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loovser · 2 days ago

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the guy she was interested in wasn’t a guy at all - chapter 3

synopsis turns out the cute guy from the cd store is actually… a girl.

wc: 4,2k

cw: ellie is a total loser omg i need her, fluff, get rid of miller already ellie is better, overthinking, these bitches are gay asf, slow burn, flirting and um.. angst. also fuck you lila!!!!

the strawberries were now completely gone. they were sweet, so sweet you barely registered eating the whole thing in less than 30 minutes. but that also may be due to the fact that you were… busy in the meantime.

you were making a playlist. for ellie. well, miller — we’ve been through that already. you just really appreciated her gesture of giving you your favorite fruit. that’s all! it’s not like you are actually falling for her or something. cause that would be crazy! right…?

shaking your thoughts away, you look through the playlist again. there were a lot of songs she mentioned she liked. some that you thought she would like. this is kinda nerve-wracking. you wanted it to be the perfect thing for her to listen to anytime. and all the time.

because she was consuming your mind all the damn time. you kept thinking about the day you spent together. the tension that was always there, almost too much to bear. it could snap at any moment, really. you haven’t even known her for a week yet — technically you’ve been sharing classes with her for 4 months now, but who’s counting?

she is. because you are all she can think about as well. everything about you is just perfect for her. she is mesmerized by everything you do. everything you say. the way your hair frames your face so prettily. the way your eyes sparkle when you talk about the things you like. the way your cheeks get slightly pink when she flirts with you.

it’s almost infuriating how much you affect her without realizing. and it makes her sick to her stomach when she thinks about telling you the truth. the truth that is now running away from her and from you, more and more, as you get tangled on each other. she can’t stop feeling like shit whenever you are not around. physically, because mentally?

you are always there.

she sighs, still thinking about the message you sent her once you opened the gift.

you (7:45) omg. you’re actually the fucking best.

that was hours ago. three hours ago and she couldn’t stop herself from smiling. she literally kicked her feet and giggled when she read it the first time. im actually the fucking loser. she should be asleep. first thing she has tomorrow morning at school?

VFX class. why the hell do they have to schedule this class twice during the week? yes, there are a lot of complicated and extensive things to be taught… and it was one of her favorite classes… but just thinking about seeing you again and not being able to talk to you was killing her.

she wonders how much more she can handle without totally blowing this all up. without making a mistake or saying the wrong thing and making you find out about the truth. her phone buzzing takes her out of her thoughts.

it’s a message from you. her heart races.

you (11:52) https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4pcARou6l7BtoiGSlAfjEp?si=OAzV49VjS46eY88uJWG_xw&pi=j9HJeil2TTmH7

she made me a playlist?! ellie nearly drops her phone. she clicks it. it reads ‘for miller’. there’s a picture of a starry night. the description says ‘yes, that’s my window.’ you took the picture for it? of a sky full of stars?

she sighs, trying to contain herself. you just keep getting sweeter. she keeps on drowning in you, losing herself in the vastness of you that lives in her mind — and in her heart. seeing that, somehow, you associated her with stars made her nerdy brain short-circuit.

if there’s something ellie loves more than music, it’s the space. and everything that’s in it. from galaxies, to planets, to stars. it fascinates her. ever since she was little she has been in love with it. she dreamed of being an astronaut, traveling through celestial bodies. it’s not really how it works, she knows that now.

but it will always be a part of her. a big one. something she could talk about for hours, days even. and you managed to see it in her, somehow. you, without realizing, put both of her biggest passions in the same place. something that you made for her. the three things she’s always thinking about: music, astronomy and you.

she tried not to read too much into it. it was hard. she was trying to decypher all the lyrics, wondering if you meant something else from some of the songs. maybe she was going crazy. what should she answer? there wasn’t enough words to tell you how much she loved it.

she knew exactly what would, though. so she made you a playlist too. but she didn’t send you, not yet. she wanted to see your reaction, your face, when she sends you the link. guess this will have to wait till tomorrow.

in the darkness of her childhood bedroom, she falls asleep. between her sick habit and savage starlight posters, the solitude she doesn’t have in her college dorm, and in the loud beats of the playlist you made her, she finds peace. hoping she won’t have sleep paralysis from listening to these songs until she sleeps.

you plop down on your seat. the classroom is still empty, there’s just you and a few people seating on the front rows. apparently, miller left you on read. you wanted to just not care about it cause maybe he just fell asleep? or he was busy?

but you do, already thinking of all the possibilities of what could’ve happened. was it too much? did you overstep? you see someone approaching the seat next to yours. looking up, you see her. ellie.

you haven’t seen her since last friday, when she was kind enough to get your earbud for you. there is something about her that makes you nervous. your gaze meets hers and you smile softly at her.

she almost panicks. she smiles back at you but she’s sure she must look ridiculous, trying hard not to blush or look flustered in your presence. it looks more like a flat smile. but you find it cute anyway.

now what’s up with that? why do i find her cute? you nearly groan in frustration. lately things are… weird. you don’t even know anymore what you are into or not. it’s been consuming you, all this miller and ellie situation. there’s no denying that you are attracted to both of them. but that’s all. surely!

and why does it matter, anyway? just let things happen. thinking like this eases your anxieties a little and you relax in your seat. you check your phone. it’s 8:06 a.m. class is getting full.

taking advantage of the fact that you are on your phone, ellie quickly opens her chat with you and sends you the link of the playlist she made you, shoving her phone back on her bag right away.

she bites down a smile when she hears your gasp.

you can’t believe it. that’s what took him so long to reply? you smile widely, opening it. the title is your name. simple, but it says a lot. there are lots of sick habit. ‘i was made for loving you’ by kiss catches your attention. not as much as ‘wonderwall’ by oasis. you don’t want to make assumptions, but some songs really… speak for themselves.

as you are immersed into the playlist, ellie keeps watching you. she tries to be smooth with it but some students almost laugh at how she’s straight staring at you. the way you can’t stop smiling is enough for her to not give a fuck if anyone sees her like this right now.

but Mr. Barbosa arrives, forcing her — and you, unfortunately — to finally pay attention to class. you steal a few glances at ellie, as time passes. she looks pretty today, too. wearing a forest green long sleeved shirt and skinny jeans. how does she look so good in those?

then, you remember the paper you have yet to finish. turns out it will be part of a bigger project, so you didn’t really have to turn it in last week. but you have to find a partner for it and it can’t be your friends, since they are also majoring in film.

without thinking too much about it, you turn to ellie.

“hey, um… are you doing that project with someone already?”

for a moment, she thought she was dreaming. hearing your voice again, so close to her. your eyes on her. shit, gotta answer.

“no. not yet, are you?” she tries her best to seem nonchalant about it and not act like her heart is about to explode. even if it is.

“no, i was thinking… maybe we could do it together?”

ellie blinks. it hits her like a train. the way you asked it so sweetly, almost like you were shy. she is sure she’s blushing now. this gay shit is so hard. she exhales, lips slightly parted as she manages to get the words out “yeah, sure. cool.”

you chuckle, finding her cute. again. the flat words that came out of her mouth almost too quickly, her pink-tinted cheeks. the way her freckles look when she blushes and how her green eyes widened a bit when you asked her to be your partner.

ellie forces herself to look away from you when you chuckle. or she would drool. her arm accidentally pushes her savage starlight comic to the floor, next to you, which catched your attention.

it happens so fast. when you lean down and touch it, she does it too, at the same time. her fingers brush against yours as you reach for it together. you look up and she is already looking at you. you’ve never been so close to her before. am i stuck in a sapphic tumblr fanfiction or what?

you grab the comic, clearing your throat as you hand it to her. “oh, isn’t it that space comic thing?”

she composes herself, getting it from your hand, murmuring a ‘thank you’. she looks at it, preparing herself to be called a nerd and whatever you might think of people who read these stuff. “yeah, um, it’s really cool.”

“i bet it is… i read one, once. there was this dr. daniela something? she’s badass” you point out.

“dr. daniela star?” she asks, dumbfounded “she is one of my favorite characters!”

“you have great taste then” you chuckle at her enthusiasm and she smiles.

“oh, you haven’t seen anything yet.” did i say that out loud? you always make her feel so comfortable to be herself that she doesn’t realize what is actually coming out of her mouth.

“you could show me, then.” ellie’s not even sure what you are talking about anymore. her brain’s half-melted from the sound of your voice alone. “while we do the project, i would like to hear more about it.”

oh, righttttt. savage starlight. she nods, grinning. “just let me know if i get too carried away.”

you chuckle “i don’t think i would mind. but sure! when are you free to meet up and start it?”

“i’m free after class. i think my roomate won’t be around, so, if it’s okay with you, we can do it there.”

“sounds good, ellie” you smile. and she nearly passes out at her name leaving your lips. “can you give me your number? so we can talk about the details”

shit. shitshitshit. “umm… my number?” she chuckles, nervously. you nod, unaware that you already have it. “i d-don’t have it” she blurts out.

“you don’t have… a phone?” you frown, confused.

oh god kill me now. “yeah! i mean- no! i mean, i do, i just broke it so… it’s broken! very broken.”

“oh… makes sense now” you laugh.

it echoes in her head over and over. what a beautiful sound.

“yeah… but you can go there, like, around 3? i’ll be waiting for you.“

“sure! i’ll be there.”

she smiles at yours words. “great. my dorm’s number is 333.”

tidying up her part of the room was hard. not that she wasn’t organized… well that’s actually the case. don’t get her wrong: ellie hates dirty things. she’s very clean. but when it comes to organizing? it gets messy.

there were a lot of comics spread on her desk, her bed… even one lost in the bathroom. her action figures? everywhere. her roomate, lila, would complain about it all the time. but really, what wouldn’t she complain about?

there were even some papers on the other bed that she just throw into her roomie’s drawer, making sure to put everything in its place. she also made sure that things were clean.

she put the dirty clothes basket into the closet, just to make sure you wouldn’t see it and organized her shelves full of books, comics and action figures.

and you? well, there you are. dorm 333. at 3 p.m. you take a deep breath, watching the wooden door, like it’s going to knock on itself. you don’t even know why you are so nervous. you are just going to start your project. relax, damn.

taking a deep breath, you knock. from the other side of the door, ellie murmurs a rushed ‘shit’ and tries to compose herself. when she opens it, you take in her figure. her auburn mullet is half up, she is wearing a black tight long sleeved top and grey sweatpants. minecraft socks on her feet.

she looks so good you have to stop yourself from staring and looking like a creep. her toned arms can be noticed due to the tight fabric of the shirt, hugging them perfectly, and you feel dizzy. gladly, you snap out of it “hi! nice socks”

ellie laughs, cheeks blushing slightly. crap, i forgot those were on. “yeah, well, i am very stylish. as you can see.” she gives you some space, gesturing for you to come in.

“of course. you gotta remember me when you become the it girl on new york’s fashion week.” you tease.

she scoffs, playfully. like i could ever forget about you. you just stare at each other for a second and she rubs the back of her neck, nervous. “i’d lose my mind with all that attention.”

like she’s almost doing right now, alone with you. your attention is all on her. “you don’t like attention, huh?” you chuckle, looking around her dorm.

it’s so easy to say which half is hers. the wall is full of posters, from nirvana to savage starlight ones. her bed is kind of messy, the fuzzy spider-man blanket all wrinkled.

“depends on who’s attention i’m getting.” her tone is… silky, but it hits you hard and you look at her face. there’s a hint of a smirk on her lips. a shiver runs down your spine. is she flirting with me?

did i just flirt with her?! she facepalms herself mentally, plopping down on her bed while she holds your gaze, trying to look nonchalant. but she is not. her brain is almost turning off. she’s fidgeting her fingers.

“only selected people have the honour of you liking their attention, then?” you chuckle, seating next to her. your thighs brush and ellie swears she might pass out.

her knee bounces once before she catches herself. stop it. act normal. you are warm and she can feel it even with your clothes’s fabric in the way. “you could say that.” she grabs her laptop, putting it on her lap.

“am i one of them?” you ask, teasingly. her heart nearly stops. she didn’t expect you to be so bold. but she likes it. a lot. her grip on the electronic device tightens, but you don’t notice.

what you notice is how her already pink-tinted cheeks darken even more. you like the effect you have on her. isn’t it funny how miller didn’t even cross your mind, not even once? well, that is until you spot a sick habit cd on her desk.

“oh my god!” you say as you get up and she thanks the universe for not having to answer to your question. she would stutter so hard. “you like them too?”

she watched you, smiling at your enthusiasm. after all, she is the one who recommended them to you. “i love them. they are my favorite band.”

“you are really… something else, ellie.” your words are genuine. you just think she is so cool. and cute. and pretty. and just… not afraid to be herself? like, using minecraft socks or reading comic books during class. telling you how the song you were listening to was good.

if ellie knew you perceived her that way, she would go crazy. how can you see herself for what she truly is when all she does is try to stay low and not catch anyone’s attention in college? how can you understand her when you know how she is outside of that place too?

“have you met you?” is all she manages to say. from admiring you from her seat since she saw you for the first time in class, to really getting to know you, she couldn’t help herself. she was really falling for you, deeper and deeper. im fucked.

you smile widely at her. like you did earlier in class, when she sent you the playlist. her heart aches on her chest. you put the cd on the player, and ‘of two minds’ by sick habit starts to play.

“it’ll be more fun if we do it listening to them, don’t you think?” you tilt your head slightly, asking her. you sit next to her on her bed again.

she couldn’t say no to you. not when you were right there, next to her. not when she could feel your thigh against hers. not when she could sense the smell of your shampoo. “definitely.“

“i told you i wanted you to show me how great your taste is. didn’t i?”

the innuendo in your sentence makes her shiver. the tension in the room is palpable. almost too much to bare. you smirk. when you do, her breath hitches in her throat. “ain’t i showing you enough?” she murmurs, hoping that you would say no.

it lingers between you. this feeling, this moment. your closeness. which seems to be increasing by each second. you get lost into her green eyes. they are so… familiar.

she moves her hand towards your face, hesitantly. when it cups you cheek, you lean into her touch. her fingers are calloused, but the way they caress your skin is soft. there isn’t a second where your eyes leave hers, or hers leave yours.

her heart is racing so fast. she wanted to do that for so long. to feel your skin, to touch you. to have you this close. to see your eyes sparkling at her, the way it does now. at her, truly. not at her in the cd shop where you think she’s a guy. it feels surreal.

until her dorm’s door is yanked open and her roomate barges in, startling both of you. as you get away from each other, lila doesn’t even look at you, apparently looking for something on her bed.

hiding your frustration, you just keep quiet. you almost kissed ellie. should you feel bad? because you really don’t. yes you’ve been talking to someone… flirting with him. exchanging playlists. but it’s nothing serious yet. right?

ellie sighs “what the fuck, lila?” she puts her laptop down on the bed, a hand in her heart as she recovers from it. from you.

“i forgot my essay. shit, where is it? did you touch what was on my bed, ellie?” her rude tone made you frown.

“yeah, it’s in your drawer.” she gets up to open the drawer she referred to, but the other girl rushes in and opens it herself.

“don’t ever touch my things again.” lila says, grabbing her papers and slamming the door when she leaves.

there’s a beat of silence.

“she’s so lovely.” you say, breaking the ice. ellie laughs, coming back to her bed, next to you. she’s so pretty when she laughs.

“yeah, um, i didn’t think she would show up. sorry about that…”

you squeeze her shoulder gently, as if to comfort her. “it’s not your fault. don’t worry.”

her anxieties crumble when you do that. she takes a deep breath, trying not to focus on your touch so much. she smiles at you. “right. for the project, um, have you made the first part?”

as you started talking about the project and what you had in mind for it, both of you tried ignoring the tension that never seemed to fade away. every excuse you had for touching each other was being taking advantage of.

like when you showed her some references of what you thought would be good, leaning closer to her to show it on the laptop’s screen. or when she asked you for one of your colorful markers to sketch something in her journal and her touch on your finger lingered for a little longer.

not to mention the way you were staring at each other, the eye contact almost making you go insane. the little shy chuckles that left your mouths. ellie needed to breathe or else she would do something stupid.

every second she spent next to you, every glance you threw her way, every accidental brush of your hands. it was like something was being carved into her, slowly, softly, permanently.

and when you laughed at one of her dumb jokes about how the main character in savage starlight would be a terrible film director, she couldn’t help but smile like an idiot.

you made her feel like she was in orbit, like everything else was just distant starlight, and you were the only thing real and glowing.

at some point, the work stopped being the focus. pages sat open, notes abandoned mid-sentence. the music played on, faintly into the background, the sound of your heartbeats louder to your ears.

you caught her staring again and she looked away quickly, biting her lip. "you are really bad at pretending you're not staring" you teased softly.

ellie choked on a laugh "says you."

you grinned, leaning back on your hands, your thigh still pressed to hers. “fair enough.”

another silence. not a bad one. just a moment where you both are too lost on each other and at the growing feeling that makes your stomaches twist. in the dim light of her dorm, she aches at the way you shine at her.

“hey, um, i am gonna go to the bathroom real quick.” she announces. you nod, briefly looking up at her and flashing her a smile.

her sleeves were pushed up slightly and you could see something on her right arm. her inked skin. you were not sure what the drawing was, but it was definitely a tattoo. sometimes you thought about how many similarities she has with… no. stop, you are being crazy.

you rest against the wall, still sitting on the same spot of her bed. you run your hand through the fuzzy blanket to ground yourself. but it accidentaly touches something hard under her pillow. you frown.

deciding to see what it is, you lift the pillow and you see it. her phone. the broken one? doesn’t seem broken at all. what if im not being crazy? is the question that keeps popping in your head.

those were just… coincidences. right? you didn’t even see ellie’s full tattoo. many people gets tattoos on their right arm! that’s normal. and her eyes… well miller is not the only person allowed to have green eyes. obviously.

you shouldn’t be checking her phone. it’s her personal stuff. but you do. you click the button on its right side and the screen lits up. there’s a song already halfway through. it’s paused. you recognize it, ��californication’ by red hot chili peppers.

it’s a banger. everybody listen to it, don’t they? so what if you put that into the playlist you made for miller? it doesn’t mean anything.

until it does. when you skip to the next song, it’s ‘pour some sugar on me’ by def leppard. the next one? ‘cherry waves’ by deftones. no…

you are on the verge of breaking down. you open your spotify, searching for the playlist. your fingers tremble as you click on it. you check the order. it’s the same. it can’t be.

you skip again. ‘even flow’ by pearl jam. the first tear falls. you go backwards, seeing if the song before californication is what you think it is. you check it on your phone first.

then, you touch the button to the previous song on her phone. ‘heart-shaped box’ by nirvana. that’s all the confirmation you need.

so many feelings rush through your body. it’s overwhelming. embarassment, betrayal, humiliation… it’s too much. the tension snapped and took you with it.

as ellie finishes cleaning her face and taking deep breaths, she hears some noises. she can’t identify what they are. so she opens the door to her room.

you are not there anymore. what is, though? her phone. what is this doing here? i though i hid-

that’s when she knows. you found out.

taglist!

thank you for the support babes, hope you like it 💘

@vahnilla @liztreez @hyperbabes @lybbay @coeurcanelle @desiretolive @b1uecatt @moonystoes @eriiwaiii2 @daughterofthemoons-stuff @uraesthete @machetegirl109 @snuffphiliaa @robinphobia @na0koz @ellies-real-wife @vivzzi @wtvm0m0 @lesoulew @violetszn

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coolwyous · 2 days ago

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┈─★ 𝘪 𝘨𝘰𝘵 𝘯𝘰 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦 ( 𝘀𝗼 𝘀𝗮𝘆 𝗶𝘁 𝗯𝗮𝗰𝗸 — 𝙙𝙞𝙩𝙩𝙤. )

⊹ ࣪ ˖ after 3 years of dating rising star and hockey team captain megan skiendiel, your senior year of college signals the end of an era. as she approaches her final season, the two of you navigate how much you're willing to push and pull to pursue her dreams— and figure out where yours fit in all of this, too.

ˎˊ˗ ❄️ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ 🔓୭˚. ⠀ ��ᵎ ⠀ 🗝️

➴ pairing: hockey captain! megan skiendiel x english major! f!reader

➴ genre + wc: 18k, fluff, angst, established relationship, poor stress management tbh, also reader keeps a lowkey shitty secret for a lot longer than needed, happy ending.

➴ you might want to tune in...: ditto - newjeans

┈─★ a/n: chat are we ready to say goodbye to dittoverse.... i'm ngl i'll miss my hockey wigline! so grateful that i got to start my writing journey w ditto pt i and now i get to write this to truly circle all the way around. lmk what you think <3

cw:// brief mentions of recreational drug use, mild violence but once again it's a hockey fic!

“ladies and gentlemen, megan thee skiendiel!”

you announce the introduction into your pen, quickly shoving the makeshift mic over the table into megan’s face.

“i’d get copyrighted.” she wrinkles her nose. “and my last name is so not tough enough.”

you shake your head, bringing the pretend microphone back to your face. “megan thee captain, then.”

“cheesy,” she grins at you. you match her smile right back. “i need something better for my interview.”

“megan thee girlfriend,” you tease, as she taps her chin as if to genuinely contemplate it.

“that’s a good one.” she grabs her notebook and pretends to jot them down. “megan thee property of y/n.”

“okay, relax,” you laugh. “what’s your day look like?”

the ginger lets out a sigh, and your heart aches as you realize you’ve popped the bubble. the topic you’ve both been avoiding as you try to make the most of your quality time: your girlfriend’s insane schedule.

“we leave to the airport after class,” she lists off, holding up a finger, “then the hotel, away game tomorrow evening, fly back saturday morning.”

“we prep your presentation, prep your speech,” you add, reminding her what you were working on in the first place.

“oh, and then monday i have to go with the department to do a ribbon cutting at an elementary school,” megan adds. “they started a girl’s hockey team in partnership with the university.”

“you’re terrible with kids,” you laugh.

“i fucking know i’m terrible with kids,“ she groans, burying her face in your shoulder. “how do i not knock them over or accidentally swear in front of them or whatever?”

“things are only going to get busier during midterms.” you frown at the mere thought of how overloaded her schedule is. “so you breathe when?”

“right now,” megan wrinkles her nose, before her mind escapes elsewhere. “we should get a dog.”

“oh, i’m sure my roommate-who-isn’t-you would love that,” you snort. megan still lives in that same house with dani, who now coaches, and lara, who’s finishing up her internship.

“not now, just later.” she grins and wraps her arm around your waist, scooting your chair in up next to hers far too easily. she brings her nose to your hear, mumbling into your hair. “hey, be my date to alumni night?”

“i’d crash out if you picked anyone else.” you laugh, pressing a kiss into her cheek. “like on the floor, snot all over my face, ugly crying.”

“no, you look so so sad when you cry. thank god you’re the only person i want as my date,” she grins.

a voice quickly bursts your bubble. again.

“shhhh.” you’ve almost completely forgotten about the couple trying to read across the table from you as you get caught up in your whispers. “library is for studying. less yapping.”

“we’re inside a study room,” you squint at her.

“sorry minji,” megan adds fearfully, her brows furrowing.

“please don’t feel the need to apologize to her,” you wave her off. you’re grateful that your friendship with minji hasn’t just survived the years, but thrived, and now results in you living in a off-campus 2 bedroom apartment with her and her girlfriend. of course, you’d ideally be living with megan, but given her travel schedule, it worked out better for you guys to live apart.

“i’m smarter than both of you,” minji says flatly.

the newest addition to your friend group, megan’s old roommate, danielle marsh, pokes her head out from behind the book she’s diving into, pushing minji gently on the shoulder as a reprimand.

“be nice.”

“thank you, marsh,” megan nods appreciatively, as you stick your tongue out at minji at her girlfriend’s reproach.

“we should start walking to class anyways,” you wave her off, seeing the time in the corner of your laptop. your girlfriend takes the cue without question and bids your friends farewell with a nod of her head.

megan, chivalrous, sweet megan, has never let you open a door for yourself, and got it into her head that you shouldn’t carry any of your own things either. you tried to tell her off when she first started doing it, but seeing how sad those puppy dog eyes got when you insisted she stop carrying your bookbag made you give in the next day, and the rest has been history.

she immediately reaches for your backpack and extends a hand out to you. you take it and relish in how warm her skin is against yours. she makes a face, a wince, as she grabs her own bag and hauls the two of them over her shoulder while you make your way out of the library together.

“is your back okay?” you ask, worried about her reaction.

“it would be if you stopped carrying every single one your textbooks in this damn bag.” she huffs, but the sparkle in her eye tells you she’s still just teasing you. she squeezes your hand reassuringly. “i get that you paid for them but jesus christ baby, get them online next time.”

“we have one last semester, think you can handle my books for a few months longer?” you tease back.

“don’t remind me,” she tells you, but you see something in her face change at the mention of your college experience coming to an end.

before you can ask anything about it, a few random people come up to the two of you, one girl stopping in your tracks.

“hi, could we get a picture?” she asks, sticking her phone out. “my dad loves you. says you’ve revamped women’s college hockey.”

you give megan a look but graciously step to the side, letting the strangers squeeze in next to her. megan shoots you an apologetic glance but immediately perks up into a smile for the girl’s photo.

“i think daniela avanzini changed the game, i just followed up on what she started,” she smiles, holding a thumbs up for the photo. they thank her and scurry off, leaving you to reclaim your girlfriend by the hand as you resume your walk to class.

“my mini-celebrity,” you pretend to fan yourself. “want me to sign an nda?”

“oh god, i hate when you say a bunch of letters,” she wrinkles her nose, shaking her head. “my fucking brain is so cooked.”

“chat, do i define nda for her or do i let her guess?”

“nonchalant drippy alpha.” megan grins.

“actually it’s never die, asshole.”

“i think it’s nine dry assholes,” she adds on.

“why did you fixate on the asshole part? and why are there nine of them?” you squint at her, poking her nose with your fingertip. “weirdo.”

“you’re weirder.” she grabs your finger and plants a kiss on it, then another, and another. “and you love me.”

your heart stirs at the sight of her cute brown eyes peeking out at you expectantly from under that stupid beanie. you’ll be stuck with a forever crush on this giant dork.

“maybe,” you shrug.

megan beams, then drops her voice into her stereotypical gamer voice, pretending to speak into an imaginary microphone like how you two had in the library.

“oh fuck yeah. we got a maybe from fineshyt, chat, please clip.”

you roll your eyes, but hold on just a bit tighter to her hand. megan is quick to squeeze right back.

your schedule is busy, between finishing your senior capstone project and the full course load you’re taking, on top of the online editing job you work in between it all. you’ve found an effective way to balance your workload, but for every day you want to grumble and complain about your schedule, you look at the google calendar that you share with your girlfriend, and send a silent prayer of gratitude that your days look nothing like hers.

your semester gets off to a slightly bumpy start, as megan tries to fit the beginning of the new season and her captain duties in with the classes she’s taking, but you two have managed to make it work.

and by make it work, you mean do whatever you can to try and spend whatever shred of time she can spare together.

like tonight, for example, when you’re done with classes and calling megan as soon as you’re done with your editing shift before you start homework.

she picks up on the second ring, and you can hear the bustle of people’s voices behind her in the background. she’d likely have just gotten out of practice given it’s this late in the afternoon.

“hi. just checking if i’m gonna see you tonight?” you greet her.

“hi, sorry.” she lets out a sigh, and you can practically picture the way she’s wrinkling her nose from all the stress. “i have tapes to review with the new players, then i have a coach’s meeting with the department, then we’re shooting an ad with gatorade.”

“when do you eat?” you ask, feeling your brows knit together.

“sometime in between all of that,” she breathes, a quiet laugh leaving her lips. you admire her, the way she doesn’t complain about any of it, but you’re always worried she’s pushing her limits.

“did you finish your homework?” you ask. granted, you’re only a few weeks into the semester, but in your years of dating, you had taken over the role of making sure megan stayed on top of her academics, and you weren’t about to let up now.

“i worked on some things in class,” she reassures you. “i’ll finish when i get home.”

“can i postmate you something?” you offer, but she’s quick to cut you off.

“no don’t worry about it, please,” she says hurriedly, but before you can insist, the phone clatters around on her end and you’re suddenly hearing a familiar voice that isn’t quite megan’s.

“i love you mami, you mean everything to me, my heart bleeds for you,” dani’s voice is loud and teasing over the sound of chatter in the background. you hear a chorus of girls laughing, and it brings a smile to your face to picture megan whining and turning red at daniela’s playful taunts.

“oh my god, fuckin’ dani,” megan groans, regaining control over the phone. “sorry about her. she’s even worse now that she’s a coach.”

“well is she right?” you grin.

“you’re the only thing that keeps me sane some days.” you can hear megan’s voice lighten up, warm and joyful. “i love you so much.”

“i can wait for you at your place,” you offer. megan still lives in the same house with lara and dani which makes the drive from your apartment with minji much easier.

“i’d love that.” you can hear her smile, picture her little whisker dimples, and it sends a wave of warmth over you. “i gotta go. see you soon.”

you drive over to megan’s place and you barely get a chance to knock before the door swings open, revealing the charming former goalie.

“hiiiii y/n,” lara drawls, her bright smile never fading as she greets you, ushering you in. “how’s senior year treating you?”

“oh you know,” you grimace, kicking off your shoes.

“you’ll make it through just fine,” she reassures you, “plus you have that—”

you shake your head quickly, to cut her off. “please don’t remind me.”

lara’s perceptive, quick to pick up on your anxieties and dissect them. maybe it’s the fact that you’ve dated her best friend for the past three years, but lara knows you far better than you’d ever have anticipated.

“you haven’t told her yet?” she asks in disbelief, her eyes widening.

“i know i know.” you wince. “the right time hasn’t come up.”

“i trust you, but sooner rather than later, right?” she gives you an empathetic tilt of the head.

“of course,” you nod. “i appreciate you.”

“always,” she smiles, before adding a quick heads up. “make yourself at home. she’s been coming home super late recently, you might be up for a while.”

between homework, studying, and reading, the hours alone in megan’s room melt away. you don’t even realize that you’ve fallen asleep when you hear the door creak open, jolting you awake. you check your phone and see it read just past 1:30am.

“home invasion?” you smile, worried about how late she’s coming home, but grateful to see her nonetheless.

“hands up, sigma,” megan jokes weakly, setting her bag down in the corner before coming to plant a kiss on your hair.

“i could smell you from a mile away,” you tease back, taking in the state of her. she looks utterly spent, hair a mess, skin still looking sticky.

“the gatorade commercial people kept trying to talk to me even in the locker room. i didn’t have enough privacy to shower,” she groans.

“my poor girl,” you reach out to stroke her cheek. “you sound exhausted.”

“missed you,” she grumbles, pressing a kiss into your palm.

“glad you’re home,” you tell her. “please come rest.”

megan nods, peeling her hoodie off over her shoulders.

“after my shower i’m passing out,” she calls out to you as she disappears into the bathroom.

“i’ll make sure you wake up on time. c’mon,” you beckon her, taking a look at your phone. if she sleeps in the next 20 minutes, she’ll maybe manage to get 6 hours before she has to be up again to head to campus. you tuck yourself in as you hear the water run, and take to tik tok to keep yourself awake to be ready to hear about her day.

you’re not fully aware of how much time has passed from your scrolling until your eyes flicker up to the time in the corner. nearly 2:15am.

you hear the water still running. megan deserves the luxury of a hot shower, but almost an hour has never been part of her habits. you jump up and enter the bathroom slowly, as to not disturb her.

“megan?” you call out, only to be met with silence.

you pull back the curtain to see your girlfriend, standing with her forehead against the tile, head slumped forward with her eyes shut. she looks so, so peaceful, but you know you have to wake her.

“hey,” you shake her gently. she jolts awake with a startle, and she looks so cute with her wet hair slicked back, but you’re extremely worried about what you just saw. “you okay?”

“sorry, sorry. it was so nice and warm,” she yawns, turning the water off.

“were you asleep?” you ask in disbelief, still holding onto the curtain.

she blinks a few times as you hand her a towel. “i think i closed my eyes when i was rinsing my hair and they just never opened.”

“that’s insane,” you laugh. “c’mon, let me braid your hair and we can finally go to bed.”

“she fell asleep in the shower last night.” you tell dani on the call, shaking your head in disbelief as you recount the events. “just straight up, literally, i shit you not, standing up.”

“like a horse?” dani questions.

“she’s so exhausted, but she never complains,” you sigh.

your friendships with daniela and lara had deepened in your time dating megan, and dani was someone you found would always be up for a quick call if she was free. though you tended to seek advice from lara about the more emotional things, dani had always given some tidbit of wisdom about the captain duties megan was taking on and how to best support her. this time was no different, though the pause she takes tells you she’s thinking about her words as to not worry you.

“megan’s always been a workhorse,” she reminds you. “if there’s a gap, she’ll fill it. ‘i can do more,’ she always fuckin’ says. you know her. she’ll find the balance, i know she will.”

you look down at the email in your inbox. you want to tell her, you do, but the last thing you want is to add stress to her day.

“you’re right,” you sigh, and focus on the future.

halfway through the semester, and your schedules have only gotten more hectic. you’re grateful to have met megan early enough in her career that she had plenty of time for you guys to get to know each other. at this point, you’re scraping by on whatever in-betweens you’re both able to make work, but you won’t complain. you know she’s doing her best to fit it all in and be the best.

speaking of which, a facetime audio from your favorite contact photo interrupts your train of thought. it’s a picture of megan on her birthday, blowing out a candle, smiling so big it looks like her face might burst. your heart skips a beat to think the girl in the photo is the one you get to claim so proudly.

“hi you,” you greet.

“hi,” she chirps back. “are you still working on your blackstone?”

“that’s the grill,” you correct her quickly, laughing. “capstone is my project.”

“please forgive me, shorty,” she says in a stupid voice. you can practically picture her face.

“forgiven.” you smile, before checking the time. “what’s up? aren’t you supposed to be at practice?”

“they cut it short today cause coach and dani couldn’t stop arguing over about the starting lineup,” she explains, and you both laugh. “you and i haven’t had a real date in so long. can you squeeze me in?”

“i can move some things in my schedule.” your heart flips at the thought of being able to spend actual quality time with her. “i miss you.”

“miss you more. thanks for being flexible. see you soon?” she asks eagerly.

“where am i meeting you?”

“meet me in 20! i’ll text you,” she says, a little too quickly, and you instantly sense something’s up. but before you can question her, she chirps a quick “i love you” and hangs up.

you look down at your phone as you head towards your car and realize she’s sent you the location. you zoom out on the map until you realize where she’s got planned.

the lake….. megan meiyok be SO fr baby if u love me u wld be happy to spend any time w me it’s so cold outside i will bring you hot choco ples pls please pls pleas pls plspslpslpls OKAYYYY fine

the argument is over sooner than it started, and you’re heading over to the frozen lake where megan loves to practice when she doesn’t feel like heading to the arena.

“hi, beautiful,” she greets you, beaming smile. if you were angry earlier, her smile is enough to melt away any of your mild frustrations.

“hi you,” you greet back, pressing a kiss into her cheek

“we haven’t had a date on ice in a while,” she notes, handing you your skates that she keeps with hers.

“you’re determined to teach me how to skate,” you roll your eyes.

“you’re going to know how, our kids are going to know how, our crusty ass dog is going to know how.” she reaches out to you and steps onto the ice with the confidence of someone who’s never fallen. “we are for sure a skating family.”

you laugh and take her arm. you love the idea of the future she has pictured.

“do you remember the first time you tried to take me on the ice?” you ask, as she pulls the two of you along on the bumpy frozen-over lake.

“you were so bad at it,” she laughs.

“everyone looks bad at it compared to you,” you frown.

“i think i expected you to be more graceful,” she grins.

“you’ve been skating since you could walk.” you roll your eyes and try to push her, but the movement just makes you wobbly on the ice. “cut me some slack.”

“while you studied your books, i studied the motherfucking blade,” she tells you.

“ok, relax naruto,” you laugh, trying to get your bearings as she lets go of your arm and skates ahead of you, turning backwards to face you effortlessly. show off.

“dare me to hit the most vile jutsu known to man?” she grins.

“literally what does that even mean?” you shake your head.

“it means i hit a nasty pose and copy myself a million times,” she beams, and you can’t stop laughing at the various poses she starts to contort herself into.

“the bitches of the wnhl are gonna loooove you,” you sing song, watching her continue to hit what you can only assume are the most complex of nerdy naruto poses.

“coach said he’s already getting teams ask about me,” she says excitedly, reaching back out for your hand to guide you along the ice.

“i bet they’ve been asking about you since your freshman year,” you reassure her.

megan’s smile softens as she looks at you, then looks at your intertwined hands. “we have grown a lot since then.”

“so much.”

“i feel really lucky.”

“how come?”

“everything just sort of worked out for me. about to graduate, captain by my junior year, met my college sweetheart. it’s like, so convenient.”

“you have worked extremely hard for everything you have,” you reassure her, reaching up to play with the hairs at the base of her neck. “i can’t think of anyone who works harder. you deserve everything good in your life.”

“some days i feel like i never deserved you,” she admits.

“what? don’t be silly.” you squint at her. “you’re the superstar. i still get shy knowing i’m the one you call at the end of the night.”

“all these years and you still feel shy?” she looks at you with those wide, beautiful puppy dog eyes.

“you’re very, very good looking,” you admit, though you’ve told her a million times before how attractive you’ve found her. “and very funny, and unfortunately, extremely awkward, which meant i was doomed from the start.”

she makes a fist with her free hand and beams. “i bagged the baddie using my undeniable weird girl swag.”

“weirdest of weird girls,” you laugh. “i wouldn’t want anyone else.”

the weight of the email starts to strain inside your chest. lara’s words ring through your ears. this needs to be the time you say something.

“meg–” you start.

the buzz of her phone vibrates loudly against her pocket, cutting you off. she pulls her phone out and winces, letting go of your hand.

“it’s coach. i have to take this, nike wants to do an interview tomorrow and he’s losing his shit about it. i’m so sorry,” she offers you the most apologetic kiss she can muster.

“go for it.” you nod, but you feel the sinking in your chest. “i know what i signed up for.”

megan has to leave as soon as the call is over, and by the look on her face, she’s carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders. you can’t possibly bear to add something else to her plate.

you head home, grateful for the tender moment you were able to share. maybe it was a blessing in disguise that you didn’t get to spoil it with your announcement.

you’re home and settling into your night when you get a text from minji in the other room.

this you?

a post from a college sports gossip blog. it’s a picture of you and megan, on the ice, holding hands.

you grimace. sure, the lake is in a public park, but who’s weird enough to be taking pictures of you at your most private times?

your fingers keep scrolling.

you know dani had gone through this when her relationship with the coach’s daughter had gone public. megan had told you all about how they tried to keep it just between the team at first, but even with dani stepping down as captain, she was still a hot topic and being locked down by her coach’s own daughter made them campus celebrities for months.

you’ve tried not to let the same thing bother you, but facts are facts: megan is one of the best college hockey players in the country, and dani made women’s hockey something to talk about. megan, by default, becomes something of a mini-celebrity on campus, and you are unfortunately stuck as her hockey wife.

you look at the bright side. you knew her as a sweet, bright eyed freshman without a clue in the world, and despite all the recognition that’s come to her, she’s still the same old megan you fell in love with. you pick megan, and that means picking all that comes with her.

with midterms quickly coming and going, you and megan survive the grueling test season and make it out on the other side relatively unscathed. you know at this point in the semester, her team is starting to heat up, and with such a dominant performance so far in the season, her team is easily top in their conference, all but guaranteeing their spot in the playoffs.

you’d think that she’d take it easy to maintain her pace, but lately, megan has been harder to get a hold of, somehow even less available than you had thought was possible. you cheer her on at every home game, and she was thrilled when you crashed with sophia to cheer her on at an away game, but lately, even lara mentions how much megan has been blowing her off to practice or tend to her captain duties.

you take it upon yourself to wait for her outside of the conference room, knowing she’s busy reviewing a recent interview she did with ESPN with the athletics department. when she finally comes out of the room, you feel yourself light up at the sight of your girlfriend.

what hurts your heart is for the first time in years, she doesn’t light up at the sight of you. her eyes are tired, and while she acknowledges you with a hug, the unintentional cold shoulder admittedly stings.

“hi,” she greets weakly, reaching out as you initiate a hug.

you try to shake off your nerves at the interaction and squeeze her as tightly as you can. she takes heavy steps to lead the two of you out of the building.

“i saw your interview. tried calling you in between but i know it was a busy day for you,” you chirp. “how’d you think it went?”

“not good,” megan shakes her head immediately. “i lost my shit so fast.”

“why are you being so hard on yourself? you did amazing,” you frown.

“thank you.” a beat, and she nuzzles her head into your shoulder. a flash of your familiar megan comes back, and it soothes your heart. you run your fingers through her hair to comfort her, and it seems to help as she lets out a sigh. “yeah, sorry. i’m stressing about my grades.”

“you have so much on your plate,” you tell her worriedly.

she groans. “and i’m barely holding on to this passing grade in my world literature class.”

“i can help with that,” you nod. “easily.”

the two of you find yourselves on a bench outside the building, sitting side by side. a brief moment of peace with your ever-busy girlfriend.

“i don’t want you always doing my english homework for me,” she tells you, biting her lip.

“i’d never, you know that meg. but i can help you make sense of it all.”

“glad one of us likes english,” she wrinkles her nose, reaching over to press a kiss into your temple. “i like that so much about you.”

english. your mind wanders to the email. it’s been months now since you told yourself you’d say something to her. you steady yourself with an inhale and reach for her hand.

“speaking of english, i wanted to find a good time to tell you,” you start quietly.

“hm?” she arches a brow, those puppy eyes looking at you nervously.

“i got an offer for a master’s program in the UK.” you confess. “lodging would be paid for, i’d be a research assistant which would cover the costs of my program. it’s literally perfect megan, like a dream come true.”

megan’s eyes are wide. you’re waiting for the hug, the congratulatory cheer, but instead, she just stares back at you.

“oh.” she says simply. “you actually applied?”

“yes.” you furrow your brows. “i didn’t just mention it to mention it.”

“i didn’t think you were serious about it,” she admits, and it stings to hear her tone. dismissive. something you would have never expected given all the wins you two make such a big deal of celebrating.

“why do you say that?” you question, trying to regulate yourself.

“it’s so far,” she says quietly, opening her mouth to add more, but nothing comes out. she looks away, pulling her hand from yours.

“hey,” you push, scooting closer to her on the bench. “you okay?”

“i’m anxious,” she admits.

“i know,” you sigh. “just between practice, and your meetings, and your interviews, there’s never enough time to talk about the heavier stuff. i didn’t want to let more time pass. we haven’t exactly had a ton of time to talk about next steps.”

“y/n, you know it’s either hockey, or nothing for me after college ends. i need to go pro.” her eyes are determined, but there’s something more to them, something that worries you. “if i lose this season, my future is out the window. i can’t lose you too.”

“dani was the best player in the country and she didn’t end up going pro. everything can change so fast. you need to be prepared with a backup plan, meg,” you remind her. it’s not that you don’t foresee her succeeding, but you remember how torn up she was when dani got injured, and how fast it all changed. “you’re so much more than this sport.”

“i am nothing without hockey,” she says quickly, her face tensing. you don’t like what’s coming over her, but more so, you don’t know what’s coming over her. she’s never gotten like this in all your years together. determined, sure, but never this insistent, never this aggressive.

“yes you are,” your brows furrow.

“it’s everything to me.”

“what about your friends? your hobbies?” you press, before your voice softens. “what about me?”

“i wouldn’t have any friends without hockey. i don’t have hobbies,” she says quickly, shaking her head. “and i wouldn’t have met you without hockey.”

“but you got all those things along the way. hockey didn’t do that for you, they just happened. you made your friendships happen, i like you for you and not what you do.”

“no i get that, i just feel like i really need to focus. i’m really sorry.” she lets out a deep breath, and reaches again for your hand, and you feel slightly reassured by the gesture as her body relaxes. “i’ll make it up to you.”

“i know you will. just take it easy on yourself, please?” you plead, reaching over to brush some hair out of her face.

you see her wipe at the corners of her eyes. you reach for her and lay her head down on your shoulder, playing gently with her hair.

“i’m worried about megan,” you say quietly, later that night on another phone call with daniela as megan is off to do another tape review with the team.

“she’s been dreaming of this since she was a kid,” dani sighs. “the only thing she loves as much as she loves this sport is you.”

“i’m scared she’s going to burn out,” you confess.

“if there’s a time to push, it’s now,” dani reminds you.

“do you think i’m maybe doing too much?” you ask. you stare at a framed photo of you and the ginger that you keep hanging above your desk in your room, a picture of the two of you on a picnic. “like i’m asking too much of her?”

“that’s not a question for me,” dani tells you. “i’m in no position to be giving relationship advice. barely figured out how to make one work on my own.”

you laugh softly. “you know, it was easier when you were in charge.”

“i made that shit look soooo easy.” you can hear her smile over the phone. “nobody gets how hard it was. megan’s good at it but she’s not ever going to half-ass something.”

you stare at the photo. megan’s adorable dimples, her shining eyes, her wide smile: things you haven’t seen her do in what feels like weeks.

“i don’t think she has enough of herself left to give,” you say quietly.

the alumni night rolls around, and it’s a blast for you to see all the girls who graduated. they open up the arena for a few hours of free ice skating and talking to the team. it’s a welcome few hours to enjoy with her, and as you promised, you show up extra early to be her date.

megan, forever the adorable face of the team, gives a quick welcome speech on the ice and thanks everyone for being there. she poses briefly with a few of the donors for some pictures and then finds you to guide you onto the ice.

you’re wobbly, as expected, but megan keeps her arm held out to you, anchoring you as she pushes off strong enough for the both of you to lap lazy circles around and around without much effort on your end.

“i’ll get good at this eventually,” you reassure her, trying your best not to wobble and fall.

“that’s what i’m here for,” she smiles back at you. “also looks sick to have such a pretty girl on my arm.”

“you’re sweet,” you grin. after your talk, things had been tense, but you had tried to ease up and just support her. dani’s words would ring through your head, about how bad you want this, and you remembered how much you love megan’s determination.

“my babies, always looking more and more grown up,” lara sing songs from behind you both as she catches up on the ice. you spot lara’s girlfriend, plus yunjin, and dani, plus dani’s girlfriend, all joining you.

lara chats to yunjin about her therapy internship she’s doing at a local mental health center, and yunjin rambles excitedly about how boston is going for her and the super cool job she bagged straight after graduation. dani barely counts as an alumni considering she works at the university now, but she’s still wearing an alumni name tag, enjoying the attention of people asking her what it’s like to be on the other side of it all.

“zuha just got here!” yunjin announces loudly, looking down at a text on her phone with a beaming grin.

“kazuha signed to the vegas golden knights right after graduation,” megan says quickly. several of the seniors that year got drafted and you remember megan following all their stats meticulously.

“hoping to join her?” you ask curiously, trying to be a good sport about it all.

“just want to know what it’s like, she calls but she’s too busy to talk very long.” you can sense the urgency in her voice. “do you mind if i chat with her?”

“don’t be gone too long. i might get brave and try to skate again without you, might lose a tooth,” you tell her, smiling.

she presses a kiss to your forehead and sets your arm carefully on the wall, allowing you to pull yourself along to the exit.

you sit on one of the benches to unlace the blades from your feet, when eunchae comes to join you.

eunchae greets you with a broad smile and you return it, happy to see the once star-struck rookie who had blossomed into megan’s right-hand on the ice. megan had stayed close with dani and lara since they didn’t move away after graduating, but eunchae, being a year younger, had quickly become megan’s new closest teammate.

“it’s like ghosts came back,” she says as she sits next to you. “i missed everyone, but things are so different in just a year.”

“so different,” you agree.

“i’ll keep an eye on her for you,” she tells you, as if she can read your worries. “i know she’s been off lately. the new girls don’t know what she was like before she was captain, but i do. i can tell she’s been struggling, this year more than ever.”

you give eunchae an appreciative smile. “you have no idea how much that means to me. dani keeps saying she’s fine, but i feel like this year is different for her.”

“it’s a lot of pressure. we have the playoffs and if we do well, the championships. megan’s been part of the championship team since she was a freshman. it would look terrible if we started losing once she became captain. i think she’s trying to look at it from all angles,” eunchae explains, and it starts to click little by little for you.

“she doesn’t think she has any wiggle room,” you sigh, and the two of you spot her out on the ice, beaming widely at something kazuha is saying to her. your sweet, dorky megan, who shows up in flashes every once in a while.

eunchae offers you a nod of encouragement. “she’s got this, but i’ll let you know if i get worried. i can’t imagine this is very easy on you either.”

megan spots you from across the ice rink, and waves to the two of you. she says something quickly to kazuha before skating over to you, motioning for you to come back and join them. you and eunchae oblige, hopping onto the ice together.

“doing okay?” you check in.

she nods, but turns away for a moment, and you can see her trying to stifle a yawn. “i’m peachy.”

“how long have you been up for?” you question, holding onto her arm as eunchae chats kazuha’s ear off.

“um, i got up at 4 to do conditioning, then solo practice, radio interview at 6,” she starts to rattle off. you sigh and slip a hand into her back pocket, melting into her embrace.

“you need to fix your sleep schedule,” you chastise her.

“totally,” she agrees. “we can leave whenever.”

you’re about to suggest cutting the night early when a few extra voices cut in.

“cap!”

megan squints at you apologetically before turning to greet the source of the noise. “hi guys.”

megan and eunchae welcome a wave of the newer girls. you recognize them freshmen and sophomores you’ve met in passing. haerin, moka, and maya, who all approach excitedly.

you smile. years ago, it was you and megan who were the babies of the group, your sweet ginger being at her most bright-eyed and eager.

“this place is packed,” moka, one of the newer defenseman, gapes.

“insane, right?” maya, the starting goalie, agrees.

“hey, are we still good for an early practice tomorrow?” haerin asks megan, her voice quiet. you recognize her as a left wing: a high pressure spot with huge shoes to fill considering that was daniela’s former position, and works directly with megan as center to score the goals. you can’t imagine the pressure of being daniela’s replacement.

“for sure,” megan nods, and you can’t help but glare at her. so much for catching up on sleep. but these girls clearly admire her, and you won’t stand in the way of her being a doting team leader.

before they can keep going, a random guy comes up alongside you all, waving wildly at megan as if he knows her.

“my betting bracket depends on you,” he tells her, and you realize it’s just a fanboy. megan has had plenty in her time. “i’m putting it all on you getting us a dub.”

“thanks,” she says weakly, and eunchae gives her a quick glance as if to check in if she should do anything. you guys are all caught in an awkward silence as he simply skates alongside you all.

the guy opens his mouth to say something, but then notices your hand interlocked with megan’s, and brings a finger up to point at you.

“don’t fucking distract her, okay?” he warns.

you know he means it teasingly, but you can already feel megan’s body lurching at the gesture.

your girlfriend grabs him angrily by the sleeve, a warning look in her eyes as her grip locks tightly on his elbow. you see the younger girls freeze, all of you coming to a standstill as megan grabs him.

“don’t talk to her like that,” she warns harshly, her voice low. you can see the guy’s eyes widen in surprise, but more to your concern, you see the girls’ faces change. moka and maya are staring at each other, and haerin looks like she’s seeing a ghost.

“hey, relax,” you shake her arm, trying to bring her back to reality. you can tell she’s not all there by the way her dark eyes are still locked in on him, her grip still tight on his elbow. “he didn’t mean it like that.”

she blinks once, twice, and breathes slowly. “i’m sorry.”

“you can let go of him now,” eunchae says quietly, as if to not embarrass her. megan complies, and eunchae mentions something to the guy that has him skating off with a smile on his face, hopefully saving their interaction.

“sorry you guys had to see that,” megan tells the girls, shaking her head. “that was really not cool.”

“it’s okay, cap,” maya reassures her, if a bit too quickly, as if she’s kissing up. you smile at how hard they’re trying to cheer her up, but you can tell megan’s worried about how this affects their view of her, by the way she’s chewing her bottom lip.

“hey, it’s fine,” you reassure her, and moka nods in agreement.

“totally cool to protect your people,” she nods.

“i promise i’m not usually that quick to flip,” megan offers quietly, and you feel your heart ache at her embarrassment. usually, her protectiveness of you comes from a good place, but with all the stress, you can see her fuse is much shorter than normal.

“no, they know you’re a good person,” eunchae nods reassuringly.

“you’re thoughtful, and kind, and a good leader,” you reassure her, and the girls nod in agreement. “you work hard, harder than anyone i know, and you’re always willing to learn. you have zero ego.”

“alright, alright, i think i’ve blushed enough to reset my aura back into the negatives,” megan waves you off, wrinkling her nose, and the girls all beam back at you excitedly.

“i dunno cap, i think being a lovergirl actually proves you have rizz,” maya says, and haerin simply nods in eager agreement.

“yeah, coach dani loves telling stories about how you used to be this bitchless loser with zero social skills—” moka rambles, and you burst out laughing loud enough that it cuts her off.

“damn, your loser legacy lives on forever,” you grin, pinching her cheek.

“remind me to break her other knee once the season’s over so she’s got two bad legs,” megan groans, and eunchae laughs her off.

megan holds tightly onto your hand as you all continue to skate. eunchae chats excitedly with you and megan about some random stats, haerin is doing her best to listen and keep up, moka and maya are simply goofing off skating circles around each other on the ice in front of you all.

your heart warms looking up at your girlfriend, never having been able to picture how far you two would come from just being dorky little freshmen. you know it won’t be for long, but the brief peace it brings you is enough to power you through the rest of the day. you hope it’ll last, but make peace with the idea that this might be the eye of the storm.

(the peace only lasts the night, and the storm stirs starting the very next day.)

this week, with a deadline for your senior project approaching, you’ve been the one with limited time to squeeze in megan. you make it work between facetimes and quick coffee dates, the two of you agreeing to spend at least a few nights out of the week together even if it’s just to sleep alongside each other, but you can tell that your schedules are working in opposite directions.

even today, when you’re done with all your obligations and studying in the campus library by yourself, you’re hoping to surprise megan with a quick dinner after practice, but your plans get thrown off when you get an unexpected call.

a call from eunchae, of all people, with the most random favor in the world to ask of you.

“hey, will you come to practice? like, now?”

“what? is everything okay?” your voice jumps an octave in disbelief.

eunchae knows that you don’t come to practices, unlike some of the other hockey girlfriends, due to just how distracted megan gets by you being there. megan can focus when you’re cheering her on for games, but she’s explicitly banned you from practice after one too many missed shots because she’s too busy being nervous around you.

you’ve always found it sweet, and you know eunchae knows megan’s rule, so that’s why it’s surprising you that she’s explicitly going against the captain’s personal expectations.

“meg’s been, uh, how do i put this…” she pauses.

“eunchae?” you ask, worried with how long she’s taking.

“acting out,” she finally blurts, and you feel yourself grow even more confused. “it’s weird.”

your megan? your laser-focused, super professional megan, acting out?

“i’ll be there,” you tell her quickly, shutting your laptop and hurrying over to the hockey arena where they practice in a few short minutes.

eunchae is waiting for you by the entrance of the rink, out of view of the team, holding a tampon much too obviously in her hand. you laugh realizing this is probably the excuse she used in order to get off the ice and avoid suspicion when she gave you a call and waited for you in the middle of practice.

“acting out how?” you ask her, feeling your brows furrow in confusion.

“watch how she gets with ryujin,” eunchae tells you, before handing you the tampon to hide and putting her helmet back on, heading back out to the ice. you sneak in, trying to make yourself small and unnoticeable amongst some of the other girlfriends who are sitting and studying or watching from the bleachers.

megan is too focused on the ice to notice you. you can see the sweat dripping down off the tip of her nose, a testament to how hard she pushes herself every practice, how eager she is to give her all. she zips past the other girls during the drills, and you’re almost starting to feel guilty for spying on her.

but then, as the practice comes to an end and they split into two teams to practice a quick scrimmage, you see it happen.

it’s almost lightning fast, and you’re not really good enough at hockey to know the intricacies of what it’s supposed to look like, but you can tell that megan is expecting haerin to pass something to someone else and get it to her to make a shot.

haerin does as she’s supposed to, taking a pass from eunchae to send it over to ryujin, but ryujin is too busy blocking off the opposite wing to notice the pass. the puck slides past her, between her legs, into the waiting hands of the opposing girl, who skips past the wings and sends it straight past maya’s glove, scoring the other girls a point.

“left side wins,” dani announces easily. “good game, ladies. see you all tomorrow.”

you can tell the scrimmage is supposed to be light hearted (they only played for one point, for christ’s sakes,) but the moment dani announces that megan’s team didn’t win, you see the ginger rip her helmet off her head and throw it angrily into the plexiglass. you feel yourself jolt at the clang of the helmet against the barrier, the loud thud it makes that rings through the otherwise quiet rink.

and then you hear her voice, loud, booming, aggressive, echo through the arena.

“hey, if you’d get your head out of your ass, you’d have seen that shot, you idiot.”

ryujin instantly stands up straighter, and you see her whole body tense. “sorry meg.”

“i don’t want sorry, it want it fucking right.” megan scoops another puck from behind the box and drops it on the ice, sending it flying towards haerin and motioning to ryujin. “run it again.”

“but practice is over,” ryujin says weakly.

megan shoots a glare at haerin, who quietly complies and recreates the pass over to ryujin. ryujin ignores the pass and stares at megan, but this just infuriates the ginger even further. she grabs yet another puck, sending it more aggressively at haerin once more.

“shin, do it the fuck again,” megan demands, her gaze hard and serious as the other girls simply watch, dumbfounded and clearly in fear. “you’re not off the ice until you fix it.”

you look to dani to do something about it, but she’s too busy talking to the other coaches to notice what megan’s doing.

ryujin misses the pass once more, and you can see her face turning more and more red as megan drops puck after puck, insisting she go until she gets it right. the girls all stay frozen, watching the events unfold, until haerin exhaustedly sends a pass to ryujin that she finally catches, sending the pass to megan.

megan catches the pass, and as if to prove a point, slams a shot so forcefully into the empty goal, it shoots the net backwards several feet. you feel your stomach drop at the display of anger. megan waves them off wordlessly and gets off the ice.

eunchae’s eyes come up to meet yours from where you’re hiding on the bleachers, the girls all silently trickling off the ice. you can hear ryujin crying as she rushes past the rest of the girls into the locker room.

megan stays, and so do a few of the other girls like maya and moka and haerin, practicing a few more maneuvers with their captain, but nobody says anything among them. it makes your heart ache, remembering how she’d used to spend an extra hour here with kazuha, yunjin, lara and dani, practicing, laughing, catching up. now, the extra practice is heavier, silent and solemn, with none of the joy that used to have megan coming home rambling like an excited puppy about whatever nonsense they had gotten into between the five of them.

you wave her over, and see her brows lift in surprise as she realizes you’re there. she skates over to you, but doesn’t stop for a kiss or even a greeting. she simply gives you a look, as if to ask what you’re doing there, and you can tell by her clenched jaw that she’s still holding onto some frustration from that interaction.

“what’s that all about?” you ask, crossing your arms, motioning to the display from earlier.

“she’s just cocky.” megan shakes her head, making no attempt to apologize or explain otherwise. “but she has zero reason to be that arrogant. makes me irritated.”

“i’ve never seen you get irked like that before,” you say worriedly, your brows furrowing. “much less talk to a teammate like that. megan, you made the poor girl cry.”

“did you just un-ironically use the word irked?” she asks, ignoring the rest of your comment. you feel the irritation build up at how casually she’s treating all of this. your megan would never dream of turning the rink into something so toxic, so full of fear.

“i’m serious.” you warn her. “chill out. if your coaches thought ryujin needed the extra work, they would have made her run it over again.”

“fine, fine, i’ll apologize,” she shakes her head, reaching for her water bottle. “maybe i was too intense. sorry.”

“don’t say sorry to me,” you wave her off.

you wait for her to finish up with the rest of the girls, but you can’t shake your discomfort at the side of megan you saw.

as it turns out, this isn’t the last incident megan has where her temper flares.

you’ve never once thought of her as an angry person, and considering the sport she devotes her life to, that was something you felt like you lucked out on. you somehow managed to bag the only hockey player in the world without a raging temper, your silly little girlfriend, easygoing and mellow. this lack of temper was what made her so good in her role, focused and intense, able to lock into what she needs to do without the distractions of her emotions. sure, anxiety would run rampant through her, but she’d turn that adrenaline into fuel to work smarter, never using it to snap at others.

you know it’s the stress getting to her, but after eunchae has to call you several times throughout the next few weeks, it’s starting to wear you thin, on top of already worrying you.

(what is happening to your sweet megan?)

your presence doesn’t do enough to deter her from some of the comments she makes, some of the harshness she takes out on the girls. dani’s obviously used to the verbal abuse she takes from the head coach and doesn’t do much about megan’s occasional tirade, but even if she did, you wonder what it’d take to get megan out of this headspace. you can see the way the girls look at her, eyes equally full of admiration and fear, and you never would have imagined your sweet captain would lead by fear, not in a million years.

with finals coming up, of course you’d rather focus on studying somewhere quiet, or going through flash cards with minji and marsh, but eunchae has asked you to stay just a few more practices. they’ve made it to the finals, and championship games are always a stressful time for the whole team, but if eunchae is worried, you know you should be too.

this night, she takes it too far, with haerin slipping up on a pass and accidentally sending it in the opposite direction of where the play requires.

megan, seeing this, gets so angry that she takes her stick and snaps it over her knee, skating over wordlessly to grab another one without so much as a second look in haerin’s direction. you can see the younger girl and how her lip quivers, the way all the girls on the bench flinch as megan approaches, the way megan skates as if she has a chip on her shoulder.

practice ends, and you walk out wordlessly, deciding to wait for megan outside the building instead so you don’t end up calling her out in front of her friends.

she spots you as she steps out, showered and looking so cute with her skin pinking up against the chill of the december weather, but her eyes are dark and unreadable. you can tell she’s still internalizing the anger of the practice, still holding on to everything from the ice.

“that was too much, by the way,” you tell her, your voice stern and even. you’ve had enough of trying to guide her gently to self-correct.

“haerin keeps messing up the flow on the ice,” she defends herself, making no effort to reach for you.

“she’s new, she’s still getting the hang of it,” you remind her. “she’s just a freshman, megan, balancing the same things you did back then.”

“but i didn’t mess up when i was a freshman,” she pushes back, and your heart thuds painfully at how gruff her voice sounds.

“megan, you’re also like a child prodigy,” you remind her gently, trying to bridge the gap by reaching for her hand. “you can’t expect everyone to be as good as you were.”

megan lets you hold her hand, but makes no effort to squeeze back. “dani expected that of me and look how i came out.”

“but you’re not dani,” you say. “and more importantly, they’re not you.”

megan shakes her head, dropping your hand to bite at her fingernails, an anxious habit of hers. “she can’t go pro making mistakes like that. none of them can.”

“megan, not everyone wants to go pro,” you remind her. “i get that you’re really good, but let people make mistakes and learn from them. i’m not trying to hurt your feelings, but you sound like a jerk.”

you realize the last part slips without your meaning to, but by the time you try to correct yourself, she’s already taken a step back, her brows furrowing.

“a jerk? seriously? for what, for trying to help everyone get to where they need to be?” she asks. “hard work is the only way to get there.”

“okay, relax ego,” you narrow your eyes at her, so, so confused where this stranger has come from. “yes, hard work is important, but so is knowing when to take a step back and just breathe. working hard shouldn’t cost you everything.”

megan dips her head, her serious eyes meeting yours in the dark of the evening, her expression cold and harsh.

“y/n, you’re not understanding. i’m the only person who can get them there. it’s me, or it’s nobody, and i’m not letting this team fail.”

“you’re not thinking straight. you’ve always been a captain that cares about building the girls up, not tearing them down when they don’t act like you.”

“if they gave half as much of a shit as i do, i wouldn’t need to set them straight,” she says frustratedly.

all you can manage to do is to take a step away from her, away from this unrecognizable stranger. you can empathize to the moon and back, but this isn’t your megan, and talking to her as if she is starts to make your stomach hurt.

“figure out what you want, and what it’s worth, because i don’t know what version of you this is,” you tell her, trying to step back, eager to put some space in between you and this stranger.

megan’s eyes are intense, nearly panicked, and for every step you take backwards, she moves forwards to keep looking in your eyes.

“what if this is the only version of me? what then?” she pushes, her face tense.

“i don’t believe that. you can work hard and still be kind. you’ve never lost one in being the other. i don’t get why you’re letting yourself start now,” you push back, shaking your head.

“i can’t believe you’re picking a fight with me this week of all weeks,” megan groans, taking a step back and pinching the bridge of her nose.

“megan, i’ve been trying to be sensitive because i know you’re going through a lot, but it’s not just this week,” you tell her, frustrated that she’s trying to pin this on you. “it’s been the last few months.”

“i’m under a lot-” she starts, but you hold a hand up to cut her off.

“a lot of pressure, i know.” you grimace at the excuse everyone’s made for her, but you’ve had enough. you try to soften your voice, to plead with whatever part of her could rationally hear you. “i’m not asking you to give anything up, i’m just asking you to consider where your head’s at.”

her voice softens, meeting yours, and she lets out a quiet, pained breath. “i can’t lose focus.”

“i’m not trying to distract you,” you reassure her, reaching for her arm. “i just want to make sure you’re going to be okay.”

“i’ll be okay when we win and i’m drafted,” she says firmly, fixing her eyes on the ground.

“you’re losing yourself in the process,” you plead with her.

“this has always been me,” megan says quickly, finally bringing her gaze up to meet yours.

“no. you were never like this,” you push against her words, holding onto her hand by her index finger to reassure her. “i know that for a fact. you have never once been like this. when i met you, i thought you were the biggest jerk alive, and you proved me so wrong. that’s why i fell in love with you.”

though you treasure the memory of getting to know her, something about the way you bring it up sets her off, her face hardening again as she pulls away from your grasp, yanking her arm back.

“i’m not that stupid freshman any more, and you’re not some hero who can save me again. i’m fucked if i don’t figure this out on my own. nobody’s coming to my rescue,” she spits angrily, a tone that shocks you.

“i didn’t mean it like i saved you,” you furrow your brows. “tutoring you was the best thing that ever happened to me. you’ve never been stupid—”

“i know you think i’m taking it too far but not everyone can just ace every class,” she blurts, interrupting you, taking another step away from you. “some of us don’t just get everything handed to them that easily.”

her words cut harsher than you could have ever imagined. firstly, the implication that you haven’t worked for what you’ve gotten to is extremely unfair, but even worse, it’s like your body wasn’t prepared to hear such words out of her mouth. in all your years together, megan had never once raised her voice, never once snapped at you, no matter how bad your disagreements got. she’d go quiet, take some space, and come right back ready to see things from a new perspective. never once had she insulted you— your walls have been down far enough you never thought that was a danger you’d need to protect yourself from.

“don’t talk to me like that,” you say simply, blinking back tears. “you’ve never talked to me like that.”

she’s too far gone into whatever headspace has taken over. you can see her eyes glaze over, forgetting where she is, who you are to her.

“i think-” she starts.

“megan,” your voice is sharp, a warning.

she blinks once, twice, her eyes fixing on something beyond you, unable to meet your eyes. “i think i just need a little bit to figure some things out.”

“i trusted you when you said you wouldn’t dream of hurting me,” you snap, hurriedly wiping the tears from your cheeks when you feel them fall, unsure of when they started spilling in the first place. “i don’t know where that girl went.”

you can see it shift in her eyes. the memory to her first championship game. your confession, her confession, how long ago it was and yet how fresh it felt to you.

“i’m hurting you,” she whispers, her face tensing.

“when you figure yourself out, let me know. when my megan comes back, you tell me, because i have no clue who you’ve turned into. i’ll be here.”

you turn on your heel and leave her to figure herself out. you don’t know where this leaves you, but she doesn’t chase after you, and that’s enough for now.

minji and marsh are gone when you get home. you assume they’re on a date, which stings mildly as you remember all the double dates the four of you were able to fit in over the summer. you don’t need to bother minji with your drama right now, but being alone in the apartment means you need to figure something out to get megan out of your head and give her space. you’re hoping a few hours will give her what she needs to cool off, but the evening trickles by and you’re mindlessly on your phone, nothing to be heard from megan.

it’s close to midnight when you’re dozing off, startled awake by a sudden buzzing in your hand.

lara raj. she isn’t one to cold call, usually texting first, so you’re a bit worried about what this means for you.

you pick up, curious as to what she could need so late in the evening.

“hey y/n,” she drawls, clearly trying to sound casual. “not to be super crazy or anything, but nobody’s seen megan since practice, and her location is off.”

“is she with you?” dani butts in quickly.

you check your phone and realize megan has turned her location off for you as well, something she hasn’t done in your time dating (except for the time she tried planning a surprise birthday party for you, which she gave herself away several times with her terrible ability to keep anything secret.)

you figure she’s not planning any surprises and let out a sigh. “is she not replying?”

“no,” dani says.

“she hasn’t come home yet,” lara says simply, the concern palpable.

you take a beat before thinking back to her most likely spots. “have you checked the lake?”

“oh, duh, have we checked the lake,” you hear dani say in the background.

“can you come with?” lara asks.

“i don’t think she wants to see me right now,” you admit. “we had a pretty bad fight.”

“a fight?” you hear dani’s disbelief palpably through the phone. “what the fuck?”

“megan?” lara clarifies, as if you could be possibly talking about anyone else.

“i don’t know who it was,” you shake your head.

“we’ll be there in a few.” dani tells you. “let’s go get her head on straight.”

they pick you up as promised just a small while later, and the three of you drive out to the park to see if your guess was right.

you can hear her before any of you see her. the clack of her stick against the ice, slapping pucks into the snowbank over and over again. you’re shivering even beneath your thick jacket and sweatpants, and you can tell megan’s been out here for a while based on how flushed her skin is, even in the dark.

“go away,” she says shortly as the three of you try to approach as peacefully as you can. lara and dani take the lead and you hang back, hoping to not make it feel like an ambush.

“baby’s grumpy?” lara teases gently, stepping out onto the ice with her, trying to keep her balance in her gripless sneakers. “c’mon meg.”

“fuck off,” megan responds curtly.

“um, who shat in your shoes?” dani arches a brow. “relax.”

“i need to focus,” she waves them off, and you realize she hasn’t spotted you yet.

“meg, don’t be rude,” lara pushes.

“you’re not the boss of me,” she snaps quickly, skating away to turn her back on them.

“i think you should go,” lara tells you quickly, eyes widening as she approaches you again.

“she doesn’t care that i’m here,” you scoff, motioning to how easily she can head off without realizing you’re there. you’ve never been mentally prepared for her cold shoulder, and being on the receiving end hurts more than you’d care to admit.

“she cares,” dani says quickly. “she’s just being stupid. i’ll prove it.”

“y/n?” megan looks up at the sound of your approach, and her eyes linger on you with something more, something like an apology in waiting.

“apologize,” daniela says firmly.

“what?” megan gapes in surprise.

“fix it,” dani emphasizes, pulling you along towards her. you feel dani’s hand drop to your waist.

in all your years of being friends, she’s never once tried anything with you, so the gesture feels both platonic and unusual all at once. you know she’s absolutely crazy about her girlfriend, and assume this has something to do with getting under megan’s skin, which you’re not thrilled about.

“don’t do that,” megan says quickly, and you can see it. her eyes darkening. you realize dani’s intention to set her off to prove a point.

“apologize. to lar first, and then to y/n,” dani repeats, her tone hard and bordering on aggressive. you remember this version of her, the night that she got into that fight, the way she so fearlessly stood up to those girls from the other team. you can’t believe megan’s at a point where her own best friend has to step up to her like this.

“i was never fucking scared of you,” megan snaps back, yanking dani’s hand off of you.

she’s rough with dani, but when megan reaches for you to move you back, her hand is so gentle against your hip gently moving you to the side, and part of you relishes in the touch. you’ve missed her gentle self, the way she reaches for you with such tenderness.

“well you fucking should be,” dani growls back. “you’re pissing me off, puppy, and off the clock, not as your coach— i’ll beat your ass.”

“dani, don’t ever put a finger on y/n again,” megan warns, and you feel yourself wish you could escape whatever is about to go down.

“you don’t get to be jealous girlfriend when you’re being the world’s biggest dick. y/n loves you, you owe her an apology,” daniela argues, kicking a puck in her direction.

“it’s fine,” you shake your head. “megan, i tried coming here to fix things, but you’re too stuck in your own head to see it. when you’re cooled off, i’ll be here. when you care about literally anything else but yourself, let me know.”

“you guys don’t care,” megan snaps, her brows tensed across her face angrily. “stop ganging up on me.”

“where is this victim complex coming from? we just want to help,” lara sighs.

but megan’s not finished, and she points her hockey stick threateningly in dani’s direction before looking to you apologetically. “and dani, don’t ever use y/n as bait again. i’m sorry they dragged you into this.”

“you’re dragging her into this with your fuckass attitude,” daniela calls her out, taking a challenging step closer. “give her a real apology.”

“megan…” you start, but megan and dani are too lost in their stand off for her to hear you.

“fuck you dani,” megan spits angrily.

“they might have patience for you, but i don’t. fix it, now,” daniela presses back, reaching out once more for you as if it’s a threat.

in a flash, megan is rushing forward, dropping her shoulders to grip dani in a locked grasp and tackle her flat, slamming her back onto the ice.

“no, enough!” you scream quickly, leaping in to try and pull them off each other, but a soft pair of hands reach for you first.

“let them,” lara stops you, holding you back by the sleeve. “meg needs it out of her system.”

“not like this,” you grimace, trying to reach for her again, but lara simply holds a hand out to stop you.

“it’s a hockey thing,” she shakes her head.

you watch as daniela wrestles for control over the grapple, what megan has over her in size and strength, dani more than makes up for in technique. megan’s on top for a few frightening moments before dani maneuvers them easily into a flip, quickly wiggling her way out to now straddle the taller girl. you gasp and feel your stomach drop as dani doesn’t hesitate to land one, two, three quick blows to megan’s exposed face, the ginger bringing her arms up to try and shield herself.

megan ducks out of the way of the fourth punch and lets dani punch the ice beneath them instead, the older girl groaning as her fist makes contact with the solid, frozen wall. megan uses the quick break to land a harsh blow of her own to the side of dani’s face, throwing her quickly off of her as daniela reels from the strike to her eye.

you’ve had enough. yes, you’re mad at megan, but that doesn’t stop you from caring about her, and watching her fight some of the people she loves most pains you beyond imagination. you turn on your heel and escape to the street, quickly seeking the closest uber to come pick you up. you feel sick at what you’ve seen them all come to: megan, her friends, her team. you hope a night apart will give them all a chance to sort themselves out.

you’re too distressed to sleep even in your own bed, not wanting to be surrounded by the memories of megan cuddling you or the pictures of her you have scattered throughout your room. you come home and fall asleep on the couch in the living room, hoping you’ll wake up to some sort of clarity.

no texts from megan, a missed call from daniela, 3 missed messages from lara.

you bite back the knot in your stomach and close your eyes, deciding you’ll ditch class today to focus on studying.

you sleep through the morning and wake to the smell of breakfast from the kitchen, the sound of the tv kicking on with no concern for your sleeping body. leave it to minji to play animal crossing at full volume even when you’re clearly trying to sleep.

“you’re such a dick, dude,” you groan as she sits next to you on the couch, unphased by your attempts to rest.

“good morning,” minji pokes your cheek. “it’s noon, by the way.”

“what do you want?” you roll your eyes, trying to turn the opposite direction.

“haven’t seen you sleep out here since we moved in,” she observes, eyes focused on the tv the whole time as she assesses the status of her island. “you good? where’s puckhead?”

“she’s been busy,” you say simply, not exactly eager to relive the events of last night.

“ah,” minji says simply. “too busy to say hi to her friends?”

“too busy to be nice to her girlfriend,” you say, hoping it’s enough.

“pouting doesn’t suit you, it’s gross,” minji grimaces.

“be nice,” marsh yells out from the kitchen, always so quick to run to your rescue.

“what are you trying to get at?” you wrinkle your nose at minji.

she shrugs, taking a hit from her pen as she keeps her gaze steady on the screen. “megan is a massive loser, yes—”

“minji,” marsh warns once more, as if it’s the only thing she’s capable of doing. “be nice!”

“i am best friends with the most emotionally incompetent person in the world,” you groan, trying to hide your face behind a random throw pillow.

“listen to me, i’m cooking or whatever,” minji says irritatedly. you find it hard to believe that she’s worth listening to: your half-high roommate, in her spiderman underwear and an old oversized t shirt, acting like she’s some oracle. but you’re sort of out of options, and minji’s put the controller down, so at this point you might as well hear her out. “megan is a loser, because she’s scared of a lot. and when she’s not being a loser, she’s acting not-scared, but what are the chances of her still being scared?”

“i know who megan is,” you tell minji, hoping she gets to her point sooner rather than later.

“you’ve never seen her too scared to find a solution. this might be it,” she says simply, staring into your eyes with her own serious ones. “she might be pushing you away while she thrashes around, ‘cause she’s never figured out how to navigate hard shit around others. she’s always had someone to fall back on, now she’s the fallback.”

“i know all this,” you say as if it’s obvious.

“but does she know that you know all this, or are you still just bagging on her for not having it figured out the way you do?” she asks, and the weight of her words hits you. “are you judging her for getting it wrong, when she’s never been taught how to get it right for something this serious?”

“thank you,” you whisper quietly under your breath, realizing this is the wakeup call you needed. you sit up and check the calendar— megan’s schedule is packed to the brim until her game at 6.

her final championship game of her college career.

“you wouldn’t be with her if it weren’t for me.” minji says, self-satisfied smirk on her lips as she goes back to playing her game. “think of that next time you insult me.”

“you’re not that emotionally constipated after all,” you beam, wrapping her into a quick hug. even though she simply sits there and grunts, you know your roommate has your back.

“told you she could be nice,” marsh laughs from the kitchen, coming out to offer you a smoothie she’s put together. “we can drive you to the game later, if we’re still invited.”

“of course you guys are,” you reassure her. “i wouldn’t be with megan if it weren’t for minji.”

“and i wouldn’t be with minji if it weren’t for megan,” danielle beams. “we all sort of owe each other, in a weird square sort of way.”

“meg loves all things weird,” you smile.

the first championship game you ever came to, you made it late. every game since then, you’ve been sure to show up at least an hour early, seated in front of the player box, where megan’s tickets get you the best seats in the whole arena, and this time will be no different.

you still remember how excited she got when you custom ordered a university jersey with her last name, especially since college sports don’t allow selling custom merch. wearing your one-of-one “skiendiel” jersey seems fitting.

you think to text her and see if you can steal her away for a second, but before you can do anything, you spot the flash of ginger wandering out of the locker room. you can see the paleness in her face, the way her lip is bright red from how hard she’s been chewing it, the clear tells of how unwell she’s feeling. your heart aches for her, and before you can help it, you’re barrelling towards her, not caring where she might possibly need to be right now.

you collide into her with enough force to push her backwards, but she’s steady enough on her feet to take the hit and keep you both standing. your arms wrap around her and you’re breathing her in, her comforting scent, her familiar warmth, her strength and her softness all at once.

she melts into you as soon as you grip into her, pressing her nose into the top of your head as her arms wrap even tighter around you. the hug feels so, so comforting, leaving so much in the air lingering without causing either of you to suffer for a moment longer.

“you still came?” she asks in disbelief, those big eyes taking you in as she moves to take a step backwards and eye you over. you can see her seriousness melt away as she takes you in, the jersey, your presence, your genuine excitement to see her.

“i haven’t missed a championship game since i met you,” you remind her, offering a gentle smile as a peace offering. “sure as hell wasn’t going to miss your very last one.”

megan opens her mouth to say something, but she pauses, her face twisting into something pained. you can tell she’s remembering the events of the night before. you take her in, realizing there’s some bruising around her cheekbone from her fight with daniela.

“i hurt you,” she says simply, clamping her eyes shut with a grimace.

“well i love you, and i have for a long time, and i think i know you pretty well. i don’t think you meant to hurt me.” you offer quietly, reaching for her hand. “i think my megan is in there still, just scared.”

“i’m fucking terrified.” you finally hear her admit it, and you look down to realize her hands are shaking. “of everything. this game, my career, our future.”

“you don’t have to be,” you reassure her, trying to reach out to steady her hand.

“i don’t have anything else going for me,” she breathes out, trying to even out her nerves. “you don’t understand.”

“i don’t see it that way,” you push back gently.

“i’m going to go play this game, and then i’m going to beg for forgiveness for being the worst girlfriend ever and a shit communicator.” she quickly takes both your hands in hers, bringing them up to her chest. you can feel her racing pulse against your palms, thudding against her ribs. “and if you’re still mad at me, i totally get it and i’ll go jump off a bridge asap.”

“shut up,” you laugh, and she breaks out into a smile that makes you feel like everything might just end up being okay.

“i’ll keep apologizing as a ghost, i’m serious,” she’s still sticking to the bit, but you can see her eyes start to tear up. “i messed up so bad. i’m really sorry.”

“go do what you do best,” you reach up to kiss her nose, careful to avoid the bruising. “i’ll be here, cheering you on like always.”

“i don’t want this to be the only thing i do best. i want to be a good friend, and a good girlfriend, and a good person,” she says determinedly.

“i love you,” you reassure her.

“nice,” she beams, and you laugh at how only she could make a tender moment so, so stupid.

“at least say like, samesies or some shit,” you beg.

“will you accept ditto?” she asks.

“if i have to,” you wrinkle your nose.

“cool then, ditto,” she grins, reaching down to press a gentle, pleading kiss against your lips. “i love you a lot, y/n. i’m sorry again.”

“you got this,” you reassure her once more, and you can hear the calls of the coaches beckoning her over.

you wave her goodbye and find your seats again, busying yourself debriefing minji and her girlfriend, shooting a text to lara to let her know the resolution you’ve reached.

the two teams make it onto the ice and you spot the ginger braids peeking out from beneath the helmet, the way megan waves to the entire arena for what will be the last time in her college career. you can see her taking it in, deciding what she’s going to make of tonight, who she’s choosing to be right now.

you spot dani coming out with the rest of the coaches, sporting a particularly gnarly black eye, no doubt courtesy of your girlfriend. she seems tense, but as soon as she spots you in the stands and glances back at megan, who is simply smiling at you, she nods approvingly and claps to get the team’s attention. they have a team huddle, and you can see the nervous eyes of so many of the newer girls darting around as the cheers from the arena get louder and louder, announcing the impending drop of the puck for the face-off.

eunchae leads them in a chant, and megan sends them off with the team battle shout, each of them slamming their gloves into the helmet of the girl next to them, a tradition dani had started with megan as a sophomore. it’s so cool to see them hyping themselves up, turning their nerves into pure adrenaline, and you see megan lock into her mindset of pure focus as she heads onto the face-off with a look of sheer determination.

the puck drops and she’s off like lightning, the puck nearly invisible with how quick she wields it. you look out to the ice, seeing the new faces, the way things have changed. eunchae stays in the back, holding down the defenseman’s position, but instead of lara, maya guards the goal protectively. instead of yunjin covering defense with eunchae, now it’s moka, looking determinedly out across the ice. instead of kazuha and dani working together to move the offense back and forth in their favor, like clockwork, like mirror images, it’s ryujin and haerin, a bit more scattered, but still quick, still eager, still lightning fast on the ice to pressure their offense.

and the anchor of the team, megan as center, carrying the weight of the team on her shoulders. it’s up to her to score, to call plays, to navigate traps, to see holes in the defense and predict where the offense is going to be. it’s her job to protect maya as the goalie from ever having to see the puck, to trust that moka and eunchae know what they’re doing and can cover the back end of the ice on defense, it’s her job to read ryujin’s movements and see where haerin is trying to take them, to weave between the two of them and catch every pass or assist every shot they try to make.

hockey is the thing you almost lost your megan to, but watching her on the ice, the way she seems to almost float effortlessly and maneuver the puck with insane expertise, reminds you exactly why she’s poured all she has into this sport— to be the best, nothing less.

you stay on your feet for the entirety of the game, eagerly watching each stolen pass or shot taken. even minji, seated next to you, and often unbothered by most sporting events, seems moved to cheer for megan every time the ginger steals another pass or tries to move into a shooting position.

the game is tense. the first period ends in a drought, a simple 0-0 that sets the tone for an even more aggressive 2nd period, the other team ramping up their efforts to blitz maya in the goal with a more aggressive offense.

megan, who picks up on this immediately, calls out to eunchae, and eunchae immediately compensates by playing harsher on the incoming offense, clearly indicating that she will not hesitate to protect her goalie at all costs. you can see maya’s confidence grow with each protective shot cut off by eunchae, the way moka eventually finds her stride and manages to cut off several incoming attempts, shooting them straight back up the ice at megan.

you’ve never been part of a team like that, but you can tell that the girls are finding their groove, megan’s leadership doing more than just keeping them from losing, but building their synergy, the trust between all of them. you see an opposing offense come in, slipping past ryujin, but moka is quick to call out to maya, who in her increasing confidence, is all too quick to catch the puck before it can even try to hit the net.

megan doesn’t take a chance to let her guard down, but she pumps her fist excitedly at the save, yelling out something to the defense line that has moka beaming and maya matching her smile.

eunchae catches your eye by the end of the second period, sending you a thumbs up. you feel your chest lighten. you see it in the way they move, in the way megan keeps nodding back at all of them, orchestrating them on the ice, hearing the coach’s directions and implementing them as she sees fit. the joy in her eyes is back. she’s truly, sincerely enjoying herself for what looks like the first time all season.

0-0 in the final period is not a good sign for either team. you know megan is going to ramp up her attacks. she’s described her playstyle as more opportunistic before— whereas kazuha was conservative, and daniela had the stamina to be relentless, megan has always described wanting to play smarter, to find holes and exploit them instead of waiting for clarity or rushing to catch the defense off guard. any other players would start to panic, maybe play sloppy, but megan is a threat because she can wait, and she can watch, and be quick enough to strike without hesitation.

you can see it in the eyes of the other team’s girls, trying to goad her into picking a fight with one of them. they’re getting rougher with her, slamming her around more aggressively than her position would ever call for, even when she doesn’t have the puck.

but megan, more determined than ever, keeps her gaze laser focused on exactly where she needs to be.

the clock trickles down, and even though their defense has done an amazing job of preventing any shots, you know it’s up to megan and the offense to get a score up on the board. they wrestle over the pick over and over, the push of both teams trying to get up on the other. you watch in eager anticipation as the game risks going into overtime, the minutes trickling down into the very end of the game without a single score between the two of them.

the other team gets sloppy in one of their attempted scores and you see megan lock in on the mistake. eunchae blocks the shot and their full team is pushed too far up, the pass she sends to megan leaving the center wide open to take an easy shot. it’s obvious, painfully so, that this is it. you feel the stadium pause with baited breath as the puck makes it into megan’s possession, her feet making quick work of moving her halfway up the rink to close the gap in seconds.

megan looks at the goal, then back at the girls. a split second decision. you know it’s her shot to take, wide open and easy enough for her to send.

you see something flash over her features, the vision of her future in front of her very eyes.

in a move that shocks even you, she sends the puck forward, flying straight to haerin.

haerin freezes, handling the puck for a brief moment before realizing the opening she has. she’s waited a bit too long, by the time she takes the shot, the other team’s defense is already swarming in on her.

the next 20 seconds are a blur. the opposing team gains possession of the puck and megan does everything in her power to chase the other center out of their box, but they’re too late. the opposing offense makes quick work of overwhelming eunchae and moka, leaving a gap for their center to take a shot. maya, despite her speed, isn’t fast enough to block the shot, and you hear the buzz of the shot making it in. seconds trickle by, and the final buzzer goes off to announce the end of the final period.

you look at the finishing score. 0-1.

you hold your breath, spotting the girls all dumbfoundedly shaking hands with the other team as they celebrate their victory, and making their way off the ice. even the coaches are in silence, and you can see megan’s face, hard and stony, as she takes her helmet off her head.

the team crams into the box, all looking expectantly to their captain. you’re half worried she’ll erupt, but you trust her. you walk up to the box and watch their interaction through the glass.

she breaks out into a gentle, almost goofy smile. she looks like a little kid, good naturedly taking the loss on the chin.

“good game,” megan nods, and the girls all seem to take a breath of relief at her simple words.

“i cost us the shot.” you hear haerin’s voice pierce through the air, quaking angrily. the forward throws her stick onto the ground, her face tensing. “why didn’t you just take it, megan? you would have made it.”

“you had just as much chance of making it as i did,” megan says firmly.

“i lost us the game,” haerin’s eyes water.

“i believed in you, it’s okay.” megan pulls her glove off with her teeth, reaching her bare hand to grab haerin by the back of the neck and pull her closer, forcing her to look up at the captain. haerin is still biting back tears, but megan nods reassuringly. “it’s not your fault they made their own shot. kang, you’ll make your shot next year.”

“next year you won’t be here,” haerin pushes back anxiously.

“i was here this year and we didn’t win. i’m not what matters. i’m just glad i had an amazing time playing with all of you,” she smiles once more. “thanks for the kick ass game, guys.”

maya is the first to break out into tears, tackling megan into a giant hug that the rest of the girls swarm into immediately.

“we’ll make the shot next year,” ryujin promises, between sobs.

“i’ll kill someone to make sure they don’t ever get a point over on us again,” moka threatens, crying into megan’s shoulder.

“you’re missing the point,” megan glares at the underclassmen, laughing as the girls take it too far. eunchae, still panting from the game, beams back at her.

“thanks for thinking i could do it, cap,” haerin tells her, her voice soft. “i’ll make sure it happens next year.”

daniela having watched the whole thing, shoos the girls to break up their huddle and eyes megan, before patting her on the back.

“that’s what a captain does,” she says simply, approvingly. “good call, meg.”

megan wrinkles her nose sheepishly at the assistant coach, noting the bruise she’s sporting. “sorry for the black eye, dani.”

“that was you?” eunchae asks in disbelief, but the two friends ignore her.

“i’m just sorry i didn’t break your nose. don’t ever piss me off like that again, ‘cause i’ll do real damage next time, alright meiyok?” dani threatens, but instantly hooks megan by the neck and presses a kiss into her head. “i think someone wants to talk to you.”

dani motions to you, and for the first time in what feels like forever, megan’s eyes light up as she catches sight of you.

years ago, the older girls would tease her and make kissy noises when you’d come up to her after a game. now, megan’s respected, the leader figure, and the girls all scatter to give you guys some space as she takes off what she can of her gear before making it out of the box and coming up to you.

“what was that?” you ask, curious into her mindset about giving the pass to haerin. she could have taken the shot and clinched the win to no-one’s criticism, so you’re truly curious what her mindset was for this call.

“dani always trusted me to make shots. she gave almost all her shots to me by the middle of my first season. that’s what gave me the confidence to try, and to get good, and to feel like i could do it and keep up with her.” she explains. “and you trusted me enough to give me a chance. that’s what helped me branch out, and know i was capable. i love teams, i love improving, i love the trust. not winning. i’m sorry i lost sight of that.”

you smile and wrap your arms around her neck. you see it now— megan gives up her investment in herself to invest in the future for these girls, the thing she truly believes in, the thing that made her the perfect captain. she gives up the win to instill the love of the sport in the next generation.

“i have a lot to make right to you,” she continues, her hands shaky as they wrap around your waist, and you feel so, so at home in her embrace. “i have a lot to make up for.”

“i missed you,” you shake your head, just grateful to have her back. the rest will easily fit into place.

“i missed you too.” she hums, pressing her forehead against yours. “never letting that out of sight again. i’m sorry.”

you decide she’s done enough apologizing. you scoop her chin into your hand and melt into a kiss, the sweat from her nose dripping onto you, but you don’t mind. she wraps her arms even tighter around your waist and kisses you back so eagerly it makes your heart thud.

“i was crazy about you then, i’m still crazy about you now,” she tells you, lifting you and spinning you around. “probably gonna be crazy about you forever.”

you laugh and hug her even tighter. the whole thing feels like a win in your book.

“you know what?” you beam.

“what?” she grins back at you curiously.

“ditto.”

the next morning, megan is giving her statements about their loss in the conference room, but she isn’t solemn or sullen about it. she’s bright-eyed, eager, like a weight has been lifted off her shoulders.

after the coach announces eunchae as next year’s captain (the department clearly learning their lesson about letting the captains make such an announcement) there’s a quick question from one of the reporters to megan about her future in the wnhl and her plans to pursue hockey.

“hockey gave me everything, and i gave it everything,” she says simply, nothing more, nothing less. she flashes a quick, nervous smile, and it’s perfect for her, the balance of sincere and dorky that made you fall for her in the first place.

“what’s next for you?” another reporter asks, trying to goad her into opening up further about her prospects.

“whatever is next, i’ll give it 100%,” megan says carefully. “and i’ll be grateful, and i’ll remember what matters to me. the love of the game, nothing else.”

she nods awkwardly and excuses herself from the table, letting dani and the head coach take over the rest of the questions about what they plan to do without their star player.

you greet megan with a kiss on the cheek, and she returns the gesture by pressing a kiss into the top of your head.

“what’s really next?” you ask, motioning to the google calendar you share that she hasn’t updated for the day.

“uh, will you help me study for finals?” she asks, almost shyly, and you can almost see it play back. your first class together, how awkward she was asking for your notes. it makes your heart flip inside your chest.

“no more interviews?” you question.

“coach and dani can do them together. i need to focus on right now, and right now is a bitchass english final due in 48 hours that my girlfriend would know exactly how to study for,” megan informs you, and you laugh at her determination.

the two of you escape hand in hand out of the building and start making your way towards the library to get a head start on preparing for finals.

you catch her staring at you as you walk, peering out of the corner of her eye. her cheeks flush as she realizes she’s been spotted, and she tries distracting you instead by taking off her letterman jacket and insisting on placing it over your shoulders.

“what?” you question, accepting the jacket without protest.

“you are really so pretty,” megan breathes out nervously.

“thank you,” you smile back at her. those big brown eyes, her button nose, her dimples. “you’re so fucking cute.”

“you make me nervous,” she mumbles quietly.

“still?” you ask in disbelief.

“always have,” she nods, and the way she breathes out makes you feel like she’s finally able to start thinking about what she wants, instead of what she’s afraid of. “you have from the start.”

finals are grueling, but you both manage to pass all your exams, and spend your winter break making up for lost time now that the season is over. your anniversary quickly approaches, and megan ditches off-season practice where she’s supposed to be training eunchae in order to spend the whole day with you.

(it’s her first time ever ditching practice since starting the sport, and you don’t take it lightly.)

she’s losing pitifully to you in the snowball fight you’re currently halfway through, and it doesn’t escape you that she’d put her phone on do not disturb in order to focus on you. the last time you two were at the lake, it was her fight with dani, and the time before that, your date that had gotten cut short, so this date feels like it’s making up for all the terrible experiences you’d previously shared.

and what’s best, is that megan is perfectly fine with just playing in the snow, no longer insisting on teaching you how to skate.

her phone falls out of her pocket as she tries packing another snowball to toss at you, and you notice that even through dnd, her mom has called her at least four times since your date has started. megan’s mom is close to megan, but not exactly the clingy type, so this raises a flag for you.

“why is your mom blowing you up?” you ask, pointing to your phone as she picks it up out of the snow. “everything okay?”

“i’m not interrupting another date to take a stupid phone call,” she furrows her brow, preparing to tuck it back into her jacket.

“it’s your mom, meg,” you reassure her, laughing at her determination to be better. “it’d be different if it was coach.”

“fine,” she grumbles.

she takes the phone off and brings it to her ear, a quick greeting in cantonese before you hear her mom rambling something at a million miles an hour. you grin and tackle her backwards into a snowbank, the two of you sinking into the powder with a laugh as you simply rest on top of her while she keeps chatting away with her mom.

it seems like the usual check in until you see megan’s face change, her features widening, her skin going pale. you almost insist that she put it on speaker before she quickly hangs up. you realize her hands are shaking as they slip the phone back into her pocket.

“you know how my mom does all my management stuff?” she starts, voice wobbly.

“loser,” you laugh, realizing that megan has kept all her management as her mom’s job instead of hiring a real agent. “but continue.”

she gives you a blank stare, her mind clearly not fully there following the phone call.

“they want me for the olympic women’s hockey team,” she says simply, and you feel your jaw drop.

“holy shit, megan,” you gasp.

“the winter olympics are in london next year,” she tells you, and the two of you connect the dots at the exact same time. “you’ll be halfway through your program.”

“that’s convenient,” you beam.

“olympic players always go back in the draft,” megan tells you, her words picking up in pace, her voice growing more and more excited. “i’ll take a month or two off to sight see, and then i’ll go to the combine for drafting. if i’m lucky, a team will pick me up as soon as i’m done.”

“megan, that’s amazing,” you bury your face into her neck to wrap her in a tight hug. “your dream is coming true.”

“my dream isn’t hockey,” she corrects you quickly, running a hand through your hair. “it’s just a future where i’m happy. think you’ll be part of it?”

“wherever you get drafted i’ll go with you,” you nod reassuringly. the smile she gives you back is worth everything to you.

she scoops up a pile of snow and shoves it in your face. you scream with laugher and scoop up one to smash right back into her nose, watching as she tries to wiggle herself out from under you and shove you further into the snowbank.

the semester is grueling, but you make it through in one piece, and so does megan. graduation rolls around before you even realize it, and your time as college students is quickly coming to an end.

at the graduation, you and megan have to split up as you separate into your different majors and departments, but she presses a kiss to your forehead before you depart.

“i’ll be the loudest cheer in the room,” she promises, smiling at you. you can’t help but admire how cute she looks in her cap and gown. the way the cap just slightly brushes her eyebrows reminds you of how low she used to wear her beanies, and how she still sometimes will.

you shuffle into line and take inventory of all your friends from the year, all the things this university has given you. sophia in the crowd next to your family, minji and danielle in their own caps and gowns waving from their section in the graduation lineup. you know daniela and lara are cheering you on from their spot with megan’s family.

the department heads read off the names, and you feel your ears perk up as they approach the name of the ginger that had come out of nowhere your freshman year and changed everything for you.

“megan skiendiel.”

you hear an air horn go off, followed by another, and the whole arena erupts into an echo of cheers. you can see from the crowd where several people have printed up blow up heads and are waving them around. you can make out some of the newer girls and realize nearly 2 full rows of seats are taken up by the entire women’s hockey team, the babies who’d follow megan anywhere even with all they’ve been through. they wave the blow up heads wildly around, cheering at the top of their lungs as if they’re at a game and not at some respectable academic demonstration.

you see megan’s cheeks flush as soon as she spots the stupid display, no doubt daniela and lara’s idea. she takes her degree and makes her way off stage.

your department comes next, and you beam as you take to the stage.

“y/n y/ln, graduating magna cum laude.”

you can hear the uproar from your loved ones, but one voice is cheering longer and louder than all the rest. you look down at the graduates and see megan with her hands cupped around her mouth, cheering as loudly as possible. you see her eyes shining brightly. she’s usually not a huge fan of bringing attention to herself, but your stupid, goofy megan doesn’t stop cheering the whole time you’re on stage.

your families join after the ceremony into one giant group, made even more chaotic by the fact that the entire women’s hockey team is eagerly trying to fit into the picture as well.

megan smiles at you, and takes your hand in hers. in that exact moment, you can’t picture anything you’d ever want more than this.

your phone background is a countdown of how many days are left until megan lands. it’s been a grueling 4 months without her, but she’ll be in your city prepping for the olympics in no time at all. plus, she’s sent weekly care packages, and her twice daily facetimes make it a little more bearable.

you admire your desk, the way your life has all fallen into place.

on your bulletin board, pictures of your life: you, minji, and marsh, all posing at one of megan’s games your junior year. you and megan celebrating her second championship game win. you and megan on the beach when she had brought you to hawaii to meet her family the summer after sophomore year. a photo of the two of you at the surprise party the underclassmen had planned just before summer ended. one of you and sophia at the renaissance fair. megan cheering you on at your senior capstone presentation. the photo of everyone from graduation. one of the first photos you had ever taken of her, a picture from freshman year during one of your many study sessions.

your hands unpack the envelope that megan had saved for you specifically. the magazine drops into your hands, and the familiar eyes look back up at you from the photo on the cover.

you hold the magazine up and look up proudly at the cover. the sullivan award, amateur athlete of the year: megan skiendiel.

megan. your megan, as she’s always been.

#megan skiendiel x reader #megan x reader #megan katseye #megan skiendiel imagine #☆ﾟ coolwyous works.#☆ﾟ coolwyous ditto.

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lazysoulwriter · 2 days ago

Text

standing tall. - pedro pascal.

requested! thank you for sending. tall girls supremacy!!!!! (not a tall girl, just find them hot)

---

It started with one photo. Just one.

You and Pedro Pascal at an afterparty — him in a perfectly tailored suit, you towering over him in stilettos and a silk gown, laughing at something he whispered against your ear.

The internet lost its mind. “Tall girl supremacy!!” “Pedro with his goddess? I’m crying??” “He’s so real for this.”

And honestly? You loved every second of it.

You met Pedro on set — a supporting role in his new prestige series. From the very first table read, he made you feel seen. Literally seen.

While most people awkwardly commented on your height or made jokes, Pedro had simply looked up at you, grinned wide, and said, "Finally, someone who doesn’t make me feel like a giant."

It was easy after that. Late-night conversations on set. Inside jokes. Flirty glances over coffee cups. You tried to ignore the way your heart skipped when he laughed. Tried to pretend you didn’t notice the way he always found a reason to stand just a little closer to you.

Of course, Pedro made the first move. (Because you're gorgeous, and he’s not stupid.)

Dating Pedro was a whirlwind of soft affection and quiet understanding.

He loved how you wore heels without hesitation. He loved how you never apologized for taking up space — in a room, in a conversation, in his life.

"You’re statuesque, hermosa," he told you one night, tracing the line of your jaw with reverent fingers. "Like you were carved out of marble just to drive me crazy."

The only thing he didn’t love? Seeing you hesitate when the cameras were around.

Because no matter how confident you were, there was always that tiny voice in your head: Too tall. Too loud. Too much.

Pedro saw it. And he wasn’t having it.

The night of the afterparty, it all came to a head.

You hesitated before stepping onto the red carpet with him, shifting on your towering heels. Pedro caught your hand immediately, pulling you back into his chest.

"Hey," he said, voice low and sure. "You’re not dimming yourself for anyone tonight. You hear me?"

You smiled nervously. "I’m like... two inches taller than you right now."

Pedro chuckled, squeezing your hand. "And you look like a fucking queen. If anything, I should be wearing taller shoes to keep up with you."

You laughed, the tension breaking. He pressed a kiss to your temple, completely ignoring the flashing cameras.

"Let them talk," he murmured. "I’ve got the most beautiful woman in the room on my arm. I'm winning."

And just like that, you stood a little taller.

The next morning, you woke up to thousands of tweets, edits, and fan posts celebrating you both.

Pedro had even reposted one — a photoset of the two of you looking every bit like Hollywood royalty — with the caption: "Love when she looks at me like I hung the moon 🖤"

Cue the internet absolutely combusting.

Later that week, curled up on his couch in sweats and no makeup, you teased him, "You're really not bothered that I’m taller than you sometimes?"

Pedro set down his coffee, turning to you with that fond, devastating smile. "Sweetheart," he said, "I’m old enough to know when I'm blessed. You could be six feet tall or sixty feet tall — I'd still look at you like you're the best thing that's ever happened to me."

You hid your burning face in his chest, laughing. He wrapped his arms around you tighter.

"Besides," he added with a wink, "I like having to look up at you. Keeps me humble."

You giggled, feeling weightless in a way you hadn't in a long time. And as he kissed the top of your head, murmuring sweet nothings into your hair, you realized —

Yeah. This was the real win. Not just for the tall girls. But for you. For the love you had found when you finally stopped shrinking yourself.

----

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal imagines #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal fanfics #pp #x reader #pedro pascal fics #pedro pascal one shot #pedro pascal oneshot #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal blurb #pedro pascal x tall!reader #ficreq

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rillils · 3 days ago

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thinking about how bucky always says steve’s name like it comes right from his soul.

thinking about the innocence of that one sweet syllable leaving his lips in kreischberg, when he’s strapped to a table and barely keeping his grasp on reality, and how he smiles when he says it,

“steve”,

tender on his breath, and how he sighs it again while steve gathers him up into his arms, like it’s a balm, like it’s all the solace he needed, like this is all it took to make his pain go away for a blissful moment.

thinking about how cautiously he keeps his distance from steve in his apartment in bucharest; how he tries to protect himself, protect them both, by acting like he doesn’t remember – and still he slips up and says,

“you’re steve,” soft and a little hoarse and all too intimate, like it was only yesterday that he last called steve’s name out loud. and then he tries to fix that by attaching “i read about you in a museum” at the end, but it’s too late, his heart has already spoken before his mouth could stop it, the cat’s out of the bag now and there’s no shoving it back in.

thinking about how he wakes up later, finally in charge of his own body again, sore and exhausted and confused, and steve’s name is the first word on his lips, again, always,

and it’s so raw and vulnerable and it sounds so much like “i’m sorry”, sorry i lied to you, sorry i’ve been away for so long, sorry i’m still a weapon they can use against you, and it sounds a little bit like surrender too, like he’s done denying how he feels, and you can see the relief in his smile when he finally admits that of course, of course he knows steve, he’s in the marrow of bucky’s bones, a hundred years of torture couldn’t sap him out of bucky’s system – and bucky knows that because they’ve tried, they’ve already tried and it didn’t stick.

how many times do you think he curled up in a corner of his cell, back when hydra was first breaking him, and whispered steve’s name over and over in the ice-cold silence, reaching for any feeble memory of steve’s face, his voice, before it slipped between his fingers again?

how many times do you think they dragged him out of his cryo chamber, soaked and trembling, and heard him murmur steve’s name before he was even fully awake?

bucky didn’t even realize he’d said it, or what the word even meant. all he knew was the sudden sting of a slap across his face, and vicious hands pushing him into the chair more brusquely than usual, and not even knowing why.

how many times do you think he rolled over on his lumpy mattress in bucharest, only half-awake, and mumbled steve’s name, hand seeking the warm body that was supposed to be there next to him, chasing the dream-like memory of blond hair tickling his nose in the morning, of cold toes pressed against his shins and a slim arm slung over his waist – just to wake up in the gray light of dawn and find that he was still alone?

how many nights did he spend in wakanda, lying alone in his bed, warmed only by steve’s voice on the phone promising him “soon”, “just a couple more weeks”, telling bucky how much he missed him? how much did his chest ache every time he murmured that final “goodnight, steve,” before they hung up, just so steve’s name would be the last word he said before he fell asleep?

but i like to think that there comes one morning, eventually, when bucky wakes up to an arm wrapped protectively around his waist, and two cold feet tucked between his ankles, and the inviting warmth of a body pressed snugly at his back.

he calls the name softly,

“steve?”

and the man curled around him stirs, snuffles against the meat of bucky’s shoulder, pressing a drowsy “mmmm?” into bucky’s skin.

bucky only realizes he’s smiling when he goes to turn his face into the pillow, happiness flowing fire-bright and golden in his veins.

“shh, sorry, sorry,” he shushes steve quietly, burrowing back into his embrace, as far as steve will let him. “go back to sleep, doll.”

#stucky #stevebucky #I KNOW I GOTTA STOP DOING THIS BUT *SCREAMS INTO THE NEAREST ABYSS*#i just have many many emotions about these boys #and also i want to see them happy #and also the way bucky says steve's name always gets to me in a way that i can't explain #because IT'S SO SOFT AND AND dammit he just LOVES that boy and that boy loves HIM and i'm just doomed to yearn because of them forever #hashtag fml #rillers has feels

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woncheolisms · 2 days ago

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want you bad. (lee chan x reader)

summary: when a mishap during university examinations lands you and your colleague lee chan into a mountain of work, you suggest pulling an all nighter to get it done. you end up doing everything except the actual work assigned to you.

word count: 3.6k

warnings: teacher!dino x teacher!reader, smut, nsfw, unprotected sex, slightly subby!chan, dirty talk, oral (fem receiving), questionable professional behavior, chan is down bad, mentions of alcohol

It’s a little too early in the morning to talk to anyone, but when Lee Chan walks into your office with a grin and two cups of coffee, you can’t help but smile back.

You’re going over the Study Guide for the next semester when you hear a knock on your door, followed by a head of chestnut hair poking in. You usher him in with your hand, turning away from your computer screen to face him. He plops into one of two chairs before your desk, placing your cup before you. You take a sip immediately, humming as the bitter taste of coffee hits your tongue. Milk and sugar as well. Chan knows how you like your coffee by now.

“How was your weekend?” he asks, pushing up his glasses and looking at you expectantly. You realized early on that Chan doesn’t really do small talk like everyone else. He listens to everything you say attentively, no matter how drab the question. That’s what he’s doing right now, nodding as you tell him what you did on the weekend. Which isn’t much. Last week was finals week. You mostly just slept off the fatigue of it.

“I hear you,” he sighs, leaning back. “But I have to say, it was much better this time around. Last time, I was doing everything pretty much on my own.”

You scowl. “What about the other teachers?”

He rolls his eyes and makes a face. “They aren’t much help. Ugh, tenure changes people.”

You giggle at his words and he cracks a smile at the sound, returning to his coffee.

Chan is your closest—and only—friend at work. Unfortunately for you two, most of the department besides you are much, much senior to you. You joined just last semester, and until then, Chan had been braving the sea of old people (his words) all on his own. The thing about tenure is pretty real. Most of them don’t give a fuck about anything anymore except showing up to class, giving a lecture, and leaving. Almost everything else—making exam papers, then marking them afterward—falls on you and Chan. Since you’ve just started out and Chan is fairly new to this line of work too, neither of you really want to step on any toes. So you two just… do everything.

It’s naive, actually. Taking on a workload that isn’t yours. But you muscle through. You mark all the essays and submit them to the Department of Examinations. They’ll compile the result and post it on the university portal. And that’ll be it. Your job is done.

You and Chan make idle conversation as you finish your coffees. He talks about his weekend (he went hiking with his friends), complaining that his legs are sore now. His hair, which is always neatly brushed when he clocks into work, is quickly getting messier since he has a terrible habit of running his hands through it. It’s your typical morning routine. Chan shows up with coffee (even though you’ve insisted many times that you would pay for it, he doesn’t take your money), you talk about your days, and then either of you has a class or some other paperwork to get to, so you go back to your schedules.

Chan stands up, empty coffee cup in hand, sighing and stretching a bit. He brushes his hand over his torso to straighten his button-up blue shirt, shaking out his slacks too.

“I should head back now,” he announces, as usual. “I’m sure students are lining up outside my door to argue their grades.”

You snort. “I’m surprised they haven’t already broken my door down.”

A knock on your door—almost on cue—and Chan grins. You make a face and call out for whoever it is to enter. Instead of a student, in walks a wispy-looking boy in office attire and a huge stack of papers in his arms. You recognize him from the Department of Examinations. He sits at their front desk. Your eyebrows furrow.

“Everything okay?”

He nods and greets both you and Chan, eyes directed to your colleague. “I was looking for you at your office. You weren’t there.”

Chan nods. “Sorry, I’m heading there right now.”

The boy brushes it off, placing the stack of papers on your desk. You look at the pink pattern and filled bubbles on the sheet, recognizing what it is: the Multiple Choice portion from the final exam. Your mind swims with questions.

“It’s okay. I need to speak to both of you anyway, so let’s just do it here,” he says. Both of you wait for him to continue.

“The scanner isn’t working. For the MCQ sheets,” he explains, pointing to the stack of paper. “So we have no way of marking these.”

“What?” Chan looks flabbergasted. You feel the same. “So the result didn’t get published?”

The boy shakes his head. “Can’t publish the result when the papers aren’t even marked.”

“Okay…” You’re still confused. “So now what?”

“So now we need to get the machine fixed,” he replies. “Which will take over two weeks. And we can’t delay this result for so long…”

Chan’s jaw drops. You stare at him, still not understanding what’s happening.

“You’re kidding,” Chan’s voice is flat. The boy shakes his head sheepishly.

“About what?” you ask, leaning forward in your seat. The boy sighs painfully.

“You have to mark these by hand,” he states. “By tomorrow.”

You gape at him. “For two hundred and sixty students?!”

Nothing but silence. Chan groans and drops back into his chair, head falling back so he can eye the ceiling. He reaches up to run a frustrated hand through his hair, gripping it a bit and looking like he wants to pull it out. You stand up, staring at the boy who looks painfully uncomfortable. No wonder Examinations sent the front desk boy. No one else wanted to break the news.

“We can’t do it in one day!” you exclaim. “And two people only? Do you have someone who can help?”

“Uh…” he fidgets. “The answer key is in there. And we canceled classes for the day…”

Chan groans again, and you hang your head. “This is so unfair…”

“I’m really sorry,” the boy offers, his voice tiny.

“Stick it up your ass, man,” Chan says, his voice holding no venom. He already sounds so tired. You try to bite back a laugh. Not the right moment. The boy gives you both a sheepish nod before hurriedly scurrying from the office. You look at the papers in dismay.

“I hate this fucking place.”

……………………………..

“Number 3… B.”

“Next.”

“Number 4… B.”

“Next.”

“Number 5… B.”

Chan scowls. “How many Bs in a row are there?”

You give him a blank look. “You designed this portion of the exam. You tell me.”

He sighs tiredly and gives you a pleading look. “I don’t have it in me to take your snark right now.”

“I’m not exactly in the mood to rain flowers down on you, Channie.”

He slams down the stack of papers in his hand on the coffee table with a heavy thwack, melting back into the couch until he’s almost lying down on it. “Can we take a break?”

You give him an exasperated look. “This is our first paper!”

“Only two hundred and fifty-nine to go,” he grins, standing up to walk towards the kitchen. “What do you want to drink?”

You lean back into the couch, hoping to disappear into it. “Poison.”

“I have iced tea.”

“Fine.”

Chan’s house is cozy enough. The TV is pretty huge, and the shelf next to it holds a myriad of books, CD boxes, little trinkets. Even a football. You haven’t been here before today, but you quickly make yourself comfortable on the couch before the coffee table. You two decided to leave work early since there were no classes, choosing to reconvene at Chan’s house at his suggestion so you could really buckle down and get this done. So far, there’s no progress. You can’t blame him, though. It’s mind-numbing work, matching numbers and letters to each other.

Chan walks back into the living room with two tall glasses of iced tea. It’s something fruity and citrusy, very enjoyable. When you two begin working again, you manage to get through around fifty papers before Chan is again whining about taking a break. This time, you don’t protest at all, standing up immediately to straighten your back and bring feeling back into your legs.

“My brain is melting,” you sigh, looking down at him. His eyes are closed, glasses slightly askew. He had changed into a hoodie and sweatpants when he got back home, and he had offered some of his clothes to you too. You had accepted gratefully, not at all in the mood to work in suit pants, which is how you ended up in a large sweater and sweats as well. He looks cozy right now, and you half-believe he has fallen asleep, when he blinks his eyes open and gives you a suggestive look.

“You know what would make this tolerable?”

Your eyes narrow suspiciously. “What?”

He stands up to rush to the kitchen, peering back in with a bottle of murky brown liquid in his hand. You give him a look.

“Lee Chan, we are not going to start drinking right now.”

“Oh, come on!” He sounds like a child as he whines, ignoring your words in favor of grabbing two glasses and walking back to the couch. “Imagine how much easier this would be if you had a little buzz going.”

“And if we mark them wrong?”

“We aren’t idiots.”

You make a face at his words, watching him pour the drinks. “I’m not so sure about that.”

He holds out the glass to you, giving you the widest brown eyes you had ever seen. You can feel yourself falter. You sigh and take the glass. Chan whoops in celebration.

Turns out, you are two hundred percent right about not wanting to drink.

Within half an hour, you are giggling over something Chan said, the paper in your hands completely ignored as he tells you about the time he almost flashed someone at the gym. He talks animatedly, using grand gestures and dramatic pauses. He is a certified Good Storyteller, something you had discovered very early on in your friendship.

He is just as enthusiastic right now, painting you a detailed picture of everything that happened. His eyes are wide and bright, hair falling into them and making him blink frequently. He makes no move to push it away. In your inebriated state, you reach out to do it for him. He stops talking, blinking at you in surprise.

You feel your face burn hot at your action. What were you thinking? You and Chan clearly don’t have that kind of relationship. While you two loved hanging out, you were for the most part professional. Sure, there were some crude jokes here and there that weren’t exactly HR friendly, but you were both friends too. It didn’t really bother either of you. But physical touch was very clearly crossing a line. And this? Brushing his hair off his forehead?

”I should probably stop drinking.” You try to joke it off, feeling how the tips of your ears burn. Chan shakes his head and laughs a bit.

”It’s okay.”

He keeps looking at you strangely. You catch the exact moment his eyes flit down to your lips. You swallow hard.

“Can I use your restroom?” You manage to choke out. You don’t have a single drop of pee in you, but it’s the only thing that can maybe get you away from Chan’s burning gaze. He nods jerkily, muttering and gesturing down the hall. You immediately stand up and walk away.

You let the water in the sink run as you stand before it, contemplating. You had never thought of Chan in a….. romantic context. Of course, he is ridiculously attractive. Bright eyes, high cheekbones, strong jaw. He is built very nice too, if the bulge of his biceps under the dress shirts he wears is any indication. But you have always written him off as a coworker, and it never occurred to you that Chan was a single, available guy your age.

You shake your head. You need to stop. He is your coworker, the only one you get along with. And you can’t mess this up. Also, HR would eat you alive. You aren’t exactly a fifty year old with tenure. You need this job.

When you sit back down on the couch, Chan gives you a tiny smile before gesturing to the papers, now scattered all over the floor and coffee table before you. You nod.

“Let’s keep going.”

And on continues the mindless drivel, but this time with new thoughts in your head. You sneak glances at Chan as you both mark the papers, and you notice how his jaw ticks every now and then, how his hair is long enough to brush against the back of his neck. His sweatshirt is huge on his frame, but you know how he is built under there. When he fiddles with the pen in his hand, your eyes linger on his fingers. You fidget.

Screw this.

Chan pauses when he feels you shift, turning his head. You see his eyes widen when you lean into him, planting your lips on his for a brief second. You pull away, enough to breathe and get a look at him. Your heart is in your throat. Everything is dead silent.

Then Chan is moving forward, lips meeting yours again.

His hands fly up to your face, cupping your jaw and the back of your head. You can feel how eager he is, his tongue peeking out to lick at your bottom lip before it is sliding into your mouth. Your stomach tightens. You sigh into him. Chan inhales sharply.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this.” He groans. He is rising on his knee, crowding you against your end of the couch. His energy surprises you, pleasantly so, and you can already feel the heat pooling between your legs. This is new. You hadn’t expected this at all. The onslaught of sensations is too much and you can barely process his words.

You lean against the arm of the couch, letting him lead you until you're trapped under him, his weight held up with one hand next to your head. His other hand grips at your waist, sliding down your thigh and nudging it open so he can slip his hips between your legs. Every action is smooth as hell. He clearly knows what he is doing. The thought sends a zip down your spine. You clench around nothing.

When his lips finally part from yours, he doesn’t give you a second to catch your breath. He nips at your jaw, moving down to your neck. His hands are tugging on your shirt, and you put your arms up so he can pull it off you. You aren’t far behind, doing the same to him. He takes his glasses off, followed by his hoodie, and then he is shirtless before you in all his glory. You eye his chest, how surprisingly toned he is, lean and slightly buff around the shoulders and arms.

“Very unfair that you kept all this hidden from me.” You tease. Chan chuckles and pulls away from your neck enough to peer down at you.

“You wanna talk about unfair? I’ve been wanting to get in your pants since you first started. I really didn’t think I would ever get the chance.”

You can feel your heart swell. You find him adorable, despite the fact that he is between your legs and has a very obvious erection poking at your thigh. You smirk at him.

“Well, you’re here now, big boy. What’re you gonna do about it?”

His gaze heats up at your words, and then he is kissing you again, even more passionately than before. He shifts his hips enough to press directly into your core, grinding hard against you until you are keening under him. You buck up in response, and Chan’s hands scramble with the waistband of your pants before he is tugging them and your underwear off in one motion. He doesn’t slow down, unlinking your lips in favor of kissing and licking down your naked body. He noses at your stomach, biting into it a bit to make you yelp. You can feel his smirk against your skin. His hand hooks under your knee, pulling it up and apart to rest on his shoulder. Your breath hitches, shivering in anticipation.

His lips plant kisses over your labia, biting gently on the skin before his tongue pokes out. His licks are tiny but precise, lapping into your slit and finding your throbbing clit almost immediately. He wraps his lips over it and gives a hard suck, making your jaw drop as you moan loudly, eyes falling shut at the sensation. Your hand flies into his unruly hair, tugging slightly. He hums his approval into your pussy, only making you pull harder when the vibrations send you into a frenzy.

“Wanted this-” he mumbles into your clit, “for so long.”

You keen at the words. You aren’t used to this. You’ve had your share of experiences, but no one has ever wanted you this bad. No one has looked up at you from between your legs, eyes hazy, nearly crossed, cheeks flushed, lapping at you so hungrily you fear he will cry if you pull away. Already, you can feel your high building, the fastest it has ever done so.

”Channie, you’re gonna make me come.” You gasp out, planting the heel of your foot on his bare back and pushing him forward into you. He doubles down on his efforts, filthy wet noises coming from your core as he licks and sucks at you. You hurtle head first into an orgasm, sobbing and shaking through it. Chan doesn’t stop for one second, greedily lapping up every last drop that comes out of you. It’s only when you pull at his hair that he finally surfaces, the lower half of his face completely wet and shiny. You flush at the sight, watching him lick his lips. He reaches up to wipe at his chin with his index finger, before sticking that into his mouth as well. You almost come again.

“You’re filthy.”

He grins, moving up your body. “And you’re the one who just let me eat you out.”

You kiss him, tasting yourself on his tongue, tugging at his pants until he is shimmying them off, his cock springing up. It looks painfully hard, flushed a deep maroon, and already leaking precum. You want him in your mouth badly, but even more so in your pussy, so you shelf the desire for another time, spreading your legs wider and letting him run the tip up your slit. You let him play with you for a bit, enjoying the sensation, before you grow impatient and grip his arm, looking up at him with half lidded eyes.

“No more teasing, Channie.” You whine. He curses under his breath, jerking his hips forward, tip entering you and then continuing, going further and further until his balls hit your vulva. You moan at how full you feel, how he rubs up against a delicious spot inside you, just where you need him the most.

Chan’s arms shake as he holds himself up. He is breathing heavily, interspersed with little groans.

”I’m gonna bust so quick.” He manages to grit out. You giggle breathlessly.

He is quick to set a fast pace, leaning his weight on his elbows and anchoring himself enough to drive hard into you. Your eyes roll, clenching hard around him as he pumps fiercely into you, hardly letting you take any air in. Your nails dig into his biceps, trying to find purchase. Your legs are already trembling, weak under his actions, and you are sensitive enough from your first orgasm to feel your second one build up already.

“You feel so good.” Chan gasps. And he doesn’t stop there. He rambles on and on.

”You’re so tight, god. I’ve imagined this for so long. You’re so perfect. You take me so well. Like you were made for my cock. Weren’t you? Say it.”

“I was made for your cock.” You babble, half out of your mind with lust. Chan has you nearly bent in half, hips meeting yours over and over fervently, and before you know it, you are stiffening up again, gasping and crying through another orgasm. Chan only speeds up, his voice going higher in octave until he is lurching forward, grinding hard into you, releasing ropes of cum inside you. You flush at the feeling, trying to catch your breath. He collapses on top of you.

You stare at the ceiling for a bit, hands reaching up to brush gently over Chan’s sweaty back. He shivers. You crack a small smile.

“That was….. something.”

Chan sighs into your neck. “That was the best thing that has ever happened to me.”

You bark out a laugh at his words. Typical Chan. So dramatic. You can feel his cheeks stretch with a smile at the sound of your giggles. You settle in again, continuing to stroke his back. Neither of you make any effort to move.

“You’re buying me dinner.” You say. Chan laughs and nods eagerly.

#seventeen x reader #seventeen fanfiction #lee chan x reader #dino x reader #lee chan smut #dino smut #lee chan x you #lee chan x y/n #dino x you #dino x y/n #svt x reader #seventeen imagines

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luvr-bunnyy · 2 days ago

Text

Let me take care of you

Frank Castle x fem!reader

[a/n: I hate being on my period, fucking hate it….i’ve literally been in bed all day because i can barely stand. here’s some period comfort.]

fluff with a smidge of smut so this is 18+ mdni

Just as the soft morning light grazes the skin of your cheek, yours eyes flutter open. There’s a short lived peace that envelops you before your body catches up with you and a soft groan is leaving your throat.

Your hips are throbbing, thighs sore and achey. A crick in your lower back makes it painful to shift beneath the warmth of your duvet.

But then, you feel it. Your eyes snap open in panic.

There’s a slick feeling coating your underwear and it’s threatening to slip down past your thighs.

“Fuck…” You mutter, rushing to leave the warmth of your little sanctuary. “Fuck…fuck…fuck-“

You rush to the en suite bathroom but it’s too late. Gravity your enemy as you feel the blood pooling before it finally starts to trickle down your inner thighs. It’s extremely uncomfortable and irritating. Your face scrunching up as disbelief hits you.

You hated your period.

It was a monthly menace that made your life that much more miserable.

Stiffly, you turned the handle of the shower. The head sputtering to life before the sound of a steady stream of water echoed against the tiled walls.

As the water warmed, you hesitantly peeled of your sleep shorts and underwear. The fabric heavy with the absorbed bodily fluids.

Grimacing you dropped it into the sink, opening the tap to fill the basin with cold water. Shutting it off, you pulled off the hoodie you were wearing before stepping into the shower and under the warm water.

Your tense muscles relaxing under the pressure.

When Frank stepped into the apartment, he was confused by the sound of the shower running in the bathroom.

He’d gone on a quick run and stopped by the coffee shop you both had become regulars at, wanting to surprise you with breakfast.

A regular black, drip coffee and breakfast sandwich for him. A sweet and creamy latte and blueberry bear claw for you.

It was 8am on a Sunday morning. The last thing he expected was for you to be up and showering already.

Placing the coffee tray and paper bag into the kitchen counter, he ventured into the room.

A small frown etched into his brow. You clearly got out of bed in a rush. Duvet thrown haphazardly, almost falling off the bed. Slippers still sitting at the edge of the carpet.

As he got closer to the bed, that’s when he noticed. The small blood stain on the sheets. Mentally checking the date, he realized that it was the last week of the month, usually when your cycle starts. That also meant that your cramps were gonna be hell.

He remembered you telling him that the first day was usually the hardest.

So, guessing that you’d be in the shower for a hot second, he got to work.

He changed the sheets and put the previous ones in the washing machine, prepping it so you could toss your pajamas in as well. He shuffled through your drawers to gather up some clothes for you.

Grabbing one of the many pairs of underwear you had dubbed as your “period panties,” a pair of soft, black sweatpants, fluffy socks, and one of his old marine crew necks. Worn out and a faded deep blue.

It was your absolute favorite. Now, it was more yours than it was his. And he wouldn’t have it any other way.

He tossed them into the dryer on a low setting to warm them up just a bit.

And just as you shut off the water, he took them out and folded them up, placing them on the bed just as the door creaked open.

You looked tired. Eyes heavy, shoulders hunched over as a cloud of steam followed you out of the bathroom.

“Frank?” Your voice was small, soft. Indicating just how weak you felt.

“Hey sweetheart, rough morning?” It wasn’t a teasing question. It was laced with concern, with tenderness and care.

The moment tears filled your eyes and a pathetic frown pulled your lips downward, he sighed and pulled you into his arms. The warmth seeping deep into your bones. You were still a little wet and wrapped in a towel but he didn’t care.

He smelled like his earthy, warm body wash mixed with the heady scent of sweat and sun.

It was comforting. Grounding you before you spiraled over something that was, in reality, a minor inconvenience.

“I’m sorry baby. I’ve got your clothes all nice and warm for you to slip into. I also grabbed some coffee and that pastry you like.”

There was a small silence that hung between you before you meekly asked, “The blueberry bear claw?”

He smiled softly, gently kissing the damp crown of your head. “That’s the one.”

“Okay…” You pulled away from him, reaching up to place a kiss on the underside of his jaw. “Thank you, Frankie.”

Rubbing your back, he gazed down at you lovingly. “Don’t mention it, anything for you baby doll.” He sent you off with a kiss on the nose and your warm clothes piled into your arms.

After having changed and settled into the corner of the couch, Frank tucked a blanket around you to keep you warm before taking a quick shower.

Once he was done, your coffee had been drank and bear claw inhaled. You were curled into yourself, trying everything to find a comfortable position to alleviate the pain and discomfort of your uterus attempting murder.

He cooed at the sight. “Oh baby…”

You let him maneuver behind you, pulling you to sit against his chest. The warmth seeping deep into your skin, the ache in your back slowly dissipating.

He wrapped his arms around you, big paws resting on your lower stomach. Gently adding pressure, massaging your cramps away.

He felt a bit of pride swell in his chest when you melted into him. If you could, you’d be purring.

“That feel good baby?” His deep rumbling voice sent a spark of something down your spine.

“So- mmm, so good Frankie.”

His teasing sweet nothings whispered against your skin and his warm hands feeling you up, it had you embarrassingly aroused.

He caught the moment that your breathing stuttered and you started to squirm in your seat. “Shhh, shhh, shh…just relax baby. Lemme make you feel good, okay?”

He kept one hand resting on your lower stomach, the other disappearing underneath your sweatpants and panties. “B-But Frank, the blood…”

“Nothin’ I can’t handle.” He soothed you, placing hot, open mouth kisses under your ear and down your neck.

You whimpered when his fingertips met your poor, aching clit. The gentle pressure driving you crazy.

“Oh…Frankie-“

#frank castle x reader #frank castle x fem!reader #frank castle fluff #frank castle smut #period cramps #period fluff

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etherealrin · 2 days ago

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hiii its my first time requesting buttt i really love your works, so i was listening to paranoia by the marias and i was wondering if you could write a jealous rin itoshi to the point it was draining, resulting in a very angsty breakup thank you soso muchh 😭😭

. ♬ ݁˖ paranoia?

tw: toxic relationship, controlling … fem!reader, wc: 589

itoshi rin has a tendency to become obsessed with things he likes: first the horror games, then soccer, and his most recent niche happens to be you.

and in hindsight, you probably should have seen this coming.

his constant texts when you’re out alone with you’re friends. “are you safe? “come back soon.”

it had all seemed harmless at first, like he’d just cared about you. and his little fits of jealousy—where he’d go dead silent, a bit sulky, and ignore you whenever he thought you preferred a friend over him. you’d found that cute in the beginning too.

like a moth to a flame, you’d set up your own demise. no matter how much you tried to reassure him, sweet talk his insecurities out of him, he’d remained jealous, greener than the grass under your fingers you stare at now. but you’d thought it was fine, that he just loved you. no matter how controlling or difficult he could be, you’d forgive him. because he needs you.

you don’t even realize you’re picking at the foliage listening to him argue with you.

“swear he’s not anything to you,” rin pesters, his long eyelashes fluttering with each blink. “delete his contact!”

“rin, don’t you think that’s a little extreme? you know he has a girlfriend, and we’re just lab partners for this semester—if i don’t talk to him how will either of us pass the class?” the guy in question was a classmate, and you could tell he truly meant no harm, not to mention that you knew the girl he was dating. which you’d constantly reassured rin of for the past week.

“…give me your phone.” his teal eyes have gone cold. is this what you are to him now? some thing that he has to keep isolated at all costs? it’s ridiculous, hell you were with him every morning, evening, and night at this point—so why couldn’t he believe that you had no one else?

it’s even worse that there’s a small crowd forming around the two of you; because of course he had to pick a fight in the middle of your university campus. the onlookers are whispering amongst themselves, obviously waiting for someone to snap.

and you don’t hear the break, but it must’ve been you, because the next thing you know, there’s a rush of adrenaline, your mouth is opening and words are tumbling out faster than you can process.

“itoshi, i’m tired. it’s too much—whatever this is, it’s not healthy. for both you and i, it’s not. if you can’t get your paranoid ass together, no one else can do it for you! i can’t fix you!” you had never once spoken to him like that before. never openly admitted that he might not be alright, mentally.

rin’s standing too still. cold, emotionless. you see straight through his facade though, as much as he tries to keep his expression neutral, his eyes tell. that your words might have struck too close to home for him.

but you’re still mad, so you don’t—can’t—stop. “and honestly? it’s damn annoying. sorry itoshi, i can’t do this anymore. goodbye, and good luck.”

“w-wait! you don’t mean that…” his voice trails off, slowly twisting at the edges to pure hurt. it’s agonizing, letting his protests fall to deaf ears as he begins to follow you, though you have zero intention of stopping.

it’s been three months since. you tell yourself that it’s better for the both of you this way, like you’d told him then. but was it really, if rin still sends flowers to your front door once a month, on your old anniversary date, with a heart wrenching “take me back” folded into a paper heart attached to the blood red roses?

a/n: hii anon i’m so sorry this took me a while to get to! hopefully you like it :P + alternatively he could’ve called reader a “tepid piece of shit” but given how emotionally attached he was i think it results in a rare moment of public weakness (like in u20 ykyk).

now playing: paranoia by the marías, jealous by eyedress, dark red by steve lacy

masterlist.

#blue lock #bllk x reader #blue lock x reader #blue lock x you #blue lock rin #itoshi rin #rin x reader #bllk x you #rin x you #rin itoshi x reader #rin bllk #rin itoshi #bllk rin #凛 ; rin x reader

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peachhcs · 15 hours ago

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my girl

hughes!sister x will smith au (samy + will)

on a similar note of will not playing about samy, here's him comforting her up at the lake house after finding about the ed she's been struggling with all school year & basically making sure she knows she's loved and has a whole group of people for her to lean on in through the tough times

i didn't think i'd make a part 2 to this but i got inspired and this came to me :) (p.s. i know the hughes lake house isn't on lake michigan but let's pretend for the au)

warnings: depiction of ed, mental health struggles, please read with caution if this triggers you

au masterlist | part 1

it was a warm morning on lake michigan. the slow rising sun was the perfect temperature to sit outside and soak up the early morning rays, so that was exactly what samy did. she woke up early this morning and not wanting to wake up will with her constant tossing and turning, she decided to just get up. the girl wandered outside hoping the quiet morning would help refresh her foggy mind.

she sat with a bowl of yogurt jack brought out for her since him and quinn were awake trying to tinker with things that needed replacements after being gone a whole year. the first few weeks back on the lake house were always so like this as her brothers got things up and running again.

unfortunately, the yogurt had hardly been touched for almost an hour now. it sat unmoving in the girl's lap, the thoughts in her brain still running wild with anxieties and what ifs. she didn't know what it was because no matter how hard she tried pushing those thoughts away, they just came back stronger with a way more vicious bite.

you're gonna get fat. you shouldn't be eating this. it has too much artificial sugar. what would will think of you if you gained weight? you're gonna be unconditioned come soccer season.

those were just a peak of what plagued samy's mind on a daily basis.

she forced herself to eat a few bites when luke sat with her knowing she needed to be proving to her brothers that she was getting better even though she really wasn't. that was their deal. samy ate the things they gave her and they wouldn't get their parents involved. it seemed so easy.

oh how wrong the younger hughes sister was.

when luke got up and left samy stopped forcing herself to eat and then another half hour passed without another bite being touched. samy's stomach rumbled for something more, but she just couldn't do it. instead, she needed to move, so the girl left the bowl on the table and decided to head down to the dock.

with it being so early still, the boats wouldn't be out yet, so it'd be the perfect spot to just listen to the quiet splashes of waves hitting against the dock.

will shifted to his other side, expecting to find his girlfriend but finding nothing except a cold space where her body once was. the boy's eyes quickly opened, groaning when the sunlight went right into his vision. he reached for samy's side to check one more time that she wasn't there and when he felt nothing for a second time, he opened his eyes again.

he half expected her to be somewhere in the room, but he quickly realized that she wasn't anywhere close by. will grabbed his phone, groggy eyes reading the time. 8:45am. he knew samy was a morning person, but this early in the summer? her absence forced him up to do a more thorough scan of her room to make sure he didn't miss her somewhere like the bathroom or something.

her phone wasn't on the nightstand though which confirmed to will that she left the room. the blonde frowned a bit as he found a shirt to throw on and pulled a hand through his bed head to go downstairs. he heard some noise coming from the kitchen and will perked up hoping it was samy.

it still wasn't her. quinn and jack glanced his way when he entered. "morning, smitty," jack grinned.

"you're up early," luke commented from the counter.

"have you seen samy?" will's voice was heavily laced with sleep still.

"she was outside last time i saw her. on the deck," luke nodded his head towards the door.

the sharks rookie pressed his face against the glass and frowned again when there was no sign of his girlfriend out there. "not there," he mumbled, but he did see a hardly eaten bowl of yogurt on the table.

"she was out there. maybe she went to do something," luke shrugged.

"all i see is a bowl of yogurt."

will noticed how the three brothers exchanged a glance he couldn't really read when he said that. a mix of worry and something else sat in their expressions, but the younger boy didn't ask because he didn't wanna pry. he knew samy was struggling with her eating disorder, but he hadn't dared to ask yet how bad it was or if she had gotten better at all when gabe told him a week ago. will figured she hadn't made a lot of progress yet based on the full bowl of yogurt outside.

that idea made his heart sink.

will looked out the glass doors again hoping samy was out there somewhere and he just missed her the first time. finally, the blonde spotted a figure all the way down on the dock and this time he knew it was samy.

"i think i found her," the boy mumbled and grabbed a blanket off the back of one of the chairs before making his way outside.

quinn, jack, and luke exchanged another glance but for a different reason this time. they watched as will went down the yard to the water figuring he saw samy all the way down there. "he'll get her better, i know he will," luke mumbled.

"you think so?" jack wondered.

"he will. he's got her," luke nodded.

samy didn't hear will coming until she felt gentle hands wrapping a soft blanket over her shoulders and a kiss on her head. the brunette looked up, somewhat surprised to see her boyfriend above her.

"hi, pretty girl," he rasped still full of sleep.

"did i wake you?" samy wondered worriedly as she watched him sit down next to her.

"no, you didn't," it wasn't a lie, will never heard her leave. his body just woke him up because samy wasn't near him anymore.

"what are you doing down here?" samy hugged the blanket closer to her body.

"i saw you down here," will said simply and samy blushed. "you looked like you could use some company," the boy added which deepened samy's red cheeks.

"you're sweet. i appreciate the company," she leaned further into him and will reached out to wrap his arm around her shoulders. he landed another kiss on her temple.

"sleep okay?"

"yeah, i guess. i felt kind of restless," samy admitted.

"any reason why?" will was never one to pry too much. he always wanted to samy to tell him things on her own without him having to get her to say it which is why he was trying to ease his way into this conversation.

"oh, i dunno. everything. i always got a lot going on in my mind."

"penny for your thoughts?" the little saying made the girl giggle. will loved saying that whenever they were trying to talk but the words weren't coming easy.

samy hesitated for a moment though. she knew she could tell will anything, he was her boyfriend after all, but talking about the eating disorder she's been struggling with the past year actually didn't come easy. she never really spoke to him about it. back at that boston college game, she played it off as everything just overwhelming her even though samy knew deep down that it was inability to eat anything without stressing herself out.

knowing that it was an issue back then and she couldn't even admit it made it hard for her to admit to it now, especially to will because they promised no more secrets.

will caught onto her hesitation. he squeezed her arm and then made her look over at him. "i don't wanna force you to talk about it if you don't want to, but you know i'm here for you, right? i always am," the blonde hummed.

his soft words were almost gut wrenching because samy thought he should be mad at her for not telling him about this and making gabe tell him for her. the brunette ashamedly looked away, struggling to find her words.

it broke will's heart to see her like this. maybe he didn't notice it right away because he didn't see her frequently, but looking at her now, he could definitely tell.

"i feel like i don't know how to get better," the soccer player finally admitted in a whisper will nearly missed it.

he cupped her chin so she'd look at him again, "baby, you are foing to get better. it won't be easy, but you will."

his soft tone brought the tears again and the hockey player's heart broke into a million pieces seeing his girlfriend so distraught. he's never seen her so upset before, but he brought her into his arms nonetheless because she needed that comfort.

"i'm right here. it's okay. it's gonna be okay," he rocked her similarly to how luke rocked her a few weeka ago after finally admitting to her brothers the reality of the situation. will felt her cry even harder into his shoulder.

"you should be like..mad at me for not telling you. you didn't even know," samy pulled back.

"i'm not mad. i'd never be mad. maybe i'm a little upset i didn't know, but this isn't something where you just know. it's there, it's not, it's there, it's not. i'd never be mad at you for something like this, baby," will wiped her tears away with his palms.

"i should have told you sooner or someone sooner..i just..fuck..i didn't even know what wad wrong with me. or maybe i did and i just didn't want to think it was this. god, will, i'm so scared i won't be able to get better," samy buried her face in his chest.

will's known samy her whole life and never once has he heard her become this deprecating about herself. it hurt real bad seeing her struggle, but not being able to do much about it. instead, he hugged her to him hoping the comfort of his arms would ease some of those racing thought for a few minutes.

"you are going to get better, samy, i promise. you have so many people wanting you to get better too. we're all here for you through this."

"what if you start fucking hating me or wanting to break up with me because i gained weight or because i'm so pathetic i can't even eat anything," will knew it was her head talking, but he hated hearing it so much.

"first, you're not pathetic. second, no matter what you do or what you look like, you will always be my girl. nothing can ever change that for me, okay? i love you," will promised seriously. samy flushed, but she believed him. her heart fluttered hearing him call her "my girl."

"what can i do to help you through this? do you want me to make you something every day? eat with you? sit with you while you eat?" will offered options he thought could be helpful.

"maybe eating with me? not that i wanna force myself, but eating with someone helps me eat because i feel obligated to," samy admitted and she knew that was something she needed to work on so eating wasn't some obligation in her mind.

"okay, i can do that. i'll eat with you all summer, even when i'm away," will grinned and the smile on his lips made samy smile too.

"i love you," the brunette kissed her boyfriend's cheek where his slight stubble scratched her lips. she ran her finger along it where will flexed his jaw under her touch.

"i love you, baby. you got a lot of people here this summer looking after you. you're gonna get through this," he clasped her trailing finger into his hand where he brougt it up to his lips to kiss.

the couple stayed out there as early morning became late morning and the rest of the house woke up. jack peeked out of the doors again while a soft smile spread acorss his lips seeing samy and will out there together.

"how is she?" ethan yawned while making his coffee.

jack scraped the yogurt she didn't eat into the garbage, "with will, i think she'll be just fine."

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secretgardensinmymindd13 · 2 days ago

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bobby, hen, and chimney reacting with support to eddie moving to texas because they understand that he needs to get back to his family, but buck being in anguish because eddie and chris are his family. i think all this time he was holding out hope that chris would eventually come back home and everything would be normal again. (unfortunately he didn’t realize how chris was manipulated into being disconnected from his own father by his awful grandparents, even eddie didn’t know - “the only reason christopher’s there is because of me. and he’s thriving. i don’t want to just yank him out of that environment”.) but after hearing “no ties here. everything that matters is in texas”, he was like, “oh, so i’m not a part of your family. so this was all casual to you.” that’s why he’s turning into a sultry teenager once again - “don’t want him to think i’m an abandoner,” “yes, eddie, i’ll move. you’re not the only one who can do that, you know,” “i don’t need you either”

“and that’s why i’m happy for you. ‘cause you’re going back to where you belong. with christopher” - he separates himself from the diaz family unit with these lines because he thinks he’s not in it. because he thinks that’s how eddie sees it. buck was just a work friend to him. eddie could move away and start a whole new life and a family in texas, for all he knows. why would buck ever think that he could take this kind of place in eddie’s life? why did he even want to have it? definitely not because he’s irrevocably in love with him and doesn’t want him just as a best friend, right? he doesn’t have a right to feel this way toward him. he doesn’t have any claim on eddie, for that matter. but he still loves him too much, so he lets him go. because eddie’s concerns are his concerns. because eddie’s happiness is more important to him than his own. because even though he could see a future there, he knows he can’t have it. so he sacrifices his heart for the person he loves again, because he thinks it’s the right thing to do…

when it couldn’t be further from the truth. abby left to find herself, and she left buck behind because she didn’t love and need him as much as he was ready to love and need her. but eddie… eddie does.

“yeah, but it’s hard to know, though, right? if you’re hanging on too long or… if you’re giving up too soon”

he just needs to realize that he belongs not in texas, but in la, in the 118, with buck and chris. that it’s an actual option. all he needs is to make a choice

he didn’t choose shannon when she was begging him to move to la. probably because their marriage was just another thing he was pressured into by his parents

but this time, everything is in its right place. he has a home in la. he has his person - the one he chose for himself, not because he had to, but because he wanted to, in la

“if you need to be pissed off at me to make it easier for you, then be pissed off”

it’s just the way he kept pushing shannon away in the past because he couldn’t choose her (for some reason). and now he’s pushing away buck because he couldn’t choose him. he couldn’t choose his happiness and “put his desires first”, because he needed to choose chris

when all chris, shannon, and buck wanted was for eddie to be happy

“but you are really brave. and i can be brave too”

“is that what i am to you? christopher’s mother? because, hey, if that’s what it is, then it’s fine”

“it’s not my loft anymore. gave ‘em my notice this morning. and now you don’t need to worry”

both shannon and buck wanted eddie to accept and choose their love

eddie couldn’t do it with shannon. but he still has a chance with buck

that’s why i think that “you really did that for me?” was the turning point of his feelings realization for buck. because it’s like he finally saw what’s right for him so clearly, and it was so in his face that he really couldn’t keep ignoring it anymore

it’s like all this time buck was unconsciously hoping for a green light from eddie, but eddie didn’t even know there was a traffic light, because he was too emotionally repressed and really had no idea what he was feeling most of the time

“wow, it really is always about you, isn’t it?” - yeah well, eddie, at least one of you knows what’s important to him and fights for it. you just need to start doing it too. choose yourself. choose joy. drink the fucking juice. don’t drink the water

he already woke up and finally chose chris + flipped off his mother and father. like he did in “eddie begins”. now he just needs to choose the 118 and buck again. like he did in 2x01 “under pressure”, you know… like he might do again in “seismic shift”

(proudly applying my clown makeup, just in case)

i know you wanted me to stay

but i can't ignore the crazy visions of me in la

and i heard that there's a special place

where boys and girls can all be queens every single day

#buddie #🧃🥤🥳#buck x eddie #911 #911 abc #911 show #eddie diaz #evan buckley #gay eddie diaz #pink pony club eddie diaz #buckley diaz family #shannon diaz #911 season 8 #911 meta

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yukioos · 17 hours ago

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hi!! i love your writing smm, especially how you write bakugo its so nice UAGHH i js love the way you write😭💝

can i request a shinso x reader? like the reader is related to aizawa (😭) and he asks reader to be shinso's sparring partner — reader is a bit quiet but def experienced in combat and it ends with shinso realizing his feelingsheheh

shinso sparring with reader and realizing his feelings

you were at home, petting your cats who slept peacefully on your stomach when your father stomped into the living room. he scowled and walked over to you, looking down at your lying body on the couch, with red eyes. you placed your phone down on the coffee table, guessing he was going to say some speech about how you need to be more careful with hero work.

but to your surprise, he stared at you and stated, “i want you to be hitoshi shinso’s partner at school.”

you paused for a minute, asking, “okay? i guess i will.” you giggled, “why do you have to be so ominous, dad? i thought you were gonna lecture me.”

he averted his gaze, mumbling under his breath, “maybe i will lecture you.” he halted, trying to think of a reason why he put you and shinso together, “shinso needs help with his physical abilities, so you’ll be training him, essentially.”

you nodded, smiling up at your dad and his tired, strained eyes. soon enough, as the days passed, and you were at school again, you froze in your path. purple hair blinded your vision, and shinso suddenly came up to you.

he asked, “are you ready to spar, aizawa?”

you nodded, “please, just call me y/n.”

a soft nod almost escaped your peripheral vision, but luckily, it didn’t. he smiled, and the two of you arrived at the training center. once the two of you stood in a specific area, you tilted your head, silently asking when the two of you should start.

“now,” he stated.

you immediately ran toward him at nearly superhuman speeds, causing hitoshi’s eyes to widen, and a gasp escaped his mouth when you stared at him with wide eyes, hair flying up like how your dad’s did when he used his power. shinso fell down once you swooped him out from under his legs, pinning him down. it seemed like he had felt a lot weaker, and he didn’t know your power. perhaps it was something like mister aizawa’s, something that could erase a strength.

shinso nodded, and you retreated to your spot. once he said ‘go,’ you again, ran into him faster than lightning and kicked him down, hair still flying up.

you stared at him, his disappointment and resentment toward himself when you suddenly decided to speak, “it’s not your fault. i can manipulate people’s strength, agility, all that type of stuff.” you paused, “so obviously, this isn’t now you really fight. i just made your abilities low.”

he softly smiled once you held out a hand for him, and he took it. once the two of you stood in your spots, he nodded, and first ran toward you, but you were too quick. grabbing him just by his arm, you lifted him up with your quirk, manipulating your own strength. then, you threw him onto the ground, causing a loud groan to escape his mouth.

god, you seemed so much stronger than him, so attractive, so smart. but he couldn’t think of someone like that, especially not his teacher’s daughter. not right now, at least.

soon, however, he began to improve, and he could predict your attacks. you did a couple of rounds of no quirk use before he ultimately decided it was getting late, so he stated, “it’s almost ten, we should be going to bed.”

you nodded, and he paused, “and also, call me hitoshi.”

you smiled, “good night, hitoshi.” and turned, retreating to your dad’s classroom.

he nodded and softly grinned, walking to his dorm. you made him feel so nervous around you. his heart warmed, and the tips of his ears turned pink. is this what admiration felt like? was it more than admiration?

but although hitoshi was confused, in the morning, he asked to see you again to spar, and of course, you couldn’t help yourself.

yay first hitoshi drabble!! also i loved writing this, should i write a part two?

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rhyslarsenlover · 1 day ago

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Pretty pls a request for Rafe 🥹🥹

You and Rafe fought bad over something: maybe becux he’s being emotionally unavailable, or he’s working too much, or you’ve both just been busy and out of synch. But you have a bad fight and it’s seems like it may be the end of you both.

You get in your car to leave and rafe holds himself back from stopping you Bec he’s so angry and thinks maybe you both need to cool off.

And as the hours go by he doesn’t think much of it and drinks his whiskey until he gets a phone call from the police, he was your emergency contact, not your own family but him. You had been in a car wreck, your car totalled.

Rafe rushes to the hospital to see you and apologises and begs you To never leave him again.

Sorry i wrote the whole plot! You can change everything if you want! I’m just desperate for rafe angst 😭🙏🏼

SUNDAY MORNINGS

cw: very angsty... thank u anon for this idea, i been cryingggg lmao.

sunday mornings had always belonged to them. no matter how bad the week was, no matter how loud the fights or heavy the silences, sunday mornings were sacred. pancakes burning on the stove, flour on the countertops, giggles echoing through hallways. rafe remembered it as clear as day, it was their first night together and that next morning she had awoken him to the scent of fresh fruit and syrup. it became their ritual shortly after, and even with the arrival of their daughter it continued. a cacophony of y/n’s and their daughter’s little squeals of laughter as rafe twirled them both around the kitchen. those mornings had been theirs, they were messy, beautiful, whole.

he thought about it now as he ran through the hospital corridors, heart hammering against his ribs so hard it hurt. they had fought before she left. stupid things, words neither of them meant, pride too thick to swallow down. she had slammed the door, and he had stayed behind, stewing in anger he didn’t know how to put out, reaching for the bottle of whiskey on the counter instead of reaching for her.

he didn’t even remember the drive over, didn’t remember parking, didn’t feel the broken skin on his knuckles from where he punched the steering wheel. when the call came in, when someone found her collapsed on the sidewalk, rafe had been half-drunk, half-mad, not even realizing how much time had passed. all he knew now was that she was here, somewhere, and she needed him.

when he burst into her room, she was awake, barely. her body was swallowed up by the hospital bed, machines beeping in a way that didn’t sound hopeful. a blood clot, they said. the doctors were trying their best, but he could see the pity in their eyes. they didn’t seem hopeful. she smiled so softly when she saw him. a thought crossed his mind of how beautiful she always looked, even now with tubes sticking out of her. she was so perfect.

rafe rushed to her side, falling into the chair, grabbing her hand like it was the only thing anchoring him to the earth. her fingers were cold. too cold. "i’m here," he breathed, voice cracking. "i’m right here, baby."

he didn’t even try to stop the tears. they fell freely as he kissed her hand, her wrist, any part of her he could reach. "i’m so sorry," he whispered over and over, "i’m so sorry, i love you, please, don’t leave me."

she didn’t say much. her lips parted, voice barely more than a breath. "i love you, always,” she said.

rafe nodded frantically, squeezing her hand tighter, leaning closer, trying to catch every last piece of her before she slipped away. "i love you more," he choked out. "i love you so much, i can’t.. i can’t do this without you."

her eyelids fluttered. her breathing hitched. and then she whispered, one last time, the words catching on a sob: "i love you both, never let her forget that.”

their daughter.

then her hand went slack in his, and the machines screamed, and nurses came rushing in, and rafe just sat there, frozen, with his forehead pressed to the back of her hand, begging, pleading, but she was already gone. they pried him away eventually, but he didn’t feel it. he didn’t feel anything at all, only that thick lump in his throat, as he fought to breathe.

sunday mornings were different after that.

rafe would wake before the sun, lifting his sleepy little girl into his arms, carrying her to the kitchen like she was something fragile he had to protect at all costs. he’d let her stir the pancake batter, let her get flour all over the place, let her dance barefoot on the cold tiles, laughing in a way that sometimes broke him apart and sometimes stitched him back together. he played the same songs. he wore the same stupid apron that y/n had once bought him as a joke. he smiled for their daughter, even when the grief in his chest felt like it would crush him.

and every sunday morning, when he flipped the first pancake, he’d whisper into the quiet kitchen, "she loved you so much, baby girl. she loved you more than anything."

and somehow, somehow, that was enough to keep going. even when everything else hurt.

#rafe cameron #obx #rafe cameron x reader #obx x reader #drew starkey #rafe obx #outer banks #rafe x reader #obx fic #rafe cameron angst #angsty

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bahrtofane · 3 days ago

Text

yearner

in which carlos cant escape his nature after his move to williams, but its not too bad with you

word count - 1.5K+

watch it - angst but with a positive ending. carlos is a yearner

first actual carlos x reader woho!!

Carlos is a sore loser. He supposes it was born out of competition, the drive and desire to be the best. The pit in his stomach when he realizes his position, the bile that claws at his throat when he rewatches his crashes and stupid mistakes. Knowing he can be better, settling for what he has and battling the past.

He’s a sore loser the way he takes it out on himself.

He bites his tongue, accepts the points on days when he gets them, does his interviews. He smiles at the cameras, tossing his hair back in the way he knows will get the attention off the far look in his eyes. Something to distract.

He sighs when he closes the last door, the last barrier between him and the cameras. Sighing as he finally reaches his motorhome.

His eyes sag, lips pressed in a thing line, mind racing. He chooses to scrub the thoughts away with a shower, impossibly hot and turning him red but he doesn't care. Tomorrow he will be forced to relive his poor performance and smile while everyone looks at him with pity.

Sleep comes to him much later than it should, and he can only promise to do better.

—--

Carlos is a sore loser, but even more so he is doomed to circumstance, his own mind. Mulling things over on his own, brushed with a shade of blue that's one shade too sad.

You know this well, as well as you can with a man like him. He is hard to figure out and hard to remove yourself from. You have become in a way transfixed into understanding more. The way a dog follows a line of treats. You just hope the big bag of treats at the end is getting close.

He has these big beautiful eyes, but the only things they see to capture is his own suffering. You asked him why he keeps doing it, why does he keep suffering in something that has a way out. “Its all I know how to do,” was all he could say.

It's true you suppose. But this sport will never love him the way he loves it. You see the way people treat him, the way his words fall into silence when every word he speaks is sincere. He gives so much, carving chunks out of himself just in an effort to remind those that he is alive. As if saying, look at me, I'm still here. And it still doesn't seem like enough.

You met him on a whim, completely by chance rushing as the may sun blasted against your skin. Miami has its perks but the weather in the summer is not one of them.

You were in Miami for a new job, working for a team and sport you were unaware of. But a job is a job and you booked the flight to Miami the second the email came in. You were late for your first official day, rushing into the hotel the meeting was set to be at. Begging for the elevator to stay open. A single man was inside, back turned, so you spirited. Heel slipping just as you made it inside, crashing right into his back, a slew of what you assumed to be spanish curses followed.

The rest is history.

Carlos liked that you were new to his world. That you had no expectations of him, nothing to hold over his head, no promises you forced him to make. You knew only the man in the moment. Not the man in all the races before this. And he adored this.

—-

Carlos calls you the following day, as he’s gathering his things to head to the airport.

“Morning.” you mumble out, voice cracking through the speakers.

He snorts, “good morning. Did you see what I sent?”

You make a garbled noise, the sound of sheets coming from the other end as you battle your phone to dig through the notifications.

“What am I looking at?”

“Tickets to the next race.” Carlos says, half like a question unsure of his own words.

“For me?” you say clearly now. Fully awake.

“Yes. if you want. No pressure.” he adds the last part quickly.

“No, I want to. Thank you.”

You don't bring up the race from yesterday. You rarely bring up racing on your own. Carlos hopes you stick around, for his sake, his sanity.

—-

You come, dressed in blue for williams. Carlos can't help the smile that spans his face. You blush, taking his hand gingerly. He shows you around, introducing you to people while you give timid waves and quiet hellos.

And then the time comes for him to leave your side and be back in the belly of the beast. God why did he pick such a ridiculous job.

—-

He doesn’t place, no points, no podium. He can't face you and the disappointment he knows will be impossible to hide. So he hides. Doing what is needed, showing his face where he must and escaping. He doesn't pick up your calls, jumping into the boiling shower once more and scrubbing like a ritual that will purify him. It wont. But he still does it.

When he sits on the all too clean bed of the motorhome he looks at his phone. Please call me when you can, I care about you. From you, an hour ago. Hm.

He settles for a text.

Hey, sorry I just got busy. Sorry for having you come out here for nothing.

You reply immediately.

You have nothing to be sorry for.

I came for you, not for anything else.

He looks at the text for much too long before sending his location and asking you to spend the night with him, if you want. Ditch the hotel and bring your things.

—-

Security gives you a hard time, so he goes to collect you himself. You stand, brows furrowed, in a much more casual outfit. Glasses on your head while you try to plead to be let in.

You make it through when Carlos waves his hand, taking your suitcase and bags, leading the way.

It's much quieter when you get inside. The space is almost unnaturally clean. Whites and creams everywhere. You notice the drop in his shoulders, a stark comparison to the way he held his head high earlier.

He goes into the bathroom, peeling off the casual clothes for pajamas. Giving you a weak smile as you get your things up.

“Would you still see me if i quit?” he mumbles out, words fraying at the seams.

You give him a look, “Carlos, I'm not interested in you for any other reason but the fact that it's you. You could take up crab fishing for all I care.”

He doesnt look up, “they gave me an out, if I want. Anytime I can stop. There's always a replacement.”

You pad over to where he slouches on the bed, placing a gentle hand to his shoulder. “You're too in your head. It's late. Someone once told me never to trust how you feel about yourself past 9 pm.”

“I always feel like this.” he whispers, eyes glassy as he looks up at you.

You now understand at the root of it all, Carlos remains just a little boy who wants somewhere to belong. To feel wanted. A place to do something he cares about and do it well. Where he can be given the chance by people that genuinely believe in him.

Carlos is more than just a sore loser, a sore loser. He’s a yearner.

—--

You don't talk about that night. But you do stick around. He asks to be official a few weeks later, over dinner at a restaurant you can’t even pronounce. You tell him what you think and he mulls it over.

He has an out, but doesnt take it. Not yet. He still has a hunger to prove himself. Even if he doubts he can do it. You know he can, you’ve seen the way he works, the passion that fuels him the hunger. He still chases like a wounded dog.

For Carlos never really knows when to call it quits does he.

—-

It takes almost half way through the season but he makes a podium. P3 in a williams. He wants to cry, shout from the rooftops that he can do it. He is worth it. He belongs here in f1.

Charles is on the podium, of course he is. A step above in p2. Carlos tries not to tell the red blind him. A reminder of the past and what once was. He says his wonders of thanks to the team, gives Charles a hug and tries not to fall into the routine they used to have.

He instead goes to you, smiling wide while you mouth the words ‘i believed’.

Carlos is a yearner, and it strings him along endlessly. Tugging at his heart and wrapped around his mind. But he hasn't stopped just yet. Your soft kisses and the way your eyes twinkle at him under the lights make it that much easier. Who knows maybe he can win driving this thing.

#carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz fic #carlos sainz fluff #carlos sainz fanfic #carlos sainz jr #carlos sainz jr x reader #carlos sainz jr x you #carlos sainz #carlos sainz imagine #carlos sainz f1 #carlos sainz jr x y/n #bahr f1 #cs55 x reader #cs55 x you #cs55 fic #cs55 imagine #cs55 #cs55 x y/n

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gr4cier4cie · 3 days ago

Note

girl that lewis snippet

i think like my brain broke cause

what

HEHHEHEEHEHE HIII MY LOVE 💫 THIS INSPIRED ME TO WRITE ANOTHER ONE HERE IT IS JUST FOR YOU I LOVE YOU SOOO MUCH MWAH: the rain wasn't supposed to happen.

not today. not here. not now, with you standing in the paddock wearing a rather... translucent shade of white. (it was stupid, really. you should've known better. should've checked the forecast this morning on your way out of lewis' bed. should have done anything besides trust the goddamn sky.)

your mascara was running (because of course). your shirt was soaked through (because why not?). and lewis hamilton was standing next to you as your eyes tracked the downpour, his hands intermittently clenching and relaxing near your lower hip. you could hear the slight shuffle of skin against skin, the whisper traveling accusatorily across the space between you. you swallowed thickly.

lewis watched the descent of your forgone mascara with something dark in his eyes. something hungry. (he always seemed to look at you like that. in briefing rooms. across the garage. in those moments when everyone else had gone home and the only sound in the air was rain against metal. hearts against cages of bone.)

"here." his voice was gravel wrapped in silk, the kind of sound that made your fingers itch to touch him. he shrugged off his jacket—the one worth more than your monthly salary, the one that had his name emblazoned across the back like a claim—and draped it over your shoulders. you shouldn't have let him.

but you did.

the scent of him made your skin prickle. made you wonder what it would taste like on your tongue. (wait a minute. you already knew that.) "i'm fine," you lied, the words tasting like copper on your tongue. it felt mysteriously like defeat.

his laugh was soft. the kind of sound that belonged in dark rooms made out of borrowed time. "you always are." his thumb caught a droplet of rain trailing down the side of your temple, and you found yourself unable to breathe. his skin was fever-hot, a stark reminder of jeddah and suzuka and every other bad decision you'd decided was worth making. his eyes had dropped to your mouth like gravity, and your fraying professionalism cracked like carbon fiber under pressure.

"thanks for the jacket," you whispered, swallowing, watching his eyes track the movement of your throat like he tracked racing telemetry—precise, hungry, calculating. he was so close you could count his eyelashes. one, two, three, four—

"you're welcome," he murmured, and only then did you realize he was brushing stray water droplets from your lashes, the tilt of your brow, the apple of your cheek. an excuse to touch you.

"you should—" his hand grazed the spot below your ear, and your words caught on a choked inhale. "we should—"

"careful," lewis huffed, thumb brushing your bottom lip, coming away stained red. (you'd done it on purpose, the lipstick. the mascara. the goddamn outfit. you were sure he knew.) "don't choke."

"someone might see us," you finally got out, palm closing around his wrist. your voice didn't sound like yours. too breathless. too wanting. too much like the sounds you'd made against his pillows last night, and the night before, and the night before. "this morning, when i—"

"left?"

you scoffed, taken aback by his interruption. "that's not—"

"ran away?"

"lewis." your breath ghosted over his lips, and you watched them part. longing you didn't even realize you had bubbled over, spilling into your bloodstream like heroin. your fingers dropped his hand, curled into his shirt without permission. "i didn't run."

his laugh was dark chocolate and champagne spray as he stepped away, leaving your skin burning. "sure you didn't."

(lewis hamilton had you on a leash. no matter how far you ran, you'd always come crawling right back.)

♡

I'M HAVING SO MUCH FUN WRITING FOR THIS WHAT 😵‍💫 love you always baby i've missed you MWAH from gracie always!!!

#gracieanswers #my LOVE OIKARMA IVE MISSED YOU MWAH #oikarma #lewis hamilton smut #lewis hamilton #scuderia ferrari #lewis hamilton ferrari #f1 smut #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton x you #lewis hamilton imagine #lewis hamilton fanfic

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antonluvr · 2 days ago

Text

Can't Help Myself Falling Endlessly

Synopsis: anton and y/n continue their heated "relationship". sohee on the other hand... is starting to put pieces together.

Word Count: 4.2K

Status: 5/?

Content Warning: lying, making out, oral (male to female), man as always idfk how to tag lmaooo

Sohee stumbled through the front door, the lingering effects of alcohol making his movements loose and sluggish. The party had left him buzzing, but now exhaustion settled over him like a heavy blanket. He ran a hand through his disheveled hair, barely sparing a glance at the quiet house as he trudged up the stairs.

As he reached the hallway leading to his bedroom, a faint noise caught his attention. A rhythmic, muffled sound–soft but unmistakable. He frowned, his intoxicated brain taking a moment to process the source. The noise was coming from Y/N’s room.

At first, he thought it was the house settling, but then he heard it again. Low murmurs, the creak of a mattress, hushed whispers mixing with breathy sounds he wished he could unhear. Sohee’s face twisted with mild horror.

“Ah, gross,” he muttered to himself, squeezing his eyes shut as if that could erase the realization.

He hadn’t seen Y/N disappear from the party, but clearly, she had company. His first instinct was to knock–maybe yell at whoever was in there just to mess with her–but he hesitated. The alcohol made his thoughts sluggish, but one this nagged at him: he hadn’t seen Anton for a little while either.

His brow furrowed as the thought settled. Anton had been by his side for most of the night, drinking and joking around, but somewhere along the way, he’d vanished. Sohee glanced down the hall, rubbing his temple. Nah, it couldn’t be. Y/N and Anton wouldn’t do that. Right?

Morning came too soon, the dull pounding in his skull reminding him of the previous night’s drinking. He groaned, rubbing his face as he pushed himself up from bed. The events of the night before resurfaced, and with them, an itch of suspicion he couldn’t shake.

By the time he made it downstairs, Y/N was already in the kitchen, lazily stirring a spoon through her cereal. She looked up when he entered, her expression neutral but slightly wary–like she was waiting for something. Sohee leaned against the counter, crossing his arms as he studied her.

“So,” he began casually, “fun night?”

Y/N shrugged, not looking up. “Yeah, it was alright. You seemed to have a good time.”

He smirked. “I did. But, uh… you disappeared pretty early. What was up with that?”

She paused, but only for a second. “Just got tired. Went to bed.”

“Right,” he drawled. “Slept well?”

“Yep.”

“Alone?”

Y/N’s spoon clattered against the side of the bowl. She quickly recovered, but Sohee caught the tiny flicker of panic in her eyes before she looked away. His smirk grew.

“Why are you asking weird questions?” she muttered, picking at her cereal.

“No reason. Just making conversation.”

She scoffed. “Well, make it less weird.”

Sohee hummed in response, pushing off the counter. “Alright, alright. Just curious.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, focusing back on her cereal, but a nagging unease settled in her stomach. As much as she wanted to shake off the feeling, she knew her brother too well–Sohee didn’t ask questions without a reason.

Later that day, he found Anton in the living room, scrolling through his phone. Sohee plopped onto the couch beside him, stretching out comfortably.

“Yo,” he greeted. Anton glanced up, offering a lazy nod.

“Yo.”

“So, what time did you leave last night?” Sohee asked, feigning nonchalance.

Anton barely reacted, still focused on his screen. “Uh, pretty late. Lost track of time.”

“Yeah? Where’d you go?”

Anton hesitated for a split second–too short for most people to notice, but Sohee caught it. “Y/N asked me to help her with something upstairs. She, uh… wasn’t feeling great, so I made sure she was okay.”

Sohee’s expression didn’t change, but internally, his suspicion sharpened. That wasn’t what Y/N had said. She claimed she had gone to bed early. No mention of Anton. No mention of needing help.

“Ah,” Sohee nodded slowly. “That’s nice of you.”

Anton gave a small shrug. “Yeah, of course. Just wanted to make sure she got to bed alright.”

Sohee leaned back against the couch, watching Anton carefully. His friend’s face was calm, but there was something just a little too careful about his response.

Sohee wasn’t an idiot. The pieces were falling into place, and he was starting to see the full picture.

Upstairs in her room, Y/N pulled out her phone, her stomach twisting. She quickly typed out a message to Anton.

Y/N: is sohee being weird to you too or just me

Anton: what did he say to you?

Y/N: just asking if i disappeared early and if i slept alone?? idk it was weird

A moment passed before Anton replied.

Anton: yeah… he asked me where i went last night. i told him you weren’t feeling great and i helped you to bed.

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat.

Y/N: anton… that’s not what i told him.

Anton: …what did you say?

Y/N: i just said i went to bed early. didn’t mention you at all.

There was a long pause before Anton’s next message came through.

Anton: fuck.

Y/N swallowed hard, her fingers hovering over the keyboard. She lay back against her pillows, mind racing. This wasn’t good. Sohee was onto them, and the worst part? He was smart enough to figure it out.

Y/N: what do we do?

Anton: act normal. don’t let him think he’s right.

Y/N: easier said than done.

Anton: i know. but we have to try.

Her grip on the phone tightened. She had a bad feeling about this. Sohee wasn’t going to let this go, and sooner or later, he was going to catch them slipping.

And when he did… all hell would break loose.

The morning after Sohee’s not-so-subtle interrogation, Y/N spent the first hour of her day feeling like a live wire, charged and waiting to snap. She knew Sohee wouldn’t let this go, not when he had even the slightest suspicion. It wasn’t a matter of if he’d press further, but when.

So when she heard the front door shut, signaling Sohee had finally left for work, she wasted no time. Her fingers flew over her phone screen.

Texting

Y:N he’s gone. you can come over now.

Anton: be there in 10!

She barely had time to change out of her sleep shorts and tank top before a quiet knock echoed from the front door. She rushed over, opening it just enough to let Anton slip inside. He moved with the same ease and confidence he always carried, but there was something guarded in his eyes today–something careful.

“Did he say anything else to you?” Anton asked as he shrugged off his jacket, his voice low and firm.

Y/N shook her head. “Not yet. But he’s thinking about it. I could tell.”

Anton exhaled sharply, running a hand through his already-messy hair. “We need to be on the same page.”

She crossed her arms, nodding. “I told him I went to bed early. You told him you helped me upstairs because I wasn’t feeling great.”

“Yeah, that was my bad. I panicked.” Anton’s lips pressed into a thin line. “We say you weren’t feeling well, and I made sure you got to bed. Simple.”

Y/N chewed on the inside of her cheek, considering it. “That works.”

Anton tilted his head slightly, studying her. "You nervous?”

She scoffed, looking away. “No.”

“Liar.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, but before she could retort, Anton took a step closer. The shift in proximity sent a ripple of awareness through her. It had been like this since that first time–this pull, this quiet gravity that neither of them seemed to have the willpower to resist.

Her back pressed against the wall as Anton’s hands found her hips, thumbs brushing against the thin fabric of her top. His touch wasn’t rushed, wasn’t demanding–just testing, just waiting.

“You know,” he murmured, voice laced with something darker, something teasing, “we should really be focusing.”

Y/N swallowed, heart hammering. “Yeah.”

Neither of them moved away.

Anton leaned in, close enough that she could feel his breath against her cheek. “But I can’t stop thinking about last night.”

Her lips parted slightly, her body betraying her even as her mind screamed at her to stay on track. “Anton–”

He kissed her before she could finish, his mouth pressing against hers in a way that was both familiar and electrifying. It was slow, deliberate, but there was an underlying hunger, a restraint that made her toes curl. Y/N’s fingers curled around the front of his hoodie, tugging him closer, and he groaned softly against her lips.

His hands slid beneath the hem of her shirt, fingers skimming the bare skin of her waist. Y/N shivered at his touch, heat pooling in her stomach. They were supposed to be talking, strategizing, making sure they didn’t caught–

But then Anton nipped at her lower lip, and every rational thought flew out of her head.

Her back hit the wall fully as his body pressed against her, a warmth and weight she wasn’t sure she’d ever get enough of. His lips moved to her jaw, then her neck, drawing a quiet gasp from her as he found the sensitive spot just below her ear.

“We’re… supposed to be planning,” she breathed, though her grip on his hood said otherwise.

Anton exhaled a laugh, but he didn’t stop. “We are.”

Y/N let out a shaky sigh as his hands continued their slow exploration. Her nails bit into his shoulders. “Anton–”

He pulled back just enough to look at her, dark eyes searching her. “Tell me to stop.”

She could. She should. But she didn’t.

Instead, she tugged him back down, capturing his lips in another kiss.

Anton groaned in approval, hands tightening around her waist as he pressed her harder against the wall. The sheer intensity of it sent a shiver down her spine, a dangerous thrill coiling deep in her stomach. It was reckless, it was a risk–but God, she wanted him.

A loud vibration from the kitchen counter shattered the moment, making them both freeze. Y/N blinked, breath still coming fast as she recognized the sound of her phone. Sohee.

Reality slammed back into her like a tidal wave. Anton must have seen the panic flicker across her face because he exhaled heavily, resting his forehead against hers for just a second before reluctantly stepping back.

Y/N barely had time to grab her phone before it stopped ringing. She swiped to answer, bringing it to her ear as she tried to steady her breathing.

“Hey,” she said, keeping her tone light, normal.

Across the kitchen, Anton watched her carefully, his arms crossed, the lingering tension between them unspoken but heavy.

Sohee’s voice crackled through the speaker. “Yo, you still home?”

“Yeah,” she looked at the counter. “Just having lunch.”

“Nice. Work’s slow today, so I might head home early,” he said, sounding distracted, like he was multitasking. “Not sure yet, though.”

Y/N’s fingers tightened slightly around the phone. “Oh. Cool. Just let me know.”

“Yeah, we’ll see. But knowing my luck, the second I try to leave, something will come up,” he muttered.

She let out a small laugh, forcing herself to sound casual. “Sounds about right.”

“Tell me about it,” Sohee sighed. There was some muffled background noise–probably him moving around. “Anyway, I gotta go. Later.”

“Later,” she echoed, waiting until the call ended before slowly setting her phone down.

Silence settled between her and Anton, thick and heavy.

“Close one,” he murmured.

She let out a breath. “Yeah.”

Anton took a slow step toward her, eyes never leaving hers. “So… I’m coming over later?”

Y/N lifted a brow. “Seemed like the easiest thing to say.”

His lips quirked into a smirk as he leaned in slightly. ‘You know we should probably figure out what we’re telling him, right?”

Her pulse quickened at the heat in his gaze. “I know.”

His fingers brushed her, his touch warm, teasing. The conversation should’ve ended there. They should’ve put space between them. But neither of them moved.

As Y/N finally gathered the willpower to step away from Anton, she ran a hand through her hair, trying to steady herself. The air between them was still thick with tension, and she knew if they stayed in the kitchen any longer, they wouldn’t get any actual talking done.

“Come on,” she said, her voice still a little breathless as she grabbed his wrist. “Let’s go downstairs. So we can sit down and talk about our plan.”

Anton let her lead him, though the smirk on his face told her he wasn’t finished. He followed her down the stairs to the basement.

Y/N sat down on the couch leaning forward with her elbow on her knees. “Alright,” she started, trying to refocus. “We need to be smart about this. Sohee is already suspicious, and if we don’t get our stories strai–”

Anton flopped onto the couch beside her, stretching his arms over the backrest, dangerously close to her shoulder. “Mm-hmm,” he hummed, sounding way too casual about all of this.

“Y/N narrowed her eyes on him. “Are you even listening?”

“Oh, I’m listening.” He turned his head to look at her, his lips twitching with that same infuriating smirk. “I just think you’re cute when you’re trying to be all serious.”

Y/N groaned, shoving his arm, but he caught her wrist, and in one swift motion, he had her pinned back against the couch. The shift in position made her breath catch, and she barely had a second to react before he leaned down, brushing his lips against the curve of her jaw.

“Anton,” she tried, but it came out weaker than she intended.

“Hmm?” he hummed, moving lower, lips grazing the sensitive skin of her neck.

“You were saying.”

Her fingers curled into his shirt as warmth spread through her body, an involuntary shiver running down her spine. He knew exactly what he was doing, the way he let his breath fan over her pulse point before pressing an open-mouth kiss there.

“You’re impossible,” she muttered, but her voice was breathy, betraying her resolve.

Anton smirked against her skin. “And yet, you’re not stopping me.”

Y/N hated how right he was. She could push him away–should push him away–but instead, her head tilted slightly, granting him more access. He took the invitation, his kisses growing slower, deeper. Heat curled in her stomach, and just as she let out a quiet sigh, a thought slammed into her brain like a brick.

Her eyes flew open, and she stiffened beneath Anton. He must’ve felt it because he pulled back just enough to look at her, brows furrowed. “What?”

Y/N swallowed hard. “What if Sohee heard us? That night?”

Anton blinked, then tilted his head like he was actually considering it. And then– he grinned. “Oh, he definitely heard you.”

She smacked his arm. “I’m serious!”

“So am I.” His grin turned into a full-blown smirk. “You weren’t exactly quiet, sweetheart.”

Heat flared in her cheeks, and she covered her face with her hands. “Oh my god.”

Anton chuckled, prying her hands away. “Relax. He was drunk. He probably thought he was hallucinating or something.”

Y/N exhaled sharply, mind racing. “Still… if he did hear something, that would explain why he was acting weird. He probably didn’t want to believe it.”

Anton leaned back against the couch, arms stretching over the top. “So, what’s the plan, then?”

Y/N chewed on her lip. “We need to give him a reason to think he misheard. Like… if he heard voices, we make it seem like we were just talking.”

Anton snorted. “Oh, we were talking. You just weren’t saying much.”

She smacked him again, and he caught her wrist, tugging her closer. “Okay, okay. So we tell him… what? That we were up late, hanging out?”

Y/N nodded. “Something casual. Maybe I was venting about something, and you stayed to keep me company.”

Anton considered it, then smirked. “So, instead of ‘moaning in pleasure,’ we tell him you were ‘crying about life’?”

She groaned. “You’re insufferable.”

“But you like me anyway.” He let go of her wrist, but the teasing glint in his eyes remained. “Fine. We’ll go with that. Just friends having a late-night talk.”

Y/N exhaled, relieved they had something solid. “Alright. That should work.”

Anton leaned in one last time, his lips brushing her ear. “You still haven’t denied that you were loud, though.”

Her face burned. “Anton.”

He laughed, stealing another kiss against her jaw before finally—finally—pulling away. “Just saying. If you want to keep things a secret, you might wanna work on that.”

Anton studied her for a moment before leaning in again, this time pressing a softer kiss against her collarbone. His voice dipped lower, teasing but earnest. “You’re all tense,” he murmured. “I think you need to relax.”

Y/N’s breath hitched as his hands smoothed down her sides, slipping under the hem of her shirt. “Anton–”

“Let me help,” he whispered against her skin, lips trailing downward. His fingers gripped her hips as he shifted, guiding her to lean back into the couch. “Just trust me.”

A shiver ran through her as he sank lower, eyes dark with intent. Her protests faded into soft gasps as his touch grew more deliberate, his lips painting fire along her skin. Her fingers curled into the couch cushions, anticipation coiling tight in her stomach.

Anton looked up at her, his smirk replaced with something more intense, more focused. “Let me take your mind off things.”

His hands slid beneath her waistband, easing her shorts down with precision, his touch featherlight but electric. The way he looked at her–like he wanted to savor every second–made the heat in her stomach tighten.

The first press of his lips against her inner thigh sent a shudder through her, a breathless sound slipping past her lips. His mouth moved with a slow, agonizing rhythm, teasing, coaxing, never giving too much at once. Y/N’s fingers buried in his hair, her breath uneven as he continued a slow, tortuous pace.

Every brush of his tongue, every graze of his lips, sent a fresh wave of pleasure rolling through her. He was deliberate, controlled, but as her body responded, as she shifted beneath him, he became more insistent.

Y/N bit down on her lip, trying to stifle the sound threatening to spill out, but Anton wasn’t making it easy. His fingers gripped her thighs, holding her still as he worked her closer to that edge, his movements relentless yet perfectly measured.

Her body tense, her breath catching as the pressure built. “Anton, I–”

A muffled hum of approval vibrated against her, and the sensation sent her spiralling. Her back arched, a sharp gasp escaping as waves of pleasure crashed over her, leaving her trembling beneath him.

Anton didn’t stop right away, drawing out every last bit of her high until she was left breathless, limbs heavy against the couch, when he finally pulled away, his lips were curved in a smug, satisfied smirk as he pressed a lingering kiss to her hip.

“Feeling more relaxed now?” he murmured, his voice thick with amusement.

“Y/N could only manage a shaky exhale, her body still humming from his touch.

Y/N sat cross-legged on the floor, her back pressed against the couch, her grip on the controller turning white-knuckled as the final lap of Mario Kart approached. “You are actually the worst person I know,” she grumbled, watching Anton’s character zip ahead of her.

Anton, sprawled lazily on the couch, barely spared her a glance. “Trash talk won’t help you drive better.”

“You red-shelled me while I was mid-jump! Do you know how evil that is?”

“I do,” Anton said smugly, drifting around the last corner with the ease of someone who had perfected this game long ago. “And I stand by it.”

Y/N’s frustration hit its peak when Anton, with zero effort, crossed the finish line first while she got taken out by a stray banana peel and dropped to fifth place. She threw her controller onto the couch with an exasperated groan. “I hope your Switch dies in the middle of an online match.”

Anton just grinned. “Harsh words for someone who still owes me a win from last week’s Mario Party.”

Before Y/N could hurl another insult at him, the front door swung open.

Sohee stepped inside, kicking off his shoes and tossing his keys onto the table before freezing mid-step. His eyes flicked between his sister and Anton—her in an oversized hoodie, looking slightly disheveled, and Anton, stretched out on the couch like he lived there, looking a little too satisfied with himself.

Sohee’s eyes narrowed. “Did I… just walk into something I don’t wanna know about?”

Anton, completely unfazed, stretched his arms over his head. “Just the aftermath of me absolutely destroying your sister at Mario Kart.”

Y/N scowled. “I hate you.”

Sohee snorted, shaking his head as he made his way toward the kitchen. “I don’t know why you even try. He’s been beating us since we were kids.” He paused, peering into the fridge. “Did you guys eat yet?”

Y/N glanced at Anton, who gave her a knowing smirk before answering, “Nah, we were waiting for you to buy us food.”

Sohee sighed, muttering about how he always ended up paying for takeout, but didn’t argue as he grabbed his phone. “Fine. Hope you two are happy leeches.”

As Sohee got caught up scrolling through menus, Anton leaned in slightly, his voice dropping just for her. “Think he suspects anything?”

Y/N scoffed, keeping her eyes on the screen but feeling the warmth of his presence beside her. “Please. He’s too busy deciding between fried chicken and tteokbokki to notice anything.”

Anton chuckled, his fingers brushing lightly against hers where they rested on her lap. “Lucky us.”

She shot him a look, biting back a smile. “You’re really pushing it tonight.”

He grinned, completely unrepentant. “And yet, you’re still here.”

Y/N sighed, shaking her head. “Unfortunate, really.” But when her gaze lingered on him–on the way he always made things feel so effortless, so right–she knew there was nothing unfortunate about it at all.

The smell of fried chicken filled the living room as Sohee plopped down onto the couch with a satisfied groan, a takeout bag in hand. “Alright, losers. Food’s here.”

Y/N snatched the box from his hands before he could set it down, opening it eagerly. “Took you long enough. I was starving.”

Anton, already making himself comfortable on the floor, leaned back against the couch with a lazy smirk. “She says that like she wasn’t just eating defeat at Mario Kart.”

Sohee just hummed. “Anyway, I hope you guys are ready to get destroyed in Mario Party.”

Anton snorted. “Big words for someone who hasn’t won a game since 2019.”

“Bold of you to assume I won’t make a comeback tonight.”

Y/N was already booting up the game, scrolling through the character selection. “If we don’t team up against Anton, we’re both doomed.”

Sohee nodded in agreement. “Facts.”

Anton placed a hand over his heart in mock offense. “Wow. Betrayal. Is this how it feels to have fake friends?”

Y/N smirked. “Oh, shut up and pick your character.”

Soon, the room filled with the chaotic music of Mario Party, the three of them fully immersed in an intense, trash-talking battle. Sohee was loudly accusing Anton of rigging the game, while Y/N was laser-focused on stealing as many coins as possible.

“YOU CAN’T JUST STEAL FROM ME EVERY TIME!” Sohee yelled as Y/N targeted him again in a minigame.

“You’re an easy target,” Y/N said sweetly, clicking the button.

Anton burst out laughing. “Savage. I love it.”

“You would,” Sohee grumbled, stuffing a fry into his mouth.

The game stretched on, full of betrayals, alliances, and Anton somehow hoarding an absurd number of stars. At some point, Y/N and Sohee actually did team up against him—but Anton, as always, played the long game, waiting until the last possible moment to steal a victory.

When the final results screen popped up, flashing Anton’s character in first place, Sohee dramatically fell back onto the couch. “I hate this game.”

Y/N groaned, tossing her controller onto the floor. “I should’ve gone after you harder.”

Anton, looking way too pleased with himself, stretched lazily. “Aww, come on. It’s just a game.”

Sohee turned his head to glare at him. “Shut up, Anton.”

Anton laughed, throwing an arm around Y/N’s shoulders in an overly smug victory pose. “Better luck next time, guys.”

Y/N sighed, shaking her head but unable to stop the grin tugging at her lips. Nights like this—filled with mindless games, good food, and the kind of teasing that only came with years of friendship—always felt effortless.

And maybe, just maybe, she liked it that way.

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