#I went to the first one and it was life-changing for me
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TEENAGERS SCARE THE LIVIN' SHIT OUT OF ME


Summary : After ten years in prison, Sukuna returns home. Unfortunately for him, with time comes change. And the worst change he has to deal with is the fact that his kids have become full blown teenagers. Warnings : inaccurate prison and police related stuff probably, exposition , and teenagers
Sukuna closed the car door and let out a loud sigh, running his hands through his hair.Â
He didnât often feel nervous. He could count the number of times he had ever felt nervous, on one hand.Â
First, it was proposing to you. He never admitted he was nervous about this one. But he still remembered having to wipe the sweat that kept building up on his hands as he waited to ask you if you would marry him.Â
The second time was when you both had your first kid. It was his first born child. Of course he was fucking nervous. He was gripping onto your hand, firm, as you laughed off how scared you were of the entire thing. Thankfully, it went well. And the two of you had a beautiful little girl.Â
Sukuna wasnât scared to have his next kid, after his daughter. A son wasnât much different.Â
But the third time he felt nervous was when you had your third, and last child. It had been a difficult process, and Sukuna wasnât allowed in the operating room when it had gone south. Sukuna held you more than your baby, while you were both recovering. It was probably the most scared heâd ever been in his life.Â
The fourth time was 10 years ago.Â
When he was sentenced to prison. For 10 years.Â
Sukuna huffed as you closed the door on your side, getting comfortable in the driversâ seat. He gestured to his legs, cramped in the front. âWhich kid of ours has legs this short?âÂ
"I do." You chuckled, putting your seatbelt on as Sukuna adjusted his seat. âSuikoâs been driving, remember?âÂ
âAnd youâre teaching her?â Sukuna asked, raising a brow. You sent him a look and he scoffed. âI hope youâve gotten better in the past decade.âÂ
âIâm about to show you how good I got,â you snarked back, jiggling the keys in your hand for show, before starting the engine. âWanna get some food on our way? Have you been craving anything?âÂ
Sukuna shrugged. âNothinâ. What would the brats want?âÂ
âI was gonna get pizza tomorrow, for when everyone else comes,â you replied, swiping through radio stations. âSo I made some food before I came to pick you up.âÂ
Sukunaâs shoulders tensed slightly. âWould I be in better⌠graces? If I bought them somethinâ?âÂ
You sighed, lowering the volume on the random FM station youâd stopped at, smiling over at him and surveying his expression carefully. Sukuna grunted, looking away. ââKuna. You know this is gonna be hard.âÂ
ââCourse I know that.âÂ
âDoesnât mean you have to suck up to them, though,â you hummed. âThey didnât forget you. Theyâre well aware youâre their dad.âÂ
Sukuna scoffed. âBut theyâre not gonna see me like that,â he said, deciding to search through the radio stations himself, now that youâd stopped. âIâm just this⌠fucking man that you forced them to write to and see once a year.â
Sukuna regretted saying that as he saw you falter, your gentle smile falling as you pressed your lips together. âIâm sorry,â you said softly. âYou know I meant to bring them around more often, butâŚâÂ
But, it was hard to force teenagers to come see their dad, locked up in a prison that was hours away from home.Â
âNoâŚâ Sukuna huffed, running his hand through his hair again, making it messier in the process. âItâs not your fault,â he said, glancing down at the radio stations again. âWhat happened to that one metal station?âÂ
âHm?â Your brows furrowed in confusion for a moment before you remembered what he was talking about. âOh! Uh, that was gone like⌠a while ago.âÂ
Sukuna frowned. âA while ago⌠as in?âÂ
You shrugged, looking over at him with those stupidly apologetic eyes. âI donât really remember. Itâs been a few years since I noticed though⌠I didnât wanna burst your bubble and bring it up.âÂ
âRight,â Sukuna nodded. âWhat do you listen to now, then?â
You shrugged. âThe kids usually plug their phone in and play what they want⌠if weâre all in the car, Suiko is the boss.â You chuckled to yourself, as you tapped your fingers on the wheel. âShe had an intense metal phase, remember?âÂ
Yeah, he remembers. He remembers you telling him all about it.Â
You glanced over at him, noticing the way he looked down at his feet, staying silent. Carefully, slowly, you moved your hand over to his arm. âIâm here for you, okay?âÂ
Sukuna looked over at you for a moment.Â
Ten years since he was allowed to be alone with you, properly, like this. Heâd stayed in touch with you, every way that he could. But as the years passed, sometimes things came up for you. Someoneâs recital, or a birthday party that they really really had to go to, or someone puking their guts out all night. You were busy raising the kids on your own for the past ten years.Â
Sukuna reached out a hand to your jaw, cupping your face entirely. He brushed his thumb against your jaw, and you watched his eyes carefully, as they traced your skin. As his eyes flickered to your lips, your breath caught in your throat. But when he moved in, very quickly, he wrapped his arm around your head and buried his face into the side of your neck.Â
He could feel your lips lift up into a small smile as they brushed against his ear.Â
The two of you stayed that way, the engine running quietly in the background, as Sukuna gently ran his hand up and down your shoulder. He took comfort in your slow, soft breaths. Your steady heartbeat. Your scent, your warmth.Â
But it was all interrupted with the ring of your phone. You didnât have to say anything. Sukuna tensed, having a feeling of who it was, and he moved away, settling back into his seat and putting his seatbelt on.Â
You answered the call, holding it up to his ear, but he could hear the faint voice of the person on the other line.Â
âMa, Iâm hungry.âÂ
âJust run to the convenience store,â you replied back, checking the time. âItâs gonna be another few hours til we get home.âÂ
âHave you left yet?âÂ
âWeâre about to,â you said.
Sukuna heard a groan. You rolled your eyes, smiling, glancing over at Sukuna, who was clearly focusing on the voice. You mouthed the name of who was on the other line. Kita. Your second kid, your first son. He was sixteen now.Â
âI get the reunions nice and all, but please get home by midnight.âÂ
You scoffed, laughing at your sonsâ words. âDonât worry, weâll get back at a reasonable time, unlike you.â Whatever Kita said next was harder to hear, so Sukuna just focused on your expression. You tilted your head slightly. âJust ask Suiko for some money â she can say no, but tell her I wonât help her learn how to parallel park next week if she does. Good?âÂ
Kita said something else quickly, and you smiled.Â
âAlright, Ki â hey, wanna say hi to pa?âÂ
Sukuna froze, like a deer in headlights.Â
You grinned over at him, mouthing, âDonât worry,â as you put your phone on speakerphone. âOkay, youâre on speakerphone!â You said, all giddy, while reaching out for Sukunaâs hand. Sukuna let you squeeze his hand, as a source of comfort.Â
âUhâŚâ Kita seemed just as awkward as Sukuna felt. âHey pa.âÂ
âHey kid,â Sukuna answered, just as unsure as his son. You pushed your phone into his hands, and he fumbled, taking it because you forced him to. He didnât really know what else to say, and the next few seconds, filled with awkward silence, had him dying on the inside. âYou hungry?â He finally decided, was the right thing to say. Or the only thing, really.Â
âYup,â Kita answered. âBut ma wonât get us takeout more than once a week. Sheâs got a real tight leash.âÂ
Sukuna scoffed. âIâm sure I can loosen it a little.â He grinned at you slightly as you glared over at him halfheartedly. âHey, say that ma and I get you whatever take out you want⌠wanna extend that curfew by an hour or somethinâ?âÂ
Sukuna heard a little chuckle on the other line. Kita let out a hum like he was thinking, before answering. âYou know what â you kids have fun. I want KFC, by the way.â
âYou got it,â Sukuna replied. âSee you later, kid.âÂ
Kita was silent for a moment â Sukuna almost thought that the call had ended like that. But then, he hesitantly replied. âYeah⌠Iâll see you at home, pa.âÂ
Sukuna let out the breath he had been holding.Â
You smiled, leaning over. âCan ma get a bye, too?!âÂ
The call ended.Â
âSee,â you huffed, rolling your eyes. âKi is just like you.â
âThen heâs doomed.â Sukuna said, scoffing, as he looked down at your call history. You had started to back out of the parking lot, ready for the long drive back home.Â
Ki-chan    just now
KoKo       four hours ago
Toji         six hours agoÂ
âToji?â Sukuna said aloud, raising a brow at you.Â
You were more focused on the roads now, but you nodded. âHeâs coming tomorrow. He just asks if I need help with things, usually, butââ A cheeky grin grew on your face. âI have you back now.âÂ
âThe house must be a mess if that deadbeats been the one fixing things,â Sukuna said.Â
âWell, you have a lot of projects to work on now that youâre back,â you replied.Â
âWhatâs Toji even been doing, besides messinâ up our house?â Sukuna asked.Â
âHe told me heâd been visiting you,â you said, your brows furrowing.Â
âDoesnât mean we talk about⌠our outside lives.âÂ
âThen what do you talk about?âÂ
âI donât know,â Sukuna shrugged. âStuff.âÂ
You sighed. âHow informative, honey.â You gestured to your phone, still in his hand. âLook through my photos â Toji told you stuff about Megumi or anything?âÂ
Sukuna frowned. âHeâs been taking care of him?âÂ
âYeah,â you answered softly. âHeâs told me once⌠you basically gave him a second chance after⌠Well, he said he wasnât going to throw it away. Thatâs how heâs repaying you.âÂ
âHeâs repaying me by taking care of his kid?â Sukuna came across pictures of the first day of school this year. âWow⌠Kita grew.âÂ
âHeâs tall,â you nodded. âSuper sudden growth spurt, honestly, but heâs been bragging to Yuji all year.âÂ
Sukunaâs eyes narrowed onto Yuji, who had his arm around Kitaâs shoulder, smiling brightly for the picture. Jin and Kaori hadnât talked to him in years. âHowâs the kid?âÂ
âYuji?â You clarified. Sukuna grunted. âHeâs doing great, a supreme athlete. We have to go to one of his baseball games, you have to see how insane he is. Humanly impossible records⌠he might beat out your old high school ones.â
Sukuna let out a disgruntled scoff, looking at the other kids in the picture. âBlack hair is Megumi⌠who are the other two?âÂ
âKugisaki is the redhead and Yoshino is the other guy,â you replied. âYoshinoâs been friends with Yuji, and Kugisaki is also just in their little group â she came from some village, farther than here, even. She kinda rotates between Yoshino's mom, Jin and me, for food."
Sukuna kept his eyes on the photo for a little longer, remembering the new faces and preparing himself for seeing the grown Yuji, Megumi and Kita, before he swiped to the next picture.
âThis Kagu?â You spared a glance at the picture, and nodded, a small smile on your face.Â
âYup. He hadnât really been excited for middle school⌠just wants to get into a good high school.âÂ
âHeâs still all reserved?â Sukuna asked, frowning as he looked at the photo of his youngest child. Kagu was standing, all monotone, as he stood still for you to take the picture. He was very different from Kita, who was surrounded by his friends.Â
You shrugged. âThe teachers have been pointing it out every year â âHeâs gifted but heâs so quiet.â I canât force him to be a talkative kid around other people.âÂ
âHowâs he at home?âÂ
âOh my goodness,â you sighed. âHe wonât shut up sometimes,â you said with a chuckle. âAnd yet some teacher recommended speech therapy to me. Thatâs the last thing he needs, honestly.âÂ
Sukuna nodded, before swiping to the next picture.Â
Immediately, he scowled. âAre kids allowed to wear makeup to school now?â
âNope,â you grinned. âShe came home and complained about having to wash it all off at school.âÂ
âWhyâd you let her go like that, then?â
You shrugged. âShe didnât listen after I told her all morning â that was earned.âÂ
Sukuna shook his head. âJust yell at her more to make her listen.âÂ
You shook your head even more firmly, smirking over at him. âJust you wait â teenagers are no fun job, Sukuna. Especially not your teenagers.âÂ
chapter one | chapter two
#sukuna ryomen#sukuna x reader#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen#jjk#sukuna#probably will change the summary or start doing chapter summaries for the upcoming chapters#i have lots of ideas for this thing i hope i actually finish typing it out over the summer
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Fighting for the love (of the game) -Chapter 7
Chapter 7: Talking isnât about having the answers
Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Azzi Fudd
Trope: Second chance
A/N: It is finally happening!!! Our girls are learning to communicate again. Let me know what you think at the end. ;)
Word Count: 6.8k words
Masterlist
Azzi POV:
Azzi stepped out of the apartment complex and squinted into the mid-morning sun. The heat hadnât fully kicked in yet, but the air was already soft with that beachside breeze she was starting to recognize.
She let the door swing closed behind her, then stood still for a moment on the sidewalk, clutching her phone in one hand, documents from the leasing office still held onto in the other.
She had toured three places this morning, all in the same general area, but this last one felt different, felt like home.
She scrolled through the photos sheâd snapped: the clean, airy living room with big windows, the open kitchen with actual counter space, two bedrooms with more than enough light, and a balcony that caught just enough of the ocean if you leaned to the left.
There was a 24/7 reception downstairs, guarded gates, cameras at every entrance. It even had a gym that had more than just two treadmills and a broken squat rack. It was also only two blocks from the beach, which meant early morning walks if she couldnât sleep, and only a 15-minute drive to the practice facility.
For a rookie contract, it was a miracle deal. Steph had seriously come through.
Azzi made the quick decision to call her parents before she could overthink it.
Her dad answered first. "Well? Whatâs the verdict, superstar?"
"I just left the building," Azzi said, tucking her phone between her ear and shoulder while she packed away the papers, "but I think I found it."
"You think?" Kate cut in, clearly on speaker now. "You already sound like you made up your mind."
Azzi laughed excitedly. "Okay. Maybe I did."
"Tell us everything," her dad said.
So she did, she went down the list like a scouting report. Security, location, price, proximity to the gym, the kitchen, the floors, even the water pressure in the shower. They still both had follow-up questions.
But they both sounded⌠happy. That easy, settled kind of happy parents get when they know their kid is on track with their life.
"You love it," Kate said softly.
Azzi nodded before she even realized it. "Yeah. I really do."
There was a pause, and then Tim said, "If you want, we can try to come out earlier next weekend. Help you move in, build your furniture. Maybe unpack half your stuff while youâre at practice."
Azzi huffed a laugh, suddenly too warm in her hoodie. "Let me actually sign the lease before we plan a moving party, okay?"
"Oh, details," her mom teased.
Azzi smiled, walking slowly toward the edge of the block, letting her steps slow just to give herself a little more time in this headspace.
It felt good, like she had control over something.
And then her phone buzzed with a new message, just a simple vibration in her hand, but it lit something else entirely in her chest. She glanced down.
PAIGE 10.23 a.m.If you havenât changed your mind about talking⌠Iâm here. I can come get you whenever youâre ready.
Azzi stopped walking.
Her breath caught at the top of her lungs and refused to leave. She just stood there, staring at the message, her thumb frozen on the screen. She felt it, the tight squeeze in her chest, the sharp tangle of nerves unspooling all at once.
She hadnât changed her mind.
Not after last night, not even after the wine wore off. Not when Camâs words still echoed in her head, when Paigeâs words from the drive were still burned in her mind.
Azzi wanted to talk, she needed to clear the air. It wasnât just about closure anymore, it was about truth. It was about hearing it from Paigeâs mouth and giving herself the chance to say what she never got to.
But still, it made her feel anxious.
"Azzi, honey?" Kate asked gently. "You still there?"
Azzi blinked, she realized she hadnât said anything in way too long. "Yeah, yeah, sorry. I just got a message."
"Is everything okay?" Tim asked.
Azzi hesitated. Her thumb hovered over the reply button, but she didnât press it yet.
"Itâs from Paige," she said, trying not to make it sound like anything.
It was just a fact, but there was a beat of silence on the other end.
"Oh," Kate said softly.
Tim cleared his throat. "She wants to talk?"
Azzi didnât answer right away, she didnât need to. They knew her too well.
"I havenât changed my mind," she admitted. "Since yesterday. I⌠I want to hear what she has to say."
Another pause, but this time, it came with a different kind of silence, the kind where she knew her parents were exchanging that look. That knowing look. She could picture it, Tim raising an eyebrow, Kate smiling gently. That familiar, silent conversation they always had.
Azzi sighed. "Please donât get your hopes up."
Kate chuckled softly. "We are not. We re just⌠glad she is trying."
"And that you want to talk," Tim added. "Thatâs a big thing, Azzi."
Azzi didnât say anything at first. Her heart was still in her throat. That text was still open on her screen. Paigeâs name glowing like it always used to. The message wasnât pushy, wasnât dramatic. Just⌠hopeful.
"I donât know what this is," Azzi whispered. "I donât know what I am ready for."
"You donât have to know,â her mom said. "Itâs okay to just⌠talk. You two have a lot of history. Itâs okay that you both needed to take space. And itâs okay if you talk and then need to take space again. These things donât get fixed in one conversation..."
Her dad chimed in, gentle as usual. "Just remember, talking isnât about having the answers. Sometimes itâs just about finally being in the same room again and actually listening."
Azzi closed her eyes. She felt the sun warming her face and she let their words settle.
"I donât know whatâs going to happen," she said quietly.
"You donât have to," Kate replied. "Just take your time. Be honest. And take care of you, first."
Azzi nodded, even though her throat was tight.
"Okay," she whispered. "Iâll call you guys later?"
"Keep us posted," her dad said. "About the lease too."
"Especially the lease," Kate echoed, though her voice was warm. "We love you."
"Love you too."
Azzi ended the call.
She stared at Paigeâs message again. Her fingers hovered over the keyboard for a long moment before she finally typed.
Her thumbs moved before her brain could talk her out of it.
Azzi 10.31 a.m. I just finished. Iâm in Playa del Rey though. Maybe we can meet halfway in an hour?
The response came almost immediately.
Paige 10.32 a.m.Send me the address. Iâll be there in 10.
Azzi stared at the screen, heart kicking up again.
God, of course she would say that. Of course she would be ready like she had nothing else in the world sheâd rather be doing.
Her fingers trembled slightly as she dropped her pin and hit send. She looked out toward the road, already knowing it wouldnât take ten minutes.
She wasnât sure what to expect and that terrified her. But it also felt like the beginning of something she couldnât name yet.
Exactly seven minutes later, a familiar black SUV turned the corner and pulled into the lot with the kind of precise, no-nonsense turn Azzi recognized instantly.
Her heart was already pounding, but something about seeing the car in motion sent a fresh bolt of adrenaline through her chest. She swallowed and clutched her phone tighter, then stepped forward.
Azzi opened the door and climbed in and froze.
Because sitting in the driverâs seat, hand still on the wheel, eyes soft and wide, was Paige Bueckers.
But she was somehow different today.
Her golden hair was pulled back into a low bun, a few flyaways curling around her temples. She wore a sleeveless black Nike training shirt and matching shorts, and Azzi had to physically stop herself from staring too long at the defined curve of her shoulder, the toned stretch of thigh visible in the driverâs seat.
Paige had always been athletic, sure. But now⌠she looked like a professional athlete. A grown-ass woman. One who had been through something and come out the other side.
But none of that compared to her eyes. Those damn eyes. Still that same blue, deep and endless, but now rimmed with emotion. She looked like she hadnât slept much, but she was still just as beautiful as Azzi remembered.
"Hey," Paige said, her voice quiet, scratchy like it hadnât been used in a while.
"Hey," Azzi echoed, soft and a little breathless.
It was awkward, but not in the bad way. Not in the I donât know you anymore way. It was the kind of awkward that came from tension, from knowing that whatever this was, it mattered.
But Paige hadnât moved, neither of them had.
They just⌠sat there. Eyes on each other, studying, reading. Paigeâs hand was still wrapped around the steering wheel, knuckles white. Azziâs fingers were curled in her lap now, nails digging into her thigh through the fabric of her leggings.
She tried not to stare at Paigeâs arms. Failed.
Then Paige spoke, barely louder than a breath. "How do you want to do this?"
Azzi blinked, surprised by the question. She opened her mouth, then closed it again. Her throat tightened, and the first words came out softer than she intended.
"I donât know," she admitted. "I want to talk. I do. I justâŚ" She looked out the windshield for a second, gathering herself. "I donât know how to handle this. I donât know where to start."
Paige nodded, but didnât speak right away. She leaned back slightly, eyes flicking toward the dashboard, then back to Azzi. Her jaw flexed like she was chewing on something she wasnât sure how to say. Then, after a beat, her voice dropped low.
"I have an idea," she said quietly.
And just like that, she shifted into gear and pulled away from the curb. Azzi didnât ask where they were going, she just sat back in her seat, heart in her throat, and let herself look at Paige again.
And this time, she didnât look away.
The door creaked open, and Azzi followed Paige through it into a flood of golden light before she paused and stared.
A rooftop court.
Half-court, technically. Clean blacktop with crisp white lines, a regulation hoop with a glass backboard, and a few benches pushed to the edge where rows of potted palms framed the space. Beyond the railings, there was a rack of balls and a cooler.Â
It was completely empty. Just the city below and the court between them. Azzi blinked, lips parting.
It was⌠perfect. Almost painfully so.
Paige mustâve noticed her reaction because she glanced over with a small, unsure smile tugging at her lips. She scratched the back of her neck, suddenly looking a little shy.
"I was here when you texted."
Azzi turned, startled by the softness in her voice.
"Iâve had it booked all day to practice. But then I figured⌠if you wanted to talk, maybe this would be the place to start." She looked down at her sneakers, then back at Azzi with that same soft smile. "Thought you might want to hoop a little first."
Azzi didnât answer right away.
Because this place was everything she needed at this moment. It had always been. This was where they began. Not this exact rooftop, no, but a court.
Always a court.
This was where they first met, two wide-eyed teenagers at a youth national team camp, sizing each other up during warmups. This was where they became teammates, friends, then something much more.
This was where they stayed after practice just to shoot around until the janitor flicked the lights. This was where Paige pushed her through injury and where Azzi held Paige through one of her lowest slumps.Â
This was where Paige kissed her for the first time, back in Virginia, after a heated one-on-one scrimmage that ended in a messy pile on the baseline, breathless laughter giving way to silence, and then⌠lips. Gentle, trembling, but certain.
This was where Azzi once said Iâm yours forever.
She hadnât realized how much she missed being only the two of them on a court until this moment.
But now here they were again, after everything, walking back onto the court like the universe had wound time just enough to give them one more shot.
Azzi turned toward Paige, eyes searching. There was a look on her face Azzi hadnât seen in a long time. Nervous, but grounded. Like Paige knew this was the right move, even if she didnât know what came next. And somehow that steadied something in Azzi too.
Without saying a word, she walked to the ball rack, picked up one with a familiar spin, and stepped to the line. Paige then smiled, that lopsided, knowing one, and jogged over under the hoop.
Azzi stepped into position at the top of the arc. She set her feet and shot.
Clang.
Paige snagged the rebound off the back rim and tossed it back with a teasing smirk.
Azzi rolled her eyes but smiled back, already feeling her blood settle into rhythm. She fired again and this one swished. Just like the following three.
Paige kept rebounding like clockwork, barely moving more than she had to, always in the right place. Their muscle memory never needed directions.
After a few minutes, they switched. Paige moved to the arc this time and Azzi stepped back, bracing herself. Paige caught the ball off the bounce, spun it lazily in her fingers and nailed the first shot.
And the second. And the third.
"Damn,â Azzi muttered, eyebrows raising despite herself.
Paige just gave her a cocky look and took a step back. Azzi caught the ball after the next rebound, but this time, she didnât pass it back, she held it. Fingers flexed around the leather, her breath caught in her chest.
Paige noticed. Of course, she did. She stepped closer, not too close, but enough that Azzi could hear the slight catch in her breath.
Azzi bounced the ball once and looked at her.
This wasn't the Paige from highlight reels and last yearâs headlines. This was the Paige she knew, the one with flushed cheeks, wide eyes, tank top clinging to her chest, breath still steady from shooting.
The girl she still wasnât done loving.
Azziâs voice came out quieter than she intended. "Whyâd you ask to be traded?"
She regretted how breathless it sounded the moment it left her lips, but it was honest. Clearly vulnerable, but she couldnât help that.
Paige froze, just for a breath. Not long enough to make it awkward, but long enough for Azzi to feel the tremor underneath her skin. Then, in that smooth, instinctual way only Paige had, she spun and stole the ball, scoring with ease.
This time she didnât trash talk, didnât flash a grin. She caught the rebound and held it at her side, shoulders rising and falling with a slow, heavy breath.
"I was there," Paige said, almost too softly.
Azzi blinked. "What?"
"At your draft." Paige still wasnât looking at her, her eyes fixed somewhere just beyond the hoop. "I was there. In person."
Azziâs knees wobbled.
Paige continued like she had no idea she was detonating something inside Azzi. "I flew in the night before. Told myself I wasnât going to go. Just⌠I had to be close. Just had to be in the same city."
It felt like the air around Azzi thinned. Her balance faltered, just slightly, and she stepped back toward the bench, legs suddenly unsure of themselves.
Because she remembered that night.
She remembered how her chest felt too tight even in the middle of her happiest moment. Remembered scanning the crowd once, twice, because she felt something. Someone.
Sheâd told herself it was wishful thinking.Â
"But then I woke up the morning of the draft," Paige said, "and thought, 'Who am I kidding? Iâm not going to miss the biggest night of your life.' "
Her knees gave, and she sank down onto the edge of the bench, not even trying to play it cool. Her hands trembled slightly as they gripped the side of the bench.
Paige hadnât moved. She stood there like she had nowhere else to be. Like she was giving Azzi space to process the explosion sheâd just dropped into the quiet.
And Azzi couldnât stop watching her.
Paige looked over at Azzi this time and continued, voice rough. "I didnât sit in the crowd, didnât want to be seen. I just⌠needed to be there. Even if I couldnât be where I wanted to be."
Azzi closed her eyes. She already knew what was coming.
"That empty chair at your table,â"Paige said, her voice breaking slightly, "I know it was supposed to be mine. And I know I didnât deserve it anymore. But I still⌠I needed to see you."
Azziâs breath hitched. Her arms wrapped around her stomach instinctively, like she was bracing for impact.
"I had to watch you walk across that stage. I had to see you live the dream. Because no matter what happened between us⌠I was proud of you. Iâve never been so proud of someone in my life."
That did it.
The tears sheâd been holding back broke loose, hot, quiet, impossible to stop. She wasnât sobbing, not out loud, but she felt cracked open in the worst and most honest way.
She had spent months wondering if sheâd meant too much or too little. Wondering if Paige had already moved on, if she was just a chapter while Paige got to write new ones.
Sheâd cried into pillows at 3 a.m. and told herself she was imagining things, that the love they had couldnât possibly still live in Paige the way it did in her.
But based on what Paige was saying, it had. It did.
This was the thing she never thought sheâd get. Not just the apology or a scripted speech. But the truth, Paigeâs truth, stripped of ego, stripped of everything but that core that Azzi had always loved most: her big, aching heart.
And Azzi felt her chest rise with something between relief and heartbreak.
Because she had wanted this, she had needed to hear this. And yet, it still hurt, because they could have been here months ago. Because all of this pain mightâve been avoided if Paige had just chosen her then. Kept choosing them.
Azzi looked up finally. And there she was.
Paige was standing across from her like a ghost turned solid. Her shoulders tense, jaw clenched, eyes shiny but determined. She looked scared, but she also looked more herself than Azzi had seen her in a long, long time.
Azziâs hands gripped her knees, white-knuckled. Her heart felt like it was stuck between cracking open and folding in on itself.
She had imagined this conversation a hundred different ways. Most of them ended in yelling. Some of them ended with her walking away. None of them prepared her for the weight of this. And none of them prepared her for the way her chest swelled with something terrifying and familiar and overwhelming as she stared at Paige now.
Because even after all of it⌠this girl was still her home.
Paige POV:
Paigeâs heart was hammering so loud she could hear it in her ears.
It pulsed behind her eyes, down her throat, made her fingers twitch. But she stayed still, feet planted, hands at her sides like she was trying to remember how to breathe without making it obvious.
Azzi was sitting on the edge of the bench like someone had knocked the air out of her.
Her legs drawn up slightly, her arms curled around herself, her body visibly shaking even as she tried to hide it. The tears had started slowly, but now they tracked down Azziâs face in full, silent streaks.
Paige felt every single one like a punch to the gut.
Her instincts screamed at her to move. To cross the court in two quick steps, drop to her knees, wrap her arms around her and whisper every apology she hadnât yet said. She wanted to press her forehead to Azziâs and promise that sheâd never hurt her again, not like that, not ever.
But she didnât move.
This wasnât the moment to make it about what she wanted, not after everything sheâd done. It was Azziâs turn, her moment to choose whether Paige got to keep speaking, keep hoping.
So Paige stood still in the quiet, watching the girl she still loved break in front of her, and letting her. It hurt badly, God, it killed her. But Azzi deserved to feel everything, to take up space and fall apart without being rushed into forgiveness.
Paige had come here to fight for her, but fighting didnât mean pushing, it meant waiting.
Let her choose you, or not. Regardless of how terrifying it feels.
She bit her lip hard. Sheâd been doing that all day. Her mouth tasted like iron. Her hands were shaking now, tucked into her pockets so Azzi couldnât see. Her throat ached from holding back all the things she still wanted to say.Â
Azzi wasnât even looking at her anymore. Her gaze had dropped to the floor of the court, to the peeling white paint near the sideline.
God, Paige loved her. She still loved her so much, it didnât feel survivable sometimes.
She clenched her jaw, trying not to break.
And then, finally, Azzi shifted.
She inhaled, slow and shaky, and Paige watched the way her shoulders moved with it before she lifted her head and met Paigeâs eyes.
Those eyes, that look. It was familiar and foreign all at once, devastation and recognition tangled together, like Azzi was seeing her for the first time and the thousandth.
Azzi took a breath, lifted a hand and tapped the empty space on the bench beside her.
It was nothing more than a gesture, but to Paige, it was the sound of a door creaking open.
It was a signal to continue.
She moved instantly.Â
She crossed the court in a few careful strides, her sneakers nearly silent against the pavement, and sat down right where Azzi had asked her to.
Cclose enough to feel her warmth, far enough not to touch.
Her body was leaning ever so slightly in Azziâs direction, like a magnet she couldnât fight even if she tried. But she didnât move further. She also didnât speak, just waited.
She was close enough now for Azzi to read her eyes if she wanted to. Paige had always been terrible at hiding her feelings from her. Not that she wanted to this time.
She braced herself for the next question. For the thing Azzi was building toward. And despite the tremble in her legs, despite her pulse trying to punch its way out of her ribcage, Paige didnât run.
Because the girl beside her, the one who just made room for her, was the reason she was here. And if Azzi was brave enough to open that door even an inch, then Paige would be brave enough to stay.
They sat in silence for what felt like hours. In reality, it was maybe a minute. But Paige could feel every second stretch across her chest like a rubber band about to snap.
Then, finally, Azziâs voice came, soft, but steady.
Azzi didnât look at her right away. Her chin was still tilted down slightly, her knuckles resting against her thigh, breath uneven like she was trying not to fall apart again. But her voice came, quiet and raw, like it scraped her throat on the way out.
"And after the draft?" she asked, not quite looking at her. "How did you get drafted? You never really answered that."
Paige nodded slowly, trying to swallow down the knot that had risen to her throat the second Azzi spoke again. She exhaled and pressed her tongue to the roof of her mouth for a second, trying to organize the storm in her head into something that resembled a sentence.
"I ran into Coach," she said finally, her voice rasping just a little. "Of course. Geno always sees everything."
She glanced at Azzi, and sure enough, a small, barely-there smile tugged at the corner of her lips. The kind of smile that made Paige feel like she was twenty again, standing outside the UConn weight room in a hoodie two sizes too big, trying not to fall in love even more with her best friend.
"He didnât lecture me," Paige continued, forcing her gaze forward. "It was the softest talk Iâve ever gotten from him. Which made it so much worse."
She paused, eyes flicking up toward the palms swaying gently around the rooftop. Her throat was thick now. She laughed once, dry and breathless, shaking her head.
"He just⌠looked at me like he knew. Like he knew I was completely lost. And instead of making me feel like shit for it, he just saidâŚ" Her voice caught for a second, then steadied. "He said I still knew how to fight. That Iâd just forgotten what I was fighting for."
Thatâs when she felt it. She turned her head again and found Azzi looking up at her.Â
Those warm, fierce eyes of hers locked onto Paige like they were anchoring something inside her. There was something behind them too, confusion maybe, or memory, like Paige had said something that echoed deeper than she intended.
Like Azzi had heard those words before.
And for a moment, Paige forgot how to speak.
She could see the tears still glistening in Azziâs lashes, the flush in her cheeks, the way her fingers were tangled in the hem of her shirt like she didnât trust herself to be still.
Paige wanted to say something, anything, to hold her, to reach across the space and remind her that she wasnât alone.
But she didnât. Instead, she swallowed and pushed forward.
"I realized in that moment just how fucking stupid Iâd been," she whispered. "How far Iâd drifted from the version of myself I liked. How I stopped believing I deserved to be happy. How I lost sight of what actually mattered. What was worth fighting for."
Her voice cracked slightly at the end, and she paused, blinking hard.
"I went back to my hotel after that," she said quietly, holding Azziâs gaze now. "I didnât sleep. I just laid there, staring at the ceiling. I kept replaying it, Genoâs words, then your face. And I just kept thinking⌠if I could change one thing, just one, what would it be?"
She paused, swallowed, her voice catching.
"I didnât want to wonder anymore. So I called my agent and said, 'Make the trade happen, whatever it takes.'"
Her hands were trembling again. But she didnât hide them this time.
"I didnât care about money or minutes or my sponsor deals. I justâŚ. I justâ" She looked back at Azzi. "I needed to be here. In the same city as you.â
She bit her lip again, but not to hold back, to anchor herself.
"I knew it wouldnât fix anything. I knew I might not even get the chance to talk to you about all of this. But if there was any chance, even the tiniest openingâ"
She didnât finish the sentence, she didnât need to. Azzi was still looking at her, still listening.
Paige watched Azzi lean back on the bench, her shoulders dropping as she tilted her head toward the sky. Her hands were in her lap, still fidgeting with the hem of her shirt.
The sun was catching in her curls, turning the edges gold, like it had years ago on a different court, when they were just two kids with overworked knees and too many dreams.
She looked like she was waiting for the universe to answer something.
Paigeâs breath caught. Her hands curled into fists against her thighs, knuckles tight. She was trying so hard to stay still, but everything inside her was screaming.
Say something. Please, say something, Azz.
And then she did.
"Iâve waited to hear those words for months," she said softly, eyes still on the sky. âI told myself I just needed answers. That I could move on if I just understood what happened."
Paige flinched at the word move on. But what really ripped through her was the next one.
"But after a while, I gave up," Azzi continued. "I told myself Iâd never get closure. That you were just⌠gone. And that was it."
Closure.
Azzi didnât say it cruelly, it was soft, almost wistful, but Paige felt like sheâd been punched in the stomach.
The word hit Paige like a blow to the chest. Closure.
No. No, no, no.
That wasnât what this was, it wasnât what she came here for. Paigeâs stomach flipped violently, her throat closed.Â
Closure meant endings, ending meant goodbye. It meant Azzi walking away after finally hearing what she deserved. Her heart thudded against her ribcage, her mind raced. She wanted to say something, anything.Â
Donât call it closure. Please, donât let this be goodbye.Â
She was already halfway through rehearsing some terrible plea when Azziâs voice cut through again.
"But now that Iâve heard itâŚ" Azzi let out a shaky breath, then gave a humorless laugh that sounded like it hurt. "and itâs more than I ever hoped forâŚ"
She turned her head, finally looking at Paige again. Her eyes were glassy still, but this time, they werenât just full of pain. They held something deeper.
That look.
Paige nearly crumbled under it. Because she knew that look like it was carved into her bones, had known it since they were teenagers in oversized hoodies and taped ankles and stolen late-night study room kisses. It was soft and full of ache. Familiar and brand new all at once.
It was the look of love.
"How the fuck am I supposed to stay away from you now?" Azzi asked, voice rough with disbelief. "How am I supposed to accept what happened?" she said, her voice trembling. "How am I supposed to move on with my life without you in it?"
Paigeâs heart thudded so hard she thought Azzi might hear it.
She wanted to grab her. Kiss her. Fall apart in her arms and promise she would never, ever fuck this up again.Â
But she didnât move. Her whole body was locked in place by the weight of those words. And then Azzi looked at her again.
"How do I protect my heart," she whispered, "if I let you stay⌠and you run away again?"
Thatâs when Paige felt it, the shift from fear to absolute devastation. Because this was Azzi holding her heart in her hand and asking, can I survive you twice?
Paige had no easy answer for, but she knew this:
She wasnât running this time, never again.
She hadnât come here for closure. She came here to stay.
Azzi POV:
Azziâs breath hitched the moment the words left her mouth. Her throat felt raw, her chest hollowed out like something had been scooped from deep inside. She hadnât meant to say it like that, hadnât planned to say it at all. But it had come out, exactly the way it lived in her: desperate and afraid and so full of love it almost hurt.
How do I protect my heart if I let you stay and you run away again?
And now it was out there, no way to pull it back.
She kept her eyes on Paige, even though it was like staring into the sun, beautiful and overwhelming and dangerous.Â
Her whole body trembled with it, with the weight of the truth now sitting between them, trembling just as violently as her hands. Her chest felt like it was caving in, a pressure building with every second of silence.
She didnât know what would happen next. Sheâd opened the door, just a crack, but stepping through it again meant trusting Paige with the most fragile parts of her. Parts she wasnât sure could survive another storm.
Because Azzi knew exactly what she wanted, she always had.
She wanted Paige.
She wanted to lean in and lose herself in those blue eyes and let Paige hold her again like she used to, like nothing else mattered.
But reality had teeth and theyâd already bitten her once.
She couldnât live another nine months like the last ones. Couldnât carry that silence and confusion, that feeling of being erased from someoneâs future when sheâd built her own around them.
She couldnât love like that and lose like that again.
So now she waited. Let her breath slow. Let the ache roll through her without flinching. Let Paige do something that would help her decide what she could handle.
Paige looked like she was holding herself together with every ounce of discipline she had. But her eyes were so sure. Blue and blazing with something Azzi hadnât seen in a long time.
Purpose.
And then Paige did something Azzi wasnât expecting. She reached out. Her hand, open and palm up, hovering in the small space between them.
Azzi stared at it. Her brain was trying to talk her out of it,.
You canât go back, youâll regret this, she might leave again.
But her body wasnât listening, because her heart remembered this hand. Remembered everything it had held. Her fingers curled instinctively, like theyâd been missing this touch all along.
She exhaled, shaky and unsure, and slipped her hand into Paigeâs.
Their fingers wrapped around each other like theyâd never forgotten how. Paigeâs hand was warm and clammy and way too familiar, and Azzi almost choked on the ache of it. She didnât even realize she was crying again until the salt burned in the corner of her lips.
And then Paige leaned in.
Not close enough to kiss, not even close enough to touch anything else. Just enough for Azzi to feel the steady pulse of her breath.
When she spoke, her voice was lower, but steady. Like she'd practiced this a thousand times, not because it was rehearsed, but because she meant it.
"Iâm here to fight," Paige said, her eyes never leaving Azziâs. "For two things. The game⌠and you."
Azziâs heart squeezed.
"Iâm not here to make this harder for you, I swear. Iâll meet you wherever you need me," Paige continued. "If you want me to just be your teammate, Iâll be the best teammate youâve ever had. Iâll hype you up, Iâll have your back in every timeout and every drill. Iâll stay in my lane and never cross a line."
Her thumb paused its movement, then resumed.
"If you want to try being friends, Iâll be there. Patient and no pressure. Iâll learn again how to support you in a way that doesnât ask for anything more in return."
Azziâs throat was tight now. Her jaw trembled.
"But if youâŚ" Paigeâs voice caught, just for a second. "If youâre willing to give me another chance, even the smallest one, Iâll spend the rest of my life proving to you that Iâm not going anywhere."
Azzi blinked, but the tears came anyway.
"I promise Iâll spend every second proving youâre the best thing thatâs ever happened to me. And nothing, not fear, not pressure, not even my own mind, will ever make me leave again."
Her hand was still in Paigeâs. Her body was still tense and her heart still pounding.
But suddenly⌠she could breathe again. Because Paige wasnât just saying the right things, she was showing up, exactly the way Azzi used to dream she would. And now the question wasnât whether Azzi could trust Paige again.
It was whether she was ready to let herself feel this love again and all that came with it.
Azzi didnât speak right away. She held Paigeâs hand, warm and steady in hers, and just⌠sat in it. In the weight of the moment and in the terrifying tenderness of it. Paigeâs words were still echoing in her head.
Iâm here to fight for two things⌠for the game, and for you.Â
And God, did Azzi want to believe her. It would have been so easy to fall forward into it, to close the gap between them and pretend the last nine months hadnât broken her into pieces. To let herself be naive and in love and hopeful, the way she used to be.
Part of her wanted it desperately.
But another part, the part that had grown a little older, a little more guarded, was still trembling from knowing what it cost her last time to trust that nothing would fall apart.
She couldnât do it, not just like that.
She thought about what her parents said that morning about taking space, about understanding her emotions instead of reacting from them. Theyâd known, even without knowing what Paige had told her yet, theyâd known that this was going to be a lot. And they were right.
She took a breath, then another.
Because even though her whole body ached to believe this version of Paige, this honest, open, fighting version, she couldnât give her a halfway answer. Not after everything, not if there was even a chance sheâd backpedal again. Azzi had to be sure she was choosing not just love⌠but security.
Her gaze dropped to their joined hands, to the soft tension in Paigeâs fingers, then she squeezed Paigeâs hand. A signal that she wasnât pulling away from this, not completely.
She looked at Paige again. Those wide blue eyes, so full of everything, hope, regret, longing. Azzi could see it all, Paige wasnât trying to hide anymore.
And finally, Azzi spoke.
"IâŚ" Her voice was low, and she hated how fragile it sounded. "Can we⌠decide on this later?"
Paige blinked. Her whole face shifted like she was bracing for a door to close. Azzi rushed to fill the space before the silence swallowed them whole.
"I justâ" She shook her head a little, gathering the pieces of herself again. "I need to process everything you said. It means a lot that you shared it with me. I needed to hear it more than you know."
Her voice cracked slightly, but she held steady.
"I just⌠need to sit with it. Process it. I donât want to lead you on or say something Iâm not ready to stand behind yet. And I donât want to make a decision thatâs just based on what I want to believe. I need to know itâs something I can believe in."
There was a pause. Paigeâs face faltered, not dramatically, but just enough. The light in her eyes dimmed slightly, like her confidence took a hit she wasnât quite ready for. Her jaw clenched for half a second, like it always did when she was trying not to let emotion show too strongly.
But thenâŚsomething changed.
Paige nodded, slowly at first, then with more certainty. Azzi expected her to pull her hand away, but she didnât. Instead, Paige took a breath, slow, chest rising visibly, and gave her the softest smile Azzi had seen on her face in a long time.
"I can do that," Paige said. Her voice was hoarse. "Iâm already grateful you listened, that you let me say it. I meant it when I said⌠Iâll take whatever youâre willing to give. And if what you need right now is time to process⌠Iâll give you that too."
They sat there for a long time in the quiet midday sun, hands still clasped between them, warm and steady, Azzi's thumb brushing slowly over Paigeâs.
It hadnât hit her right away but now, in the quiet that followed, it started to land. Paige hadnât tried to fix anything, she hadnât panicked or pushed, she had just⌠stayed.
And that was different.
The old Paige wouldâve filled the silence with promises, with pleas, with that desperate need to know where they stood. But this Paige, the one sitting quietly beside her now, had simply listened, nodded, and told her sheâd wait. As long as it took.
That small shift, that patience, said more than anything. It told Azzi everything had changed.
And maybe that change was exactly what she needed to believe in this love again.
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đľđ˛ đłđđ°đ¸đśđťđ´ đšđźđđ˛đ đşđ˛ âŚ
wc: 4,164
summary: life changes and more feelings arise, but that doesn't change you and sam
warnings: cursing, smut (mdni), heavy make out, dry humping, coming in pants, sub sam, just horny and in love teens
when you woke the next morning, sam was still asleep beside you. your thoughts drifted to his quiet admission of love to you last night, but you didnât dwell on it for too long. fear that if you did, or even worse, asked him about it, it would only scare him away again. so, instead, you admired him as he slept, taking in all of him. he was so⌠beautiful. there was no other way for you to describe it, it was just a simple fact. he may have been as large as a moose, but he had the grace and beauty of a deer. you remembered thatâs what you compared him to when you first met him. eyes as large and wide as a baby deer. it seems that aging a couple years didnât take that from him. you hoped it never would. your eyes then dropped down to his lips that are slightly parted, soft breaths falling between them. while sam was gone, you never kissed another boy. didnât let another boy touch you. to be fair, sam never touched you, either. at least, not the way you wanted him to. slowly, sam began to shift around in your bed, stirring awake. his head turned towards you, searching for your eyes. âgood morning,â he said, voice laced with sleep. âmorning,â you replied in a whisper. he rubbed the sleep from his eyes, trying his best to stretch in your small bed. âwhat do you wanna do today? celebrate your birthday early?â he questioned, pulling you closer. âtodayâŚ? what about your dad? donât you have to go back to him with dean?â you asked, eyebrows furrowed.
the boy just shrugged, as if not worried about the situation. âdean already knows about me staying with you for the day. besides, my dad doesnât matter right now, bug. todayâs all about you,â he said simply. âbut-â you began, but he cut you off with a finger pressed against your lips. âno âbutsâ, okay? lemme do this for you. i wanna have at least today with you. and if he gets mad, fuck him.â his words make you smile, so similar to the ones marie had said to you all those months ago. his hazel eyes dance across your face, watching as you smile. âyouâre so beautiful, you know that?â he muttered. you blush, hiding your head in his chest. âshut up.â
he laughs softly, running his fingers through your hair. âno, iâm serious. i didnât think it was even possible, considering how pretty you looked when we were younger.â if you had told your fourteen year old self that sam winchester would be in her bed, complimenting her, and holding her close, she definitely wouldâve looked at you like you were insane. you stayed close to his chest, breathing him in. he smelled like cinnamon and cedarwood, with just a hint of gunpowder. he tapped you on the shoulder. âcâmon, pretty girl. letâs go get some breakfast, yeah?â you nodded and sat up on your bed, stretching your limbs as he pulled you to stand.
he didnât let go of your hand while the two of you walked down the stairs and to the kitchen. bobby sat at the table eyeing the two of you, but mostly sam. âyou want cereal, bug?â sam asked. you just nodded, not straying far from him.
âyou two didnât do anything up there last night, did ya?â bobby suddenly asked. your eyes widened at his question, and sam nearly dropped the carton of milk. âbobby!â you exclaimed, but the older man just shrugged. âno, we went to you with a stern, but soft look in his eyes. âyou doing okay?â he mouthed. you nodded, sending him a soft smile. âiâm okay. promise.â
you could tell he was still a bit wary, but some of his tension melted away. sam placed the cereal bowl in front of you, taking the seat beside you. bobby turned his attention from you to sam, sending him that stern, fatherly look. âi wanna talk to you, boy,â he said, standing up from his seat. sam knew better than to try and argue, so he stood and followed bobby out to the living room. they were just far enough that you couldn't hear much of their conversation.
âi could slap you upside your head, boy,â bobby muttered at sam. despite sam being over a head taller than the man, he felt like a little kid being scolded, again. âi can't believe that stunt you pulled. leaving her for nearly a whole damn year?â
âyeah, i⌠i know, bobby. iâm sorry,â sam said.
âwhat could have even possessed you to do something like that?â
sam then explained what he told you the night before. everything having to do with his dad, and him not allowing sam to call you anymore. by the end, bobby couldnât wait until he would see the winchester father face to face to share some words. âif that ever happens again, sam, you call me. understand that? without you⌠she nearly lost herself. i can't see her like that again.â
sam nodded, jaw set and firm. âit wonât, bobby, i promise.â
Ö´ÖśÖ¸. ..đ ࣪ Ö´ÖśÖ¸ ĘŕŹŕźŕźŕż
after breakfast, sam told you to get yourself ready. when you asked why, he just kissed your cheek and said that it was a surprise. you thumbed through all the clothes in your closet twice. nothing seemed to really call your name. until your eyes landed on the brown dress you bought last year. you hit a growth spurt since then, so you werenât even sure if it would still fit you, but it wouldnât hurt to try.
it fell just above your knees, so you slipped on a pair of low rise jeans under it. you recently saw on tv that it was the new fashion trend. you then quickly curled your hair and put on some mascara before grabbing your messenger bag and slipping on your converse. when you walked down the stairs, samâs back was turned towards you, and you could see that he was wearing an old suit that bobby must've given him. bobby was muttering something about a âstupid tieâ and how he âhasnât done this in years. the sight caused you to stifle a small giggle, which made samâs head turn towards you.
âwowâŚâ he whispered, eyes wide as he watched you walk down the stairs. you blushed, ducking your head. he bent his head, trying to catch your eyes. âyou ready to go?â you nodded. he headed towards the front door, opening it for you. before you followed, you turned to bobby, hugging him. he hugged you back, before pulling you away to look at you. âjust like your mom. so beautiful.â
he pressed a kiss to your temple while squeezing your shoulders. âyou have fun today, alright?â
âi will,â you promised, before stepping out with sam.
when you showed sam where your car was, he let out a small laugh. âjust like dean, huh? you and your muscle cars. you shrugged, tossing him your keys. âthey're badass.â he just shook his head and opened the passenger door for you. once you were inside, he hopped into the driverâs side. while he was adjusting everything, a small photo fell from the visor. he picked it up to read the date on the back. may 2nd, 1999. when he turned it over, it was faded picture of you and sam from his sixteenth birthday. even though it was only last year, it felt like the both of you had changed so much. grew older, looked different, matured, everything.
âi always kept it with me,â you admitted in a small whisper. âitâs the only picture i had with the two of us in it.â
âwell, guess weâll have to take a few more, huh?â he looked over at you with a smile.
âi guess so.â you smiled back at him. it was the most you had smiled in a while.
Ö´ÖśÖ¸. ..đ ࣪ Ö´ÖśÖ¸ ĘŕŹŕźŕźŕż
sam took you to a town about an hour away, assuring you he didnât mind the drive. most of the drive was filled with the two of you talking about anything and everything. he told you how john was becoming angrier by the day, and drinking more by the night. you squeezed the hand he kept glued to your thigh in understanding. he also told you about all the different high schools he and dean had been to. you liked those stories the most. it was interesting to learn what a high school was like and the typical high school experiences from someone else and not from books or television. when he asked you about your schooling, you told him how you had finished earlier this year and he gently squeezed your thigh. âthatâs amazing, bug! are you gonna go to college?â he asked, turning to look at you and then back at the road. âprobably not,â you said. âi like staying at home and doing research on the monsters.â he nodded his head, but his eyes shifted and his body became tense, like there was something he was keeping to himself. âwhat about you?â you questioned. âdo you plan on going to college after this year?â
he hesitated for a second, but then nodded his head. âuh, yeah, iâve been looking into it. all my counselors and teachers say i could get into a really good school if i wanted to. but dean and my dad donât know. they- they canât know.â
âhey,â you said gently, grabbing his hand to hold it, âitâll be between us. and, iâm happy for you. if you do decide to go.â
he opened his mouth to argue, but you silenced him. âsam, iâm serious. if going to college is what you want, then you should go. besides, they got really fancy computers there. iâm sure we can do video calls or something.â he laughed softly, deciding to drop it for now, even though he wanted to do anything but. he wasnât gonna ruin your special day.
and just like he promised, the day was all about you. he took you to a record shop, buying you all the records you had chosen. he even attempted to buy all the ones you just touched, and you had to practically pry them away from him. ânothing is too much for you, pretty girl,â he tried to argue, but you ended up winning that argument. he then took you to a bookstore where you spent most of your time. following you around like a lost puppy, while he silently held all your books in his hands. afterwards, he took you to a small diner, ordering some food, and a large chocolate milkshake to share. the two of you silently ate your food, until he spoke up. âi donât know if i told you, but i really like your dress. itâs pretty on you.â
âthanks,â you muttered shyly. âi actually bought it for my sixteenth birthday. i thought it matched⌠it reminded me of you. thatâs why i bought.â he looked at you with that sad puppy gaze, sliding his hand across the table to grab yours. âiâm sorry, again. i shouldâve been there for your sixteenth like you were there for mine.â
you squeezed his hand tighter, shaking off his apologies. âitâs okay, sam, really. youâre here now.â thatâs all that matters.
Ö´ÖśÖ¸. ..đ ࣪ Ö´ÖśÖ¸ ĘŕŹŕźŕźŕż
itâs already dark outside when you and sam get back to your house. bobby seems to already be fast asleep, as thereâs no lights on. sam carries all your bags as you pull out your house key from your purse. he brings them all the way up to your room, laying them on your bed. he turns towards you, wrapping his arms around your waist to pull you close. âi had a really fun time with you today,â he whispered.
âi did too. thank you for all of this.â
âyou deserve it, bug. all of it and more.â he swallows, taking a deep breath. âiâm sorry i have to leave tonight. i wanted to spend more time with you.â
âitâs okay, sammy. i understand, really. all of this was more than enough for me,â you assured, squeezing his biceps.
âthen let me leave you with one more thing, okay?â he offered. you nodded as he started leaning down to kiss your lips. the kiss was sweet and slow, his hands gripping your hips tighter as he slowly began to kiss you with more passion. your hands trailed up his arms to hold the sides of his neck, feeling the smooth skin beneath your palms. you could feel him straining as if he was trying to hold himself back. you pull back just enough to talk, and he chases after your lips. âdonât,â you whispered.
âdonât what?â he asked, chest heaving.
âdon't hold back.â
and those were all the words he needed. when he dove back in, it was more passion filled. as he kissed you, he walked you over to your bed until your knees hit the back of your frame. without breaking the kiss, you wrapped your fingers around the lapel of his jacket, tugging him onto the bed with you. you pulled away again, pushing at his jacket.
âoff,â you commanded, and he immediately followed. he struggled to pull it off, but once he did, he threw it somewhere behind him.
he then dropped his head to your shoulder, pressing a small kiss to the junction of your neck. he then pressed another right under your ear, and then lightly kissed down your jaw. you tilted your head back, giving him more access. he gently bit down on the side of your neck, before licking the mark. you let out a moan at the unexpected feeling and slapped a hand over your mouth to quiet yourself. you could feel how the sound affected him as his bulge grew against the inside of your thigh. and you may have been inexperienced, but shit, did he feel big.
your hips uncontrollably jolt against his, and your core presses against his cock. the sensation of the pressure and clothing between you make you both shiver and moan. you grab ahold of his chin, and move his head up to kiss him. his hands hold up his weight and find their place beside the sides of your head. your nails drag down the sides of his neck, not enough to make him bleed, but enough to leave a mark. and sam winchester fucking whimpers when you do so.
the sound acts like a key to unlocking something inside you, as you wrap your legs around his hips, flipping him over. the kiss doesnât stop once, and sam couldâve come from how assertive you seemed. the confidence then fell, causing you to pull away and breathe. âiâve never⌠iâm a virgin,â you blurted.
âi am too,â he responded. âwe donât have to if you donât want to.â
you shook your head. âno, no, i want to. i just⌠i donât think i can go all the way.â
âthatâs okay, pretty girl, thatâs okay,â he assured. âhere, letâs do this.â you slid off of him, watching as he moved up to sit against your head. he gestured for you to come closer, and you did, sitting down on his lap. his hands found their place on your waist. âthis okay?â he asked, and you nodded.
when you began to kiss again, your hips slowly grinded down onto his bulge, making him moan into your mouth. the room feels warmer and it makes your clothes stick to your skin. a warm and buzzing feeling begins to grow in your belly, making your toes curl. you pulled back, looking him in the eyes. âi-i think iâm close,â you muttered.
âme too,â he huffed. he dropped his head to your neck, and you could feel his hot breath fanning against your skin. he let out a small mewl when you grinded harder against him. âgod, y/n, i love you. i love you so fucking much.â
those words were all that you seemingly needed when you could feel the coil snap inside you, biting down hard on your bottom lip to quiet your moaning. sam followed shortly after, as he slowly grew limp against you. his bangs stuck to his forehead from all the sweat gathering there, and you pushed them back. his met yours and they seemed even softer than before. he looked at you like you hung the moon stars. like you were the answer to every question he ever had. like⌠like you were the love of his life.
âi love you too,â you admitted. âi think iâve loved you ever since i met you.â
he smiled at that, holding the back of your neck to pull you down, and press your forehead against his. âme too, bug.â
âso⌠does this mean weâre boyfriend and girlfriend?â you asked softly.
âi think so,â he replied. âdo you want us to be.â
âiâd like that a lot, baby.â the nickname falls from your lips accidentally, yet feels like it shouldâve been there all along. it makes sam feel all tingly inside and he leans up to kiss you again when he hears a car horn beep twice.
you could feel your heart drop at the sound, knowing his visit was over. âiâll walk you out,â you whispered, and he just solemnly nodded.
you bent down to grab his jacket, and slipped it on him. then fixing his tie and hair to make him look presentable. he does the same for you, combing his fingers through your hair. the walk down the hallway and stairs is silent. not out of guilt or regret, but in contentment. the acts committed changed everything, yet nothing at all. you guys didn't go all the way, yeah, but this was still something that the two of you shared and would treasure. once outside, you could see that it was only dean in the car, which you were grateful for.
you wouldn't want john to see sam like this, and you donât think you could control your emotions if you ever faced the man. âgive me one second,â you said, before walking in the house to grab a marker. you walked back over to him and grabbed his hand, writing your number on it. âthere. that way you can text me when you miss me.â
he hugged you, holding you tight to his chest. âi love you, pretty girl,â he whispered, pressing a kiss to your forehead. he reluctantly pulled away, looking at you longingly as he began to walk away.
âbaby, wait,â you called out. he turned around. âyeah?â
you grabbed his hand and pulled him in for a real kiss. âi love you, too,â you said once you pulled away. âand stay safe.â he squeezed your hand three times. âi always do, pretty girl.â
you watched as he walked away from you, waving at him as he slipped into the passenger seat of the impala. you didnât head back into the house until the car was completely out of sight, the only remnants left behind was the dust it kicked up. walking back up the stairs, it didnât feel heavy like the last time he left. this time was different.
you didnât even change out of your old clothes when you laid down on your bed. the room smelled of sam, and it calmed you down, already pulling you into sleep when a buzz came from your phone. rolling over, you grabbed it from your nightstand and opened the message. it was from an unknown number, but you knew exactly who it was.
âi miss you already, pretty girl :(â
you smiled as you texted back, âi miss you too, babyâ
Ö´ÖśÖ¸. ..đ ࣪ Ö´ÖśÖ¸ ĘŕŹŕźŕźŕż
as the year passes by, sam keeps his promise. he video calls you on your birthday, and blows out a candle on a cupcake that he bought for the occasion. after that, he calls and texts you almost every single day. sometimes itâs long conversations, while other times itâs just a simple âgood morningâ and âgood night.â it doesnât have to be a grand gesture, you just have to know that heâs still *here* and that he cares. when the old nightmares haunt you, you donât have to deal with them alone. you can just call sam. it doesnât matter what time it is, because heâll pick up everytime.
he visited on his eighteenth birthday with dean, but itâs only for a few hours. it didnât matter to you, though. because it was the first time you saw him since early october. you gift him another book for his birthday. this time, itâs an annotated book of frankenstein. âitâs my favorite, so i wanted you to carry a piece of me everywhere you go.â that same night, dean takes a new picture of the two of you. itâs sam laughing with cake smushed all over his face, while youâre kissing him on the cheek. you put that one in your car alongside the old one.
you donât see him again until august, but this time, the visitâs unexpected.
Ö´ÖśÖ¸. ..đ ࣪ Ö´ÖśÖ¸ ĘŕŹŕźŕźŕż
when sam came to your home, it was almost eleven oâclock at night, and bobby was already sleeping. he doesnât knock on your front door, he climbs up to your fucking window like some fairytale prince. when he knocks, it jolts and makes you reach for the knife under your pillow. but when you see that itâs sam, you turn down the volume of your fiona apple record and walk to open your window. âbaby? what happened?â you asked. he doesnât respond as he looks at you with those puppy dog eyes. you climb through your window, sitting down beside him on the roof. âdo you wanna talk about it?â
he grabs your hand, rubbing his thumb across your scar. âit's my dad. he found out about the whole college thing. he didn't take it too well, and⌠well, he kicked me out. said if i wanted to leave, then i should stay gone,â he explained.
you shifted closer, knees touching. âoh, baby, iâm so sorry.â
he shrugged. âitâs no big deal. i figured he would react that way, it just, still kinda hurts, you know.â you nodded silently. âi hopped on the first bus i could to see you before i left. the school year starts soon and i have to travel all the way to california and i donât know how long itâll take me.â
âyou can take my car,â you offered, but he shook his head.
âbug, iâm not taking your car. bobby built that for you, iâm not gonna take it from you.â
you moved closer, now resting your head on his shoulder. âi just want you to get there safely.â
he rubbed your arm to warm you, as you were only dressed in an oversized tee. âi know you do, but iâll still be safe. i always am.â
âyou know⌠you could come with me,â sam said after a few minutes. âi can find an apartment close to the campus, and we can live together.â
âsam⌠i would go with you. and you know that, but i canât just leave bobby in the middle of the night like that. heâs done too much for me in my life for me to leave him like that.â
sam sighed, but didnât argue. he knew you had a point, but he still wanted you to be close by. âbesides, itâs only a day drive. i can drive to visit you on the weekends, or something,â you reassured.
âiâd like that,â he muttered. âhold on, wait here.â
you watch him go into your bedroom and grab something, before joining you back outside. he now has your digital camera in hand. âsam, what are you doing with that?â
ânothing, bug, just taking a picture of you.â
âa picture of me? for what?â you asked with a soft laugh. âto keep with me,â he replies, looking at you with a âduhâ expression.
you playfully rolled your eyes, but complied with what he wanted. you fixed your hair and smiled at the camera as the flash went off. âperfect,â he said, looking at the picture. âiâll print it before i leave in the morning.â
you grab his hand, pulling towards your bedroom. âletâs lay down, okay?â he follows after you, laying down beside you. his hand rests on your hip, rubbing his thumb across the exposed skin of your thigh.
âiâm gonna miss you,â he whispered.
âiâm gonna miss you too, but you can always call me when you do.â
âyou know that thatâs gonna be everyday, right?â he asks with a laugh.
âyeah, i know. iâll make sure to keep my phone charged, then.â
he laughs again, pulling you to his chest. he breathes in the smell of your lavender shampoo, savoring it until he can be with you again.
âi love you so much, pretty girl.â
âi love you too, smart boy.â
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a/n: omg, second to last chapter and i'm already feeling so emotional about this series. i just love them sm and i'm gonna cry when i stop writing for them. if the smut is bad.. i'm sorry. i'm so bad at writing it bro omg. but i hope you guys still love, and lmk if u want to be tagged in any of my works in the future !! <333
taglist: @sacr1ficialang3l @mostlymarvelgirl @hobiespick @iloveyou2mia
#weird girl!reader#sam winchester#sam winchester x reader#sam winchester x weird girl!reader#sam winchester x you#supernatural#supernatural x reader#supernatural x you#sam winchester fluff#sam winchester smut
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flesh arm? no thank you, give me the metal one
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x avenger!Fem!Reader (y/n) Genre: Fluff - Angst - Reader hurt - Lies Word count: 1888 Summary: Bucky spent years feeling guilty for what he was and what he did. Y/N, his girlfriend was the only thing that reminded him how good life can be. Having a metal arm was difficult and when he accidentally hit her, his world collapsed. Y/N found a easy way to make him change his mind
The common room echoed with laughter. You were curled up at one end of the couch, half-covered by a thrown blanket, giggling at something Sam had said while Bucky sat beside you, a rare grin stretched across his usually guarded face. His vibranium arm was slung lazily across the back of the couch, his whole posture relaxed in a way you didnât see often.
Now alone, you were teasing himâsomething about his outdated music tasteâwhen he chuckled, leaning back and waving that metal arm in mock offense. And then it happened. A sharp but light tap on your upper arm. You didnât even register it at first. It wasnât painful. Just surprising, like bumping into a doorknob you hadnât noticed. Your laughter barely faltered. But he did. Bucky went still. Utterly, terrifyingly still. His smile faded instantly. His eyes locked onto your arm, wide and full of alarm. He pulled back like heâd touched fire.
âBucky?â you asked, tone gentle, brows furrowing when you saw his expression.
âI-I didnât mean to,â he said quickly, his voice barely audible. âI didnât see where you were-God, I didnât mean-did I hurt you?â
You blinked, confused at first. âWhat? No-wait, is that what youâre-?â
But he was already retreating, both physically and emotionally. That wall he worked so hard to keep down around you started building itself back up brick by brick. He rubbed his flesh hand over his face and muttered, more to himself than to you, âDamn it. I wasnât paying attention.â You reached for him.
âBucky. Hey. Look at me.â He didnât. So you scooted closer, placing your hand carefully over the one he kept clenched in his lap. âIt didnât hurt. I swear. It was barely anything.â
He shook his head slowly. âIt doesnât matter. I shouldnât haveâY/N, I hit you. Even if it was by accident. Even if it didnât hurt.â His voice cracked on the last word. You could feel his guilt radiating off him in waves. It made your heart ache. âBucky,â you whispered. âYou didnât hurt me. You startled me. Thatâs all. It wasnât violent. It wasnât scary. Youâd never hurt me.â He finally looked at you then, and God, the look in his eyes broke something in youâbecause he wasnât looking at you, not really. He was seeing a past he couldnât escape, one you knew he carried like chains around his wrists. So you brought his metal hand to your lap, cradling it gently. A soft breath of laughter escaped him, almost involuntarily.
You smiled. âCome on, Barnes. You really think Iâd let you off the hook if youâd actually hurt me? You think youâd still be sitting upright?â That made him huff, and you saw the corner of his mouth twitch. âThere he is,â you said, leaning into him, resting your head lightly on his shoulder. âYouâre allowed to have fun, Bucky. Youâre allowed to laugh. Youâre allowed to be human.â He swallowed hard, then whispered, âIâm always scared Iâll slip. That Iâll forget how strong this thing is.â You squeezed his hand. âThen we figure it out together. Okay?â He didnât answer with words but when his fingers curled around yours, warm and steady, you knew he believed you.
âŞď¸âŞď¸âŞď¸âŞď¸âŞď¸âŞď¸âŞď¸âŞď¸âŞď¸âŞď¸âŞď¸âŞď¸âŞď¸âŞď¸âŞď¸âŞď¸âŞď¸âŞď¸âŞď¸
The incident in the common room was small. Barely a blip in the timeline of your lives at the Tower. But something shifted after that. Not between you two at least, not in a bad way. If anything, you were closer. But Bucky noticed how you started asking him for things. Little things. Specific things. It was always something simple. Something harmless. And always something that meant he had to use his metal arm.
It started with the jar. âHey, could you open this for me?â you asked one lazy afternoon, handing him the stubborn pesto jar from the fridge. He took it without a word and popped it open with a smooth twist of his metal hand. âWow,â you said, eyes wide with mock awe. âMy hero.â He snorted, handing it back. âYou loosened it.â You shrugged, grinning. âStill counts.â
Next came the bookshelf. You stood in your room, frowning at the towering wooden shelves like theyâd insulted your ancestors. âHey, Buck?â you called, and he was there in a second. âCan you help me move this? Itâs too heavy.â He gripped the side of the shelf with his metal arm and lifted it like it weighed nothing. âWhere do you want it?â he said, holding in the air the bookshelf. You blinked. âSeriously? You didnât even grunt.â He smirked. âThat was me being polite.â
Then there was the couch incident. You apparently choose the heaviest couch in the shop, but when you first bought it that wasnât a problem. So now you were going to use it for your purposes; movie night in your room while all the avengers were out. You were stretched out across half the couch with your legs draped over his lap, blanket tucked under your chin. The remote slipped behind the cushions with a dull noise. âUgh. It fell under the couch,â you mumbled. âMind grabbing it?â Without missing a beat Bucky slid your legs off his lap, stood up and reached the floor with his arm founding the remote, then casually lifted the entire couch just enough to retrieve it. You gawked. âDid you just⌠lift the couch?â He handed you the remote like nothing happened. âYou wanted it, didnât you?â You narrowed your eyes. âI could have reached for it myself, you know.â
âThen why didnât you?â You didnât answer. He raised an eyebrow. And then it clicked.
That night, while you brushed your teeth, Bucky leaned against the doorframe of the bathroom, arms crossed, watching you through the mirror. âYouâve been doing it on purpose,â he said. You spat out your toothpaste. âDoing what?â
âThe metal arm thing.â You shrugged innocently. âHave I?â He stepped closer, his voice softer now. âYouâre trying to make me use it more.â You glanced up at him. âTrying to help you stop flinching when you look at it.â There was a pause, just the faint buzz of the bathroom light between you. Then he slipped his metal arm around your waist and pulled you gently toward him, the cold plates warming slowly against your skin. âDid it work?â you whispered. His voice was low, steady, full of something quiet and sacred. âYeah. It worked.â
âŞď¸âŞď¸âŞď¸âŞď¸âŞď¸âŞď¸âŞď¸âŞď¸âŞď¸âŞď¸âŞď¸âŞď¸âŞď¸âŞď¸âŞď¸âŞď¸âŞď¸âŞď¸âŞď¸
You continued the following days, lifting your suitcase or handing him your favorite mug, trusting him not to crush it when your hands were full. One night, during movie night, you shifted the bowl of popcorn into his left hand without even looking up from the screen. Every time, you smiled like it was nothing. Every time, his chest tightened a little.
You were tucked into his side on the couch, his vibranium arm wrapped snugly around your shoulders like it belonged there (because it did). His flesh hand rested lightly on your thigh, thumb brushing back and forth as the movie flickered on in the background. Heâd been quiet tonight, but not the tense kind of quiet you used to worry about. Just⌠settled. At peace. That peace, of course, was exactly why you decided to stir the pot. You turned to him, completely straight-faced. âYou know, your real arm is starting to give me the ick.â His head snapped toward you. âExcuse me?â You gave an exaggerated shiver. âYeah. I dunno. Itâs just so⌠skin-like.â He narrowed his eyes, suspicious. âYou mean human?â âExactly!â you gasped, as if it was the most horrifying concept in the world. âIt doesnât even glow. No shiny parts. No dramatic sound when you move it. Honestly? Itâs a little boring. Kinda scary even.â
âOh my God,â Bucky groaned, throwing his head back against the couch. âYouâre impossible.â You leaned into his side, tapping his metal bicep. âThis one, though? Top tier. Looks cool, feels cool, opens jars, moves furnitureâŚwhat doesnât it do?â you said smirking.
âIt doesnât feel,â he said quietly, without bitterness. Just stating fact. You looked up at him, your teasing fading into something softer. âThatâs not true.â He met your gaze, puzzled. âIt holds me,â you whispered. âThatâs all I need it to feel.â He didnât say anything for a moment. Just looked at you like you hung the moon then, âYouâre the worst. You know that?â You grinned. âAnd yet, here you are. Letting the ick arm touch me.â
âOkay, first of all-â He tackled you gently onto the cushions, rolling you beneath him with a laugh. âIf anyoneâs getting the ick, itâs me. Youâre obsessed with this arm.â You giggled, running your fingers down the smooth, dark plating. âMaybe. But can you blame me?â
âNo,â he muttered, dipping his head to press a kiss to your neck. âNot one damn bit.â
You were perched at the kitchen island in one of Buckyâs Henleys and a pair of sleep shorts, nursing your second cup of coffee while half-listening to Tony rant about someone leaving the toaster dial set to 7. Nat was calmly buttering toast. Steve was flipping through a newspaper like it was still 1943. Sam was already on his third protein shake.
Bucky entered quietly, looking almost shy, until he spotted you and immediately softened. He padded over and, without a word, slid his vibranium arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his side. You leaned into it like it was second nature, pressing your cheek to the cold metal with a content little sigh. None of this was unusual anymore. What was unusual was that Steve had apparently just noticed the pattern.
He tilted his head and frowned a little. âHey, Buck⌠Iâve been meaning to ask.â You glanced up lazily from your mug. Steve pointed between the two of you with his spoon. âWhy do you always now touch her with your metal arm?â Bucky didnât miss a beat. With the most deadpan expression, he said, âOh. Sheâs afraid of my real arm.â There was a pause. Tony blinked. âIâm sorry-what?â You sipped your coffee. âYeah. It gave me the ick.â Bucky nodded solemnly. âShe said itâs boring.â
âI never said boringâŚâ you added casually.  âYes you didâ he replied. Nat choked on her tea. Sam nearly spit his shake across the counter. Steve looked between the two of you like his brain had blue-screened. âYou⌠youâre kidding. Right?â You finally grinned, nudging Buckyâs stomach with your elbow. âObviously.â Bucky chuckled, eyes bright. âSheâs not afraid of me, punk. Not even a little. Sheâs the reason I donât flinch when people look at this thing anymore.â He flexed the vibranium fingers gently, still resting them over your shoulder. Steve softened. âWell⌠good. I just noticed it and thoughtâŚwell itâs nice.â Tony raised an eyebrow. âNice? Steve, he literally wraps her in an arm made of Stark tech every morning like a human weighted blanket.â
âJealous?â Bucky asked with a smirk. Tony sniffed. âPlease. If anyone touched me before noon, theyâd be dead.â You laughed softly, leaning further into Buckyâs embrace. His metal thumb rubbed slow circles into your upper arm. And as the kitchen filled with laughter and snark, Bucky just looked down at you safe, warm, alive in his arms and thought, Yeah. I trust myself now. Because she did first.
#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes imagine#bucky x female reader#bucky barnes x y/n#bucky x oc#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes fluff#bucky barnes#bucky x y/n#bucky x reader#bucky barnes smut#sebastian stan smut#avengers smut#marvel smut#the winter soldier#james bucky buchanan barnes#james buchanan barnes#bucky smut#the avengers#bucky barnes angst
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Aight here me out
Yandere forsaken with a experiment reader
Okay at first they didnât know we were an escaped experiment and this is about the timespan they become yanderes but after one round we went missing
And now they find us again but now only seeable in a certain map (the labs) (which is fanmaded) and only can be heard through the intercom, certain computers and tvs as we act as a guide for them while being quiet serious, we help them survive the multiple experiments who act as the killers for this map while they find us files which we collect at the end using shadowy claws.
And blah blah this happen again and again until one day the door where the claws come from is opened where we are in our Robloxian monster glory And gosh I canât tell you how much they
Love it.
While we began explaining the lore behind this map
It was made by the spectre to mock us about our past as a experiment and the certain other experiments that we couldnât save, we are technically the oldest experiment there having been there the longest since we could remember, and etc and a lot of horrors happened to us even at a young age
We also explain how we managed to get majority of the other experiments out before we eventually passed out in the forest after getting away from The multiple tranquillisers ďżźthat got shot into our body and the amount of blood we lost.
And I canât kid you when I say, they just got more possessive of us from that explanation even more reason to try to get more files and such as itâs helps us to find a way out of forsaken for everyone and other things.
Okay, okay, totally not giving me vibes from another popular game so how about a femme Sebastian design~ (No because Sebastian Solace has such a god-tier design and I will say I'm biased because I just love non-human looking characters more-)
Reader gets She/They-
You thought you could live a normal life?
You thought you escaped?
Well, not according to the Spectre. It had grabbed you when you took shelter in a flower field inside a dark forest and placed you in the survivor cabin, intending to see how you work.
To your surprise, you looked... Normal. Like the spots of scales and aquatic limbs that had been scattered across your body as it had been in the process of slowly twisting and growing never even existed.
The other survivors were quick to notice you and invite you to be their friend. You were taken aback still but... It was nice...
You tried to enjoy their company, letting it slip you weren't good with understanding social circles(because you couldn't remember the last time you had friends but they didn't need to know why) and otherwise making yourself comfortable.
Although the lack of separate cabin for you should've been the first red flag...
The second one came when you had begun your first round. The Spectre had put you in the category of a survivalist which fit but... Way to tell you what a loner you were...
Oh well, at least the rest of your team was happy to help you out. They were confused at your abilities being so... Aquatic- But you managed to convince them you had worked at an aquarium. Not like your clothes didn't fit anyways...
You were ready to celebrate your victory when the killer somehow felt the need to not only spare you but inform you the generators were already all done. Odd but you figured you'd take the victory no matter how weird it was.
And then... You were back in the lab.
You panicked, attempting to feel your way around in the darkness that surrounded you until you noticed you had changed.
Your legs felt stretched and fused together, your skin was warm and covered-
Oh... Oh no... Oh no no no no no-
You were fully transformed! That's why you felt one more eye opening than you should!
Your body was covered in scales and fins and... Oh god...
You steadily got a hold on your surroundings as a weak light flickered above, your eyes quickly adjusting to look around the room.
You were so much bigger than you thought and- was that a computer and microphone on the desk beside you?
Picking it up and pressing a button on the side, a loud screeching could be heard that you recognized all too well...
You were connected to the intercoms, TVs, even computers all around the facility...
"Is anyone out there?" Your voice rang out as you looked around. "I've got no clue if I'm reaching anyone with this or where exactly I am but I do welcome you to..." You used your third arm to shuffle through some documents as you wondered if the Spectre had at least given you a different name to call this horrible place by.
"... The Lab? Huh... Well, I suppose I'll be your guide regardless since I know this place." You sighed in exasperation, wondering internally how you knew that this was part of the Spectre's doing... But was there time to wonder?
"If you find any computers, you can use them to send me a message, I think. This room somehow has air ventilation but windows so I really have no way of getting out with how large I am now and the only door here is firmly sealed shut with some weird shadow claws covering it. Just... Don't expect me to look like a regular robloxian if you find a way past them." you sounded almost annoyed at your last sentence, deciding to look through more documents as you were careful to not let your claws tear the papers apart.
Eventually though, you spotted something odd. "Weird... Apparently whoever you are, you're supposed to collect files and these claws hand them to me through the door? ... Huh-" You blinked at the paper a few times in disbelief.
It also spoke of why the Spectre decided to make this map and place you in it but... You didn't want that information out there and the more you read, the more you felt a pit form in your stomach before pressing the button on the microphone again. "Okay, I know who you lot are now and although I'm glad to be speaking to people I know, I can also tell you that your abilities may have been tampered with due to the nature of the lab and you apparently can't harm each other even if you were on opposing sides before..."
Another exasperated sigh escaped you as you thought on the chaos that must be going on between the killers and your friends. "But there is a reason why none of you are the real killers on this map... It's because the other experiments will be. The files will explain more about them and you're apparently getting access to my hideout when you have them all. I'll help guide you as much as I can but I can't see where you are so you can use the various computers to send me messages and the TVs I can use to warn you on the experiments that are after you."
"... I wish you luck, friends." You finally put down the microphone and took deep breaths, shaking your head in slight frustration before taking in your new form.
It was disgusting... You looked nothing like the person they befriended and yet you still had your voice somehow.
If you didn't know any better, you'd even dare to call yourself a parasite in your own body.
Your own file was probably out there, with your name and all... And by the Spectre, did you dread them finding it.
Your mind couldn't help but wander to wanting a cigarette. But you told yourself you were clean now. That you didn't need your unhealthy habits anymore.
Not because you were happier, but because you already felt miserable enough and no amount of nicotine would ease that misery.
Unbeknownst to you, the rest of your friends and the killers had begun working together in favour of finding you. They were determined to free you in any way they could and the Spectre was probably giddy watching them all maneuver through the lab and escape the other experiments.
You knew which ones to warn them of. You were the oldest experiment. The first one. You watched them become the monsters they are. Their minds turning into predatory thoughts alone and erasing any semblance of who they once were. Only leaving behind creatures of pure violence.
You could tell when your friends found your door whenever the claws would hand you a stack of files. "Wonderful work, my friends." You'd praise them with false joy, wanting to motivate them even though you were worried over how many of them must already be downed.
"Seems you came across the more aggressive ones." You sighed, hands twitching as you quickly scanned through the papers. You weren't even sure if they were still at the door but might as well pretend. "Listen, I can't see the timer or anything so I won't know when you'll be back or not and I can't exactly hear shit through this barrier..."
The lights in your room flickered, prompting the anglerfish lure on your head to light up in surprise. You knew what was coming and loudly warned them to hide as you almost desperately tried to listen through the claws. But they wouldn't let a sound get to you.
But with kindness from the Spectre, the claws would disappear when your friends were gone, allowing you to explore the facility that once tortured you and tried to make you one of the monsters you now warn your friends off.
Your body slathered through the darkened halls, symbolic for how truly alone you were. Experiments littered the floors at random in a deep slumber and you were even a little grateful since you weren't interested to find out what creatures were mixed into your DNA nor were you interested to know if the other experiments would attack you.
But everytime your friends returned, the Spectre teleported you back to your 'safe haven' to continue on the collection of files and one-way communication through the door.
You gradually began missing their voices. They could send you messages through the computers but sometimes hearing their voices would've been more comforting.
They were getting close to finding all the files and a familiar pit formed in your stomach again. You were a giant aquatic monster with a file detailing all of your crimes in your attempted escape. Knowing the Spectre at this point, you were certain it would want to drive you anxious with the thought that your friends would feel betrayed at your lies. But you refused to give it that satisfaction.
You attempted to stay positive instead, murmuring to yourself words of affirmation and promises that your friends would still want to interact with you despite the fact that you looked hideous and would only be at eye level with them by basically laying down and propping your head up with your arms like a schoolgirl.
You were a top-tier predator but you somehow didn't have a need to eat or drink... Probably just the Spectre's doing so you could be holed up in your designated room without complaint.
When the claws suddenly disappeared but the light continued to stay bright, you were taken by surprise. Had they found the rest?
You waited. Seconds turned to minutes before you placed a clawed hand at the door and felt the cold metal against your scales as you pushed it open, watching your friends' faces fade into view with the last stack of files stacked neatly in Builderman's arms.
You didn't emerge though, opting to instead invite them inside as you fidgeted with your big hands and waited for their reactions.
But instead of betrayal or disgust, you saw joy. Builderman gently placed the files onto the desk you had gathered previous ones on but kept your own as everyone else began huddling around you and only questioning your wellbeing. It honestly kind of flustered you to see them care so much.
"You're... Still wanting to be friends...?" You asked cautiously, watching them all go silent but nod with softened expressions as Shedletsky chuckled.
"Of course! If anything, you just look more awesome than before!" The others seemed to agree with him and your face flushed a deep shade of pink at the fact even the killers seemed to enjoy your look. "But haven't you seen my file??" You questioned in shock, staring at Builderman as he nodded calmly.
"We did, but it's not like we blame you." You tilted your head in confusion but allowed him to explain. "You did what you had to. You needed to escape your circumstances and peace wasn't an option." He eventually handed you back your own file to see what the Spectre allowed them to see about you, your ear-fins slightly folding down as you realized it was strangely vague and hiding details.
"But this isn't right! I've been in this place since I was a child!" You blurted out in frustration, earning you shocked looks before they all seemed more concerned but you didn't see the glint of obsession in their eyes. Or maybe you ignored it.
Hesitantly, you let them all rest against your tail to tell them everything.
How the Spectre likely mocked you with this 1:1 replica of the place you loathed growing up. How you were a mere pawn to them in achieving their goals and why you were so hyper-paranoid most of the time. How you managed to save most of the other experiments because you saw them almost like a true family. How many tranquilizers and the blood loss you tried to suppress until you passed out in a forest.
But also how you were glad to no longer deal with being injected with random liquids or undergoing surgeries for experiments.
To say they felt all the more possessive was an understatement... But you were too emotional to notice... Or maybe you were still being ignorant...
Anything you'd like to request/ask? Check out my pinned post first and I'll be happy to write up whatever you want!
#forsaken roblox#forsaken#roblox forsaken#forsaken x reader#forsaken x y/n#yan!forsaken#yandere forsaken#yandere forsaken x reader#experiment reader
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Sup fam - đŚ here:
An idea for Hysteria (on any fic really idc): bondage. Like Bucky gets caught and tied up - normally (this is important). Operative comes in and rescues him and while Bucky is talking with the Thunderbolts* about what went wrong or what happened he sees Operative studying the ropes. Bucky gets an uneasy feelingâŚ
A few nights later (gotta lull him into a false sense of security, like hey man Iâm just checking the tensile strength donât worry about it) Bucky wakes up in the middle of the night naked and bound up in shibari-style ropes. (Donât worry about how, itâs Operative and heâs crazy.)
The twist in my head? Operative is fully-clothed. Like almost overly so: like turtleneck, fatigue pants, bootsâŚjust to RREEEAAAALLLLYY emphasize the power dynamics. Aaaannnddd you take it from there â¤ď¸
Hope it helps!!
- đŚ
hey! thank you so much :) the way i did it was actually a little different from this BUT i hope you still enjoy :p
+18 mdni! hysteria; a fic where bucky's unfortunate enough to run into a feared mercenary, which ended up being you.
cw: dom!reader, sub!thunderbolts*!bucky, arguing, mentions of the thunderbolts*, reader argues with bucky, yelena puts reader in a headlock, implied suicide (?), hostage situation, porn with plot (shocking), bondage, shibari, use of toys, multiple orgasms (fully clothed)
word count: 4.2k
[1] [2]
!! @swiftie-fault
-------------------------------------------------------
the room was dim, and quiet. your body wakes before your mind does, and blurry outlines form. youâre breathing, which is already a disappointment. the ceiling above you was way too blank, a machine was humming softly at your side. take a deep breath, only to be met with a sharp pain in your side. everything ached.
your fingers twitch against the sheets, and you realise somethingâs wrong. time has passed, youâve been out.
the confusion settles over your thoughts, and then you turn.
it was bucky.
he was sitting there, unmoving. his face was drawn tight, shadows under his eyes.
you remember, suddenly, the last time you saw him this close. it was a month ago, before everything exploded between the both of you, before you cared too much, before you said too much, and he said just enough.
âyou donât get to decide iâm worth something.â a pause. âyou shouldnât care.â
the words echoed in your mind like a bitter aftertaste.
your thoughts were cut short when bucky stirs.
the moment he saw you awake, the tension in his shoulders, and jaw vanished like smoke.
â..youâre still here.â you speak first.
âdidnât think youâd want to wake up alone.â
âdidnât think i wanted to wake up at all.â you regret saying it the second the words leave your mouth.
buckyâs jaw clenches.
âgo home, i donât need a caretaker.â you turned your head away from him.
âiâm not your nurse.â
âthen what are you?â
silence.
you expected him to throw some motivational, life-changing speech at you, maybe scold you for being a fucking idiot.
âyou shouldâve left me there.â you continued.
more silence followed.
you see the flicker of something behind buckyâs eyes, it didnât matter to you anyway. if he wanted you to stop caring, then youâll give him more-than-enough reasons to hate you. youâll make it easier for him.
âit wouldâve saved everyone the trouble.â you paused. âit wouldâve saved you the trouble. you didnât have to play hero.â
his brows furrow, and thatâs when you settle back into your bed.
âi wanted to disappear into the noise, because no one listens to static.â
his breath hitches, and only then do you realise, you shouldnât have said that, not out loud.
your mouth betrays you anyway, leaking the truths youâve buried under your sarcasm and wittiness.
then bucky speaks, finally.
âyou always do this.â
you blink.
âi watched you come back every night more empty than the last, and you really thought that was strength?â
and that cuts too deep, deeper than you wouldâve liked.
your breath hitches, and you look down. you tensed, trying to hide the shake in your fingers. you canât cry, not here, not in front of him. you were supposed to be colder than this, you were supposed to make him hate you.
â..i didnât ask you to save me.â you whispered.
âno, you didnât. you never do.â he pauses, and leans forward slightly. âthatâs the damn problem.â
you flinch, but bucky continues.
âyou want people to think youâre impossible to love, so you wouldnât have to deal with the fact that you care too much.â
your throat started to burn, but you tried your best to push it down.
âare you done psychoanalysing me, bucky?â
bucky exhales, sharp, frustrated, but he wasnât backing down.
âi made the call to put you under, because i knew youâd fight it. youâd push past the pain, keep working until you dropped again.â
your eyes widen.
âso yeah, i made that goddamn decision, because i care, whether you like it or not.â he continued, voice cracking on the last syllable.
you look away again, biting your tongue, but he sees through your act.
he sees the way youâre trying so hard to not fall apart right in front of him. he knows soft words wonât save you, so he steps in harder.
then, you snap.
âwhy do you care? when you told me i shouldnât!â
âi was scared of what i felt. so i said something cruel, and cowardly.â he steps closer to the bed. âbut that doesnât mean i wanted you gone.â
âi didnât ask you to bring me back, bucky.â
âyou donât get to pretend any of this doesnât matter, that you donât matter.â
silence. you donât even know how to respond.
âiâm not letting you walk out of this goddamn room thinking you shouldâve died!â
your shoulders shake, just barely.
âyouâve made it clear, a long fucking time ago. you didnât want me to care, so congratulations, you fucking got it.â you shifted.
â..you donât mean that.â
âdonât i?â you let your words hit him like knives. âi donât care what you do anymore, who you save, who you become. you could be fucking dead, and iâd have the best sleep of my life.â
that hurt bucky, you see it in the tiny flinch.
silence.
âyou donât get to throw yourself into death like itâs some tragic exit scene.â
âoh, fuck off with that righteous psych shit, bucky.â you said dryly.
âthatâs not how this ends.â
âyou think you know me?â
âi know the type.â
âthat's not how this ends? well, why the fuck not, bucky?!â you shout, weakly, but furious. âwhat the fuck do you know about how it ends for me?!â
âbecause iâve watched too many people die to let you become just another body!â
âi am a body!â you yelled, and stood up, barely.
then you lunged forward, and swung. your fist lands against his shoulder, sloppy, but full of rage. you swing, again, and again.
âyou donât know a fucking thing about me!â
âsure i do. youâre looking for a way out that looks like a job well done.â
you freeze, then punch him again.
âfuck you. fuck you for dragging me back, bucky! you werenât supposed to see all this!â
bucky takes it, every punch, every shove. he doesnât flinch, and he definitely doesnât soften. he just stares you down like heâs not afraid of anything inside you.
thatâs what pisses you off the most.
you shove him again, and thatâs when the door swings open, and yelena steps in.
âeverything alright-â
âlet him, yelena-â
ânot a chance.â sheâs across the room in seconds. she grabs your arm, and yanks you away from bucky.
then your instincts kick in. you body moves on its own, a blur.
you reach for the nearest thing. your hand slips around the grip of something familiar.
a blade, from yelenaâs utility belt.
you donât think, just reacted.
âlet me the fuck go, belova!â
âdonât-â before bucky could stop yelena, she was already on you.
yelena slammed her forearm against your throat, dragging you to the ground in a headlock. your arm was pinned, and twisted until the blade dropped from your hand, and clatters to the floor.
âyouâre not fucking special, operative. you pull a blade on me again, and iâll break your fucking neck.â
âi didnât- i didnât mean to-â
yelena let you thrash for a bit more, before you went unconscious. then the others entered the room, they stared you down, and realised what was going on.
now the room was fucking quiet. the second your body went limp in yelenaâs arms? everyone stops moving. no one breathes. because for a second, they thought that they had held you down for too long.
but then you let out a shallow, ragged breath. you were alive, just unconscious.
âbreathing. pulseâs shit, but heâll live.â she doesnât say more, doesnât apologise, just rubbed her wrist like it was no big deal, and stepped back.
but everyone saw it, the way her jaw clenched, and her eyes? shaken.
âno cuffs.â
john grimaces.
âyou sure? that was a pretty close call.â
bucky just nods.
â
a little while later, youâre lying in a re-secured bed.
everything was the same, except for the fact that everything sharp was gone.
you wake up like youâre being dragged out of the water. your head pounded, and your mouth was dry. your eyes open slowly, and for a moment, everything was quiet. you thought, maybe they finally decided to give up on you.
until you hear a sigh.
bucky. heâs still here.
you donât say anything at first, just shifted. youâre sore, your throat hurts, and you feel like youâve been turned inside out.
âi wasnât trying to kill anyone.â you mutter, voice hoarse.
âyou werenât trying not to, either.â
you inhaled sharply.
âi didnât mean to grab it.â
âi believe you.â
âyou werenât supposed to see that.â
bucky scoffs.
âyou think youâre the first one who broke like that? you think i havenât? you want to end it? fine. but not on my watch, not in the middle of this team.â
he turns away, and you sat in stunned silence.
for once, he walks out first.
â
you get cleared on a quiet sunday morning.
the nurse doesnât make a fuss, just handed you a form, and walks off like you didnât try to gut yourself 3 nights ago.
you donât say thanks, just swing your legs off the bed, and stretch. the painâs dulled now, bruises fading. you feel more like yourself again.
you walk around the medbay, before hesitantly exiting.
you donât walk into silence.
instead you walk into a game of cards in the common room.
yelenaâs swearing, johnâs losing, avaâs surveying the game from the corner of the couch, alexeiâs drinking, bobâs trying to learn the rules of the game.
you stop in the hallway, just watching.
then bucky turns, sees you, and just gives you a small nod.
you nod back, and that was enough.
â
you slide back into missions way faster than expected. a little limping, a few winces, but nothing stopped you.
âhey bucky. what if i kill everyone in this building, but leave one witness, does that still count as stealth?â
âare you seriously asking me this when weâre infiltrating a heist right now?â
âwhat if i kill the witness last?â
âshut the fuck up.â
â
post mission, youâre on the sparring mat.
âcome on ava, hit me. pretend i said you looked better with long hair.â
ava nearly took your fucking head off.
âgod, youâre hot when youâre mad.â
bucky walks by.
âmaybe pick on someone who doesnât actively fantasize about killing you.â
âthat narrows it down to exactly.. no one on this team.â you winked.
â
john is cooking, attempting to.
you steal a sausage from the pan.
then another.
then a third.
âtouch one more, and i will chop your hand off.â
âyou threatening me with a good time, walker?â
john chucks a spatula at your head, you duck, and it hits alexei.
âwhat the fuck-â
âcollateral damage, alexei.â you shrugged.
â
buckyâs in the common room, reading from a file.
you crawl onto the couch like a cat, and laid your head in his lap.
âhey, what if i said i loved you?â
âiâd check for a concussion.â he replied, without hesitation.
âwhat if i said i loved everyone here?â
âiâd think you were planning something.â
âgod, you know me so well. thatâs why i love you most.â
bucky sighs, long, and tired, but his fingers still comb through your hair once, absentmindedly, before he went back to reading his file.
â
the gymâs quiet except for the dull thud of fists hitting pads, and the soft shuffle of feet against the mat. youâre both breathless, and sweat-slicked.
you thought your session with him had ended, and that you had to switch partners.
before you could ask, bucky feints left, swept your legs, and had you flat on your back in seconds.
you barely get a hand up to block before heâs pinning you, his knee braced against your thigh, right on the bruise you got from previous missions.
âfuck!â you choke out, your body stiffening as a whimper tore itself from your throat before you could even manage to swallow it down.
the moment bucky heard your pained noises, heâs off you instantly.
âshit- shit, iâm sorry. i didnât mean to- are you okay?â
you nodded, breathing through it. you caught his gaze, and the way he stared at your mouth, flushed, and wide-eyed.
â..youâre turned on.â
he swallows hard.
âno.â he lies immediately. âa little..â
âso, âfuckâ turns you on now?â you arch a brow at him, sitting up now.
bucky flushes a deep red, but doesnât deny it.
ânot the âfuckâ part.â he mumbles. âit was the fucking whimper. happy?â
âyou like when iâm vulnerable.â
âonly if youâre safe, only if you let me.â
âiâm safe,â you get up, and get back at him, pinning him on the ground. âand next time, maybe try asking.â
â
now youâre back to work, completely healed.
the quinjet hummed low as it descended.
this was a new assignment, a new location, just for the two of you.
âyou ready for this?â you asked casually.
bucky glances at you, then narrowed his eyes.
âare you?â
âalways.â you grin.
you and him split up after making sure there were no threats in the main floor. the facility was way bigger than intel suggested.
his voice crackles in your comms.
âiâve got eyes on the shipment.â a pause. âit looks like theyâre-â
static.
then silence.
â
when bucky wakes up, the world was spinning. his vision was blurred at the edges, and a low pulse throbbed in his skull. thereâs blood in his mouth, and the hum of fluorescent lights above him. his arms were wrenched behind him, he was tied to the fucking chair.
the moment he twitches, pain spreads through his shoulders.
heâs tied to precisely that any shift would pull his joints toward dislocation immediately. one wrong move, and his arm would tear straight out of its socket. he tests it again, barely flexing. this time his muscles strain, and the pain spikes hard enough to blur his vision.
âfuck.â
footsteps echoed.
then a voice spoke.
âoh good, sleeping beautyâs awake.â a few men stepped out from the shadows, unarmed.
âwho the fuck are you guys?â
they ignored buckyâs question, and continued on.
âthe famous winter soldier, huh?â they mused, circling around him like a predator. ânot so deadly when youâre all tied up like this.â
âlet me go, and iâll show you how deadly i can be.â
one of the men crouched beside him, leaned in, and spoke low in his ear.
âif you even try to move, youâll hear the pop before you even feel the pain. pretty design isnât it? weâve studied your physiology before.â
another tapped his finger against the rope wrapped around buckyâs biceps.
âhydra was never this elegant.â
bucky glares at them, a few drops of blood dripping from his temples.
you were still out there, he knows youâll come.
â
there were three men in the room, two at the monitors, one with a blade, leaning a little too close to buckyâs face.
you moved like a shadow. you drop the first with a blade thrown directly at his chest. the second barely had time to react before you threw another blade at the back of his head. the third, holding the blade, screamed, but only once.
then silence.
buckyâs breathing hard, sweat soaking through his shirt, bleeding from his temples.
you recollected your blades, and sheathed them before turning to him.
and for the first time since youâve met him, he looks vulnerable.
you donât even say anything, just looked at him, at the way the ropes wrench his arms behind him at that cruel angle, at how his legs were spread slightly, just wide enough that he canât close them without tearing his own shoulders out.
the rope was tight against his chest, under his arms, and down the sides of his thighs. it purpose wasnât to hold him still, but to trap him.
bucky watches as your eyes trace every knot, every line of tension around his body, and he gulps.
you still havenât spoken, but the way you were staring, and observing was loud enough.
âdonât- donât look at me like that.â
âlike what?â your brows lifted slightly.
âlike i- fuck, just untie me.â
but you donât move, just lean forward a little, slowly. then your eyes drift lower, and guess what? heâs hard.
âoh.â
his breath catches.
âoh.â you murmured. âyou get off on twisted shit like this, bucket?â
bucky turns red, truly red. it wasnât from blood or strain, but from shame. his jaw clenches like if he tensed hard enough, his boner would go away. his gaze wouldnât meet yours.
you crouch down now, bringing your face to his level.
âi was going to ask if they hurt you, but i think you liked it a little too much.â
âi didnât- if it werenât for you- shut up.â he snaps, but his voice cracks. his wrists strained against the ropes, and he groans again.
you cock your head.
âhurts when you move, huh?â
âdonât.. donât tease.â
âbut youâre leaking.â you hum, thoughtful.
thatâs what triggers bucky to whimper. it wasnât even subtle. his hips shifted just an inch, but that just drags the tension tighter, and he shudders with it, torn between pain, and pleasure.
you let the tension simmer for a second, before you drew your blade, and cut him free.
when the last rope fell, he slumps forward, and gasped like heâs surfacing from underwater.
you lean down one last time, and whisper.
âyou want me to help with that too?â
â..shut up.â
â
the both of you don't mention it ever again.
and over the next week, something changes.
you catch bucky lingering in the gym longer than usual. he wasnât even working out, just staring at the resistance bands coiled on the rack, the climbing rope used for drills. his faze slides over them like heâs unaware that heâs doing it.
sometimes you catch his jaw tightening, too.
one time you walked into the armory, looking to clean your blades, but instead you found him sitting there on the bench. you didnât pay him any attention, until you saw reinforced handcuffs dangling loosely from his fingers. he was just staring at the curve of the steel.
â
at first, bucky thinks itâs a dream.
he wakes slowly, in the middle of the night. the faint press of cotton against his skin tells him that heâs still fully clothed. the room was dim, and his mouth was dry.
he tries to shift, and realises he canât.
panic sparks in him for a second, before he feels it. tight, deliberate pressure over his chest, around his thighs, his biceps, and his hips. this was intricate, precise, fucking shibari.
the knots were beautiful, disgustingly well-executed. each one was snug, wrapped cleanly over his clothes, running tight across his arms, and thighs. his legs were bent slightly, spread, and tied up so that his knees would press against his stomach slightly. his cock was hard beneath the fabric, restrained tightly by the webbing, but thereâs no skin showing at all.
bucky groans.
âyouâve got to be fucking kidding me.â
somewhere from the room, the floorboard creaks, and you appear. youâre sitting beside his bound frame like he isnât tied for a display, like this isnât fucking obscene.
âmorning.â you tilted your head at him, as if it wasnât 2 in the fucking morning.
he glares at you.
âwhat the actual fuck is this?â
you ran a hand down his chest slowly, fingers tracing the tension in the ropes. you smiled when you felt just how hard he was, trapped, and throbbing under all that fabric.
bucky huffs, and turns his head.
âlet me guess, some sick game. trying to get me to admit i like it.â he scoffs. âthis is fucking ridiculous, iâm not even-â
you press something between his legs before he could continue ranting.
vibration.
he sucks in a breath, back arching automatically, but the rope tightens slightly.
you watched him try to swallow a moan as the toy pressed right up against the bulge in his pants. there wasnât any friction, just stimulation, and pressure.
âfuck- stop, thatâs-â his voice cracks halfway through. he shakes his head, but heâs already leaking.
âi didnât even ask you anything yet.â you murmur. âyouâre leaking again, bucky.â
âshut up.â he snarls.
bucky doesnât want to want it, but his body does. heâs trembling, trying to act like this wasnât affecting him. but by the time you crank it up to the second setting, and nestle the toy more precisely against him, heâs overheating, and overstimulated before he even gets there.
âso responsive.â
âiâm not-â he growls, but his voice breaks again. âyouâre sick.â the vibrations havenât stopped.
and when he does get there? the first orgasm hits him like a car crash.
his entire body jolts forward, and the sound ripped itself from his throat. he yelps, high-pitched, and startled like he didnât see it coming.
he pants through it, dazed. you watch the moment his eyes glazed over, and youâre still holding it there.
ân-no, no, no- i just came, i just-â
âi know, thatâs one.â
bucky starts shaking his head, whining under his breath, but still too proud to beg properly. he was still twitching beneath you.
âi hate this, i hate-â
âyou know what to say if you really want me to stop.â
that shuts him up, the safeword hangs in the air. you both know it, he could say it, but he doesnât.
âyou want me to turn it up?â
âdonât you-â
you turned the vibrations up to fourth, instead of the third setting this time.
âyouâre disgusting. you just came in your pants, and youâre still fucking hard?â
bucky starts panting. the higher setting pushes directly against him. the vibrations werenât touching him anymore, they were pressing into him, surrounding his weeping cock with unbearable sensation.
âshh,â you whisper. âyouâre doing so well.â
âi-iâm not, fuck!â he turns his face away, breathing harsh. his muscles were straining, frantic. his instincts screamed for movement that wasnât there. heâs stuck, and each orgasm was building agianst his will, inch by inch.
âyou going to cum for me?â
ân-no.â
you press the toy down harder.
bucky whines, a low, broken sound in the back of his throat. his back arches, and this time the ropes punish him for it, biting in along his ribs, thighs, and biceps.
the sound he makes was half pain, half something else, something worse.
you smooth your hand over his stomach, and he shudders when your palm drifts lower, fingers resting on the damp patch where his cock twitches helplessly beneath his pants.
âi.. i canât take it.â he whimpers.
âoh, you donât have to take it.â
he blinks at you.
âyou just have to cum again.â
he doesnât respond. his head was thrown back against the pillow, eyes unfocused, lips parted around the sharp gasps that he couldnât seem to swallow.
âgoing to cum in your pants again? be a good little mess?â
bucky doesnât say yes, or no. but his hips jerk, trying to rut into the pressure again even though his bodyâs clearly overwhelmed.
âi canât- donât, fuck. itâs too-â
you press the toy just a little harder, and he breaks.
the second orgasm hits him. his entire frame went rigid beneath the bindings, as his mouth opened on a silent moan.
you watched in delight as he came again in his pants like some slut.
he moans through it, barely conscious, but still hard.
âyou just made a bigger mess than the first time, do you even realise what you look like right now?â
he whimpers, hiccups, chest rising in shallow jerks.
the third one was much more cruel.
buckyâs oversenstive now, every vibration made him flinch, his cock twitching helplessly in his pants. his voice was broken entirely, no longer forming words, just high-pitched keens, whimpers, and shallow breaths that hitch every time you shifted the toy.
youâre straddling him now, one knee pressed between his legs to hold him down. not that heâs fighting it anymore, heâs too far gone.
âjust one more, bucky. one more, and iâll stop. i promise.â
heâs crying now, just a few tears, slipping down his cheeks silently.
but he nods. he fucking nods.
when you finally let the vibrator sit at the perfect angle, unmoving, steady, pressed just hard enough? it doesnât take long.
âlook at me.â
he doesnât hear you, the only thing he could focus on was the vibration, which felt like it was spreading all throughout his body.
âlook at me while you cum in your pants one more time.â you grabbed his jaw, and held it firm.
buckyâs lips part, and you know heâs right on edge.
âyou canât help it, can you?â you whisper. âyou like being used like this, you like being tied up, soaking wet, crying, and cumming over, and over without being touched?â
then he cums, harder than the previous times.
buckyâs hips strained so violently youâd think he tore the rope, and then he collapsed. his cock pulses wildly, and you watch his stomach twitch as the last of it soaks through every layer of his pants.
you just hold him there, made him feel every second of it.
he couldnât do anything but moan, and when itâs finally over, heâs limp. his chest was heaving, arms slack, face flushed.
then you finally turn off the toy.
#bucky barnes#bucky barnes x male reader#x male reader#bucky barnes smut#james buchanan barnes#bottom bucky barnes#sub bucky barnes#top male reader#dom male reader#buckfics
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murky water
âââââąââ°ââââ
sevika x reader oneshot/headcanon combo .á.á 3k words.
tags: socially awkward/strange/offputting reader x sevika .... sevika and reader are coworkers! fluff, sevika has one sided beef with the reader for a portion of the fic. completely sfw! :)
summary: a scenario in which sevika and reader both work for silco and rarely interact. co-worker!reader pays absolutely no attention to sevika and has the main goal of keeping to themself and avoiding any human interaction possible. reader is kinda just a weirdo and minds their business... leads to sevika having one-sided beef with the reader, because in sevika's mind quiet means plotting something mischievous. (the beef is NOT REAL!! sevika has a crush > < )
notes: this is sort of a mess but also the first fic i've felt compelled to upload... BIGGEST shoutout to @massiveragingdyke for proofreading my work and being the source of most of my motivation to finish writing .¡°Ő(Ë á Ë)Ő°¡. wouldn't have uploaded this without them! hope you guys enjoy <3
âââââąââ°ââââ
You've worked under Silco for quite some time, purely on the basis of, "I need money and I also would like to keep my life so I'm going to work for a drug-lord that will provide me money and security. Having said that, you don't quite branch out of your own bubble of comfortability if you can strain against it. You work, grab a bite to eat, and then go to your flat.
When it comes to Sevika, all you can say is that you know of her. You don't speak to her at work, nor do you have the desire toâ you don't want to speak to anyone, not if you can help it.
Sevika would be lying if she said it didn't rub her the wrong way. She thinks you have some sort of vendetta against her. Moments you interpret as brief and to the point are the same moment Sevika quotes to Silco as "acts of defiance and disrespect."
Sevika sitting in Silco's office and saying, "Told her to get me a whiskey and she went, is that all?" and Silco replying, "That's her job, Sevika."
Not once had you ever considered that Sevika thought you disregarded her character in this way, which is why you never quite had a change in your attitude about her.
Sevika will eventually start doing things to "get back at you." You don't take it as a sign of hatred or frustration at all, and will completely brush it offâ you think she's either made a mistake or did not mean anything by it. It is absolutely shredding her soul that you just do not give a shit.
The back of your hand swipes your forehead as you finish closing up after your shift. Every time you've worked the bar, you'd been the unlucky one who wound up having to wash the dishes. So long as you were allowed to choose what was playing on the juke box, you had no qualms about that. Unbeknownst to you, Sevika had been sitting and stewing on her annoyance. She'd been holding onto two cups of whiskey, half full. She downs both of them, walking straight up to the counter after. "You forgot two," she tells you, voice rough. She'd done it intentionally, right when you finished washing all the dishes up and washing your hands. That'll show you! "Oh. Thanks." You reply, taking the cups to the sink without any other reaction. Sevika's eye twitches.
For the life of her, Sevika cannot understand your attitude. You don't care about dishes. You don't care about annoying patrons. You don't care about cuts or raises in your pay, which she had done through Silco strictly for the purpose of seeing what you'd do.
Most of your other coworkers have noticed your attitude, or, your lack thereof. The better half of Silco's goons and pinheads cannot seem to comprehend why Sevika has such a bone to pick with an employee that does nothing but their job and heads home.
Ran, who is just as silent, if not more than you are, has picked up on Sevika's growing disdain for you as well. Being the curious creature they are, they begin to wonder the extent of what you will not care about. They let patrons in later than allowed. They swap your coffee with water. On one occasion, a man had hopped onto the table, removed his shirt, and swung it over his headâ to which you did not even bat an eyelash at, simply shouting, "no climbing on furniture!" before you went back to serving drinks.
One day, Silco calls for the bar to close earlyâ something about an enforcer visit. So, rather than closing at 3 in the morning, the bar closed at 9. Sevika decides that now is her chance.
Getting a break like this is extremely rare. Though you could have utilized your free time to perhaps go out bar-hopping, clubbing, something of the sort⌠you simply didn't have the energy. Sitting on one of the dusty couches in the backroom, you lean back, head tilted towards the ceiling. There's a bag of cheese curls at your side, and you shove ships into your mouth while your eyes are shut. God, you needed this break⌠"Hey." A voice beckons out to you, and you nearly jump out of your skin. "What the hell are you doing back here?" You don't have an explanation. "Um," you rub your eyes with the back of your hand, not wanted cheese dust on your face. "Taking⌠a break?" You swallow, sitting up and looking at Sevika. "Its, um," You don't know how to speak to her. Is she considered your boss? Your superior? Your coworker? "Pilite snack. I stole them from Jericho's stand when he wasn't looking." Without thinking, you hold the bag of cheese curls out to Sevika. "Do you⌠want some?"
After this interaction, Sevika doesn't know what to make of you. You were strangely nice to her. Moreover, Sevika realized that's the only time she's really approached you. Now that she's done it once, her efforts to speak to you have increased.
Ran, already having been curious about you and Sevika, starts paying attention to how the relationship between you and Sevika was unfurling. They're enjoying the drama. They picked up on the fact that it was very likely Sevika already liked you beforehand, but just did not know how to form a relationship without you approaching her first.
Sevika was usually the one being chased. Women at the brothel fawned over her, Silco's henchmen envied her⌠and here you were. You just didn't pay any particular mind to her if she didn't approach you. Having to actively ask for attention was a large shift, but Sevika's come to be more partial to the idea of pursuing you-- she's starting to enjoy it.
The Last Drop had hollowed out for the night. Most patrons had either left, or had been dragged out after passing out while drunk. To no one's surprise, you were on dish duty yet again. Humming quietly along to the song playing on the jukebox, you carefully pack away all the cleaned dishes. Sevika had been sitting at the counter, waiting for you to finish silently. She's found herself in your presence more often lately. "Quiet night?" "I wish," is all you sigh in response. "What're you waiting for?" Sevika pauses once you ask her that. What is she waiting for? She thought that to you, the answer would be obviousâ she's waiting for you. But she hadn't put much thought into it. "Thought the one thing you were good at was minding your business." Despite the defensiveness in her tone, you smile. "Fair enough. Keep your secrets."
Oh, how Sevika loved that. You never pried, not unless she made it clear she wanted to talk. You weren't quite so interested in her past, rather in what she had to offer towards the future. As more time passed by, Sevika found herself becoming more and more fond of you.
If you're more oblivious to the fact that she likes you, Sevika will begin to feel out of her element. Not one to beat around the bush, Sevika would do things portray her interest in youâ but maybe it's a little subtle, too subtle for you to pick up on. She waits for you after your shifts, personally buys you some snacks that she thinks you might like, wards off drunk or annoying patrons; anything she could do to make the burden of living in Zaun a little lighter, she would do.
Due to you not being aware of her silly crush, Sevika begins to think you just don't care. And then she'll become frustrated againâ she's not going to be running around and doing little tasks and errands to catch your attention. She's Silco's right hand, one of the most dangerous women in Zaun, and here she is buying cheese curls for a bartender that won't give her the time of day!
In an act of defiance, one day, she won't wait for you at the end of your shiftâ or interact with you act all. And then one day turns to another, and she's gone a week without speaking to you. The first day, you had noticed, but rather assumed that she was not ignoring you, but instead was feeling under the weather. You assumed the same on the second day, and then the third day began to feel more suspiciousâŚ
Sitting at the small coffee table in Silco's office, Sevika holds a clipboard in her lap, eyes skimming the recent shipment reports. Too much work for one person, and not a whole lot of time. Wedged between her fingers is a cigar, ashes falling ungraciously onto the ashtray beside her. Her eyebrows are set in an annoyed expression, which doesn't alleviate when she hears the door knock. "Silco's not taking any visitors." When you realize she's in there, you inhale deeply before opening the door. "Not here for Silco," you say as you step through. She doesn't say anything, her eyes still glued to her report. "You doing okay?" Raising an eyebrow, Sevika gives you a look of confusion. "Why are you asking?" "Haven't seen you in a week," you reply. "Thought you got sick or something." Ego slightly bruised, she sighs. "No. Just got busy." She shifts over on the couch, leaving some room. "Come sit."
Sevika is more direct with her feelings after this. She's more or less aware that you feel something about her, she's just not sure what. Having worked under Silco for so long, especially under the shimmer industry, Sevika has met maniacs and lunaticsâ though you might just be the strangest person she's ever met. Slowly, your relationship progresses outside of work, and though nothing has been officially established, you've been sleeping over at each others' placesâŚ
Eventually, you'll ask her yourself. You're not stupidâ you're aware of the romantic connection between you and Sevika. You've just never thought to ask until now.
Having worked the whole day, you finally get off your shift, heading to Sevika's flat the first chance you get. You're not even positive she's home, but you have a spare key anyhow. After taking a shower and throwing on one of her shirts, you gallivant over to bed, laying on your back and staring at the ceiling. The door creaks open, and you hear that familiar loud sigh. "Hi," is all you mutter. "Couldn't even get under the blanket?" Sevika sighs as she sits next to you on the bed. Ignoring her jab, you'd been too lost in your own thoughts. What is this called? Friends? Friends with benefits? Is she your girlfriend? Partner in crime?? "Sevika, what are we?" Tugging the blanket from beneath you, Sevika lays down in bed after she covers both of you. "What do you mean?" "Are we dating? Like, officially?" You hook your leg over Sevika's waist. The answer is obvious, but you'd never established it. She grumbles. "I'm not gay." "Sevika, please."
Now that you've formally established your relationship, you realize that she's truly the sweetest girlfriend. One of the best things about your relationship is that you can both co-exist; working the job that she does, Sevika realizes that she spends a lot of time apart from you. But you never question her feelings or whereabouts, not when she hasn't given you any reason to. Most women she'd spoken to, whether it be at the brothel or the bar, had obsessed over herâ so when you brought the form of normalcy into her life that you did, she had assumed you just didn't care. She knows better now.
Before you move in with her, Sevika will just find you in her apartment. Whether you're grabbing something out her fridge, laying on the floor in the living room, taking a nap in her bedâ you're usually there. Eventually you'll move in, but it would be lying if Sevika said she wouldn't miss getting surprised with you in her apartment when she gets home from work.
There's casual affection and banter constantly. She usually leaves for work earlier than you, so when she kisses you goodbye, you're still in bed, grumbling, "don't touch me, freak," beneath your breath.
Thumb on the corner of the page, you flip through an old Piltovan magazine. It astonishes you that when given an infinite budget, rich pricks in Piltover will waste their money and fabric to put more ruffles on clothes. Ugh. You curl up into yourself further on the couch, blanket draped over your lap. The front door creaks open, and the sound of Sevika's boots being thrown carelessly into the corner of the room fills the air. Before you can even look up, the couch dips beside you, and Sevika's arm wraps your neck to pull you against her. She presses a kiss to your temple, and you wonder when headlocks became an act of romance. "Hey," is all you mumble, leaning into her touch. "This what you do in your time off? Read Piltie shit?" She questions, looking at the magazine you're reading. You simply hum in response. You had a day off today, miraculouslyâ Silco had given you a raise, as well as today's break. Sevika definitely orchestrated all of it, but you didn't pry. She'd probably avoid the question anyway. "You got a raise," she points out. "Maybe you can start investing some money into the cheese curl debt you've gotten yourself into." Not paying much mind to her jibe, you reply. "Why would I do that when I have you?" "Because you're the one eating them, smartass," she replies. Her body weight is nearly entirely projected on you, but you have no complaints. "Should leave you for your addiction." "Leave me? Didn't realize we were together. You said you weren't gay." Her prosthetic arm is off and laid on the coffee table, so she can only use her one arm to wrap around you. Arm wrapping your waist, she tugs you into her lap, which finally persuades you to put the magazine down. "I'm not," she replies as she allows you to press kisses all over her face.
You find out through Ran that she didn't like you when she first met you, on the strangest basis possible. Sevika hadn't told you because she thought you knew. You make fun of her for it constantly, much to her annoyance. It amazes you that even though you tried your hardest to avoid getting into anyone's business, you still managed to attract the attention of "the most dangerous woman in Zaun."
She absolutely hates the fact that you tease her about her previous hatred towards you. When she threatens to retaliate, you ask her if she's going to make you do more dishes.
Given that you're dating her, most of Silco's goons, as well as the patrons in the Last Drop, are aware that messing with you is not the brightest idea. Much to your content, most people leave you alone when they realize that you're Sevika's partner. Being socially awkward has never been better.
If Theriam is tending to the bar, you'll join Sevika at her table while she's playing poker, and she'll allow you to sit in her lap. When you keep drinking her whiskey without her permission, she'll threaten to put you up as an offering, and then quickly take it back because "you wouldn't sell for much."
Though she'll attempt to convince you otherwise, she's absolutely whipped for you. You're the strangest individual she's ever come across-- you're also her best friend and soulmate.
The gray, murky waters of Zaun's only river pushes against the shoreline. Legs dangling over the water, you sit next to Sevika on the docks, waiting for a shipment of shimmer to depart. Its 6 in the morning, and the shipment doesn't leave until 8:30. Sevika had made up some bullshit excuse about needing to be there early, but you knew better than to trust that she was telling the truth about it. She actually just wanted to spend time with you somewhere that wasn't the Last Drop. Her cloak is draped over your shoulders, and your head is leaning against her shoulder. "Why'd you drag me out here so early?" For a moment, she doesn't reply, which isn't uncommon for her. You're about to start speaking again, assuming she had just ignored your question, but she lets out a quiet sigh instead. "I wanted to take you somewhere. Its not ideal, but its somewhere." Her head gently presses against yours, and your heart melts. "Just wanted to tell you that I appreciate having you in my life. Even if I did hate you before, it wasn't for good reason. It was because I wasn't strong enough to chase something I actually wanted." Hearing her speak of herself as if she wasn't strong enough was absolutely astonishing. She's the strongest person you know, literally and figuratively. "You know," you start, trying to find the right words to say. You allow your fingertips to run down the length of Sevika's arm. "You're the strongest person I know. I mean, even without your muscles. You work hard everyday, and you deal with more idiots than I can manage for even a few minutes. I'm glad I met you." Your fingers intertwine with hers. "I think my life's become a lot easier since I started loving you." You weren't just saying this to make her feel better; you truly meant the words you were saying. Since you had gotten with her, work has been easier, you have a home rather than a cheap rented out flat, and most of all, you have something to look forward to at the end of the dayâ getting to spend time with her. Sevika doesn't reply to your words or compliments, and you weren't going to force her to. You know that a couple words wasn't going to change her perception about herself completely. She shifts, pressing her lips against your hair. "I love you too." She whispers, quiet enough to the point that you nearly don't catch it. You hope that you'll get to say it to her enough to change her mind.
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master the subjects you hate: a how-to guide (from someone who has done it) Ë ŕŁŞ ¡Í¡⥠đđË ŕź ŕłâ・ đđ



have you ever had that one subject which has always been your problem subject? where every time you study it or sit in class and see others succeeding effortlessly, all you find yourself wishing is that you could just master it and move on with your life?
well, this was me my entire life, up until a few years ago. the dreaded subject? mathematics. but instead of suffering endlessly under the torture of its reign over me - I decided to take a different approach. what if i could master it? no longer have it haunt my shoulder in life?
well, that's exactly what i did.
and now? i'm a biomedical engineering major.
okay, okay. am i saying you will now become a famous philosopher, writer, mathematician, historian, artist, etc. by following these tips? of course not. it can happen though. or at minimum, that subject won't be an enormous pain in your side anymore. which is very much worth it, in my opinion <3


⥠step 1: get clear about your goals.
first, you need to outline how you envision yourself. back when I was in grade 10, there was a moment when I realized just how annoyed I was with not understanding math. i took out my journal and started writing out my goals for the subject. what did I want? i wanted to be able to solve problems effortlessly and get my homework done. i wanted to truly understand the subject - not just enough to finish the homework but enough that I could write any test and ace it.
back when i changed my study game, it was all during covid, when we all went online during school. i was in grade 9, and with those last few months of school online and with the summer, I decided to change my life.
if anyone remembers 2020/2021, im sure you remember the craze over bullet journalling. that's what I used for all this. i used it to plan out my days, which let to me planning out different things I visualized myself as I changed my life, and that included mastering my subjects and becoming that studious it girl.
write out these goals. figure out exactly what you want. make a vision board, use Pinterest, use your notes app. figure out who you want to be.


⥠step 2: romanticize (but not in the way you think).
if you've made it this far, you may be like "this is such generic advice for general goal planning. what is so revolutionary about journalling ?" stick with me. trust. this is the step that revolutionized my study game. it made me go from someone considered a pretty good student to someone that teachers would talk about, someone who was not just pretty good but excellent.
so what did i do? its not "romanticize" the way everyone uses the word these days, exactly. and its not really a very pretty or aesthetic method. but it works.
see everything with a different lens.
take math, for example. the way i always viewed the subject was basically just something I would probably never understand, something I just wasn't gifted in. i was always a really good writer, remember? i was going to do a bachelor of arts in psychology and go to med school and be a doctor. so math? wasn't my thing. i never understood it the way my friends seemed to so effortlessly do. but that still bothered me greatly.
and it had to change.
instead of viewing it as this enigma, I took a more pragmatic approach. what if I simply broke every single concept down to its most simple parts? and what if... i changed the narrative? instead of it being hard, difficult, not naturally gifted at, impossible... what if I just pretended I loved everything?
i call this "romanticizing", or more accurately probably, gaslighting. i kept telling myself over and over and over again that I loved this subject. specifically, I repeated these a million times and deliberately in my head:
â§ i love math so much!!!!
â§ math has and always comes so naturally to me
â§ math is my favourite subject
â§ math is actually really easy, all I have to do is break down the topics
â§ i can understand every single thing I learn
â§ i am a math prodigy
years later, manifestation and the law of affirmation really started gaining traction in social media. but its funny, I accidentally invented this strategy for myself when I was 15. I didn't even know what manifestation was; I just decided that I wanted to no longer struggle. and look, here's an important fact to remember: I did not do all of this so I could become an engineer. i literally wanted to be a doctor, and becoming an engineer was a funny side-effect of becoming so good at math and wanting to pursue it more than other subjects. with this method, which I still use, I actually, genuinely fell in love. It taught me where my true interests lie.
some other essential things i did?
â§ inspire myself with history and context. i always loved history and research. if I wanted to inspire myself into a topic, I researched the history behind the mathematical subject. for example, for trig, I researched where the original trig functions, cosine, sine and tangent came from, learning the history behind mathematics and Egypt. and let me tell you, I never forgot my trig functions after that.
â§ ask the teacher for help every single time I had even the smallest, most insignificant question. and if still no good answer i google, and then, only then, do i ask my friends for help. teachers are literally paid to help you. so many students forget this and get intimidated. don't let this be you. what sets top and stellar students apart is doing uncomfortable things. i literally don't care if you sit with the teacher the entire class, lunch, after school etc to understand that topic. you do what needs to be done.
â§ master every single small detail. i started realizing that all the small details of misunderstanding were what were hindering my understanding. you know when you do a problem and there's this baby question you have that stops your understanding at like 85% instead of 100%, and you're too lazy to ask the teacher or a friend or you just don't get a good answer and drop it? don't do this. i became obsessive about ensuring I understood a concept literally 110% before moving on. the history research helped so much with this. i remember even for chemistry, I would read university-level pages on topics so by the time the test came, I would be such a master at the topic I felt like I could teach the teacher, or write and mark the test. true understanding and passion made me not just a master of a topic but genuinely intelligent and able to come up with my own interpretations, opinions and shortcuts in my subjects. you would think opinions and interpretations are only in the arts. you would be mistaken.
now this point all might be a little controversial since it may seem a little obsessive and time-consuming, but anything worth it takes resources. and I never said it was a pretty method. but it does work.
â§ stopped viewing teachers in a negative light. you know how when you have a teacher and everyone says, "this is the worst teacher ever, you will hate them" or "I feel so bad for you, no one has ever passed in their class"? danger, danger, danger. never let others form opinions for you. i started ignoring absolutely every single thing a person said about a teacher. i started gaslighting myself into beliveivg every single teacher was amazing and would help me and I have no issues with them whatsoever. now of course this doesn't count if there is a serious issue with a teacher where they are doing things that need to be reported. I'm talking about when everyone hates a teacher for being a hard marker or a bad explainer. don't view your teachers in that way. and it won't make you a teacher's pet, trust me. after I did this, teacher's were so warm towards me and I really became memorable to them, especially since I would ask so many questions (helpful for letters of reccomendation). i remember there was this one teacher we had where literally no one, in all his years of teaching, would ever get more than a 60% on a paper. everyone hated this man. but I focused on what he wanted from us: and delivered. which no one ever did. i realized he was pushing us to write the best papers we ever could. and I got 100s in his class. people literally had no idea how I did it. i simply smiled. and my writing skills after being taught by him and listening? insane.



⥠step 3: watch your life change.
okay, here's the part where things really come together. once you start with one subject, watch the effect spread to your other ones. once i mastered math, you better believe i did the same thing with physics. this subject especially i ignored everyone's perceptions and focused on myself and my own learning. i didn't care what other's thought at all. this expanded to chemistry, and biology.
what was interesting what its effect on english and history. i mentioned that i was already a pretty decent writer and was doing well in these subjects. but all of this? i subconsciously started applying these principals to these subjects, too. it made me a phenomenal writer. and i started reading more, more advanced books, asking more questions, thinking more deeply, writing more complexly, all applying these principals.
⥠conclusions.
once you become passionate about something, replace negative thoughts/phrases with positive ones, watch your life change. that passion? it will show you what you are actually, truly interested in. i was always an ambitious child, i always wanted to be a doctor. not because my parents wanted me to but because i had an interest in medicine, though i was always on the fence about dealing with patients everyday since its not really my thing exactly. but once i started realizing i am the master of my fate, and i can master anything i want, i realized that i was very interested, talented and passionate about the intersection of technology and medicine. i went from ambitious.... to driven, sharp, laser-focused, a force to be reckoned with.
i could talk endlessly about this. its something i am very proud of and has genuinely, sincerely changed my life.
if you have any questions, let me know below. and if you want to learn more about biomedical engineering, let me know and i will consider making a separate post about it ! thanks for reading <3
#study blog#studyblr#study aesthetic#study motivation#advice#coquette#girlblog aesthetic#girlblogger#girlblogging#just girly things#female rage#girl interrupted#just girly thoughts#lana del rey#divine feminine#self love#self care#self discipline#fyp tumblr#it girl energy#clean girl#health and wellness#wellnessjourney
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Escaping the Cult ch 6
"Time to see if your mouth is as talented with a cunt as it is with cock."
cw: 4.7k MDNI, kissing competitions, falling into bed together, first times. ghoap x reader
First || Previous
It was an unusual night when both Simon and Johnny were off of work, their schedules rarely lining up throughout the week. It meant you were all gathered in the living room, watching television, drinking and eating popcorn. The movie was winding down, the love interest in the arms of the protagonist being kissed like their life depended on it when Johnny, who had been hooting and hollering at the kiss, went quiet. You looked at him as he turned to you, a serious expression pinned across his face. You waited for him to tell you what was wrong.
"Who's the better kisser between me and the bastard?" he asked with a furrowed brow.
You couldn't help but sit there silently. Who was the better kisser? Between Simon and Johnny? You'd never thought of it before, the two men being so completely different that you'd never thought to compare.
"I haven't ranked the two of you," you scoffed, pushing him off of you where he'd started to lean in closer. "That's weird."
"It's nae weird!" he insisted, setting down his drink and turning to where you were sat on the couch between the two men. Simon just chuckled and took a sip of his whiskey, watching this play out. "You've been kissing both of us for ages, surely you have some idea of who's better."
"I don'tâJohnny," you tried, but he steamrolled over you.
"We'll settle this, then. We'll each give you one good kiss. The type that'll knock your socks off. Then you can decide who's the better kisser. It'll obviously be me but it's only fair to give Simon a fighting chance." And with that he pulled the popcorn bowl out of your hand, setting it off to the side before he pulled you into his lap, straddling his hips, ignoring your protests all the while.
"Johnny!" you gasped, looking back concernedly at Simon as you placed your hands on Johnny's shoulders. You hadn't ever had a couch kissâwhich almost always turned into make-out sessionsâwith Simon here before. But he just watched, expression placid as he took in the two of you. Looking back at Johnny, he smiled at youâcharming, as if butter wouldn't melt in his mouth.
"Love to hear you gasping my name."
Reaching up to cradle your face, he pulled you into him. The press of his lips was warm and comforting in their familiarity. A soft, easy thing that sent a warm rush of heat all through your body. You couldn't help the way you pressed closer, pushing more firmly against him as you fell into the kiss.
He traced your tongue with his, little kitten flicks that had you chasing into his mouth so he could suck on your tongue. It was flirty and playful like his kisses normally were until he unexpectedly changed it up. Pulling you closer to him, he devoured your mouth, tasting every corner he could, chasing your taste.
It felt like ages had passed when he finally pulled away. His eyes were fogged as he smiled up at you, warm and loving. He blinked, eyes coming back into focus as he turned to look at Simon. "Beat that."
You couldn't help your giggle at the childish taunt, going along with his urgings as he helped you off his lap and shuffled over to Simon, taking the same seat on his lap after a hesitant look received a nod of acknowledgement.
"Is this okay?" you whispered, having not progressed to this level of physicality with him yet. He nodded. You shifted, getting comfortable stretched across his wide thighs as you watched him pick his glass up from the edge of the couch, bringing it to your mouth. You let out an unknowing whimper as he tilted it, letting the amber liquid inside trickle slowly into your mouth. The burn down your throat matching the one in your core that Johnny had lit, stoking it even higher.
He pulled the glass away too soon, a pout dropping across your face as he set it to the side and reached up for your face. Your pout turned to an open-mouthed gasp as he threaded his fingers through the hair at the base of your skull, cradling it in his large palm and directing you to his mouth.
You chased the taste of whiskey from his tongue and teeth, following along every crevice, playful flicks of your tongue against his. He allowed it for a short time before pulling your head back and taking charge, plundering your mouth as if it were his right. It had your head spinning from lack of oxygen and the feel of him pressed against you, your hips subconsciously rocking, searching for stimulation.
You pulled away with a gasp, panting into the sliver of space between the two of you, your hot breath washing over his lips. You came back to yourself with a blink and a flustered smile as you shifted off his lap, missing the way Johnny adjusted himself at the other end of the couch.
Climbing off of his lap, you sat back down in your seat between the two of them, hands clenched in your lap, watching the credits playing like you were going to be quizzed on it later.
Johnny didn't let it last long.
"And?" he asked, leaning closer, "Whose kiss was better?" You felt your cheeks heating as you hunched at the pointed question. Thinking about the two kisses had your core throbbing, a slick pulse that thundered every time you rubbed your thighs together.
How could you compare the two? They were as different as the two men sitting on either side of you, certainly not lesser for their differences. You waffled for a moment, trying to decide if you could pick a winner when it became clear to you that you wouldn't be able to.
"I can't make a decision," you apologized to Johnny.
"Come on, there has to be something."
"Really, I can't."
"There was nothing better between the two of us? Maybe one had better breath?" Johnny tried, shooting for something, anything.
"Honest." You threw a Hail Mary out, "Maybe you two should try kissing. Settle your argument about who's the better kisser that way."
You would've thought you'd just dropped a bomb on them. Johnny had a flabbergasted look on his face like he'd never considered that his pushing could lead him here while Simon had his thinking face on. It looked just like his 'no emotion' face but his eyes were softer. You could label his face just as easily as you could your own in the mirror, very little able to be hid from you.
"We're nae gonna kiss," Johnny full on pouted as he turned back to the television, crossing his arms and everything. "I wouldn't kiss him if he begged me to."
"What's wrong, Johnny?" Simon chimed in, an amused lilt to his voice, "Scared you might like it?"
Johnny swallowed heavily, "You're nae gonna trick me into anything. I'm nae doing it."
"Well, I guess that means I'm the winner then. On account of you not playing," he goaded. You watched the match happening on either side of you, retorts volleying back and forth as you sat quietly, waiting to see where this would lead.
Johnny slammed his feet to the ground as he stood up. "All right, ye bastard. Let's see it. Although, we already know I'm gonna be the winner so don't be too fashed about losing." Moving around you to stand in front of Simon, he impatiently gestured for him to stand up.
With an affected sigh, Simon did just that. Standing, he towered over Johnny by over half a head, painting a pretty picture as you watched them size each other up. Johnny a ball of frenetic energy as he practically vibrated in place while Simon stood staring at him with a controlled expression. You weren't sure who was going to make the first move but you were watching raptly, eyes darting back and forth between the two men.
Johnny caved first, throwing caution to the wind and charging straight ahead. He took a step, bridging the distance between the two of them and reached up to move Simon's face how he wanted. Finding the perfect angle he dove in, pressing their lips together and you were pretty sure you caught teeth flashing as Johnny latched onto Simon's lip first. Simon didn't seem to mind if the way he huffed into Johnny's mouth meant anything as his hands came up to rest on Johnny's hips.
The kiss turned filthy, quickly. Hands started to roam, pulling up shirts to slide against the warm skin of their waists, reaching to cradle the back of a skull, kisses moved from the mouth down the throat.
It was hot and you had all your muscles clenched, trying to stay sitting quietly, to not interrupt. You were practically sat on your hands. This was the first time they had kissed since Simon left Johnny under Price's care. The first time they let their guard down enough to appreciate each other. Johnny almost looked like he was punishing Simon for how he left, leaving his own bruises every place he went, not scared to use his teeth. And Simon took it, letting Johnny use him as a chew toy, seeming nonplussed by the sharp bites of pain.
He let Johnny run rampart for a time, letting him do what he pleased before he corralled him with a hand fisted into the hair at the base of his skull, tugging Johnny's head back, face pointed towards Simon and the ceiling.
He whined at the tension along his scalp, going nearly limp in Simon's grasp only for Simon to lick into his open mouth. You felt your core throb at the sight. You hadn't realized how hot watching the two of them kiss would be, but you knew what you'd be imagining when you finally crawled into your bed that night.
"You're a right bastard, you know that?" Johnny panted as he chased Simon's mouth. "I shouldn't have missed you. Should've moved on."
Simon grinned meanly, "You'd never be able to move on from me."
Pulling Johnny closer, he fused their mouths together, taking what was still his despite all protests to the contrary. You watched Johnny bite Simon's lip, nothing like the little nibbles he would use with you but Simon was unbothered, simply pressing deeper into the kiss, letting Johnny take his due.
Pulling back with a gasp, you watched Simon move to trail biting kisses along Johnny's neck, stopping every so often to suck vivid marks into his pale skin. Johnny had his head tilted back, staring unseeing at the ceiling until Simon got to a particularly sensitive part and he let out a dirty moan.
You weren't aware of the whimper you let out. The quickly stifled noise of want you couldn't hold back. Not until they stopped and looked at you, pupils blown out in desire, Johnny panting ever so slightly as Simon's fist clenched that much harder in his hair. They both looked at you, standing there all by yourself.
Johnny grinned up at Simon, "I think someone is feeling a little left out."
Simon hummed deep in his chest as he snaked an arm out to pull you up from the couch and into their duo.
You fell into them with a gasp that soon turned to breathless laughter as you all struggled to figure out how to fit three bodies together. A bumped elbow or knocked nose was quickly smoothed out as you stumbled to the bedroom.
It should've felt rushed but it didn't. It had been building this whole time. With every kiss Johnny pulled you into after dancing with you around the kitchen, every time Simon tucked you in close, his hugs lingering until you ended them. It had all been building towards this.
This inevitable end.
All of you.
Together.
You fell into their bed in a tangle of limbs, the room smelling deeply of their scents combined. You weren't able to take in more than two sets of blankets on the bed, firmly divided, before Johnny was on you, licking into your mouth as he pressed your lips together. You had a brief moment of concernâshould you all slow down? Was this too fast? You'd wanted this for so long. Or a variation of it, maybe. You'd never been bold enough to wish for what you truly wanted, thinking it too far fetched to ever be possible. All that time, hopelessly pining and now you had both of them in bed.
It almost felt overwhelming. Too much of a thing you had never dared hope for causing you to short out. You'd started to tense before rough fingertips sliding up your spine sent those thoughts leaking out your ears.
You weren't sure who started removing clothing first but by the time you were all naked any concerns you might have had, had vanished. It was hard to tell in the dark, who's whoâyour eyes slow to adjust to the change in lighting.
You were just starting to make out features when Simon took charge with a hand placed on the back of Johnny's neck, directing him down to where you lie in the middle of the bed.
"Time to see if your mouth is as talented with a cunt as it is with cock."
You were 100% on board with that if the pulsing between your thighs meant anything. Your breath came in stuttered gasps as you parted your legs, giving Johnny room to wiggling in between, an excited grin on his face.
He dove in enthusiastically. Licking you bottom to top in one broad stripe before zeroing in on your clit, pursing his lips and sucking on the sensitive bundle of nerves. You couldn't help the yowl you let out at the sudden sensation, dropping your hands to fist into the bedspread at your sides.
"There she is," Simon purred, looking down at the two of you indulgently. He reached out to drag his fingers down Johnny's back, leaving red streaks where he dug in his nails. Johnny moaned into your cunt at the sensation, back twitchingâtrying to get closer and further away all at once. A shudder rolled down his spine. "You two look so good together."
Johnny dove in and ate with abandon, happy to finally get his mouth between your legs. Your taste had him humping into the mattress, grinding his cock as he looked for any sort of stimulation. It'd almost be pathetic if it wasn't so hot.
"Christ, you're such a fucking slut," Simon chastised down at him. "Can't go without something touching your prick, can you? Tell me, are you really that needy?"
Johnny was if the answering moan and shudder was any indication. He dropped down to press his mouth to your slit, making out with your cunt before pressing his tongue deep inside. His nose gave you a counterpoint to grind against as he huffed into you, desperate for every scent, every taste as he listened to Simon talk down to him.
"Should put you in a cock cage, make you beg for it."
If you could've spared two brain cells you would wonder at the dynamic of the two men. Simon cruel and Johnny needy. You wondered if this was how they were back with Priceâwhen you'd been gone.
For all that Simon was being cruel though, Johnny's groans of delight fed the fire in your core. You felt the heat of your orgasm starting to creep up the back of your thighs. A wash of prickly heat that signaled the oncoming wave. You took a deep breath, trying to corral it, to tamp it down, to give you a little bit longer with Johnny between your thighs.
But it wouldn't be stopped. All you did was condense it, pack it tightly into itself so that when you finally did cum, it was that much more electric. It was a rush of heady pleasure sweeping through your body, coalescing in the cradle of your hips where you clenched and spasmed around Johnny's tongue.
"Just like that, sweetheart. Doing so well for us," Simon rasped in a choked voice, hopelessly turned on from watching you come undone, Johnny still under his palm and rutting against the bed as you drenched his face. He pulled back with a gasp just as the sensations turned sharp.
"Please, Si, please. I need it. I can't take it anymore," he babbled, tripping over his words in his rush to get them out, "Need to be inside." You felt your core clench at the thought.
"All right, you did good. You can have your treat."
With the release of those words Johnny crawled up you until he was face to face, hands pressed deep into the bedcovers on either side of your head. "I've been dreaming about this, are you ready for me?" His heat washed over you, breath tickling your cheek as you turned your head, searching for his mouth.
Your kiss was your response, pressing firmly to him despite your slick that coated his face, the taste of yourself only enhancing Johnny's flavor. He pulled back to line up, his tip teasing the seam of your cunt with there and gone presses before he began to sink in, moving slowly.
Press in. Pause. Repeat.
His hips met the cradle of yours as he fully seated himself inside you. You both paused for a moment, appreciating the sensation. Simon shuffled to kneel behind Johnny, encouraging him to lean backwards, the hot press of his body sending a shudder down Johnny's spine.
Johnny began to thrust, starting slowly before picking up speed, chasing his own pleasure. You writhed at the overstimulation, fighting through it to chase the pleasure hovering just on the other side.
Simon whispered in Johnny's ear, loud enough for you to hear, "Just like that. Fucking her so good. Is that cunt as tight as I imagined?" At the words you couldn't help your resultant clench, a feedback loop that caused Johnny to moan and punch into you telling Simon exactly how you felt inside. "Is she gripping you like she can't stand to let you go?" And you were. You felt like you had a vice lock on Johnny's cock, like you were trying to strangle it.
He loved it if his moans and stuttering hips were any indication. His head dropped back to rest on Simon's shoulder as he reached forward to hold your hips, tilting you up to better meet him.
"You're doing so good for me," Simon directed at you from over Johnny's shoulder, a wild gleam to his eyes showing he wasn't unaffected by the sight in front of him. "Doing everything that you were asked, just like I knew you could." You swallowed back your moan at the praise, chasing Johnny with your hips in retaliation for Simon's words. You felt your eyes mist at the steady strokes that brushed against every sensitive spot inside.
"Look at her," Simon cooed, "Looks like she's about to cry. Go on, baby, tell him how he feels inside you."
"S-so good," you cried, losing the battle to keep your tears from spilling over your lashline as Johnny honed in on the optimal position, making you squirm and yelp with each thrust. Hearing your voice break sent Johnny moaning like a pornstar, a deep-seated groan echoing out into the room.
Simon reached up to wrap a hand around Johnny's throat, not squeezing just holding. "You're doing that. The good boy I knew you could be."
And Johnny came with a whimper.
His hips stuttered as he pressed deeply into you, fighting to get his cum that much deeper. A mess of thrusts and cries as he worked to fill you. It was with a breathless huff that he pulled out and fell beside you, curling in close to press his forehead to your temple.
You were laying there, staring at the ceiling as Johnny's hot breath washed over your face when you felt fingers at the apex of your thighs. Looking down you saw Simon kneeling where Johnny had just been, keeping your legs spread with his bulk as he played with your sensitive pussy. Your back arched at the sensation, nerves still alight from Johnny's earlier ministrations.
"Think you can take more for me, love?" he asked, stroking along your outer lips to gather the spend that had leaked from you to press it back inside. You couldn't help the breathless moan that escaped as he finger-fucked you, your hips hitching as you chased the feeling, a tremble in your knees as you fought to get closer, to have him fuck into you harder.
He grinned smugly, "Yeah, you can take it."
And you could, you were made for this. It came to a head when he pulled his fingers out of your dripping cunt, ignoring your pouting whine, and shuffled to where the tip of his cock was kissing your entrance. Pressing forward firmly, he slowly sunk into you, stretching you into his exact shape, carving a home for himself.
Simon was wider than Johnny. The stretch of your internal muscles was intense as he pressed in. You found yourself nearly pulling away before he pinned your hips down to the bed. A final press and he was in and you fought to catch your breath. He paused to let you adjust but you couldn't help the way your muscles were spasming around his length, milking him. It was still too soon when you couldn't take it anymore and hitched your hips up trying to encourage him to move.
"There we go." He picked up a steady rhythm, pushing you up the bed with each stroke until he grasped your hips, pulling you to meet him instead. The thud of his hips into the fat of your ass was slowly knocking any remaining thoughts right out of your head leaving you floating in a blissful fog.
He said something you were too fucked out to catch before you felt Johnny at your nipples. He took one in hand, pinching and pulling it, tugging on the sensitive skin until you gasped, back arching to try and relieve the pressure. He let go with an insincere sorry before pulling you into a kiss, the skin of his face still smelling of your release. He kissed like he was still ravenous for you, chasing after your mouth if you tried to turn away, pressing firmly when he got your lips within reach again, tongue plundering your mouth.
"Fuck if you two don't paint a pretty picture," Simon purred, keeping pace as he fucked into you. You turned your head to look at him, ignoring Johnny's whine as you turned away. He towered over the two of you lying in bed, a wide mass that blocked out the overhead light as he leaned down to kiss you as well.
The slip-slide of your lips was intoxicating. You panted into his mouth, unable to help yourself. It was your turn to whine when he pulled away and moved towards Johnny, pulling him into the same type of dirty kiss he'd just graced you with. Your resultant clench at the sight sent Simon moaning into Johnny's mouth. A helpless groan of pleasure that he couldn't keep back.
It was to the sight of Simon and Johnny kissing, with Simon still managing to keep his rhythm, brushing along every sensitive place inside, that had you cumming. It snuck up on you unexpectedly but your second orgasm was no less powerful than the first. You were trembling by the time it had worked its last pulse out of you.
Simon pulled away from Johnny so the two of them could watch you come undone, panting breaths and deep groans counterpart to the euphoria happening inside your body.
It was the matter of a few deep thrusts from Simon before he was filling you too, pressed deeply to mix with Johnny's spend still tucked up inside.
With a kiss to your forehead he pulled out, the two of you letting out matching moans at the feeling. You curled into yourself slightly as you turned on your side to watch Johnny rubbing his cock, the stimulus of the two of you in front of him too much for him.
With a slight shuffle and only two awkwardly placed limbs, Simon moved back to sit against the headboard, encouraging Johnny to sit in the V of his legs, his back pressed to Simon's chest. Simon reached around to take a firm hold of Johnny's cock before he started stripping it mercilessly.
You flinched at first, about to step in on Johnny's behalf until you looked up at where his head had fallen back on Simon's shoulder and he had a look of ecstasy on his face. He was right where he wanted to be, you realized. And then Simon opened his mouth.
"Greedy fucking boy. Just can't get enough, can you? Always wanting more." And Johnny did if his answering whine was any indication. He panted up into the charged bedroom air, his bucking hips his only answer.
"Shouldn't encourage you like this, you're gonna end up spoiled."
Spoiled is the last thing you would've called Johnny as Simon stroked his cock like he was trying to rip it off, a cascade of mean sentences falling from Simon's mouth straight to Johnny's ear.
But Johnny loved it. It took a shockingly short amount of time before he painted his torso up to his chin, his orgasm wrecking through him so forcefully it brought tears to his eyes as he grit his teeth. Tendons in his neck strained as he panted.
"That's a good boy," Simon murmured, loosening his fist to gently glide over Johnny's cock, giving him some stimulation but nothing like the rough groping that had been happening. Johnny bucked into it, chasing the last dregs of his orgasm. "Did so good for me, my perfect boy."
Johnny didn't respond beyond slumping further into Simon's hold, spine going liquid in release. You inched over to drag your fingers through the warm cum coating his abdomen, dragging them through his mess, leaving shiny trails through the hair on his torso. Simon reached over to palm the back of your head, keeping you close.
The air was quiet as you all calmed down, Simon holding both Johnny and you as your feet all tangled together. It was with groans of dismay that Simon announced he needed to get up if they didn't want to sleep in their own filth that night.
Johnny rolled off him but ended up on top of you, smothering you for a moment. His weight pressed you deeper into the mattress, grounding you until he finished rolling to the side, bringing you with him. Curling you into his arms, he pressed kisses to both of your eyelids, smiling at your shy giggle.
"You don't know how happy I am, right now," he said quietly, sincerity dripping off his words. "I didn't ever even hope for this, it was always too much," his voice dropped lower, as if ashamed of the words, "Didn't think I was enough for it."
You pulled him in tighter, squeezing with all your might. "You deserve good things, Johnny," you hurried to reassure him, "You deserve all the best things. You and Simon. You both do so much, you're so important to me."
"Important to us," Simon said as he stepped out of the bathroom holding a warm, damp towel. Nobody said much more as he wiped everyone down before throwing the rag in the clothes hamper to be dealt with later.
An awkward shuffle of limbs had you triple spooning with Johnny in the middle, snug as a bug surrounded by the both of you. The hard conversations could wait until the morning.
For right now, this was perfect.
#ghoap x reader#simon riley x reader#john soap mactavish x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#fic: escaping the cult
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Watkins Warpath
â
They called it the âGame of the Monthâ before tip-off.
By halftime? They were calling it the beginning of a rivalry era.
LSU vs. USC.
You vs. Juju.
And the energy? Unmatched.
Sold out arena. Celebs courtside. WNBA stars in the crowd. The air buzzing like a playoff game, but this wasnât the leagueâit was just college. College that felt bigger than life, because of you.
And because of her.
⸝
Warmups felt like foreplay.
Juju was already on oneâloose, cocky, chewing gum like she owned the building. She watched you stretch from across the court, licking her lips when your shirt lifted and your stomach showed.
âDamn,â she muttered under her breath, eyes shameless. Her teammate nudged her.
âThat your girl or what?â
Juju smirked. âNot yet. But tonight might change that.â
⸝
Tip-off.
You didnât even pretend to hide the smirk when Juju came out guarding you.
She was in your space the second the ball was in your hands.
âYou wore that lip gloss just for me, huh?â
You chuckled. âPlease. You wish.â
Juju grinned, hand on your hip. âI do. And you know it.â
⸝
The battle was instant.
You crossed her twice in the first quarterâhard. She responded by draining a pull-up jumper in your face and slapping your ass on the way back down court.
Technical? Maybe.
But the refs werenât trying to kill the show.
The crowd ate it up. Twitter exploded.
đĽ: [clip]
âJuju guarding her like she her girlfriend đâ
âđđ She playing defense and flirting at the same time like itâs normal.â
âThis is a real life love and basketball showdown rn.â
⸝
By the second half, you were both gassedâbut locked in.
Tied game. Three minutes left.
You caught the ball at the top of the key. Juju stepped up. No space.
You hesitated, then jabbed, drove hard left, spun back rightâshe bit. You rose.
Splash.
The crowd erupted.
But Juju just nodded. âOkay. I needed that.â
On the next possession, she answered. Step-back three. Right in your face.
She winked. âDonât get soft on me now.â
⸝
LSU won it. Barely.
Final score: 81-77.
You had 26. Juju had 24.
And when the buzzer sounded, both teams lined upâbut Juju didnât wait for the handshake line.
She came straight for you.
Pulled you into a tight, sweaty, intense hug.
Cameras snapped. Phones recorded. Your teammates screamed in the background, but all you felt was her hand resting low on your back and her lips near your ear.
âYou make it real hard not to fall for you.â
You leaned back just enough to look at her. âThat a problem?â
âOnly if you leave without me.â
⸝
So you didnât.
⸝
Fifteen minutes later, you both walked out of the arena tunnel side by sideâhoodies on, hair damp, smiles low and private.
You were trying to keep it chill. Lowkey.
But of course?
You forgot what it meant to be you.
⸝
Viral Tweets..
âYâall⌠she just left with Juju. Hand on her lower back. REF DO SOMETHING.â
TikTokâŚ
âTHE WALK OF SHAME BUT MAKE IT SAPPHIC ROYALTY. đđđâ
âWhy do I feel like weâre watching the start of a marriage.â
⸝
Back at UConn?
Azzi saw the clip the second it went up.
She didnât comment.
Didnât post.
Didnât like.
But she did text.
AZZI: Youâre really doing this?
You stared at the message. Then put the phone down without replying.
⸝
You werenât doing anything.
Not really.
Just playing the game.
And if Juju kept playing you like that?
She might just win.
Or lose harder than she ever has.
⸝
#wbb x reader#wnba x reader#uconn x reader#azzi x reader#azzi fudd#azzi fudd x reader#juju x reader#juju watkins x fem reader#juju watkins x reader#juju watkins
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You Get Me | Min Yoongi

PART THREE
Summary: After agreeing to keep things "professional" you try to swallow your feelings for Yoongi. At first it's going well, until the last week of production when Yoongi suddenly announces that you need to make more edits to the album, leading to more confusing feelings and frustration. Things take a turn when Y/N meets a new man in pursuit of finding a way to debut her work.
[Part One] [Part Two]
The first week after Yoongi and I decided to keep it strictly professional was unbearably awkward. Every glance, grazing of a hand, smile, frown, hum or laugh led to overanalyzing and overthinking. It was exhausting. But I realized that I wasnât spending almost every free night I had in this cold studio for Yoongi, I was spending it here for my album. I needed to stay focused. So I swallowed my conflicted feelings and tried to keep my eye on the prize. We were able to stay cordial and things almost felt as if they had gone back to normal a month later. I stopped second guessing every interaction I had with him and taking the high road led to the album being basically finished by the end of the month. I had recorded about twelve songs. But I had noticed that in the past week, supposedly the last week of working with Yoongi, he started to mention that he wasnât entirely happy with the finished product.Â
âWhat do you mean something sounds off? Yoongi, it sounds great to me.â I questioned him, taking off the spare pair of headphones in the studio. Yoongi sat, leaned back in his chair, with his arms crossed. He shook his head in disapproval.Â
âTrack three is too short, we shouldnât have scraped those few extra verses last month. Track five doesnât have a good beat after I went back and listened to it again and track twelve isnât strong enough to close the album. Itâs just three songs but Iâm going to need a few more weeks with you in order to finish this album.â Yoongi shrugged, clicking away on his computer, not even looking at me.Â
âYoongi, Iâve spent almost every free night Iâve had the past three months working on this album with you. Why didnât you bring this up weeks ago? Why now, weâre almost done.â I said in frustration. Just last week, he had told me the album barely needed any changes, what couldâve possibly changed in a week?
âI understand this is taking up your time, but itâs your album, donât you want it to be perfect? Youâve invested so much time into it already, how would another week hurt?â I bit my lip and stared at the open folder of songs on the screen. Yoongi was right, another week wouldnât hurt if it meant perfecting it.Â
âFine.â I sighed, which made Yoongi produce a small smile. âBut please, letâs try to finish this by next week. Iâm sure you have other people that want to work with you too.â The small smile that was resting on his lips disappeared.Â
âIâm not in a rush.â He murmured, turning around and back towards his computer. Part of me wondered if Yoongi was telling the truth about those three songs. A week ago he said he loved track five and now he claims it doesnât have a good beat? I thought back to when I told Yoongi I couldnât keep in contact with him after we finished working together. As much as I yearned to have him in my life, he said it himself, he doesnât do relationships. If Yoongi truly wanted to be with me, he had three months to make it happen. I half regretted sleeping with him. My mind often wanders back to that night. I remember the way he touched me, the way he kissed me. But then I think about how he slept with me, never called, and told me he couldnât be with me after the fact. For how great he made me feel, he also made me feel used. I just understand why he doesnât want to end this working relationship. What would be his motive for delaying the album. If he wanted to spend more time with me, why? Does he have feelings for me? After everything he told me, I assumed he didnât have the capacity to feel anything for me. I know deep down the album is fine, and admittedly I am a bit annoyed I have to come back here and sacrifice a good night's sleep to spend time with a man I want but canât have. But deep down, Iâm happy that I get to see him for one more week.Â
The next morning I had journeyed back to the neighborhood bookstore. The same one I ran into Namjoon three months ago. And maybe it was luck, a coincidence, or because we simply lived in the same area, but I bumped into Namjoon in the checkout line.Â
âY/N?â Namjoon said, I turned around and craned my head up to look at him. Namjoon was one of the tallest people I knew.Â
âNamjoon!â I gasped, pulling him into a hug. âHowâve you been?â I asked, moving over so the person behind us in the line could check out.Â
âGood, good, just been working, what about you? Howâs the album?â He excitedly questioned. I smiled, happy to know that he remembered.Â
âItâs basically finished. Next week, weâre adding the finishing touches and then Iâll see what I can do to market it.â I nodded, praying he wouldnât ask about Yoongi.Â
âHas Yoongi been behaving?â Namjoon chuckled, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans. I let out a fake laugh, debating on if I should cave and let Namjoon know about what happened last month. Maybe Yoongi already told him? I thought to myself.Â
âOh, uh, heâs been great. Heâs respected the vision I had for the album since day one. Thank you again for recommending him. I donât think this album would have ever come to fruition if you hadnât introduced me to him.â I said genuinely. Namjoon gave me a pat on the shoulder.Â
âMy only payment is that I want to be one of the first people to hear it when itâs finished. You should have a listening party or somethingâŚâ Namjoon proposed. Before I could respond, someone behind us cleared his throat. Both Namjoon and I turned and came face to face with a man a little shorter than Namjoon. He stared at me, giving me a warm smile as a greeting.Â
âIâm sorry to interrupt but I couldnât help but listen to your conversation. Youâre coming out with an album, correct?â He asked, still staring at me. I nodded in agreement, waiting for him to continue. âIf youâre not sure on how to promote the album, I might know of a way. I run a small festival down at the park annually. Local talent comes and performs on this stage we set up in the open field. We raise money for different charities and itâs becoming a great way for musicians to gain some exposure.âÂ
I raised my eyebrows in surprise. The mystery man seemed to pick up on the intrigue that mustâve been evident on my face since he let out a laugh. Namjoon nudged my side, whispering that I should do it.Â
âUm, wow, that would actually be a great way to debut it.â I exclaimed, âWhat day is this festival?â I asked, taking out my phone so I could type down all of the information.Â
âNext Friday. I guess Iâll take your interest as a yes?â He asked, also reaching for his phone.Â
â100 percent!â I said excitedly. I smiled at Namjoon, he looked equally as surprised and excited as I was.Â
âWhatâs your name again?â The man asked.Â
âY/Nâ I said, frantically typing, and he did the same, most likely adding my name to a list of performers.Â
âCould I actually get your number? That way I can stay in contact with you and let you know what time youâll be going on stage. Weâll also work out how many songs you want to perform off of the album.â He explained, handing me his phone so I could add my number.Â
âOh my god. I was so excited I forgot to ask youâŚWhatâs your name?â I questioned, realizing I still didnât know who he was.Â
âHoseok.â He smiled, taking his phone out of my hands. He was actually pretty good looking. He had this really bright smile that always reached his eyes, his jawline was sharp and he had an athletic build. âIâll reach out soonâ He said reassuringly, waving at us and turning around to leave.Â
âWow Y/N, congratulations.â Namjoon said, wrapping an arm around me. âYou should invite Yoongi. I know he doesnât go out much but Iâm sure heâd want to watch you on stage too.â Namjoon was right, and I actually couldnât wait to tell Yoongi about the festival.Â
A few days later, I was back in Yoongiâs studio. After we had fixed up track three, Yoongi had offered to order some food. I honestly didnât want to leave, since I was having a lot of fun with him so I accepted the offer. As we sat and hovered over the as we ate, I thought itâd be a good time to mention the festival. âSo, a few days ago, I ran into Namjoon at the bookstore.â Yoongi glanced up from his food, expressing interest in the story. âWe were talking and he was asking me about the album. So, I was telling him about how we were almost done and this was probably the last week weâd be working on it.â Yoongi hummed in response before I continued. âThen this guy interrupted and he said he organizes this festival every year and heâd like me to perform some songs there. Itâs held at the park.â I said excitedly. Yoongiâs eyebrows raised in surprise and he stood up from his seat. He pulled me up and into his embrace.Â
âY/N, thatâs amazing, Iâm so proud of you.â He said, but he came out muffled since his face was buried in my hair. We stayed in each otherâs arms for a few seconds too long. It was nice, it felt secure, it feltâŚright.Â
âYoongiâŚâ I paused, suddenly feeling nervous. âWould you be interested in coming to watch? Iâd really like it if you could be there.â I asked, pulling away slightly so I could get a good glimpse of his face. He looked past me, his grip loosening up by each passing second.Â
âWhat day is it?â He questioned, fully pulling away.Â
âFriday.â I responded.Â
âI donât think I can make it.â He said coldly. I furrowed my brows together.Â
âWhy? Do you need to work, normally you donât do anything on Friday.â I probed.Â
âWell this Friday I need to work, Iâm sorry.â Yoongi snapped, sitting back in his seat, a vast difference from two minutes ago.Â
âOkay.â I whispered, looking down at my shoes before also taking a seat.Â
Throughout the week I had been texting back and forth with Hoseok. First he had sent me some information about what time Iâd be going on. Then I sent him the two songs I wanted to perform. He had liked them so much to the point he called me to talk about them. âItâs been a while since Iâve heard songs that good.â He had complimented. âYou have an incredible voice.âÂ
By Thursday night, he had invited me over to his apartment to talk and go over everything. As we sat on the couch, I found myself feeling conflicted. Just a week ago, all I wanted was for Yoongi to tell me he took back everything he had said about not wanting a relationship. Yet here I was, sitting next to a guy who seemed to be genuinely sweet and interested in me. I found myself attracted to Hoseok, but every time I started to fall, I would see Yoongi in my mind and I would get a pang of something horrible in my chest.Â
âI know youâre going to do great.â Hoseok reassured me, placing his hand over mine. I stared down at the sight, a smile forming at the corners of my lips.Â
âThank you again, for introducing yourself and letting me know about this whole thing.â I said.Â
âWell, it was a great way to find an excuse to talk to you.â He chuckled. âAt first I thought that guy you were with was your boyfriend but I realized he wasnât after I started listening to your conversation. It was a happy realization." Hoseok explained, glancing at me.Â
âSo it wasnât just about the music?â I teased. He shook his head, his eyes trailing down to my lips. I glanced down at my shoes, my face feeling hot all of a sudden. He lifted my chin with his finger, moving my face towards his own. His lips molded against my own as I leaned my weight towards him. He pulled me onto his lap as I started to straddle him. The kisses were soft, gentle but not fiery. It was like my kisses with Yoongi. Nothing like those. Hoseok was nice, but I found myself feeling guilty, almost as if I was leading him on. I tried to lean into the moment as I felt him place his hand on my butt, his other hand cupped my face. I tried to focus on the moment, tried to shut my mind off but I just couldnât. I pulled away, stopping the kiss, stopping the moment as a whole.Â
âIâm sorry Hoseok.â I said as I removed myself from his lap. He looked confused, but I placed a hand on his thigh. âI just think I should go home, you did nothing wrong but I should probably just focus on the festival tomorrow. But weâll talk after, okay?â I pleaded, hoping he wasnât angry.Â
âYeah, yeah sure.â He responded unconvincingly. Iâm sure he was running through the whole interaction in his mind, trying to figure out what he did wrong. Little did he know, as long as I had feelings for Yoongi, no one stood a chance.Â
The day of the performance, I had successfully avoided Hoseok for the most part. His friend was working the stage area, and I assumed he was out doing crowd control. I clutched the neck of my guitar, feeling jittery, as if I had drank ten cups of coffee. My heart was pounding as I peaked out of the curtains, noticing the group of my friends, including Namjoon, all looking excited to watch me perform. Tomorrow I was supposed to pick up the final copy of the album from Yoongi, we had finished the last of the album late Wednesday night. I was feeling emotional. It was a mixture of sadness for officially marking the end of my time around Yoongi, but also feeling proud of myself for finishing my own album. I had achieved a life goal so early on and now I was getting to celebrate it in front of hundreds of people.Â
By the time I was introduced, I sat down and gave a quick introduction, waving towards my friends. I started strumming on my guitar, starting with the first track on the album. The second song was track six, one of my favorites. Halfway through the first song, something shocking happened. I noticed someone walking down the aisle, making their way into the group of my friends. There he was. Yoongi. He did come. He did care. He greeted Namjoon quickly, before turning to watch me. Yoongi noticed me staring at him, and he gave me an encouraging look, mouthing âYou got this.â I nodded as I continued singing. On the other side of the audience was Hoseok, who never took his eyes off of me.Â
By the end of my set, I had received a standing ovation. I thanked the crowd before walking off stage and back into the audience.Â
I greeted my friends, hugged Namjoon and thanked everyone for coming. Yoongi walked up to me, hands in his pockets, âYou did great.â He said.Â
âI canât believe you came. I thought you were busy?â I asked, frowning. He looked around before grabbing my arm and taking my back behind the stage, away from everyone.Â
âI fucking did it again. I panicked and I pushed you away. Y/N I have to admit, this whole week, there was nothing that needed to be fixed. I justâŚI didnât want to let you go. I know you said you didnât want to keep in touch, but I couldnât let that happen. Iâm still crazy about you. I think about you all of the time.â I suddenly felt light, like a weight had been lifted from off of my shoulders as I listened to Yoongiâs words.Â
âYoongi, why didnât you say anything sooner?â I questioned, suddenly feeling even worse about kissing Hoseok last night.Â
âI needed to work through all of my shit first. I want to make this work with you. I donât want you in my life as a client anymore, I want you in my life as my girlfriend.â He was saying everything I had been waiting for the past three months, yet because of what happened last night, I couldnât bring myself to fully give in. I needed to confess, to get a clean slate.
âYoongi, I have to tell you something. I donât know if this changes anything but last night I kissed someone else. But I turned him down because I couldnât stop thinking about you. I donât know why I did it, I assumed you werenât interested in me.â I explained, tears welling up in my eyes. I couldnât bring myself to look at him, afraid Iâd raise my head and heâd be gone. But instead, I felt him lift my head up and wipe my tears away.Â
âWhy are you crying?â He asked, pulling me toward him.Â
âBecauseâŚI feel horrible about it, I feel like I played with your feelings, I had no idea you felt this way.â I sniffled, resting my head against his chest unsure if this would be the definitive last time Iâd be able to do it.Â
âYou shouldnât feel guilty about it. We werenât together, I kept pushing you away, you had no idea.â He whispered soothingly.Â
âYou arenât mad?â I stammered, looking up at him.Â
âNo. Iâm sorry I put you through all of this confusion.â He apologized. I squeezed him even tighter. âIâm just glad itâs over. Iâm so happy Iâm with you now.âÂ
~
{A/N: Part Three is here, which means this series is finished. I hope you enjoy it! Lmao not Hobi catching strays I'm so sorry lololol. Have a good day/night. I love you all so so much and mwahhhhhhđđđđđđđđđđ}
#bts#min yoongi#bts fanfction#bts fanfic#suga#suga fanfic#yoongi x reader#bts x reader#bts smut#suga x reader#bts scenarios#bts writing#bts imagines#bts fic#bts fluff#namjoon#hobi#jhope#hoseok
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Blue Umbrella
Pairing: Kento Nanami x Reader
Summary: The first time Nanami notices you.
w/c: 2.8k
a/n: This is my first ever x reader fic so I'm super nervous!! I do really like the vibe I went for so please let me know if you'd want more of this reader with Nanami.
Any feedback is welcomed! Enjoy!!
Ao3 | M.List
!Warnings!: mentions of death, dead bodies and arranged marriages.
â.ŕłŕżâ Ë*ŕź
It was never a question if humans were meant to die.Â
Death is one of the many truths of the universe. To the very planet we know. But there are some truths that the men of our era spend their lives putting aside. A truth so simple even a mere child could understand, a truth that truly made the world go round.
Life repeats and nature evolves.Â
Nanami Kento knew these fundamentals well, just as others in his line of work did. There was no wondering if or how he died, it was a matter of when . He saw firsthand how the scales of power shift.Â
Of how quickly a man could become something akin to a god.
Or something more monstrous.
Nanami didn't want power. He didn't want anything really. Nanami was simply doing what he could, and that meant returning to the world that broke every part of his soul. A job that demanded more than just his time and effort.Â
Returning back to the world of sorcerers wasn't easy after spending his time running from it. The higher ups and his colleagues brought him back to his teen years, the years he spent countless hours at his dead end salary job trying to forget.
He was on the verge of regretting coming back. âWhat is the purpose of the small good I can do?â heâd often ask himself as he went from mission to mission. It still felt better than what he was doing after he left Jujutsu Tech.
The bleakness of both jobs seemed to stay with him regardless of feeling a bit better about his role in the world. After work, what did he have besides an empty apartment and friends that nearly die every time they clock in?
Something changed the first summer after switching jobs again. Something- no, someone had finally caught his attention.
He remembers it clearly, a hot rainy day where water rolled down the many steps to the entrance of Jujutsu High. Nanami had just come back from a mission, ready to give a quick report and head home exactly on his schedule.
Instead, he faltered, catching a glimpse of you.
You were standing in the rain with Gojo at your side. Nanami had never seen Gojo look so cautious around a person before, but he stood there, hands clenching and unclenching at his side, blue eyes trained on you as you looked up to the cloudy sky.Â
The hot sticky rain was hitting your face, slowly running from the top of your head, to your cheeks and then framing your jaw. To others it would seem quite strange, but to Nanami it seemed like you needed this. Like nature herself was grounding you.
Nanami couldn't move. His muscles locked mid step, just his left leg on the upper stair as he watched the scene before him. You looked familiar in a way, but he couldn't put his finger on it. Perhaps you were the embodiment of life and death. Gentle yet a slow killing poison. He couldn't place you in his memories yet he felt as if he knew you.
He wanted to know you.
Forcing himself to come back to his senses, he shakes off some water from his hair and starts his journey back up. That's when he hears your voice, gentle yet stern.
âIâll run a cursed blade through my heart before Iâd ever listen to them and marry you.â
Gojo gave a small laugh, shoving his hands into his pockets looking at the sky with you. âI wouldn't expect anything less from you, Y/N Kiyomi.â He muses before dropping his tone to something deeper, curious. âWhat do they have on you to ask for such a thing?â
âHave? They have my life, Satoru, just as they have yours.â Your answer came easily. Just as you open your mouth to speak more, you catch Nanami's tall figure making its way up the stairs. Clearing your throat, you look down to your feet as Gojo spots him, waving the serious looking man over.Â
âNanami! Youâre going to make the ladies go mad with your wet shirt clinging to you like that.â Gojo teases, throwing an arm over the man's shoulders before he could protest. Throwing him off casually, Nanami keeps his eyes trained firmly on you, his glasses off in his hand so he could see without the rain drops blurring his vision.Â
âHave we met before?â Nanami asks you bluntly but of course it's Gojo who answers.Â
âWhaaat? You're telling me you don't remember the Jujutsu techs resident cry baby?â Gojo grins, bringing his arm around Nanami once more to whisper in his ear. âI suppose Y/N is all grown up now. They reallyâŚ.filled out.âÂ
Without looking, you hard launch a rock to hit Gojo right between the eyes.
âIgnore him, he's a fool.â You rush to say, puffing out your cheeks in mild embarrassment. Nanami feels something tighten in his chest as he nods, stepping away from Gojo who's now complaining about the attack that didn't even hurt him.Â
He steps closer, looking down at you. You watch as his jaw clenched, hands tightening around his glasses, the rain drops sliding down his cheeks to his perfect jawline. âForgive me for not remembering you.â He nearly whispers. âYouâre one of Shoko's' friends, yes?â
You nod your head, a shy smile taking place instead of the somber feeling you oozed earlier. âNo, no it's okay, Mr. Nanami. I was a year below you, then you left not long after I came to the school.â Pausing you look to the side, a little sheepish. â And yes, I work closely with Shoko.â
âI see.â So they were here when I ran away, Nanami thinks as he takes in the shape of you. You stand there with a certain air about you. Like you know your place in the world well, that you've accepted how the course of your life will go.
Iâll run a curse blade through my heart before Iâd ever listen to them and marry you.
Your words come back to his mind, and he quickly re-evaluates his last thought. Perhaps you've accepted your place, but it seems you have yet to stop fighting for what you want.Â
âDid you not have an umbrella?â You ask him, before digging into your bag and handing him a blue folded one. Nanami raises a brow, looking at the dry umbrella to the soaked clothes clinging to your skin.
âI don't usually carry one.â Nanami answers. âDid you forget yours was in your bag?â
âNo, I love the rain.â You lean up, whispering like it's some sort of secret. Nanami's mind nearly blanks at how close you are and how good you suddenly smell. âTake it, Mr. Nanami. For next time.â You say, grabbing his arm to turn his palm to the sky to set the umbrella in his hand.
Nanami opens his mouth to protest on taking your property but you're already moving down the steps as a sleek black car pulls up. A man in traditional clothing comes out to open the door for you, bowing slightly. You nod to the man, then look back to Nanami and Gojo.
With a small wave, the door slams shut and you're gone, leaving only an umbrella and a few past memories Nanami couldnât remember behind.
âOh boy! Do I smell love in the air?â Gojo laughs, pushing his glasses up his nose bridge. Nanami does not dignify him with an answer, simply opening the umbrella and walking to finish his work day. Of course, Gojo tags along smiling like a Cheshire cat.Â
âShe simply caught my eye.â Nanami says when they make it back inside. Gojo simply pats his back, before turning to run off to do God knows what.Â
â.ŕłŕżâ Ý Ë*ŕźÂ   Â
That simple boring conversation with Nanami stayed tucked neatly in the back of your mind as the June weeks slowly passed to July ones. There was nothing special about the words exchanged between the two of you. No new revelations, no love at first sight.Â
Yet you couldn't get that look on his face out of your mind.Â
You stayed busy regardless of your clouded thoughts as there were plenty of things to be done on the Kiyomi Estate.
Unlike the Zenin's or the Gojo's, the Kiyomiâs were more of a laid-back family when it came to certain things. There was no power struggle, no money issues, only set expectations everyone with a drop of Kiyomi blood was expected to follow.Â
The Kiyomiâs respected the course of nature. The soft and warm, the sick and deadly. The elders were not afraid of the new generations to come. There wasn't a word spoken of the new age, it was a known fact deep in their souls.Â
For the world always changes when things become too comfortable. Nature always evolves, and humans always die.Â
âY/N!â
You look up from the hole you were digging, dirt collecting on your clothes and staining your hands. A young teen boy comes your way, Megumi with his familiar deadpan look on his face carrying a plastic bag. Heâs Satoruâs ward, a project of sorts that Satoru loves to tell you about. Soon he will be a first year at Jujutsu Tech, meaning your days of doing Satoruâs job of caring for the boy are coming to an end.
Smiling as the young teenager approached, you dust your hands off on your pants, rising to greet him. âMegumi, what brings you here?â You ask, watching as Megumi makes it to you, sighing at your question. He steps closer, halting at the sight of the six-foot hole before flicking his gaze back up to you.
âStupid Gojo told me to bring these souvenirs to you from his missionâ Megumi explains, handing off the bag while side eyeing the hole. Or perhaps the corpse that lies close to the hole and unplanted flowers.Â
âOf course he did.â You smile, taking the bag and looking inside at an array of sweets. âHe really shouldn't waste his money on such things.âÂ
âI doubt he even checks prices before swiping.â Megumi huffs, crossing his arms. His eyes fall to the corpse again, but you pretend not to notice. The man looked to be older, semi decayed and clearly ready for a proper burial. Whatever got to him and ended his life did it brutally, given the stitches holding certain parts back together.
âWho's that?â
âA criminal who was brought to justice.â You explain without hesitation, setting the bag down before glancing to the body. âUnclaimed body from the morgues. Shoko suspects he was a curse user. I am returning him to nature so that he may come back as something better.â
Megumi takes a moment to absorb the words you tell him before nodding. It's nothing new when it comes to the Kiyomi's. Every flower patch here is someone who has lived a life before. From unclaimed criminals, to sorcerers whoâve met their fate, their bodies rest here when no one else takes them.
Whatever can be salvaged of them at least.
For a brief moment you wonder if you should make the young boy go inside to not see this, but you know his future work will show him much worse things. Inside you hope you'll be dead before his body comes here to rest.
Megumi moves to the hole, grabbing one of the shovels to help dig before you can ask what heâs doing. You smile at his kind offer to help, and fall into quick work of burying the man. After the corpse is buried and flowers are planted on top, he takes his leave without a single word.
Your next distraction comes in the form of Nanami himself, though this time it was not the thought of him. He's in the garden, walking with his suit jacket tucked neatly in his arm as the clan leader, your grandfather, rambles to him about the Kiyomi ways.Â
Finishing the last flower in the arrangement on top of the criminal's final resting place, you stand to make your way to greet them. Bowing as they approach, your grandfather lets out a joyful laugh, echoing throughout the land.
âThis here is my lovely grandchild Y/N. Do forgive her appearance, they work hard in these fields putting the dead to rest.â He says happily, waving his wrinkled hands in front of his face.
Nanami nods, before bowing to you slightly. âForgive my interruption. I came here to ask some questions about the curse user you've just laid to rest.â
âWhat sort of things would I know?â You ask, watching paint as he stands straight up and fiddles with his tie. Nanami clears his throat before glancing at your grandfather who's taking notes on the flowers nearby instead of listening to the conversation.
âThe man's cursed energy, I was told by Shoko that it seemed off. I'm afraid he may..well you know..â He looks back to you, making sure to make direct eye contact as he pulls your blue umbrellas from his arms, handing it back to you.Â
âAnd I wanted to return this.â Nanami says, watching every move you make. You feel the urge to smile, but hold it back to instead nod, taking the umbrella gingerly from his large hands. Your fingers brush and it's like you were suddenly set on fire.Â
âThank you, Mr. Nanami, but I could have sworn I meant for you to keep this.â
âPerhaps I wanted to see you.â He retorts back, making your cheeks warm slightly.
Your grandfather stiffens up, looking between the two of you with a knowing smile. Fighting the urge to roll your eyes, you clear your throat pointedly to the old man. âOh! Well, look at the time, I've got to head back inside to work.â he says cheerily, leaving you both on the garden path.Â
Turning on your heel, you gesture for Nanami to walk with you. Instantly he falls right into step at your side, like there was nowhere else for him to be. âYou didn't have to go through all the trouble. How did you even find me?â
Nanami hums, pushing his dress shirt sleeves up slightly and adjusting the jacket in his arms. âThe Kiyomi estate isn't hard to findâŚ..and I asked Shoko.â Nanami tells you, looking at the many flowers instead of you.Â
You giggle in response, grinning as you look at the side of his face.Â
âWhy are you here, Mr. Nanami? Surely, you're aware of the gossip in jujutsu society right now.â
âI'm well aware youâre on the cusp of an engagement to that idiot.â Nanami tells you bluntly, stopping in his tracks. You follow along, letting him step to face you. âI dislike the higher ups and the clans who force such things. No, I actually hate them. I hate all sorcerers too.â
Pausing for a moment to find the right words, Nanami runs his hand on his jaw before looking you in the eyes. Even through his tinted glasses, you could see it clearly. The bit of nerves, the longing to be understood. The acceptance of what this world is.
âI didn't come back to be their dog. I came back to do what little good I can. Correct me if I'm wrong, but I feel you are the same way.âÂ
Humming in thought, you put your hands behind your back and look up to the sky. Closing your eyes at the feel of the summer breeze, you let this wonderfully complex man sit in silence.Â
âMy job, Mr. Nanami, isnât to kill curses. As a Kiyomi, I am here to bring a balance to this world. A new age is coming, and I fully intend to protect the generations to come. To plant trees and flowers that Iâll never come to see.â You speak, before cutting yourself off with a small sigh, looking back at Nanami. âI don't play by sorcerer rules. I'm not that kind of person, and I'll never be.â
Nanami nods, swallowing roughly. âYouâll plant flowers at my grave then?â
âNo. You will become a wonderful tree. A protector from the sun and harsh rain. A provider, something solid, long lasting.âÂ
He reaches out for your hand, hesitant to touch. You're almost worried he'd be put off by the dirt and calluses that were on your skin. Nanami simply brushed the mess, before bringing your hand to his lips for a soft gentle kiss against your skin.
âMiss Y/N, would you join me for dinner this Saturday?â
A pretty smile graces your lips, then slowly turns to a teasing grin. âOnly if you bring an umbrella. I hear it's forecast to rain.âÂ
Nanami grins, letting your hand go. âI'm starting to like the rain.â
â.ŕłŕżâ Ë*ŕź
#fanfic#ao3#jjk x reader#kento nanami#nanami jjk#jjk x you#nanami x reader#kento x y/n#y/n#nanami kento x reader#jjk fluff#jjk fanfic#kento x reader#jujutsu kaisen nanami#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen fanfic#summer vibes#summer rain vibes#first x reader fic
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Soon enough - Chapter 2
Wc- 1.6k- Ik i said it would be longer but i lied :)
Chapter 2Â
a/n: Ik this is soon but i was really excited, the plot is gonna be in the past for a bit so hold on, but we will be getting back to draft night soon, Bare with me. Hope you enjoy. I love the girls.
FLASHBACK- slightlyÂ
Azzi POV
Azzi remembers the first time she met Paige, she was this cocky girl that had this explosive way of playing ball. Azzi honestly thought that thats why she would just stare at her for hours admiring her from close and afar. She was far too talented to not be stared at.Â
When she was fourteen she met her and immediately wanted her to be in her life forever, she was annoying and wouldnât shut up if she won at anything but Azzi knew that with all her âflawsâ she was pretty much the best person to be around. She made Azzi laugh and made her more unserious than anyone had ever.Â
The first time she came home she told her mom all about the lil white girl and Katie and Tim Fudd already knew that this bond would be unbreakable. And till this day it was.Â
However, the pieces of this so called friendship started to break a little.
Azzi remembers a few months ago the team decided to go to there first party since the season had started.Â
âPaige are you ready everyone is ready to g-â, and thats when the first palpitations happened for the brown eyed girl. She almost felt like she was having a heart attack.Â
In the middle of the room was Paige, half way taking off her shirt. She was ripped,(ofc she was, sheâs a D1 athlete azzi) and her biceps were at the perfect angle that really showed all the progress Paige was making in the gym.Â
Azzi always knew Paige was attractive, I mean all the thirst edits she got on her fyp was kinda insane, she would always keep scrolling, knowing there was more to come. But she never really took time to truly look at the physique of her best friend. However in that moment, she got it. She understood why millions of girls would go crazy for a glance at her best friend.Â
âAzzi, shit sorry, Im trying to pick out a shirt, this is impossibleâ.
Azzi slowly swallowed and walked towards the blonde, trying to figure out what her mind was doing to her.Â
âI can help P, who you trying to impressâ Azzi said with a hit of jealously, why would u say that. She decided to roam through Paigeâs closet trying to find the perfect shirt. She could wear a cardboard box and still look goodâŚÂ
âAzzi please I literally havenât talk to any girl seriously since you got to UConnâ, a slight pause came from Paige followed by âI mean not that this is about you, iâm just saying I've def been off my gameâ.Â
âRight sorry, I didnât mean anything by what I said, just jokes⌠Here I like this one on you, brings out your eyesâ, She handed Paige the perfect shirt, a blue button down, perfectly fit on her arms, big enough so no one saw her abs. Azzi Stop.Â
Paige stared at the shirt with a huge smile knowing that that was the first one she picked out. She knew her best friend knew her the best. Paige walked towards her best friend âThanksâ. And now there were only inches apart, Paige and Azzi, just like it always has been, however now all Azzi could do was stare at Paigeâs arms and jaw and neck and abs, JESUS what the hell was in the water today.
âOfc P, once your ready well go, ill wait outsideâ.Â
âOkâŚâ
Paige POVÂ
The thing is, Azzi and Paige had never once in there 9 years of knowing one another ever felt uncomfortable about changing in front of one another. They did it basically everyday after practice.Â
Paige knew that her stare probably scared off Azzi, she walked in looking truly like a goddess, hair out, perfectly curled with hoop earrings. Her blue crop top hugging her body in all the right and wrong places, making her more desirable for everyone to look at. And to Azzi, this was her chill outfit, grey sweats and some airforces, but to Paige she truly stole the spotlight everywhere she went.Â
Paige had been freaking out about what to wear. This was the year she would confess, her last year, she had to make it count. So today, she wanted to look her best for her best friend, hoping to get her attention so that no one else steals her away for the night, something that has been happening way to recently.Â
âPAIGE LETS FUCKING GO DUDEâ Nika yelled bursting into her door. âDude ur not dressing for a nike commercial, its a lame frat party, please LETS GOOâ.Â
âNika omg bro let me live, I need to look good tonightâ.
âWell u look the same as every other night. Happy?â
âNikaaaaa dont say that, Azzi picked out the shirt, I think it looks niceâ.Â
âPaige, Azzi could say anything and u would believe herâÂ
âYea ur rightâ
âPussy whippedâÂ
âNIKA WHAt shushâ Nika had clocked Paiges crush the first moment she mentioned Azzi, Paige was telling a story about the best point guard she ever met and Nika simply said âHow long yâall been datingâ. It through Paige for a loop but ever since that day Nika already knew that Paige was forever in love with the younger girl. Nothing would change that.Â
âListen,â Paige started âIm gonna make a move tonight, I swear,â
Nika was looking at Paige with the same bored look as always, she had been saying this for three whole months. And every time she chickened out saying its âbetter to be friendsâ.Â
âPaige, please, do something before u drive yourself insane or donât do anything at all dude. Ur gonna drive yourself crazy and will end up with no girl, friend or notâ.Â
Paige sighed, she knew that her twin was right. Nika always told her to shoot her shot, but every time she built up the courage, some guy or girl would come up to Azzi and steal her away, deflating all the confidence Paige built up. For three years she felt like the girl would never see her as anything other than her friend, however Nika kept telling her Azzi never looked at anyone the way she did at Paige.Â
This year she chose to believe the Croatian. And so she swore on her life she would do something tonight that would finally give there friendship a little push into the right direction.Â
ââââââââââââââââââââââââââââââââââââââââââ
Everyone was pilled into Paigeâs car, Azzi in the front, my passenger princess. Ice, Nika, KK and Carol in the back. Everyone else would meet them at the party.
Paige couldnât stop turning her head to Azzi, she looked beautiful but most importantly, she always was there to rely on, she always had Tylenol if Paige had a headache and chapstick if she ever needed any and she never ever left without saying goodbye knowing it made Paige uneasy, she loved her more tha-
âPAIGEâ KK yelled.
âWhatâ???
âU just ran that red lightâ!!!!!!
âOmg sorry guysâ.
âDude where is your head at, u almost killed up, are u already drunkâ.
âNo KK relax, just lost my head there for a secondâ.
âYea staring at Azziâ Nika said softly. Everyone in the back chuckled slightly.Â
Suddenly there was a soft hand on herâs. âHey are you okâ?Azzi asked
Paige gulped, knowing she was certainly NOT ok, but she lied, whatâs one more life to her best friend. âYep, just a long dayâ. Usually Azzi would have removed her hand by now, usually not a PDA type of person, but she left her hand where is was for the rest of the car ride. Â
Thats new, Paige thought.Â
Azzi and Paige had always been touchy, but mostly on there own time, maybe a gentle brush on hands as they were walking or a slight hand on the back, but never anything else, only cuddling in there dorms, surrounded by friends or family.
But now, she felt that this touch was different, not so heavy as the other times, gentler, almost scared.Â
This was the sign Paige needed, she was ready, she needed Azzi, and she was determined to have her. And maybe, just maybe Azzi felt the same.Â
As soon as Paige pulled up to the party, Azzi quickly jumped out, disconnecting there hands. Her and Caroline already were walking inside. Paige hadnât even turned off her car.Â
Shit, maybe she felt bad, now she feels weird, omg what if she hated it and now things are werid and she doesnât want to be around me.Â
Nika shook her out of her spiral. âPaige, hellooooo, whatâs upâ. KK and Ice were standing right behind her, all three were looking at Paige with with worried looks.Â
âGuys she didnât move her hand, and now she basically ran off, I made it weird, omg sheâs not gonna wanna be my best friend anymore. She doesnât like me, She doesnât even like WOMEN. Lord help meâ.
KK and Ice started laughing âPaige please, that girl is the most lesbian/bisexual girl I have ever metâ Ice said.Â
âYea P boogers sheâs literally gayâ KK said. âRelax, two minutes of hand holding isnât gonna change ur whole friendship of a billion yearsâ
âPaige lets get you drunk my girl, you need to relaxâ Nika said.Â
âOkay fine, but please dont let me drink tequila, its my truth serum and I canât afford that tonightâ
âOKayyyyyyyâ All girls said.
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The Edges of Us: Chapter 28
First Chapter | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter



Will Lenney x fem reader; George Clarke x fem reader
Summary: Y/N has always been close to Georgeâbut everything changes when she catches feelings for his sharp-tongued, infuriatingly charming friend, Will. Torn between loyalty and desire, Y/N finds herself caught in a messy tangle of friendship, secrets, and unexpected love.
Word Count: 7.2k+
Note: Lets seeeeee where we go from hereeee
xxx
God, I want a coffee.
I step into the cafĂŠ and get smacked in the face by the smell of roasted beans and other peopleâs ambitions. The door swings shut behind me with a polite clatter, sealing me in with warmth and the low hum of desperation. Thereâs a line, obviously. Thereâs always a line. Itâs one of those damp, grey London mornings where everyoneâs chasing caffeine like itâs a religion.
I am so aware that I stink like shit. I've been for a run, my hair has been needing a wash for 2 days. This cap is staying firmly on my head
I shuffle forward, phone in hand like it's a lifeline. I open and close the same three apps. Glance at the messages I didnât reply to. Scroll through a feed that makes my life look curated and calm and maybe even enviable. All the while, Iâm pretending Iâm not replaying last weekend in my head for the hundredth time â the wet concrete, the pleading, the look on his face when I told him to get up.
I tried a new parkrun this week â different park, different crowd. Bit of a change of scenery. In an effort to âexpand my horizonsâ or whatever I wrote in my Notes app at 1 a.m. last Sunday. I got a PB today. Personal best. Fantastic stuff.
On paper, Iâm thriving.
Iâve been doing so well this past week.
Iâve been ticking all the little boxes. Pilates. Painting. Baking sourdough like Iâm on the fourth season of my own breakup montage. Hating my job only 65% of the time â which, frankly, feels like growth.
What I havenât been doing is thinking about the way his voice cracked when he said my name like it was a question. Not wondering if he meant it as an apology, or if it was just another messy attempt to clean up the mess he made.
Thatâs a big fat lie, it's all I've been thinking of.
I order my coffee (oat latte, extra shot; its different every time) and tap my card against the reader with practiced ease. The barista doesnât even look up. Thereâs something oddly comforting about that. Like I could be anyone. Like I am anyone.
I step aside to wait, wrap my arms around myself, try to focus on the buzz of conversation, the hiss of steaming milk, the clink of mugs on ceramic. Ordinary sounds. Safe sounds.
But stillâŚ
The only thing plaguing my mind is Will.
Last weekend.
Drunk as a skunk â which, honestly, is impressive considering heâd stopped drinking three hours earlier. Then came the spectacle: him on his knees, wet-pavement and slurring, telling me âIâm sorryâ like it was a full sentence. Like it fixed anything.
Who does that?
The more I think about it, the less it feels real. Like a fever dream starring someone I used to sleep with.
I pick up my coffee and start to move to the door.
"YN!"
I turn, startled.
Itâs Orla. One of Willâs producers. She's tucked into the corner booth by the window, smiling like the sun finally showed up. She's got that effortless-cool thing going â cropped jacket, wide-leg trousers, trainers that look expensive but I bet she got them in a deal. She's beaming.
âCome sit!â she calls out, waving me over like we saw each other last week and not... four months ago? Six?
I hesitate, but only for a second. Then I head over.
âOh my goodness, so good to see you!â I say, sliding into the chair on the outside of the booth. And it is. Weirdly, genuinely good.
Talking to Orla is easy. Always has been. We slip into conversation like itâs a coat weâve shared before â comfortable, well-worn, familiar in all the right ways.
She tells me about the tour â says it was stressful but went well. She and James are heading out on another one soon. Possibly take the tour to Australia. She asks if I know any good venues in Brisbane and starts scribbling them down in her notes app like she actually values my opinion.
I mention, kind of offhand, that someone called Daniel told me Orla had recommended me for a job. She raises her eyebrows, surprised I didnât take it. âYou wouldâve smashed it,â she says, like it's obvious. I tell her I was touched to hear Daniel say that, genuinely â especially after everything.
We donât talk about Will, of course we donât.
Heâs the obvious thread between us, the elephant taking up the whole booth.
We donât talk about George either.
Before the summer, I was starting to become real friends with Orla. Like, actual friends. She used to text me about gigs and send me dumb memes and ask how I was doing without making it weird. I felt like we were building something that had nothing to do with the guys.
And then⌠everything got messy.
I really felt like we couldâve been good mates.
Sucks how life gets in the way of that sort of stuff.
She fills me in on what everyone else is up to. James got a No. 1 album â a No. 1 album â which she says so casually I nearly choke on my latte. I laugh and shake my head, and she grins like sheâs still a little stunned herself. Â
âIeuanâs up for a photography award too,â she adds. âAnd get this â Nike bought some of his prints.â
âNike?â
She nods, proud in that way thatâs not boastful â just genuinely happy for him. âYeah. Mad, right? The one with the storm cloud and the floodlight â you remember that series?â
I do. Just barely. But I nod anyway, and for a moment it feels like weâre back there â late nights and shared playlists and photos taped to their studio's walls.
And Will? Has he told you he flung himself at me last weekend?
I donât ask it. The question just hovers in the silence between us, unspoken but very much there. She doesnât mention him. Neither do I.
Instead, I tell her about Ruth. Her and Ruth only met once â in passing, briefly â but they hit it off like theyâd known each other for years. It was one of those electric little moments you donât see coming. They talked non-stop about obscure indie films and somehow ended up deep in a conversation about moss walls. I donât even know how.
âShe asked about you the other day,â I say, smiling. âSaid she missed your laugh.â
Orla lights up at that. âShe was brilliant. Canât believe we only met that one time. I heard on the grapevine sheâs going out with Arthur Hill?â
I hesitate.
âI donât know whatâs going on there,â I say. âI think theyâre figuring it out? To be honest, Iâve got nothing.â
She nods, but doesnât push.
Thatâs completely true. Ruth and I talked about her and Arthur the next day over dinner (we ate a cheeseboard and grapes and called it dinner). The long and short of it is that Arthur asked to meet up with her â just a fun, casual thing. And she went to the club to call it quits with him, in person, properly. To explain it all. How she was too intertwined.
Arthur took it well, but he was upset. He asked her not to lose his number, just in case.
And then she got too drunk. He took her home, tucked her into bed, and crashed on the couch like some kind of half-ghosted gentleman. The whole thing was a bit surreal â like something out of a movie, if the movie had less kissing and more existential dread.
She said the gesture made her soul sing but her heart sink. That it was too much and not enough, all at once.
We talked about it, whilst stuffing out faces with brie. I told her â and meant it â that I donât care if she goes for it. That she deserves happiness. If she wants him, she should take the leap. No judgement. But sheâs more stubborn than me, which is really saying something. If anyone could believe it.
Orla smiles at the end of my little Ruth monologue, one of those fond, knowing smiles that feels like being seen.
Thereâs a beat of quiet while she sips her coffee, eyes flicking briefly toward the door. Then, like itâs no big deal, she says, âI should tell you before it gets awkward â Willâs coming. Iâm waiting here for him.â
Of course he is.
Part of me wants to stay. To see him. To watch how he reacts â if he stumbles, if he blinks too long, if he says something too soft, too careful. But the louder part of me â the one thatâs been doing the healing â wants to get up and go. Say thanks but no thanks, and leave him sitting in his own silence.
Before I can let that part of me win, Orla grins toward the door like sheâs seen something mildly amusing and slightly cursed.
âSpeak of the devil.â
And there he is.
Will.
Also in running gear, also vaguely sweaty. Glad Iâm not the only one who smells like effort and unresolved tension. But unfortunately â and I do mean unfortunately â he looks⌠good.
Not âaccidentally ran into my ex situationship in a Tesco aisleâ good. More like critically acclaimed festival circuit good. Like heâs about to break someoneâs heart in slow motion to a Phoebe Bridgers song.
His hairâs damp, his sleeves pushed up, and thereâs that stupid familiar calm on his face â the one he always wears like armour. Effortless. Disarming. Dangerous.
He sees us, and his eyes land on me like heâs been expecting me, somehow. No flinch. No panic. Just a slow, deliberate walk to the table like this is fine. Like weâre fine.
He reaches me first.
Doesnât say anything. Just slides behind me, andâsuddenlyâhis hands are on my shoulders. A gentle squeeze. Warm. Familiar. Firm enough to say Iâm here, but soft enough to ask is this okay?
Itâs shocking. Stupidly shocking.
I should pull away. I should shrug him off. Instead, I lean into it â like my body forgets weâre mad at him. Like I forgot.
Itâs only for a second. But itâs enough.
He lets go, steps around the table, and drops into the seat next to Orla like he hasnât just short-circuited my entire nervous system.
âAlright?â he says, voice low, trying for casual.
So casual I could scream. Or throw my latte in his face. (Tempting.)
I raise an eyebrow. âThatâs it? Weâre just opening with âalright?â Like you didnât go full sad indie boy on your knees in the rain last week?â
He winces â a full-body flinch like the memory physically pained him. âYeah, I went a bit daft last week⌠proper drama queen, on me knees in the rain and all.â
Orla, mid-sip of her coffee, lowers her cup very slowly. âIâm sorryâwhat now?â
Will doesnât look at her. âNot my finest hour.â
âThatâs one way to describe full-blown pavement repentance,â I mutter. âI thought you were gonna burst into song.â
He groans, covering his face with one hand. âPlease. Letâs never speak of it again.â
âOh, weâre absolutely speaking of it again. Probably annually. On the anniversary.â
âI hate that youâre funny when youâre mean,â he mutters, peeking at me through his fingers.
Orlaâs eyes ping-pong between us. âDid I miss a mini-series? Why do I feel like Iâve walked into season three, episode ten, and someone just got recast?â
Will shoots her a look. âSorry, yeah. Bit of... backstory.â
âBackstory,â I echo. âThatâs generous. Bit of a Greek tragedy, more like.â
He leans back, mock casual again. âWell, look, if it helps: Iâve been cringing about it constantly. Like, stomach-turning, canât-sleep-at-night levels of cringe. So. You win.â
âI didnât realise it was a competition.â
âIt always is with you,â he grins. âThatâs half the fun.â
And just like that, the tension thins, slipping away like bad smoke. Stupidly, against every instinct I have.
Itâs always been like this with him. I steel myself not to say a word, and somehow, within a minute, heâs already melting my walls down. When he disappeared, he never tried to break back inâno calls, no messages, no second chances. It was all stoney stares and half hugs. But now, somethingâs shifted. The walls are cracking again, and this time, itâs not just the walls meltingâitâs me.
Cue the baristaâarms crossed, face locked in that universal youâre-not-paying-me expressionâas she strides over like the sheriff of caffeine enforcement.
âIf youâre not ordering food, Iâm gonna have to ask you to move along.â
We all snap our heads up, caught mid-whisper like a bunch of schoolkids frozen under the glare of roll call.
Will blinks. âBelieve it or not, this hereâs a proper emotional reunionânot just hanging about, honest.â
The barista doesnât buy it. She glares at us like sheâs one breath away from dousing us with a spray bottle labeled Customer Repellent.
âAlright, alright. Iâll catch you lot outside. Gonna grab me coffee to-go.â
I grab my coat, shaking my head but smiling despite myself. Thereâs still a storm swirling beneath my skin, but⌠this feels better. Lighter. Manageable.
Will bumps his shoulder against mine as he heads to the counterâquiet. Testing the waters.
He still wonât say what I know he wants to.
Thatâs fine. Neither will I.
Outside the cafĂŠ, a crisp breeze stirs the fallen leaves along the pavement, their orange and brown hues a sharp contrast against the damp grey stones. The morning sun tries to push through the thick October clouds, casting a pale, soft light over the waking city. The faint clatter of footsteps and the distant rumble of buses fill the air, mingling with the comforting scent of fresh coffee drifting from the cafĂŠ door. Orla turns to me, a curious look on her face, her breath forming small clouds in the cool air.
âWaitâso what happened last week? Iâm completely lost here.â
I glance around, the city still holding onto that damp October chill, but the skyâs starting to lighten just enough to promise a new day. âYou donât want to know,â I say with a wry smile. âBut I guess you definitely do.â
Orla leans in, eyes wide, a grin tugging at her lips. âSpill.â
âLast week,â I begin, âWill called me late at night, out of the blue, asking me to help get some of my friends home safe after a wild night out. Ruth, actually, and another guy we know.â I pause, watching a leaf tumble across the pavement. âSo, he sits with me for a while at the hospital, and then, in the early morning, he tells me everything about why he ghosted.â
Orla raises an eyebrow. âOh really?â
âYeah,â I confirm. âI donât know how much heâs told you, he's literally your boss, but... it doesnât paint him in the best light.â
Orla blinks, processing. âYeah, I can imagine.â
âYeah, and then outside,â I continue, âheâs on his hands and knees begging me to forgive him. Like, literally on the street. Although, I think it was more just a half-drunk ramble where he said, âIâm sorry,â but, like, not for what.â I shake my head, still picturing the sceneâhim looking totally lost, like a bloke who'd just realized heâd been caught stealing chips from a takeaway.
Orla laughs softly, pulling her coat tighter around her. âYou always find yourself in the messiest situations.â
âYeah,â I admit. âAnd just when I think Iâm out, he pulls me back in.â
She nudges me gently. âI was about to say, you guys looked pretty comfortable in there. Not what I was expecting.â
I smirk, glancing back toward the cafĂŠ door as Will reappears with a tray holding four coffeesâtwo iced, two hot. âMaybe. But right now, heâs got some serious apologizing to do.â
Will spots us and starts walking over, a sheepish grin on his face. âAlrighty then!â
I roll my eyes but canât suppress the smile tugging at the corners of my lips. âCome on, Shakespeare. Letâs get going before you start acting for tips.â
âWhat?â Will raises his hands in mock innocence. âIâm just warming up. You might wanna stick aroundâIâm saving my best performance for the studio.â
He hands Orla one of the hot coffees, and me the other. The lid says Oat FW + 1. âThatâs for you,â he says, as if itâs no big deal.
I raise an eyebrow. âHow did you know thatâs my order right now?â
He shakes his head, grinning like a kid caught red-handed. âYouâre so weird that your coffee order changes. But I saw the docket for your first one.â
I blink, surprised by the detail.
âAnd I know you and Orla usually drink two coffees each in the morning,â he adds, nodding like itâs the most obvious fact in the world.
We stare at each other for a beatâhis quiet kindness catching me off guard. I shouldnât be surprised. He knows everyoneâs drink order at the pub. But I am surprised. I'm not exactly his best mate right now.
âRight,â he says, glancing at the tray, âOrla and I have to get going to the studio. Filming day today.â The fourth coffee now makes senseâleft in his tray are his and James' coffee orders.
âYouâre more than welcome to come, of course,â Will says, with a sly grin, âbut I assume youâd want a shower first.â
Heâs right, of course.
I roll my eyes, taking a slow sip of the warm oat milk latte. âHey, says you."Â I finish my sip of coffee, "Thanks, though.â
He bumps my shoulder lightly, a small but steady connection. âAnytime, YN. And for your informationâIâve got a shower at the studio. I live the lavish life.â
I laugh, and they both smile and wave as they start walking off in the opposite direction from where I need to go.
Damn.
It's not even 9am.
xxx
Ruth and I have started our Lunches again. On Thursdays now. Ruth works from home on Fridays now, which, as much as she claims itâs "better," is just another excuse to lie in bed and pretend to work. Lame.
Thatâs how I ended up here, listening to her beg me to go to a party at George's flat. I mean, itâs Arthurâs flat too, so thatâs why Ruthâs invited. Sheâs got this way of making everyhing sound like a great time. The thing is, with her it probably will be.
She wasnât going to go at firstâidiotâmaking all these âI don't even like himâ excuses. But now that Iâve convinced her she needs to get out, sheâs convinced I do too. Sheâs walking a delicate line, and Iâm caught right in the middle of it.
âPlease come with me!â Ruth practically whines, her hand clutching my arm with a desperation I know all too well. âI donât know any of these people. You know all of them! You literally have 30k followers on Instagram, youâre one of them!â
I cringe, remembering how I became an Instagram sensation overnight. My follower countâs dropped to 20k, as I havenât posted anything since the premiere. I deleted the app off my phone months ago because I couldnât be bothered with the endless scroll and seeing edits of my exes. But of course, Ruth knows just how to get me.
âRuth, Iâm not one of them, I literally donât have Instagram installed.â
She leans in, eyes wide, practically pleading now. âBut if you really donât want to, I totally respect that. Iâll drop it. And I will also drop Arthur if you tell me to.â
I wave her offâsheâs being ridiculous again. I cross my arms, trying to act aloof, but the fact that Iâm even thinking about it means sheâs winning this battle. I feel the familiar pull of Ruthâs energy, the constant pressure of her need for validation that sheâs dragging me into. Iâve always given in because... well, weâre both messed up like that.
"If I go, canât we go to Maccas afterward?"
She laughs at me, shaking her head like Iâm the one being ridiculous. âMaccas? Maccas, really? What is that, some Australian thing? Youâve been here too long to be saying Maccas.â she shakes her head, âHa. Yeah, sure, we can go to Maccas after,â she mocks, grinning at my accent.
I raise an eyebrow, a challenge in my tone. âUgh, fine, Iâll go. Only to prove to you itâs not a big deal for you and Arthur to go out.â
She grins like Iâve already lost, leaning in conspiratorially. âYeah, yeah. I know youâre just trying to be the good friend here. But admit it, youâre low-key curious about Will being there, arenât you?â
I hate how well she knows me.
And I hate even more that she might be right.
At the mention of his name, my stomach flipsâannoyingly. Like itâs got a mind of its own. A tiny knot, right under my ribs, tightening before I can shut it down. Iâm not curious. Iâm not. I donât want to see him. I want to be civil with him, maybe eventuallyâbut that doesnât mean I want him near me. Not at a party. Not around people. Not... like that.
âWill?â I try to sound dismissive, maybe even bored. âWhat, are we setting up a double date now or something?â
Ruth raises an eyebrow, clearly delighted. âMaybe. Who knows whatâll happen when weâre all in the same place at once? Heâs like a magnet, right?â
I scoff, trying to laugh her off. âYeah, a magnet for bad decisions.â
But the traitor organ in my chest is already thudding a little faster.
âFine,â I mutter. âIâll go. But itâs not about him. Just for you, Ruth. Because someone has to make sure you donât fall headfirst into Arthurâs dimples.â
She shoots me a smug look, and I can tell she already knowsâalready knewâsheâd won.
Again.
xxx
The flat looks exactly the same â still that borderline student-housing feel despite the fact that these boys earn a ridiculous amount of money â but now itâs layered in the chaotic glamour of a proper BYO party. Bags dumped in corners like forgotten parcels. Every flat surface claimed by cans and half-sipped bottles, already sticky with condensation. There's a deck of cards abandoned on the arm of the sofa, and a half-arsed cheeseboard on the table.
I have been to so many flat parties this year itâs verging on comedic. Every one of them smells vaguely of Lynx, cheap lager, and someoneâs regrets.
The musicâs thumping through the plasterboard, too drill-heavy for me â someone with no business near an AUX has clearly commandeered it. Someone who I donât recognise on the Bluetooth, nodding to himself like heâs curing world hunger with this playlist.
Arthur spots us first. He strides over with his usual golden retriever energy, and â to my surprise â pulls me in for a hug. Itâs warm, genuine. Disarming.
âYN! Iâm so glad you came,â he beams.
Then he pulls Ruth in â and thatâs where the temperature shifts. The hug lingers. His hand settles on her back, her fingers hook behind his neck, and she just sort of⌠melts. It's annoyingly tender.
I watch them like Iâm seeing something happen in slow motion. She was so adamant, too. No Arthur, too messy, too close to George. But now? Sheâs making heart eyes like a Year 9 in a school play.
âIâm so proud of you,â she says when they break apart â barely. He grins and laces their fingers together like it's muscle memory, then tugs her away, muttering something about introducing her to his mates. She already knows all their names. I've told her. Probably too many times.
I turn and make my way to the kitchen, pushing a few bottles aside to wedge our drinks into the fridge. Someoneâs brought blue WKDs which feels illegal, somehow. Iâm mid-fridge-Tetris when Chris appears beside me, popping up like a forgotten puppy eager for attention.
âYN!â he grins, going in for a quick side hug.
Ruth reappears, glowing from Arthur's proximity. She gives Chris a warm hug too, just as Harry appears with the energy of a man mid-three-beer confidence arc.
âIâm Harry,â he says to Ruth, holding out a hand.
They all launch into some chat I half-listen to. Something about comedy club venues and whoâs been banned from The Blues Kitchen.
I turn back to Ruth, now that they're all engaged in some conversation. âHey real quick,â I say, blinking. âWhy are we proud of Arthur?â
âOh,â Ruth says, lighting up. âHe sold out his tour. Thatâs what this is for. The party, I mean.â
Oh damn. âThatâs cool.â I say.
âIâm trying to figure out which city to surprise him at,â she muses. âDublinâs on the list. Never been. Heâs doing Paris too but that feels⌠I donât know, on the nose.â
I jab an elbow into her side. âAnd what happened to shutting him out, hmm?â My smirk is obnoxious. Earned.
She shrugs, suddenly sheepish. âUgh, I donât knowww,â she whines, drawing the word out like she wants it to disappear into the floorboards. âI think I really like him.â
I want to roll my eyes. To say youâre an idiot, we all know this. But I donât â because the door opens, and everything in the room shifts.
Itâs Will. And James!
James is a surprise. He rarely turns up to these things â bit too clean-cut, too career-focused, too not chronically online. I didnât even think he and Arthur were that close. Will either, to be honest. But then again, Ruth swore I was wrong. Apparently, Will went on Arthurâs channel recently for a drinking challenge. Which is saying something â Will usually treats drinking collabs like a contagious disease.
Shows what I know.
God, Ruth would make a killer influencer. Sheâs made for this. Lurking in corners one moment, soft-launching a situationship the next.
âIâm gonna go say hi to James,â I tell her, casually. âHavenât seen him in months.â
She gives me a look so smug it could be copyrighted. âSure you are,â it says.
I roll my eyes. Hard.
James is excited to see me, which is nice. He pulls me into a hug, muttering about how he can't believe he didnât go to the cafĂŠ, as he missed me.
I turn to Will. He's smiling at me. Like a proper, eyes-crinkling smile. âNice to see youâre still rocking your charity shop boots.â
I roll my eyes. Something Iâve been doing a lot lately. âNice to see you too, Will.â I want to say to him itâs an op-shop, but I canât be bothered to open that can of worms.
The party thumps on. Iâve successfully evaded George. To be honest, he might not even know Iâm here. Thereâs no shot of that at all, but itâs a nice thought. Iâm catching up with people I havenât seen in ages. As much as Iâve denounced this whole world, so many people in it are excited to see me.
Iâm halfway through telling Reev about how I still have the bedside table he saw for me on Facebook Marketplace when I spot Will across the room. Heâs deep in conversation with George, and James is there too. Itâs not like a bad conversation or anythingâactually, itâs kind of pleasant. But then, James leaves to use the bathroom, and everything shifts. The dynamic suddenly changes, like a flick of a switch. Willâs posture straightens, and Georgeâs tone lowers just slightly.
I can feel it from across the room.
I tell Reev Iâll be right back, giving him the âI need a top-upâ excuse. Itâs half true. I do need a drink, but itâs not the drink Iâm really focused on right now. I move toward the fridge, the hum of the party falling away as I try to make sense of whatâs happening.
I stand there, staring at the two of them, trying to look casual, but every move they make feels like it's happening in slow motion. Will shifts his weight, glancing briefly at George as he scratches the back of his neck. His lips move, but I canât hear what heâs saying. George says something, and Willâs expression changes, just for a momentâmore serious, more guarded.
I study them closely, searching for something. Anything.
I donât know what I want to find, or if I even want to find anything. Maybe Iâm waiting for Will to call George a twat, something I can laugh off, some kind of back-and-forth to break the tension. Maybe I want George to step up, to make this weird, unspoken thing between them clear. Maybe I want a reason to justify the knot in my stomach, to give myself an excuse for the jealousy that's prickling up my spine.
But then, something shifts in my brain.
I realize Iâm not in some stupid love triangle fanfiction. This isnât some dramatic scene from a story where everything gets tangled in the most convoluted way. These guys are mates. Even with all the history, with all the tension from before, theyâre justâgood friends. Theyâre laughing, theyâre relaxed, and maybe thereâs less to this situation than I care to admit.
Iâm not all that. Iâm not the main character in this plot, and this isnât my moment.
Their conversation ends, George walking off to the other side of the flat. He doesnât look back, doesnât catch my eye, thankfully. I wouldâve hated that. But Will does. Of course he does.
His gaze is on me instantly, that same damn smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. I know the look. Itâs the same one he gave me back in the summer, when weâd sneak off into rooms like this, when weâd pull each other into messy situations and then act like nothing had changed. But now, thereâs something different. The air feels thicker between us, and I canât tell if itâs the remnants of whatever weâve been through or just the fact that he knows exactly how to make my heart skip.
Iâm not sure what to do with the way heâs looking at me. I shouldnât even care.
But I do.
And now heâs smirking at me. Getting under my skin all over again. Little shit. He knocks his head towards my old bedroom. The one we used to sneak off together to all the time. Well, twice.
And the other times that werenât at parties.
Heâs daring me to go in. Or asking? Or challenging? I canât tell.
But he wants me in that room.
Fuck.
I turn around, looking for Ruth, but I canât see her immediately. Sheâs probably off with Arthur, doing whatever Arthur and Ruth do when theyâre left alone. I would say be hooking up in his bedroom, but I honestly couldnât say for certain. The host gone from his own party is criminal, but I respect Ruthâs hustle.
My gaze flickers across the room, over the tops of heads, and I canât find her anywhere. I take a deep breath, mentally preparing myself to leave the room if I donât spot her. But sheâs nowhere. I glance back at Willâheâs still watching me. His gaze lingers, that damn smirk still tugging at the corner of his lips. The kind of smile that gets to me.
I look away.
Just keep moving. Donât turn back. Iâve done this before. Iâve left situations that are less complicated.
Right?
I turn back toward the crowd, my feet pushing me in the direction of the door to the balcony. But my hand hovers near the doorframe of the old bedroom, like my brain is suddenly on pause. I know exactly what Will's doingâheâs baiting me, pulling me back into this tangled mess between us. He doesnât know it, but itâs working. Itâs like weâre caught in this weird push-and-pull game.
Is he really daring me to walk in? Or is he just messing with me? Maybe both.
I should turn around. Go outside. I can go talk to Chris or someone. Even Harry. Leave it. Forget that this is even a thing.
But then I see Will shift his weight, that subtle movement that says heâs waiting for me to make a choice.
The room feels closer now. Almost suffocating, as if itâs been pulling me in from the moment I stepped into this flat. Iâve been avoiding this. Avoiding him. But I canât get away from the fact that thereâs something still... unresolved.
Fuck it.
I turn back to the door, my decision made without even really deciding. Itâs like Iâve been holding my breath this whole time, and now that Iâm here, I donât care how far into this mess I wade. I push through the crowd toward the familiar bedroom door. It's been months since Iâve been in there, it's not mine anymore. Never fully was.
Iâm going in.
I turn on my heels, drink still in hand, straight towards my old bedroom. I donât shut the door fully. I never do.
Itâs different in here. All the shit is gone. No more exercise bike or a box labelled "Wires??". George has clearly made this room his streaming spot. Thereâs soundproofing cubes on the wall joining his. Wish I had that when I was here, for both of our sakes.
I walk to the end of the room, and take it all in. I couldnât even walk this far back. It feels so big. Itâs a little bit like when a restaurant you used to work at has been gutted and itâs a new one. Like, so much of my life happened in here, and you'd never know.
Although the desk is the same one that was in here. Itâs a little tatty compared to the nice swanky new furniture, but if it ain't broke donât fix it, I guess.
The door clicks shut behind me. I turn to see Will.
He looks unreal as always.
His hair is the perfect length right now, his mullet curling at the base of his neck, styled effortlessly in a way I know took a lot of effort. He's wearing an oversized black t-shirt, a large jacket, and a string of pearls. Classic.
Weâre standing quite far apart. Heâs at the door, near where my bed used to be. Last time, we couldnât have even been this far apart in here if we tried.
"We have to stop meeting like this," I say.
"Oh but we're so good at it." He smirks, looking around the room. "Itâs no longer your shitty graveyard," he says.
"No more tripods for you to knock over."
"Shame," he says. "I was hoping to practice. Goal is the Olympics in 2032."
I smirk at that. He knows those Olympics are going to be in Brisbane. He always finds a way to drop in that he actually listens.
The silence between us stretches, thick and heavy, the space between us charged with a thousand unasked questions. His hands, buried deep in his pockets, are the only thing holding him together. I can feel the weight of everything unsaid, the history that clings to us like smoke, wrapping itself around every movement, every breath.
I want to ask him a million questions. Why did you get on your hands and knees for me? You weirdo. Or Why didnât you fight for me? Was I not worth it? Or even can you come fix my coffee table? You put it together like shit.
But I say none of that. I canât. Not yet. Not when heâs looking at me like that. Like Iâm a goddamn puzzle heâs trying to fucking solve. Itâs always that look. Am I that complicated?
Of all the questions I muster, I ask him.
âLast time we were here, when you blanked me all night,â he looks at his feet as I say it. âWould you have snuck in here after me, if I came in?â
âI was hoping you would,â he says, lifting his gaze, his eyes meeting mine. âBut you didnât, and I canât fault you for that. I was being a right bellend.â
âToo right,â I say back, my arms crossed. My heart sinks, a familiar ache threading through my chest. Ugh. I shouldâve just done it. Regret is a terrible thing, especially when itâs about something that happened three months ago. âWhat would you have said to me?â
He hesitates, rubbing the back of his neck. âI wouldâve told you to give it a right shot with George, that you deserve happiness, and I have a feeling he likes ya.â He pauses, his voice softening. âAnd I wouldâve told ya Iâm so sorry for ghosting your flat-warming dinner, that I was a coward.â
âReally?â The word tastes strange in my mouth. Did he really just say that?
âIâd like to think not,â he mutters, almost to himself, eyes drifting to the floor. âI like to think that I wouldâve told you everything, that I was sorry for going ghost for a month, but explained everything and maybe you and George wouldnât have had to happen.â He sighs, a long, drawn-out thing, his fingers brushing the back of his neck again. âBut you didnât come in.â
My breath catches. I couldâve come in. I couldâve walked through that door, into the mess of feelings and confusion, and maybe weâd be in a very different place by now. I want to argue, to say it wasnât just me â but I donât. The words fall heavy in the space between us.
âYou couldâve just said all that,â I murmur, my voice unsteady. âIt didnât have to be specifically in my old bedroom.â
He nods, looking up at me, his eyes clouded with something unspoken. His head hangs, his hands pressing into his pockets as if heâs trying to hold himself together. âI know,â he says, his voice a quiet admission. âI know.â He takes a big sigh in, his shoulders slumping with the weight of it.
The air between us thickens, almost suffocating. Every second feels like a fragile thread, stretched too tight, about to snap. I want to speak, but the words feel lodged somewhere between my chest and throat. The tension crackles in the room, sharp and palpable, but neither of us dares to break it.
âUh, well. I- uh,â he stammers, looking at his feet for a moment before meeting my gaze once more. âI wanted you in here to say, uh, clearly. From my performance a fortnight ago, you can tell that Iâm sorry, and that I, uhâmiss youse.â
What.
âAnd I was, uh, wonderin' if you wanted to maybe...â He breathes in, almost like heâs bracing himself, his words taking on a nervous edge. Then, a slow whistle of air escapes his teeth, and he looks at me. âGo on a proper date with me. Dinner and a movie? Or an arcade or something.â
What do I even say to that? My mind stalls, completely blank. Is he serious?
âIn daylight even,â he adds, his voice softening. âProper date stuff.â
I stare at him, still processing, still unsure if this is all real. Heâs standing there, in my old bedroom, with all this history swirling between us. Thereâs nothing but him and the weight of his words in the air, and my thoughts are scrambling to catch up. This isnât how I expected any of this to go.
I look at him, trying to make sense of his quiet plea, his sincerity practically crackling in the space between us. Heâs not rushing me, but it feels like time is bending under the weight of the silence.
Heâs giving me an out. A chance to run. A chance to not have to face whatever this is. But I canât move. I canât say no. I donât want to.
I clear my throat, pushing out the words before my brain can catch up. âIâd love that,â I say, surprising myself as I let the words slip out before I can second-guess them.
A warm smile breaks across his face, like the sun finally cracking through clouds. Itâs genuine, a soft exhale of relief. âBrilliant.â His head cocks slightly, as if heâs still trying to read me, make sure he hasnât missed something. âSee you tomorrow evening. Iâll pick you up at 7.â
Iâm still reeling. My mind is racing, but somehow, it feels like a weight has been lifted. Itâs like the air in the room has shifted, some invisible force relaxing around us. The tension that had been simmering for months, maybe years, is suddenly gone, and Iâm left standing here, dazed and unsure of what to make of it all.
I think maybe this is the part where we make out, against the door, like we used to. The same door weâd sneak off to, away from prying eyes, letting all of our friends notice weâve disappeared.
The familiar warmth of his body against mine, the closeness, the urgency, the way heâd always pull me in like he was starving for meâevery one of those moments floods back, each one sharp and clear in my mind. The times weâd lock ourselves in here, no words spoken, just the sound of lips meeting, breaths shared in the dim light because I couldn't be bothered to turn a lamp on.
 The way his hands would slide under my shirt, the way he'd press me up against the wall and then laugh like we were two kids getting away with something. The feeling of himâdaring, bold, recklessâand yet somehow always so damn gentle with me, as though I was the most fragile thing in the world.
Itâs funny how time works like that. One minute, Iâm locking eyes with him, feeling the intensity of the moment settle between us, and the next, heâs standing there, motionless, waiting for me to make a choice. It was always like this, wasnât it? A game of give and take. We would both always push just enough to get what we wanted, but never quite enough to make us crack open. He wanted me close, but I never really let us get too close.
But this... this is different. Thereâs no push. No tension in the way he looks at me anymore. Just that soft, lazy smile. and a promise to pick me up tomorrow at seven. A date. A proper one. A part of me wants to laugh at the absurdity of it all. We can barely get through one conversation without the ground shifting beneath us, but now heâs asking me out. Like itâs that easy.
But he doesnât even step towards me. He steps back. A deliberate, almost final motion that signals the end of whatever it was we were about to do (we were about to do nothing, im delusional. Were stood 3 feet apart). Back into the living room, back into the blur of bad drill rap, back into the noise and the mess of the party. Leaving me standing here, still breathless, still unsure if Iâm ready to face whatever comes next.
I blink, still trying to comprehend it. Heâs gone. Just like that.
I stand there a moment longer, trying to fight the disappointment gnawing at me. Itâs stupid. I donât even want this. But itâs there. And I hate how much it stings.
I'm upset my ex-situationship asked me on a date and left it at that. Didnât make it weird or complicated. God I'm so pathetic. Especially for him.
And Iâm left with nothing but the sound of drill music and the slow hum of my own thoughts.
What. Even. Just. Happened.
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The Ghost at the Window
The years hadnât been kind to you. Not kind in the way people often talked about, like time slowly wearing at the edges of who you were. No. For you, the years had been more like a wound that festered and healed over, only to be reopened when Stack Moorecame back into town.
Seven years. Seven years since you saw him last. Seven years since you found out the truth about Maryâand how he had betrayed you.
And yet, the ache never went away.
You never told Stack about the baby. Maybe it was pride. Maybe fear. Or maybe it was the crushing knowledge that the man you once lovedâtruly lovedâhad already proven who he was: faithless, dangerous, and loyal only to his own vices.
So you made a choice. You left the past where it belonged and built something better. You married a man who was nothing like Stackâa man who was steady, kind, and good to his bones. He knew your past. He knew about the child growing inside you who wasnât his. And still, he chose you. Chose her. Together you raised your daughterâthe one with Stackâs dark eyes but your stubborn fireâand for a time, you knew peace. You knew love without bloodshed, without broken promises.
You had a life.
And you sure as hell didnât need Stack Moore coming back to stir up the ghosts of your past.
Stack came back to Mississippi like a shadow at the edges of your life, all sharp angles and dangerous eyes. Heâd changed. *Heâd changed, but you could still feel itâthe raw hunger that he never managed to tame.
When you first saw him again, you almost didnât recognize him. His eyes, thoughâthey still burned with the same damn obsession. The same hunger for control, for dominance. But there was something different about him now. His smile was sharp, like he knew something you didnât, and the way he movedâit wasnât human anymore.
He came to you, trying to act like nothing had happened, like the years of silence and betrayal meant nothing. But they meant everything.
âWhy didnât you tell me?â he asked, voice rough. âYou couldâve let meââ
âYou were never here,â you cut him off. âYou were too busy with Mary and your little empire. I didnât need you. And I sure as hell donât need you now."
His face fell, the cocky grin replaced by a deep, frustrated frown. It hurt him. That was clear.
You wanted to feel something for him. Even if it was just anger, something that would make this moment less painful. But it didnât come. You were over it. Over him.
Stackâs eyes shifted, narrowing as he studied you. The anger simmered beneath the surface, but it didnât scare you anymore. Not when you had someone elseâsomeone who wasnât a ghost, who didnât haunt you with broken promises and lies.
âIâve moved on,â you told him. âAnd Iâm not the same girl who waited for you to show up. Iâm done with all this, Stack.â
The sting of his silence lingered long after he left. You could feel the weight of the past hanging in the air, thick and suffocating. But you had your life. You had him, the one who loved you, who built a future with you.
Still⌠Stackâs presence kept creeping back into your thoughts, especially when night fell.
The first night it happened, you thought it was just the wind. But then it happened again. A shadow passed the window. You told yourself it was nothingâjust your nerves playing tricks on you. But the longer it went on, the more you knew. Stack was there. Watching. Like he always had, even when you wished he would leave.
You hadnât seen him in person since that conversation, but you knew. He was no longer the man you once loved. He was something darker now. Something you could feel crawling at the edges of your life.
And then one night, you couldnât deny it anymore. You saw him. His silhouette, standing in the darkness just beyond the reach of the streetlamp, staring at your house with the same intensity that used to make your heart race in fear and desire.
He was a monster now. A vampire.
And that hunger, that obsession, had only deepened over the years.
You didnât know how long it had been since Stack had died inside, his humanity replaced by something elseâsomething colder, darker. But you knew one thing: he was still your ghost. No matter how far you ran, Stack Moore would always be a part of you.
As the days passed, his presence grew more and more impossible to ignore. You tried to pretend you couldnât feel him watching you, but there were nights when you woke up with the sheets cold around you, as though someone had been there, just out of reach. You didnât sleep. You couldnât. Not while he was out there.
And he was out there. Every night. Waiting.
The truth hit you like a ton of bricks when you found yourself standing by the window one evening, staring into the darkness. Stack was there. But this time, his eyes werenât filled with desire or regret. They were empty. Dead.
He was watching you, just like before. And you realized, No matter how far you ran, no matter how much you built, no matter how much you lovedâ Stack Moore would never let you go.
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Safe Haven - nine [Carlos Sainz & daughter!OC]
Carlos Sainz never expected to become a single dad, but when three-year-old Isa is suddenly left in his care, heâs forced to face the truth about what sheâs been through⌠And what kind of father heâs willing to become. A story about family, healing, and learning to parent in the fast lane. find the list of chapters here & send me a sign if you want to be added to the taglist:)
When Carlos woke up the next day, Isa was still asleep, curled up beside him. Mornings like this were rare. Most of the time, she woke Carlos up, climbing on top of him or squirming under the blanket.
For a long moment, he didnât move. He didnât dare. Last night, it was so hard to lull her into sleep. She missed Vivian. Carlos didnât want her to be exhausted the whole day on top of her emotional vulnerability. He just stared at her, watching the way her brow furrowed slightly even in sleep. He reached down, gently adjusted the blanket over her back, his chest aching with something deep and sharp.
This wasnât how he imagined fatherhood would be. Nothing about this was fair. Especially not to her.
Eventually, he sighed and turned on his back. He reached for his phone on the nightstand and opened the messages. He tapped the conversation with Vivian.
âAre you free to call soon? Isa misses you.â
Seen. He sent this message before Vivian got the notice from the court. She opened it, along with the ones Carlos sent him in the past two weeks, and didnât even bother to answer. She used to call Isa when she came over. Isa remembered that, too.
She even asked a few times, âWhen will Mommy call you?â And Carlos didnât know how to answer. He checked his phone obsessively at first. Surely Vivian would at least ask how Isa was. But she didnât. Not a single message, not a call, no reply to his texts. She didnât pick up the phone. The only time she showed any sign of life was a voicemail, slurred and furious, two nights after the ruling. She accused Carlos of stealing her child and swore that she would take revenge for that. Isa never heard it. Carlos decided to ignore the voicemail.
Instead, he focused on what he could control. Meals. Sleep. Comfort. Safety.
Soon, Isa stirred awake next to him. She rubbed her face with her little palms and yawned. Carlos offered her a warm smile and stroked her cheek with his fingers.
 âBuenos dĂas, Isa,â he murmured as he let her shift closer to his body. Isa understood some Spanish, but she didnât speak it. In the past weeks, Carlos settled by talking mostly in English to her, hoping the language she knew best and was most comfortable with would bring her comfort. These days, he decided to switch languages in scenarios that would be easy to understand even if she wasnât sure of the meaning of his words.
He knew raising a child wasnât supposed to be about him, but he still wished Isa would start speaking Spanish, his native language that he loved so much.
She stretched her arms above her head and yawned again. Then, she looked at him and asked, âAre we going to the airport today?â
Carlos wasnât sure if she didnât understand, or if the reality was too big and painful for her little heart to take in. He reached out and pulled her close to his side, his fingers smoothing back the dark, messy hair from her face.
 âNo, cariĂąo. Weâre staying home today,â he answered. He wondered when the time would come when thinking about their situation wouldnât bring tears into his eyes.
 âWhy?â
Carlos took a deep breath. âBecause plans have changed. Do you remember what I told you yesterday? That your new home is here with me now?â
Isa nodded but didnât say anything.
Carlos leaned down and kissed her forehead. âTe quiero, Isa.â
---
In the following days, Isa clung to him. Wherever he went in the house, she followed, silent and attached like a shadow. She wanted to be in his lap, in his arms, tucked into his chest all the time. She didnât even ask anymore. Just reached for him like it was the most natural thing in the world. If he sat on the floor, she crawled into his lap. If he stood in the kitchen, she tugged at his pant leg until he picked her up. Then she took her thumb in her mouth, her free hand gripping his shirt, silently watching whatever he was busy with.
Carlos didnât mind, not even a little. But it scared him. It wasnât a regular clinginess. It was grasping. Desperate. Like somewhere deep down, Isa was afraid he might disappear, too.
After a while, she stopped asking when Vivian was going to call or when they were leaving for the airport. Carlos wouldâve thought it was a sign of healing if her play hadnât lost its colour as well.
She didnât sing, she didnât hum, she didnât mumble dialogues under her breath like she used to. She just picked up her ponies or her wooden zoo, lined them up, then switched the order, over and over again. But there was no story behind it. Not anymore.
When Carlos sat down with her and offered her a plot, she always joined, at least for a while. How about we do a carnival? Letâs play nursery with them. And Isa would smile, telling Carlos what a real carnival looked like or who should be the teacher. Then, after a few minutes of playing, she always dropped her toys like she was never even absorbed in the first place.
She also started having trouble with her stomach. Small at first, quiet. Then more often. Sheâd press her hands to her belly and curl into a ball. She didnât eat much.
Carlos worried heâd changed things too fast. He shifted Isaâs diet completely. He cooked soft chicken, roasted vegetables, and rice. Blended fruit smoothies with spinach. He tried to get her to eat eggs, lentils, and beans. He read articles late into the night about nutrition for toddlers with iron and vitamin deficiency. He felt like maybe, if he could get her stronger physically, everything else would follow.
So, he cut back the fiber. Added more water. He cut out certain ingredients, adjusted portions, and tried bland foods. Nothing seemed to help, so he called the pediatrician.
---
Dr. Clarke welcomed Isa like she had only seen her yesterday. She even remembered what kind of a sticker Isa got from her after the blood test. Carlos expected Isa to cry, but when her mouth first wobbled, she handed Isa the teddy again, and it distracted her just enough.
She checked Isa thoroughly. Even sent her to an ultrasound. It was in the same building, and they didnât have to wait for long, so Dr. Clarke called them back right after.
She sat on her rolling chair and folded her hands. âSo, physically, she looks fine.â
Carlos blinked. âBut⌠Sheâs in pain. Sheâs been crying about it for days.â
 âI believe you. And I believe her. But this doesnât seem to be a gastrointestinal issue. Her belly is soft, no inflammation, no fever, no signs of infection. Everything is normal.â Dr. Clarke took a soft breath and glanced down at Isa, sitting in Carlosâs lap, clenching his shirt like a baby koala. âSometimes children somatise emotional distress. Especially at this age.â
Carlos frowned slightly. âYou mean⌠This is psychological?â
 âYes. I remember your story. When children experience hard feelings, their bodies often translate them into physical pain. Itâs more common than people realize, especially when kids donât yet have the words to describe what they are feeling.â She smiled faintly. âBut their bodies speak.â
Carlos didnât know what to say to that.
Dr. Clarke continued. âYouâve both been through something major. And Iâm sure you're doing your best. That counts for more than you think.â
Carlos nodded numbly. He didnât feel like he was doing well. He felt like he was just barely keeping her head above water⌠And his own.
 âWhat do I do then?â he asked.
 âKeep a routine. She needs predictability. Let her feel safe and let her express what she can. Drawings, pretend play, and even acting out work, whatever she is most comfortable with. Validate her. Donât force explanations, but donât avoid them either. And yes, it would help to work with a child psychologist who specializes in attachment trauma.â
Carlos nodded again. âYes, we have another appointment coming up with Mrs. Berger.â
 âGood,â Dr. Clarke smiled. âShe knows how to help.â
chapter ten
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