanfiction #bad omens cult

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shhitechsolutions01 · 13 days ago

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hai7ani · 1 year ago

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os ventos do amor ᡣ𐭩 ー haitani rindou

the five times rindou shows you he loves you (tries) & the one time he finally tells you about it.

( the winds of love ) friends with benefits + colleagues au, mdni

一 · in his kitchen (prequel)

The first time Rindou tries showing you he loves you, you're busy slurping noodles in his kitchen, and he's creasing his brows ironing your stupid little blouse in his tiny laundry room.

"Need some help?" You tease from the table after swallowing.

Usually you'd let him do it himself in peace, with no mocking, as per his own request to iron your clothes for you whenever you stay the night. But he's been at it for the past 20 minutes now just ironing one stupid blouse, and you're starting to grow impatient, because he'd promised to share this bowl of ramen with you but it's almost finished now.

Your voice echoes in the living area and he doesn't reply, but you know he heard you. You put down the chopsticks and sigh, "you know, I could've done it myself. No need for the trou-"

"Here."

You cock your head to the side and you see him, finally, out of the laundry room, with some sweat beading on his forehead and he's padding towards you, holding out your white blouse to you by its hanger.

He's still frowning when he stops before you at the dining table and you can feel his deject before he even says his next words:

"It's a stubborn crease, 'n I coulda done better. But I don't wanna burn through your shirt." He hands you your blouse and you immediately soften at it, fingers gently running over the said crease and you can tell he's done his best ー he did a great job, because if it were up to you, you would've chosen to give up halfway through.

"And sorry I ripped your skirt. I'll buy you a new one this weekend." He apologises through a mouthful of ramen and you reach a thumb up to wipe away some soup dripping down his chin.

Your eyes flicker to the said skirt sitting on the edge of his couch ー a black linen pencil skirt with a little slit running up your knee is now a big slit running up your hip, and the sight makes you want to laugh. You'd stripped it off and threw it there upon entering his house ー a little angry and upset that he'd ripped through your favourite skirt to wear for work out of eagerness to fuck you in the backseat of his car without getting you both home first, and he'd offered to iron your shirt for the next day out of guilt.

And now you're left in nothing but your undies, still not yet showered (you're waiting for him together), and you notice it's a little red on the tip of his ears. But your fury has died out long ago and seeing him like this ー somewhat embarrassed and you think he's kind of stupid for apologising because deep down you know he knows you don't mind at all, but he still says it anyway ー makes you want to grab him by his cheeks and place a fat smooch on his lips. But you don't, and you continue to watch as he swiftly finishes up the noodles before turning to wash the dishes.

"...Thank you, Rin." He doesn't see it but you're smiling when you say it to him ー shy, rosy lips a little pursed, the apple of your cheeks rose high, and he resists the urge to turn around and cup your cheeks with soapy hands.

"Whatever. 'N the noodles were disgusting. Remind me to never buy it again."

"Okay."

二 · in the office

The second time is when you catch him in the printer room the next morning.

He's photocopying documents by the printer, the sleeves of his dress shirt rolled up to his elbows and he has one hand manning the machine with the other supporting his body. His fingernails tap beats against the hard surface as he waits for the next batch of documents to finish printing.

Rindou doesn't notice your presence and you don't make yourself known either, choosing to watch him by the door as he makes quick work of counting and organising and stapling together freshly printed documents while making sure they're all in the correct order for the team meeting later ー and you think it's so bad of you to be ogling at his exposed arms with indecent thoughts of doing many things to him floating in your mind as his muscles flex under the light with his every move.

But you don't let your thoughts consume you, and he looks up at you ー now standing beside him with your arms tucked behind your body and a cheeky smile planted on your face.

Rindou focuses back on his work, obviously in a rush to complete everything, but he still acknowledges you nonetheless.

"You're up to something." He sighs while stacking together the stapled documents.

You feint a pout.

"...'M not." (He interpreted this as "I am.")

Rindou has never once told you this but he always thought that you had somewhat of a close resemblance to a cat. A very annoying Siamese cat that behaved like his previous one, constantly following him around and begging him for attention while also pretending like it isn't.

But it's nothing new. Rindou had come to a conclusion a while ago that you like to keep him guessing, and you particularly enjoy acting nonchalant when it's so obvious to him right now that you want something, anything that can keep you going for the day.

"What, you want a kiss or somethin'?"

"...Kinda,"

Bingo.

"But I want to use the machine more than I want a kiss."

He smirks, though he doesn't give it to you just yet, and you begin to count and prepare your own documents in silent when he doesn't reply. (You think he's ignoring you and it's awkward.)

But Rindou doesn't step away even when he's finished and you're confused. And unlike yourself, he doesn't have a knack for keeping you guessing. He speaks before you have the chance to ask.

"How many?" He grabs at your papers and lays them face-down on the machine before closing the shutter. His thumb hovers over the screen, eyes unwavering against your own as he waits for your reply.

"Um, ten copies." Your smile slowly widens when he finally presses 'print' and steps back for you to take over. He doesn't collect his documents to leave, however, and you raise your brows in confusion when he moves to close the door gently (and locking it, too) before shutting the blinds altogether.

"What're you doin'? Aren't you in a rush?" You question.

He shrugs and makes his way over to you.

"I've got time," he says it while trapping you against the machine with his two arms, lips quickly hovering against your own and you can smell a hint of the peppermint gum he likes to chew on from time to time.

"The machine's all yours," he licks at your bottom lip, "and now, for your kiss..."

I've always got time for you.

You think it's a great thing that the printer room doesn't have a CCTV.

三 · at the mall (shopping for your skirt)

Rindou has a good eye for things. You knew it the moment he'd picked out a pair of Daiso's reindeer-printed socks for you as your Secret Santa a few Christmases ago.

(You've always liked reindeers, but Rindou simply bought it for you because he didn't know what you liked.

You'd jumped in happiness the moment you opened your present and Rindou thought you were actually the prettiest girl alive.

You'd pounced on him in excitement, yelling out your gratefulness for everyone in the party to hear.

He'd decided that he wanted you then.)

So you're in Aeon browsing through skirts without him even though you came out here together. You don't know where he is, and you've given up on looking for him after phoning him a few times and wandering around like a lost child looking for its parent.

But you hear a cough behind you and you turn around, only to be greeted by the sight of a really pretty dress hanging from his finger.

You admire it from top to bottom ー a really nice coral pink dress with large hibiscuses printed all over with a little slit running up the thigh ー and Rindou moves it closer to you.

"Whatchu think of this?" He asks, nervous eyes a little dodgy against your mischievous ones, and you smile a little when taking the hook off his finger.

"I wanted a skirt, not a dress." You comment, obviously poking fun at him and Rindou immediately reddens like a tomato. "Forget it, then."

He reaches a hand out to snatch it from your own but you take a step back away, clutching the dress to your chest tight.

"Didn't say I don't want it, though." You jut your chin out and he snorts.

"I need to make a call," he fishes his card out from his wallet and hands it to you. You grip on the flat plastic tight, afraid of losing it while also in shock because why did he hand you his card? He's acting like you're both a married couple now.

"Text me when you're finished." And he shuffles away with his phone pressed to his ear.

四 · during the phone call with his brother

"Yo, Aniki." Rindou greets the moment his brother picks up the phone. After eight rings, what the hell is this idiot even doing?

"What?" The older man answers from the other line, phone tucked between the shoulder and his ear while he's rushing to prepare his daughter's dinner.

"You busy?" The younger boy asks. He shuffles his weight from heel to toe while standing in front of a wall full of different mugs and bowls at the home appliances department.

Pink is nice. She likes pink. Or should I get red? It's almost Valent-

"Uncle Rin-rin!" His niece's voice booms through the speaker, cutting Ran off and Rindou immediately smiles at it. "Hi, sweetie."

And Ran takes over the phone again. "What's up? Speak before I hang up. I'm a very busy man." Rindou resists the urge to snort at it ー he has a favour to ask, after all.

"How do you..." The younger pauses, oddly feeling a little too nervous to continue. Though it is his own brother on the other line that he knows although very annoying, he would still be there to help, Rindou finds it a little embarrassing to be asking him about this. He's never done this before, and he's not very big on asking his brother for favours too, and Ran is surprised at the sudden question shot that's been left hanging.

He looks up at the ceiling and sighs. He knows Ran will never let this go if he asks, but he decides to screw his ego because in the end, it is for you.

"How do you, um," he taps his foot on the ground.

...Fuck it.

"How do you chase a girl? Or something like that. Whatever it is."

"...Chase a girl? What girl- Oh. The one you've been sleeping with."

"What the fuck? Not in front of my niece, dude."

"Relax, I put her down a while ago."

"You're fucking annoying, you know that?"

Ran only laughs boisterously at Rindou's annoyance, but he doesn't leave his brother hanging.

He's always here for him, no matter what.

"So what're you thinking? Any options?" Ran asks. Rindou grabs at a white mug with pink flowers painted on it before replying. "Mugs."

"Mugs? Like for drinking, mugs? You're not serious, Rindou? You're buying mugs to chase a girl, are you insane?"

The younger clicks his tongue and puts the porcelain back on the shelf albeit a little harshly. "Why else do you think I'm asking you, asshole? Just tell me what to buy. I really don't know."

"I can't tell you what to buy for a girl you're chasing, dude. And I don't even know what she likes. What does she like? You tell me."

He ponders for a moment. "Dresses. Pink stuff." His mind travels back to the night you first met, at work, as clerks, when you'd included your hobbies into your introduction and one of it was gardening. "And like, flowers."

"Then just get her flowers, you already have your answer." Ran deadpans from the other line, but Rindou only hisses. "Yeah, but I already got her a pink dress with flowers printed on it. What else?"

"I'm talking about actual flowers. You can get them anywhere, and most importantly, never fails to make a pretty girl smile. She already likes flowers anyway."

"...'Kay, thanks. You're useful for once."

"Fuck off." Ran clicks his tongue. "...And red tulips, if I may suggest. And remember, tell me how it goes-"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah."

五 · aftercare with you

Remember when I said that Rindou wanted you the moment you'd hugged him in excitement after seeing some lame reindeer-printed socks wrapped up nicely in a little box tied with a pink ribbon on top?

Yeah. He'd wanted you since then. But instead of starting off as friends from colleagues before getting to know you better and then asking you out on a date when he feels the time is right ー like a normal, sane person ー the both of you had gotten into a mutual agreement of becoming friends with benefits.

You don't remember exactly when it started, how it started, who initiated it, and neither does he, but you don't really care. Not when he's busy rubbing soft circles on the bruise forming on your hips for some comfort while he pecks you again and again on your forehead as you slowly fall asleep beneath him. He'd lost focus for a bit and gripped you a little harsher than he should've, but you really don't mind, yet he still feels bad.

And Rindou thinks you're prettiest like this ー neck and chest painted in hickeys that he'd sucked (out of adoration), eyelids droopy with your bags a little red from the tears of bliss you'd shed, and the back of yours fingers are gently caressing his left cheek. Your room smells of sex and lemongrass and a quiet 'sleepy?' is all he asks when your eyes finally close.

You hum out a lazy response of 'yes' before moving the same hand down to rest it on his nape, playing with the ends of his mullet a little, and you push him down to rest on your chest.

It's heartwarming. It feels intimate. And despite your abnormal relationship title with the man, you don't reject the sudden swell of your heart and neither does he.

So he presses a soft kiss to the top of your left boob ー right where your beating heart resides ー and you hug your legs a little tighter around his waist. It's nothing sexual and you both know it. It was all just to bring him closer to you, for you to feel more of his warmth in the coldness of your bedroom paired with the chill of February.

"Sleep then." He assures, voice gentle and lulling, and you smile a little at it.

Rindou is always softer at times like this, you realise ー when he'd fucked the life out of you after a particularly long day, when he'd made you moaned out melodies that he swore belonged to heaven, when he'd spent hours between your legs lapping up everything you have to give him.

Though you don't let yourself go at his words, and he watches amusedly as you try your hardest to fight back dear sleep in his arms. You don't think you're ready to sleep yet. Something feels out of place, oddly, even though you're sure you have completed everything that was in your checklist today.

Laundry, washing the dishes, prepping for Monday's meeting... You've done it all, and yet you still can't pinpoint what it is that is missing.

Until he moves up to silently place a warm kiss on your neck ー where your pulse beats against his lips ー and he realises his life hasn't really started until recently, until the day he'd met you and he thought you were such a breathtaking girl. Colours had burst into his world and your smile was the first thing that had lightened up.

And while you're happily drowning in his attention, Rindou silently wonders if the two of you were perhaps lovers in your past lives.

He wonders if you'd be willing to catch him. To be there, holding your arms out and yelling to him that you're here and to not worry; for him to just fall into your arms and he'd be safe ー you'll catch him.

Because he is falling. Hard. And he doesn't know how to tell you about it. He hopes that for the past few days his gestures were enough to tell you a portion of his love...

Just a portion, though. Because he wants to tell you the rest when he finally gets to call you his. Under the moonlight, at dinner with his brother and his family, before his parents at their graves every anniversary, or in front of your dog that's pawing at your door asking to be finally let in... Whatever it is, he wants to show the world that he loves you.

So when you smile sweetly up at him as he grows hard against your thigh ー a silly little love boner that you must've thought was just him getting horny to you massaging his sore backー Rindou's become a little more certain that the two of you must've met one way or another in the previous lifetimes and have fallen in love with each other when you gently trail a finger down his abdomen, before finally wrapping a hand around him.

Rindou wonders what it'd feel like to be yours in this lifetime.

And he gives in to your touches. He buries his head into the crook of your neck and lets you play with him as you please.

He thinks it's kind of cute that even as friends with benefits, you've already engraved a piece of yourself onto him.

Like the extra sets of pencil skirts and blouses that you leave hanging in his wardrobe in case of last minute plans that he swears are a hassle to iron because he can never get the creases right. But he never complains, and he would always offer to iron your clothes each time you stay over at his house. Or even when you don't. Because he would always find your stuff sitting in the basket when he's doing his laundry. And he'd have to iron them neat for you, before hanging it up in his wardrobe for you to wear the next time you stay the night.

Or like your toothbrushes hanging next to each other on the wall in his bathroom ー pink and purple facing each other by their bristles because you'd insisted out of the blue on a random Monday morning, at the start of your "relationship", with foamy toothpaste in your mouth and your hair poking out in every different direction it can go.

And sometimes your shoes bring him joy too, whenever he would get up to check on the door while you're falling asleep in his bed and he'd spot how your black pumps are always somehow scattered messily next to his own neat dress shoes by the entrance, and he'd have to squat down and rearrange them nicely.

He looks back up at you with ragged breaths and a coil in his abdomen that's threatening to break anytime soon. You're still giving him the same smile that drives him nuts every single time, and he leans in closer to give you a little kiss on the lips that you very much love.

And Rindou comes to a sudden realisation that he wants to tell you he loves you now. He needs you to know that he's all yours. You're his sweetheart.

So he does what he thinks is right ー what he feels is right. He reaches over your body, towards the marble vase on your nightstand that your mother had gifted you as a housewarming present, and he picks a fresh flower out of it after careful consideration. You don't move from your spot, only trying to kiss whatever skin of his that your lips can reach from your position ー his shoulder, his bicep, his arm, his neck... And a familiar smaller-sized tulip appears before your eyes. You raise your brows a little at it.

"Pretty fuckin' girl," is all he murmurs before pushing himself into you.

"I'm all yours." He whispers.

A peaceful winter night and Rindou fucks you again in missionary with so much love bubbling in his chest and a red tulip tucked behind your ear.

终 · during breakfast together

"Do you want eggs?"

"Sure."

"Okay."

You kick your feet and watch from the bar as he cooks you both breakfast in your kitchen. You're covered in one of his shirts that he'd left sitting on the back of your chair, your tired eyes scans over his half-tattooed back covered in scratch marks, and you feel oddly proud to be the one to have done all that.

But you know it is not right. And you're not stupid ー you're aware of the things he's been doing these days, and if you were a forgetful fool you would've missed the rule you made with him at the start of your intimacy.

Never catch feelings for each other.

...But you were no forgetful fool, and the ache in your heart is too painful for you to ignore. You'd seen the way he looked at you last night ー the way he'd fucked you like you were the finest thing personally handcrafted by the hands of God. And because you treasure your friendship, you know you shouldn't be doing this to him. You think he's a good person, and you want to remain friends with him.

But you don't want to let him go.

"Hey, Rindou." You call out. He's in the midst of scrambling your eggs with butter when you do so. "Yeah?"

"Rindou," he hums again.

Ever so patient, but I have to break your heart.

"...We should end things, Rindou-kun."

Saturday morning and it feels as though his world is falling apart from your simple sentence. Like you've ripped apart his beating heart that pounds solely for you and threw it on the ground.

You are so cruel.

So much for all that last night, he thinks. So he turns around after hurriedly switching off the gas. The wooden spatula covered in eggs is still in his hands when he faces you in agony and you want to break down and cry.

You feel like a villain. The evilest villain of them all.

"Why? Was I too rough on you last night? I- Or were we too open about it? Tell me." He's worried. He's so worried that it almost makes you want to crumble into pieces.

Purples flicker between your own and your lips wobble. You grip the hem of his shirt tight in your hands and look down.

"Please, tell me." He pushes again, so you decide to tell him truthfully.

Be a big girl, don't cry. You've survived 25 years of life, cutting things off with your FWB should be easy.

"...I've caught feelings."

Except it's not.

A lone tear makes its way down your cheek and you wipe it away quick. "Sorry, I broke the rule. I caught feelings and I- I don't think it's right for us to continue this any further." Your voice cracks with every word you speak and it makes you want to cry even further, because he's not saying anything.

And despite the strong stance you've presented to him, Rindou knows you're putting on an act for him. So he puts down the spatula and shuffles to you. He stops before you and tilts your chin up with his finger.

You'd half-expected him to be upset about this as much as you are, because you know the feeling's mutual, but you respect the rule of your relationship more and you don't think it's right to continue on.

Except he isn't, and he's so fucking smug about it.

Rindou's got a huge grin on his face when you look up at him. Hair a little messy, a hickey on his jaw, and you're sobbing into his arms now.

"You like me." He states.

You kick him a little and continue to cry.

"You like me, huh?" He repeats again.

Rindou has an arm wrapped securely around your waist with the other hand smoothing the back of your head as he shushes you gently, rocking you both side to side and you hit him a little on the chest.

"Do you think this is funny? It's not funny. I'm being serious." So you try pushing him away in hiccups but he only laughs as you struggle against his strength.

"Why do you wanna end things?"

"As I've said, I broke the rule. It's not right anymore."

He snorts at your reasoning. "You know, rules are always meant to be broken."

"So you don't respect me enough to follow my rule?" You're trying to pick a fight but he doesn't quite buy into it, choosing to kiss your forehead instead as you continue to wiggle your way out of his hold.

"I've never been one to follow the rules anyway." Rindou mutters against your hair as he presses another kiss to your crown. You're too endearing to let go, he thinks, and he holds you anymore tighter to himself at that.

"And who said if it's right or wrong? Screw rights and wrongs. We both like each other, the feeling's mutual. There's no point in letting each other go." He wipes your tears away with his palm and cups your cheeks with them. "I know you don't wanna let me go."

You swat his chest again at that and he only laughs harder at your reaction. He thinks you're the most precious thing in life. In his life. In the universe. You're the most precious thing ever.

"I like you a whole lot, you know." Smooch. "More than you'll ever know." Another smooch. "Let me be yours."

You pout as you look into his eyes. Purple orbs sucking you in deep and you have no choice but to fall. Purple orbs that tells you these arms will catch you if you do. And another kiss to your soul that tells you everything you need to know.

"Okay."

You'll catch each other.

"I love you."

You're already catching each other.

😅😅😅😅😅 been mia for so long bc i've been working on this. Its been in my drafts for soooo long LOL and this was supposed to be a valentines day special but i didnt make it in time cus i was bz sleeping.. but i hope you guys like this a lot ^^ listen to the playlist if u have time! And i tried a new layout too i hope it looks nice.

Reblogs are appreciated! Thank you for reading <3

#writing #rindou x reader #rindou haitani x reader #haitani rindou x reader #rindou haitani #haitani rindou #rindou smut #tokyo revengers x reader #tokrev x reader #tokyo revengers fluff #tokyo revengers smut #tokyo revengers #haitani brothers

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lupinqs · 10 months ago

Text

CHAPTER SIX ━━ Shattered Glass

☆ ━ pairing: hopkins!paige x oc (dani callan)

☆ ━ word count: 3.8K

☆ ━ warnings: mentions of conversion therapy

☆ ━ links: my masterlist, take me to church masterlist

☆ ━ author’s note: finally bro

DANI STANDS in the dimly lit darkroom, watching the chemicals slowly bring her latest batch of photos to life. The soft red glow of the safelights fill the room, casting long shadows across the black-and-white prints hanging on the drying line. The hum of the machines and the faint smell of chemicals are oddly calming, giving her a momentary escape from the chaotic mess her life has become. She likes it here. The darkroom is one of the few places that still feels like her own—maybe her safe space.

She adjusts the print in the developer tray, her hands moving automatically as her mind wanders. It’s hard not to think about the other night, about Paige’s basket. The note stays with her, a flicker of warmth that she hasn’t felt in a long time. She wishes Paige hadn’t done it. She wishes she could’ve just stewed in her misery, in the mess she’s made. It would be easier that way.

Now, Dani can’t stop thinking about it. Paige is always there, lurking at the edges of her thoughts, no matter how much Dani tries to push her away.

It’s frustrating and comforting at the same time.

The door to the darkroom swings open, flooding the room with harsh light from the hallway. Dani blinks against it, silently cursing as Serena Corren struts in. The blonde cheerleader makes no effort to close the door softly, the bang of it slamming shut making Dani wince. Serena isn’t supposed to be here, at least not right now, but here she is anyway, crashing into Dani’s quiet space like she always seems to do.

“Hey, Dani.” Serena drops her yearbook materials on the counter with a loud thunk, her sharp voice cutting through the low hum of the room.

“Hey,” Dani mutters, her eyes fixed on the developing photo, hoping Serena will take the hint and keep her distance. But that isn’t how Serena works. She never really does subtle.

Serena leans over, peering at the picture. “You’re still working on that football game? Don’t you have, like, a thousand of those already?”

Dani shrugs, her jaw tight. “I’m trying to be thorough.”

Serena scoffs. “No, I think you’re trying to be alone in here, avoiding everyone.” She straightens, fixing Dani with a pointed look pursing her lips into a line. “You’ve been weird lately, you know that?”

Dani’s shoulders tense. She knows where this is going and she doesn’t want to deal with it. “I’m fine, Serena.”

“Yeah, sure,” the blonde drawls, pulling up a stool and plopping down on it without asking. “That’s why Beau’s been bitching to everyone about you. Says you’ve been acting all ‘distant.’”

Dani doesn’t say anything, keeping her eyes locked on her work. Beau. Of course, it’s about Beau. Everything is always about him—her boyfriend, her obligation. The person she’s supposed to care about. Except she doesn’t. Not really.

Serena crosses her arms, eyeing Dani with a mix of disdain and curiosity. “You’re lucky, you know that? Beau’s, like, the hottest guy in school, and you’ve been treating him like shit recently. So, spill, and tell me what your deal is.”

Dani’s grip tightens on the edge of the counter, knuckles turning white. “I’ve just been dealing with stuff,” she mumbles.

“Right, ‘stuff.’” Serena’s tone drips with sarcasm, her eyes narrowing. “You’ve got everyone worried, Dani. Not just Beau—though, let’s be real, he’s the only one actually trying. The rest of us? We don’t know why you even bother hanging out anymore if you’re gonna be so… ugh.”

Dani’s stomach twists, but she keeps her mouth shut. Of course, Beau’s trying. That’s the narrative. That’s always the narrative. But neither him or Serena or any of their other friends are ever actually trying to help. The blonde isn’t even asking if Dani was okay. She’s here to make a point, to make sure Dani knows she’s out of line for daring to withdraw from the group.

Serena’s lips curl in a half-smile, her eyes sharp. “Look, I get it. Maybe you’re going through something or whatever, but seriously? You’re not the only one with problems, Dani. Beau’s been putting up with a lot from you.”

Dani lets out a short, bitter laugh before she can stop herself. “Putting up with me? Are you serious?”

Serena’s smile falters for a second before she narrows her eyes. “Yeah, I am. You’ve been flaking on him for weeks, acting all moody, and he’s still there. Most guys wouldn’t stick around if their girlfriend was being such a—” Serena throws her hands up in the air, searching for a word, “—headcase!”

Dani’s vision blurs with irritation, but she swallows it down. It isn’t worth it, arguing with Serena. Sure, the girl was nice and welcoming at first, but it didn’t take Dani much time to realize just how fake Sersna can be. By now, Dani can hardly stand her, but she’s inevitable—Serena’s a part of Beau’s circle, part of this whole sick, suffocating dynamic Dani’s been shoved into. At this point, she has to hang out with them, even though Serena and the others have no idea what’s really going on, and even if they did, they wouldn’t care. They’d probably just mock her even more.

She can’t explain why she’s acting “weird.” She can’t explain why the thought of being around Beau makes her feel like her skin is crawling. She can’t explain how much she hates who she’s become since she got back from camp. She can’t explain that the more she’s sucked into this straight girl, quarterback’s girlfriend, Catholic princess persona, the more she feels the girl underneath it slipping away, caught in between two worlds that don’t meet.

Serena’s still watching her, waiting for a response, her lips frowning in faux concern. “You’re lucky he hasn’t dumped you yet.”

Dani grits her teeth. Lucky. She’s not lucky; she’d be much more lucky if he dumped her. Beau’s controlling, selfish, and she knows he’s never given a damn about what she wants or how she might feel. He’s only gotten worse lately too, like a few nights ago—leaving her stranded, making her walk home alone in the dark while he drove off, doing who-knows-what.

But none of that matters, because in Serena’s world, Beau can do no wrong. In fact, Dani wouldn’t even be surprised if the two of them have fucked by now. “Maybe I don’t care if he dumps me,” the brunette mutters under her breath.

Serena snorts, “Yeah, right. Please. You’d be miserable without him, Dani. You wouldn’t have anyone left.”

That is what hits Dani hard, the words sinking into her like ice. She wants to that Serena’s wrong, but the fear is there, gnawing at her. Because who will she have without Beau, without this group she’s been forced into? She’s already lost her real friends, the ones who actually matter. Paige, Thaliah, Jalen.

“Look,” Serena continues, her voice smug, “just stop acting like this. Whatever this moody, weird thing you’ve got going on? It’s not cute. We’re all getting tired of it.”

Dani feels the anger bubbling up again, sharp and hot in her chest. She can’t do this anymore—can’t sit here and listen to Serena drone on about something that doesn’t even really fucking involve her. “I don’t care if you’re tired of it, Serena. You know what? Maybe I’m the one tired of it, tired of hanging around all of you, tired of hearing you bitching, and tired of the fact that none of you have a nice fucking bone in your body!”

Serena’s eyes flash with surprise, but she quickly covers it with a smirk. “Wow, okay. You’ve been one of ‘us’ for months now. So what the fuck does that say about you then, hmm?” She pauses, letting the words sink in, before continuing, “You’re just like the rest of us. And if you’re really gonna throw away everything just because you’re in one of your moods, then I guess I thought you were smarter than you really are.”

Dani’s heart pounds in her chest, her hands shaking slightly as she turns back to her photos. She doesn’t respond. She refuses. Because if she does, she isn’t sure what will come out—whether it would be anger or something worse. She doesn’t want to cry in front of Serena. She refuses to give her that satisfaction.

After a long, tense silence, Serena stands, brushing invisible dust off her skirt. “Whatever, Dani. Keep being weird if that’s what you want. Just don’t be surprised when Beau gets tired of your shit and moves on. You’re replaceable, you know.”

Dani bites the inside of her lip at the venom in Serena’s words, but she doesn’t look up. She doesn’t let herself react, no matter how badly she wants to lash out.

The door to the darkroom creaks open again as Serena leaves, slamming it shut behind her.

PAIGE HASN’T heard a single word her financial algebra teacher has said the entire class period. Her foot taps against the floor incessantly, the low thud thud thud filling her head. She’s restless—scratch that, obsessed. Her is was stuck in one place, on one person.

Dani.

Dani, Dani, Dani, Dani, Dani, Dani, Dani.

Paige has been like this since Halloween, unable to focus on anything except the basket she left on the girl’s porch, hoping it would be some kind of olive branch. She’s spent the last few days replaying every interaction in her mind, trying to decipher Dani’s walls, to figure out what exactly is going on inside her head.

For how well and how long Paige has known the brunette, she simply can’t tell. She’s tried—but she has no idea what’s swirling in her ex-best friend’s mind that prompted her to create this entire situation. But what Paige does know is that she can’t keep sitting in this classroom pretending to care about math when all she wants to do is get Dani to talk to her. Really talk to her.

She lets out a sigh, barely noticing the way the teacher glances up from her notes. Paige bites her lip, her foot tapping even faster now, her knee bouncing. She can’t take it anymore.

Shooting her hand up, Paige catches the teacher’s attention. “Ms. Greene?” she asks, her voice a little shaky.

Ms. Greene, who’s in the middle of explaining some equation Paige can’t even begin to follow, stops mid-sentence, raising an eyebrow. “Yes, Paige?”

Paige swallows, feigning discomfort. “I don’t feel well. Can I go to the nurse?”

Ms. Greene studies her for a moment, clearly weighing how bad Paige looks. Then, she nods. “Sure. Go ahead.”

Paige quickly packs up her stuff, barely caring about leaving her things behind, and bolts out of the classroom. She isn’t going to the nurse. She has somewhere else to be—somewhere Dani would be.

She hates to admit it, but she knows Dani’s schedule like the back of her hand. It isn’t like she meant to memorize it; it just kind of happened over time. Call her a stalker—maybe she is—but she’s always paid attention to Dani, even now when they aren’t even friends anymore.

And she knows exactly where Dani is during this period: the darkroom. Paige has seen her slip into it on more than one occasion during this period. Paige has been in there herself several times, all with Dani, all last year. She’d sit on one of the stools and watch Dani work, infatuated like she always seems to be by the brunette. She misses it. She misses everything.

And she can’t stand it anymore. She has to get through to Dani. Today.

The hallways are mostly empty as Paige strides down them, her heartbeat quickening with every step. She isn’t sure what she’s planning to say, but she knows she has to say something. If she can just get Dani to open up—to explain why she’s shutting everyone out, why she’s pushed Paige away so violently—then maybe, just maybe, things can go back to how they used to be.

As Paige turns the corner, she slows her pace, watching someone step out of the darkroom. Serena Corren struts out, her face twisted in an annoyed scowl. The cheerleader’s blonde hair whips behind her as she slams the door with enough force to make Paige raise her eyebrows. Serena’s eyes flick up as she passes the basketball player, and for a brief moment, their gazes meet. Paige can see the disdain in Serena’s eyes—she looks irritated, almost as if she’s blaming Paige for something, but neither of them say anything. The silent exchange is fleeting and Paige thinks it’s a little odd, too.

Paige reaches the door of the darkroom, her heart thudding in her chest. She doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t knock. She just pushes the door open. The low red light of the darkroom washes over her like a wave of unease, the smell of developing chemicals hangs in the air, and the soft hum of the machines fill the silence.

Before Paige can even step fully inside, Dani’s voice cuts through the air, sharp and biting. “God, if you’re gonna keep berating me about this—” Dani snaps, her tone dripping with irritation, clearly mistaking Paige for Serena.

But when Dani spins around, her words die on her lips. The fiery annoyance in her eyes quickly evaporates, replaced with shock. “Paige,” she breathes, like the wind has been knocked out of her. She blinks, her body stiffening. “What are you doing here?”

Paige steps further into the room, letting the door click shut behind her. She swallows, her heart racing as she locks eyes with Dani. “I’m here because we need to talk,” she says steadily.

Dani’s face hardens. She turns back to her photos, ignoring Paige like she isn’t even there. “There’s nothing to talk about,” Dani mutters, flat and dismissive.

“Yes, there is,” Paige responds firmly. She refuses to let Dani shut this down again. “You know there is.”

Dani quickly turns back toward Paige, a faux smile on her face. “You’re so right, Paige, we do need to talk,” she says, her tone sickly sweet. “Thank you for the basket, I appreciated it.” And then she turns right back to the photos.

Paige clenches her fists, frustration boiling up inside her. She’s spent months tiptoeing around Dani’s moods, giving her space, hoping she’ll come around on her own. But that isn’t working. She isn’t going to stand by while Dani pushes her further away, destroying herself in the process.

“Stop it,” Paige replies, shaking her head. “You know that’s not what I’m talking about. I’m not leaving until you tell me what’s wrong, what exactly has been going on with you.”

Dani scoffs, shaking her head as she continues to work, refusing to look at Paige. “What, you’re just going to barge in here and demand I spill my guts?” she asks incredulously. “That’s not how this works, Paige.”

Paige steps closer, her voice firm but pleading. “I’m not trying to make demands. I just… I need to understand why you’ve been acting like this. Why you’ve been pushing me away. You don’t even look at me anymore, Dani. And I—” Paige’s voice cracks, and she swallows hard, fighting the emotion rising in her throat. “I don’t understand what I did wrong.”

Dani’s hands still over the photo paper, her fingers trembling slightly, though she quickly balls them into fists to hide it. She doesn’t respond, but Paige can see the tension radiating from her.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Dani finally mutters under her breath, her voice barely audible.

Paige’s heart clenches. “Then why are you pushing me away?”

“I’m not,” Dani rebuttals, though both of them know she’s lying. “I just—I can’t do this right now, okay? You should go.”

“No,” Paige says, shaking her head, her voice ready to rise at any second because she’s tired of this. “You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to shut me out like this after everything we’ve been through, and then lie and say that you aren’t. I care about you, Dan. I always have. And I know you care about me, too. So, why are you doing this?”

Dani shakes her head profusely, almost like she’s trying to shake something out of her brain. “You wouldn’t get it.”

“Try me,” Paige shoots back, her frustration rising. She can feel the walls between them, the weight of everything Dani isn’t saying, and it’s suffocating. “I’ve been your best friend since we were kids. You can’t just cut me out of your life without an explanation. I know something happened over the summer. Something had to have happened, because I know you wouldn’t do this without reason I know it. But I don’t know why you won’t let me in. Why you won’t even talk to me.”

“No!” Dani responds, her voice rising slightly to meet Paige’s. She stays stubborn, not breaking. “You won’t understand.”

“Then make me understand!” Paige bursts out, her frustration finally spilling over. She throws her hands up in the air in disbelief. “God, Dani, I’m trying so hard to be here for you, but you’re making it impossible. Why won’t you just talk to me?”

Dani slams her hand down on the counter, making Paige jump. “Because talking won’t fix anything!” she snaps, turning to face Paige. The blonde can see the tears glistening in Dani’s eyes. “You think this is all about you, don’t you? That I’m pushing you away because of something you did. But it’s not about you. It’s about me. It’s about everything I’ve been through, everything I’m still going through. And you can’t fix that.”

Paige’s heart clenches at the sight of Dani’s tear-filled eyes, but she doesn’t stop. She steps closer once more, her voice soft but firm. “Maybe I can’t fix it. But I can be there for you. I can help you if you just let me. Please, Dani. Just tell me what’s going on.”

Dani shakes her head, her hands trembling. She averts her eyes, looking at the corner of the wall, refusing to meet Paige’s gaze. “I—I can’t,” she whispers, her voice cracking. “You don’t know what it was like…”

Paige’s breath hitches. Dani’s breaking, right in front of her, and Paige can feel it—the dam about to burst.

“What what was like?” Paige asks gently, her heart pounding in her chest. Her voice drops to a low murmur. “What happened, Dani?”

Dani stares at the ground, eyes shimmering with unshed tears. Paige watches as Dani digs her nails into her thigh and she fights the urge to take the brunette’s hand in her own. “My dad…” the Callan girl starts, hardly a whisper. “He—on the Ring doorbell—he saw us kiss. You know how he is. You know what he believes in. He couldn’t accept the fact that his daughter liked other girls. So, he sent me to camp. And—and it wasn’t just any camp…” she pauses, finally meeting eyes with Paige. The blonde watches as her tears begin to spill, and she feels her own heart break with every word that comes out of Dani’s mouth. Dani shrugs, “It was conversion therapy.”

Paige freezes. “What?” Her mind reels, the words not fully sinking in at first. “You… you went to—”

“Yeah,” Dani laughs bitterly, her voice thick with tears. “All summer. While you were at basketball camps, traveling, I was stuck in that place. Being told every day that who I am is wrong. That what I feel is… is disgusting. That I was disgusting.”

Paige feels like the ground has been ripped out from under her. She stumbles forward, her hand reaching out to touch Dani’s arm, but Dani flinches away.

“Dani…” Paige’s voice is shaky, her heart aching. “I—I had no idea. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I couldn’t,” Dani whispers, and her voice breaks with a sob. “I couldn’t tell you, Paige. I wanted to. You don’t know how much I wanted to. But—y’know, I felt ashamed of the fact that I loved you just as much when I left camp as I did when I got there, even after everything they put me through. And I—I wanted to protect you from all my problems.” She pauses, sniffling slightly, trying to wipe her tears with the back of her hand. It doesn’t matter; they keep coming. “My dad, too. He’s friends with Beau’s parents. They started it—the thing with Beau and I. It made my dad happy; that’s all I really wanted. I’ve never wanted or liked Beau, Paige.”

Paige stares at her, eyes flitting across her face. She wants so badly to reach out and touch Dani, hold her. But she doesn’t want to scare her away. So, instead, she asks, “You never did? Not at all?” She thinks she already knows the answer, and she feels almost guilty for being relieved at it.

“Never,” Dani confirms, her arms wrapping around herself, probably trying to stem the sobs. “I wanted someone else.”

Paige’s heart skips a beat.

“But my dad,” the brunette chokes out, “he told me that if he ever saw us together again, that he’d send me back.” Dani looks up at Paige once more, her eyes bloodshot and filled with more fear than Paige has ever seen. Dani shakes her head, sobbing as she says, “Paige, I don’t wanna go back.”

Paige feels her heart shatter at the sight of Dani’s pain finally laid out before her. The blonde takes the final step forward, her hands going to cup Dani’s cheeks, making Dani look at her. Paige says firmly, feeling more protective of the girl before her than anything else in her entire life, “You’re not gonna go back, okay? He can’t you send you back. I won’t let him.”

Dani sobs again, and Paige pulls her in closer, was wrapping her arms around Dani into a tight hug. She holds her so tightly that it feels like they might both stop breathing, but Paige doesn’t care. She isn’t letting go. Not now. Not ever.

“I’m so sorry,” Dani whispers through her tears, clinging to Paige like she’s the only thing keeping her grounded. “I’m so sorry, P. I—I didn’t want to push you away, but I was so scared. I still am.”

“You don’t have to be scared anymore,” Paige murmurs, her own tears slipping down her cheeks as she holds Dani even tighter. “I’m here. I’ll always be here. Everything’s gonna be okay, I promise.”

They stay like that, locked in each other’s arms, both of them crying, both of them holding on like the world is falling apart around them.

Because maybe it is.

But for the first time in months, they aren’t facing it alone.

#paige bueckers #paige bueckers fic #uconn wbb #uconn #wbb #paige bueckers x reader #uconn huskies #wcbb #paige bueckers smut #hopkins p fic #take me to church #wlw

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