#Just started playing Fate a week ago

[fadingmagazine]

The two sides of the coin

[notlongtolove]

like a lover

he doesn’t answer. he doesn’t even look at you again. he just shakes his head and walks into the bedroom. by the time you follow him, he’s sitting on the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees, staring at the floor like it holds the answer to whatever’s boiling inside him. fine. If he wants to ice you out, two can play that game.

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader (second person, no y/n)

genre: hurt comfort

content: student!reader gets drunk after a brutal final and spencer is beyond mad. very brief mention of abduction. lowkey spencer is in the right bc #safety but he made reader cry n for that he is found #guilty!!!

word count: 3.1k

note: based off this ask! random fact the last line of this fic was the inspiration for empty my soul but idk why i just couldnt fit it in there, anyways i hope you guys like it! (pls tell me if u do i was struggling with a resolution for this)

a line: Spencer thinks, for a split second, that he’d rather die than ever have to see you cry like that again.

I give you an onion. It is a moon wrapped in brown paper. It promises light like the careful undressing of love. Here. It will blind you with tears like a lover. It will make your reflection a wobbling photo of grief. I am trying to be truthful. - carol ann duffy

You probably should’ve stopped five drinks ago—maybe four if you were feeling merciful. That last Vodka cran? A spectacularly bad idea. But whatever. You earned this. You’re young, you’re fun, you look good, and for the first time in weeks, you have no deadlines clawing at you. The final had been a nightmare. You knew your fate was sealed the second you flipped to question three. What the hell is textual and symbolic environmentalisation? But it’s over now. That’s all that matters.

The wind bites at your bare legs as you stand by the curb, aimlessly kicking a pebble. You hug your arms close, fighting off the chill. Maybe you should’ve brought a jacket. Spencer had suggested it, but you’d waved him off. He’s usually right.

You frown, glancing up at the street sign. He said he’d be here. Right? Your phone’s dying battery blinks at you in its final moments, mocking you before shutting off completely. Definitely should’ve taken his offer of a portable charger, too. You sigh, shifting your weight from one foot to the other.

A man stumbles by, reeking of booze. You don’t need to look to know.

"Hey," he calls out, voice slurred and gravelly.

You keep your eyes down, pretending not to hear.

“Hey,” he says again, louder this time.

Where the hell is Spencer?

"D’you know when the bus starts running again?"

You hesitate, half-relieved that he’s asking something semi-coherent. "I—I’m sorry, I’m not sure."

He nods to himself, swaying on his feet. 

"I told you to wait by the bodega on 3rd," a familiar voice mutters. Spencer’s hand closes around your arm, already steering you away.

"Oh, hey," you say softly, relief washing over you. "Is this not—" You glance at the street sign overhead—4 Maple Drive. Shit. "I—sorry, I thought—"

"It’s fine," he says, but the sharp edge in his voice tells you it’s not.

The car ride is suffocatingly silent. When he pulls open the passenger door for you, there’s no trace of his usual warmth. No soft smile, no gentle tease about your perpetually dead phone. Just a click of the door and the quiet thud of it shutting behind you.

You hate this. Hate the tension humming between you, the way his jaw is set tight as he drives. He was so different this afternoon, greeting you after your final with those cupcakes he knows you love from the bakery on the other side of town, his lips brushing yours in endless, giddy kisses. This Spencer is nothing like that. 

"They played ‘Dancing Queen’ tonight," you venture, voice tentative. He knows it’s your favourite. Knows it always pulls you to the dance floor, no matter how tired or tipsy you are. "It was so funny—some guy bought us a round of shots—"

"And you drank it?"

The question lands heavy. His first words to you since he’d started driving. 

"Well... yeah?"

"What else did you drink?"

"Not a lot," you say quickly, tripping over your words. "Just vodka, tequila, a bit of wine—"

"You mixed?" 

The way he says it makes you bristle. There’s a hint of disbelief, maybe even disappointment. 

"Spence," you say softly. "I’m not that drunk, I promise."

Nothing.

His knuckles tighten on the steering wheel. The silence in the air is almost tangible, a crackling, oppressive thing. When he pulls into the driveway and kills the engine, he doesn’t move to open your door. He always does that. But not tonight. 

You’re pretty sure he’s mad at you, though you’re not entirely sure why. It’s not like you go out that often, and you can’t even remember the last time you let yourself get this drunk. Tonight was an exception, a celebration. He understands, doesn’t he?

You follow him inside, trailing behind like a shadow. He doesn’t head to the kitchen like he does after you get back from a night out—no tea, no toast, no quiet ritual of making sure you’re okay. Instead, he walks straight into the study, his back to you. Yeah, he’s definitely mad. 

"You’re mad at me," you say, standing in the doorway.

He doesn’t answer. His hands grip the back of his chair, his head bowed like he’s trying to gather himself. You’re not one to push, usually giving him the space he needs when he gets all broody like this, but the alcohol that’s running through your system is making it hard to practice patience. 

"Why are you mad at me?"

Still nothing. 

When he finally moves, it’s only to brush past you, heading for the bedroom without so much as a glance. "We’ll talk about this tomorrow," he says, his tone flat, clipped. "I can’t talk to you when you’re like this."

This. The word hits like a slap, sharp and dismissive. It irks you. 

"If you didn’t want to come, then you shouldn’t have come," you mutter under your breath, the words slipping out before you can stop them. "I could’ve gotten a ride—"

"You were slurring on the phone." He stops in the hallway, turning just enough for you to see the tight set of his jaw. 

"Yeah, no shit, Spencer. People slur when they drink," you fire back a little too harshly, the alcohol fueling your irritation as you cross your arms defensively.

"Don’t," he warns, his voice low, dangerous in a way that makes your chest tighten.

​​You glare at him, heat rising in your cheeks. "Don’t what? Don’t point out how ridiculous you’re being right now?"

He doesn’t answer. He doesn’t even look at you again. He just shakes his head and walks into the bedroom. By the time you follow him, he’s sitting on the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees, staring at the floor like it holds the answer to whatever’s boiling inside him. Fine. If he wants to ice you out, two can play that game.

You head to the bathroom without a word, your movements jerky as you swipe at the remnants of your makeup. You grab your moisturizer, fingers fumbling with the cap. A sharp tug and it goes flying out of your hands, clattering to the floor. 

"Fuck," you mutter, bracing yourself for a bout of instability as you bend down to retrieve it.

Before you can grab it, Spencer moves. He scoops it up, straightening with an ease that feels almost mocking. When you meet his eyes, they’re unfamiliar. It’s not the Spencer you know. Not the Spencer who covers your eyes during scary movies or kisses your forehead when you’re half-asleep. No, this Spencer feels distant, cold. 

"And I’m supposed to believe you’re not that drunk," he says flatly. Your chest tightens, a lump forming in your throat as heat flushes your face. He offers a hand as you steady yourself, trying to rise to your feet, but you brush him off, snatching the bottle from his grip with a bitterness you don’t try to mask. 

"What the hell is your problem?" you snap.

"My problem?" he repeats, incredulous. "I’m not the one blackout drunk on a Wednesday night."

"I’m not—"

"Would you—would you just stop!" he barks, the words sharp enough to make you flinch. "You’re slurring your words. You got the streets wrong. You couldn’t even get the damn moisturizer open," he snaps, gesturing toward you harshly with a mixture of frustration and exasperation.

Your knuckles whiten as you cling to the edge of the sink, unsure if you’re holding on for balance or just to keep from breaking. You spin back toward the mirror willing yourself not to cry. The frustration, the confusion, the ache in your chest—everything wells up at once.

"God, you’re being so—"

"So what?" he interrupts, his voice rising as he steps closer. His eyes bore into yours, daring you to say it. "So concerned? So worried? So—"

"So fucking mean!"

The silence that follows deafening. For a moment, he freezes, the hard edges of his expression softening into something else—shock, regret, guilt—but it’s fleeting.

"So what if I’m drunk?" Your voice cracks as the words tumble out, your frustration too overwhelming to contain. "And yeah, maybe—" You shake your head, swallowing the lump in your throat as you glare at him, "Maybe I’m slurring a little but forgive me for wanting a drink after the final I’ve been stressing over all fucking month."

He exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair, his frustration barely contained. "It’s not about you having a drink. It’s about you not knowing your limits—"

"Oh, for fucks sake," you interrupt, throwing your hands up. The movement makes you sway slightly, and you hate how it only seems to prove his point. "Newsflash, Spencer, I’m a university student. Sometimes we get drunk. You don’t get to make me feel like shit just because you don’t drink.”

You push past him, your shoulder grazing his as you move to sit on the edge of the bed. The mattress dips under your weight, and you grip the edge, willing the room to stop spinning.

"You were being reckless," he bites back, the word hanging heavy in the air. "You don’t see what I see. You’re out alone, you don’t—"

"I wasn’t alone," you say, your voice rising to meet his. "I had friends—"

"Yeah, friends who left you alone on a curb at 3am," he shoots back, cutting you off. The words land with precision, a calculated jab, but you refuse to flinch.

"Because you said you were on the way!" you fire back.

His voice is cold now, practically seething. "And what do you think would’ve happened if I hadn’t reached you just as that guy was coming on to you?"

"He was asking for the bus!" you shoot back, the words ringing out louder than you intended. You hate everything about this fight. You hate how unfamiliar he feels, hate the part of you that wonders if you’re the one who brought this out of him. "Nothing would’ve—"

Spencer’s expression darkens, his gaze narrowing. "Nothing?" He scoffs. "Tell that to Nina Radha. To Caroline Wrenley. To Mindy Denver. They were all ‘just waiting for a ride home’ last week. And now? All abducted. All dead." 

The room goes silent. Your chest tightens, and the fight drains out of you as his meaning sinks in. 

"You’re being cruel," your words are barely audible, trembling on the edge of your lips. The tears come faster now, streaking your face, but you don’t bother wiping them away. "Why—" you whisper, weak and watery, "Why are you being like this?" 

When Spencer finally turns to look at you, the sight of your tears stops him cold. They streak your face in uneven paths, and he feels something inside him splinter. Spencer never likes seeing you cry—he hates it, actually. It’s not just discomfort or unease; it’s a literal, physical ache. But knowing he’s the reason for your tears tonight? That’s pain in its most visceral form. It’s failure in its purest state.

"I—" he starts, his voice faltering. It cracks mid-sentence, and he stops, swallowing hard. His breath shudders as he exhales, trying to find the words, but all that comes out is a quiet, broken, "I was scared." 

Your tears have momentarily slowed, caught off guard by the sudden shift in his tone. The anger in his voice has faded, replaced by something softer, something raw—fear, tangled with guilt, with regret. He takes a tentative step closer, then hesitates, unsure of what to do. 

"I thought that… something could’ve happened to you, and I—I didn’t know how to handle it." 

After a moment, he lowers himself to your level, crouching in front of you. He lifts his hand, reaching out to wipe away the tears that stain your face. But the instant his fingers near you, you flinch, turning your head to avoid his touch. The movement is small, but Spencer’s heart shatters at the rejection all the same. He hates that he’s made you cry, hates that you won’t let him near you, hates that you won’t even look at him.

"I’m sorry," he says, the words low and weighted with sincerity. He knows it’s not enough, but it’s all he has left to give. 

Your tears fall, dripping onto your hands that rest limply in your lap. You shake your head, your shoulders tense, refusing to meet his eyes. The rejection stings, sharper than he expected, but he doesn’t blame you. He knows he deserves this. The room is still except for the sound of your quiet sniffles. 

Spencer tries again, his voice quieter now, almost pleading. "I just—" His breath catches as he exhales, his hand running through his hair in agitation, the movement more to calm himself than anything else. "When I saw you standing there alone—alone and with that man, I got scared. And I lashed out. I shouldn’t have. You didn’t— you didn’t deserve that."

The silence that follows is thick, but finally, you break it. Your voice is quiet, bitter. 

"I’m not them."

You’re still not meeting his eyes, still keeping that distance, but at least it’s something. 

"Those girls… I’m not them, Spencer."

"I know, I know. I was—", his voice is low, the regret weighing heavily on every syllable.

​​"That case was tough on you, I know it was," you interrupt, "And what happened to those girls, it was horrible. But I'm not them, Spence. I'm not…" Spencer watches helplessly as you furiously wipe away a tear from your cheek. 

"I'm not dead. I'm here."

“I was projecting, I—” His voice catches, “I shouldn’t have taken it out on you,” he admits quietly. You nod, grimly. Another single, heavy tear slips down your cheek and Spencer feels his heart break all over again. 

"I know you’re scared. How do you think I feel every time you go out into the field?" You take a deep breath, and say bitterly, "I get it." 

Each word is a struggle, but you say it with conviction. He can see how much you’re holding in, the effort it takes for you to keep your voice from cracking. 

You pause, swallowing hard as you steady yourself, "But you—You don’t get to talk to me like that." When your eyes meet his, they flash with both anger and sadness. "You don’t get to take that out on me." 

"I know, I—That was—I was being horrible, I was an ass," Spencer admits, his voice small. "You didn’t deserve that, honey. God, I’m just—I’m so, so, sorry." 

You look at him for a long moment, searching for any sign that he’s being sincere. All you see is regret, raw and heavy. And something else, something softer. Love. He reaches out, and this time you don’t pull away. Just getting to touch you is a brief, bittersweet, blinding relief. Spencer lets his fingers graze your cheek as he wipes away your tears gently, his thumb brushing over the wet path they’ve left behind. 

A soft, almost bitter laugh escapes you. "An ass is putting it lightly." 

Spencer’s chest tightens, a small breath of relief escaping him, though it’s quickly replaced with guilt. "M’so sorry sweetheart," he breathes out, comforted by the familiar bite in your tone. It lightens the air between you, just a little.

He shifts to sit next to you on the bed. "I didn’t—I really didn’t mean to," he says quietly. You rest your head on his shoulder, letting out a soft sigh, the fight slowly draining out of you. Spencer gently takes your hands, cradling them in his. 

"I—I never want to hurt you, never want to make you cry. Ever." Spencer's voice cracks slightly as he talks, fingers tracing your palm. "You know that, right?"

You nod, your voice small but steady. "I know."

Shifting, you tuck your legs beneath you, turning to face him fully. Your hands lift to cup his face gently, your thumbs brushing against the faint stubble on his jaw. The touch is tender, almost protective, as you guide his face to meet yours. His eyes can’t hold your gaze for long, shame clearly written across them.

"I was just—I was—" He stumbles over his words.

"Scared," you finish softly, filling the silence for him. 

"I—I’m sorry," Spencer’s voice falters, "I’m really sorry honey, I should’ve never—That was—"

Your hands guide his face back toward yours, coaxing him to meet your eyes. This time, he doesn’t resist, his breath shaky as he clings to the comfort you offer. "S’okay, baby. M’not mad anymore," you murmur.

"Sad?" he asks, his voice barely audible, like he’s afraid of what you’ll say.

"No," you smile faintly, shaking your head, "Not sad, baby," you whisper, leaning closer. Your thumb traces the curve of his cheek in silent reassurance. His shoulders relax just a little. "I just—" you sigh as you let out one last, quiet sniffle, "I really hate fighting." 

Carefully, he coaxes you into his lap, his arms wrapping around you. "Me too, honey," he says, his voice thick with emotion as he shifts closer. You don’t resist, letting your head rest in the crook of his neck, your breath warm against his skin.

"S’not nice," you murmur against him, your words muffled.

"I know, I know," Spencer whispers, his fingers tracing slow, soothing circles along your back. You let out a shaky sigh, sinking further into his embrace. “Was awful, wasn’t it?” he says, quietly.

"Mhm," you mumble quietly, your voice soft but pointed as you lean into his touch. "Made me cry," you say, looking at him through wet lashes to prove your point. Spencer thinks, for a split second, that he’d rather die than ever have to see you cry like that again. After a beat of quiet, he tilts his head just enough to press a soft kiss to your temple. 

"I love you, you know that?" 

You hum softly, nuzzling your face into his neck with a contented sigh, "Love you too."

"Love you so much, sweet girl," he says again, quieter this time, like it’s a truth meant only for you.

"Sap," you tease, lifting your head just enough to meet his gaze, the faintest hint of a smile on your lips.

Spencer grins, soft and boyish. "Always for you," he mumbles fondly, and before you can respond, he leans forward, pressing a playful kiss to the tip of your nose.

You stick your tongue out at him in mock protest, but he’s already chasing the moment. A kiss lands on your cheek. Then another on the other side. Each one dripping with easy affection. 

"Spence—" you laugh, the sound bubbling up. It spreads a warmth through Spencer’s chest. 

"My sweet girl," he says quietly, almost to himself. 

His smile only grows as he drinks in the sound of your giggles, tears long gone. He presses a fluttering series of kisses across your form until you’re laughing into his lips, each kiss softer than the last. 

One on your cheek, two on your shoulder, a thousand on your lips.

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ hi if you're here! thank you for reading! feel free to like or reblog or comment or reply!

ᯓ★ song recs if you feel like it: false god by taylor swift moon river by frank ocean

[ceesimz]

don't smile

you just can't get over each other. (angst -> happy ending)

Seeing you in somebody else’s arms was never part of the plan Alexia set out for herself. 

A drink in her hand and a stranger in yours. At an event for the club of her life that was nothing when you were in the same room as her, breathing the same air, but you had an arm around your waist that wasn’t Alexia’s.

An hour before that, when you first walked in, she could have thrown up, or fallen to her knees and wailed like a child, or thrown a tantrum like a toddler. Because you walked into her place of work with her team, your only goal in mind being to make her jealous in front of her mother and sister, her colleagues, her colleagues’ family and friends, and just about anyone else around. 

Patri had invited you, apparently, which made sense. You had met through her, a fleeting moment Alexia once called fate. Now, as she watched you laugh, smile, joke, drape yourself over another woman, the captain thought of it as nothing but the beginning of the end for her. Her life hadn’t been the same since the two of you split. 

Waking up in the morning hadn’t felt the same now that her bed was empty and cold without. The start of her day used to be her favourite part. Waking to a warm bed with your sleeping form beside her, goosebumps always rising on her skin when you buried her face in the crook of her neck and breathed in as the scent of vanilla from her lingering perfume and the lavender of the bed sheets invaded your senses, it was just unmatched. She couldn’t describe the motivation it gave her. Instead, the only thing that greeted her at the crack of dawn was the sole, deafening sound of her alarm. It made it inexplicably harder to want to get on with the agenda for her day. 

Cooking breakfast wasn’t the same when you weren’t there to will her on with light kisses along her neckline. Doing her skincare in the bathroom wasn’t anywhere near as fun when you weren’t emphatically serenading her from the shower. Going to training didn’t feel quite so fulfilling when you weren’t waiting to welcome her with open arms once she returned home. Lining up in the tunnel of whatever stadium she was playing in that day wasn’t the same when you weren’t in the stands for her.

Yet you sauntered in as if none of that ever happened, flaunting the evidence of your success at seamlessly moving on with a grin on your face Alexia hadn’t seen before. She didn’t realise the reason for that was because it wasn’t genuine, like all the other ones you’d flashed at her in the past. That thought wasn’t even a concept in her world, the only thing she could focus on was the resentment towards you that consumed her. 

Months ago, the two of you made your way to your favourite restaurant, walking along the street with your arms linked together as you exchanged soft glances and loud laughter. Only an hour later did you walk out together, stuck in a screaming contest of whose words could do the most damage, before Alexia spotted someone with their phone out and walked away. You were left there, alone, with only the vicious words from the woman you thought you’d spent the rest of your life with as the only thing that remained of her. There was radio silence after that and it had stayed that way since. 

You blamed her and she blamed you, even if it was a combination of you both at fault and neither of you the root cause of it. Despite that, not a word was exchanged about the fight, the pair of you too stubborn and head-strong in the worst way to be able to look each other in the eyes again after all the insults tossed back and forth. 

The thing is… Alexia had just begun to accept the fact she regretted that day at the restaurant and everything to do with it when this happened. For weeks, she’d spent her nights with only the company of the light from her phone screen, opened on your contact. Her mind cried out for her to press the call button, but her heart and its fear of getting hurt again won, and she never found it within herself to do it. Had you shown up to the Barça event on your own, the blonde would have rushed over to you the second she saw you, her tail between her legs as she begged for your forgiveness.

But then you brought a plus-one, and Alexia had never been more happy with herself over a decision than she had about not calling you.

The new girl on your arm was merely an unassuming passenger you’d brought along on this tumultuous joyride. You didn’t like her that much, she was no blonde athlete, no love of your life, and it didn’t help that you couldn’t exactly remember her name without having to take a moment to think about it, but she knew her role and she played it well. It’d only taken three shots together at a bar the previous night to convince her. Then, all you had to do was slap a confident smile on your face and enter the room the club had hired and brush off the, at least, forty pairs of eyes on you like they were nothing. 

Except your smile faltered when you stepped inside, and everybody saw it. Everyone apart from the one person that mattered. It was too late to not go with the plan, however, so you did just that. In your defence, you believed you had no choice. But of course you did. There wasn’t a gun to your head, no one knew, not even Patri, that you were bringing anyone. The downfall was all your own doing.

Every laugh, every smile, every joke, every arm wrapped around her waist and every sly whisper in your date’s ear was purposeful, planned. You didn’t even have to look to know Alexia’s eyes were on you– they never left. And your desperation for her attention never left either, though you wouldn’t call it desperation, you called it… revenge. A pathetic attempt, however. And it was rather desperate.

The whole thing bordered on toxic, it was unhealthy, yet… it could only be the behaviour of two people that loved each other too much to let go for good. Neither of you were ready to accept that fact anytime soon, however. That you were still in love, and always would be.

Alexia hadn’t brought anyone with her apart from her mother and sister because, in the time she’d had you and lost you, not once did she even glance at anyone else. What was the point? When you lose the one person you married in your dreams as you slept beside them, everything else fades out of focus so that you can concentrate on breathing and blinking each day. Just the thought of having someone take your place made her feel sick. But she didn’t care to delve into why she felt that way. She just assumed she was still achingly angry at you. 

You didn’t give a second thought to the sickening pit in your stomach, assuming it was the vitriol that still coursed through your veins, and that putting on the performance you were then was simply fuelling it. It wasn’t guilt, it just couldn’t be. It wouldn’t make sense. 

To Alba, it was a performance that was totally transparent, especially after she saw the glimpse of intimidation at your masterplan when you arrived. And with the way her sister was clutching her glass, if she held it any tighter, she feared it might have just smashed into pieces in her hand. The brunette had been seated front row to the sympathy party Alexia had been putting on these last months; it took a thousand times of asking for the midfielder to show any kind of emotion towards everyone left in her life. Two days before the Barça event, Alba had to lay into her, to at least try to pull her head out her ass and remember that she still had people around who actually loved her.

The blonde didn't care about a soul anymore, and that fact became obviously clear when Eli tried to pull her daughter into a conversation with someone else's mother, only to receive some kind of grunt or grumble in response. Eli rolled her eyes and politely excused herself from the conversation, grabbing Alexia's hand afterwards and scolding her quietly. Alexia hardly caught a word she said. Not when it was the exact moment you chose to shoot a sly, triumphant smirk in her direction, which elicited a disapproving, down-right angry, and bordering on possessive scowl to her brow and frown to her mouth.

That only spurred you on; then you grabbed your date’s hand and, with a look in your eye Alexia had been on the receiving end of many memorable times, you headed to the bathroom. Like you were at some club, drunk on a night-out with no inhibitions, and not at Alexia’s place of work. 

A huff left her mouth and she slammed her glass down on the nearest table with the intention to follow you in and fire some colourful words your way, but Alba stopped her. The younger Putellas knew exactly what Alexia was going to do, and she’d be damned if she let her embarrass herself here of all places. She was thinking with her heart once again, not her head, and she didn’t have the best track record of doing so. The state of your relationship together was enough proof.

“Get off me, Alba. Now is not the- where are we going?!” She exclaimed in a hushed tone, trying (but failing) to not draw attention to them. Next thing she knew, she was in the smoking area outside the function room that’d been hired, her mother and sister both fixing her with warningful stares. “What is wrong with you both?”

“You need to leave her alone, Ale. Don’t cause a scene at work.” Alba said calmly, hands on her hips and hardly flinching at the outburst Alexia had afterwards.

“Me? Have you seen her?! What she is doing? She is causing a scene at my work and I am supposed to sit there and watch her?!” Her hands gestured wildly and uncontrollably, so much so that both women in front of her took a few steps backwards. She kicked at a non-existent stone under her foot on the cobbled ground and cursed under breath, mumbling a few choice words that had her mother lightly hitting her on the back of the head.

“You do not call another woman that! On my deathbed you ever say that word again, Alexia.” Eli had that same dagger glare to her eyes that worked on Alexia when she was a child. Even as a woman in her thirties, it still evoked fear in her, and her fury took a backseat after that as she apologised quietly. “What she does is not your business anymore. You need to let her go.” 

“Let her go.” Alexia repeated with a pitiful laugh, slumping back against the wall and putting her hands on her knees. 

She knew she had to let you go, and she was trying, why didn’t anyone see that? No matter what she did or how much time passed by, you were still the only person she thought about. You never left her mind, even if it did make her want to smash her head against the mirror she looked into every morning where she’d only see a reflection of herself when it should be you next to her. 

Nobody saw it because it wasn’t the reality. She loved you as much as she did the first day she saw you. Things were just more complicated now, because suddenly your futures were at stake. One future together that was happy, or two lifetimes of chasing an ounce of the devotion you felt when you were with each other. There was a mountain to climb or there was the coward’s way out.

“I need to let her go.” She said again, this time with more determination. She stood up straight, shook off the frustration she felt, and nodded at them both. “I will.”

Then, she headed straight back inside. But Eli and Alba shared a knowing look. Alexia wore her heart on her sleeve, she always had done. The two knew Alexia better than anyone, yet even they hadn’t seen her like this before, and that only meant one thing. Eli rolled her eyes with an exasperated sigh, meanwhile Alba wanted nothing more than to smash your heads together.

—

You don’t know why you did it. How you thought it could ever possibly be a good idea was a mystery to you as you sat in the back of a taxi in awkward silence with your date whose number you would delete the second she stepped out of the car. 

Nevermind Alexia, you’d made a fool of yourself with such a fake, pathetic attempt at showing how seamlessly you had moved on. It was completely forced and you were almost certain that everyone in the room could see that. 

The minute you walked in earlier, adrenaline and the need for revenge took over. You acted on autopilot, the devil on your shoulder decided what to do and didn’t care to run it past you before it happened. Honestly, the whole night was mostly a blur. All you could remember was the expression Alexia wore and the cocktail of emotions you could see in her eyes from across the room. 

Her anger didn’t hurt, her judgement didn’t hurt, it was the disappointment so clear on her face that hurt. Like you’d stooped lower than she ever thought you would, which you knew was exactly what you’d done. But the second you saw Alexia leave, she shot one last look your way, which seemed… dejected, with a hint of longing in her eyes. So, perhaps seeing you with someone else had done exactly what you wanted, but you didn’t get the satisfaction you thought you would. No, as you drove in silence in the taxi back to your empty apartment with walls that had stories to tell of the two of you, you knew what you felt then was guilt in all its entirety. Guilt and regret.

Guilt, which you’d so vehemently denied earlier, yet were drowning in it when all was said and done. So when the tears that built in your eyes as you thanked the taxi driver and got out of the car finally fell, you didn’t wipe them away. You had no business doing that when they were the consequence of your own actions. 

Crying wouldn’t rewind time so you could take back such a stupid and naive decision. Crying wouldn’t make you feel any better at the behaviour the people you valued as your own witnessed and no doubt judged you heavily for. Crying wouldn’t get Alexia back. 

But you didn’t want her back, so you quickly wiped your face with the sleeve of your coat when you walked into your apartment building. Your neighbour from a few doors down was there, waiting for the elevator, and the look of pity he gave at the sight of you was enough to have you turning on the spot and walking right out again. 

It contradicted your last thought entirely, about not wanting her back. But you didn’t care, because you could not stand the idea of going home to an all too quiet and empty apartment. That didn’t mean you wanted her back though. She’d said some borderlin- she’d said some really unforgivable stuff in the restaurant. Even if you had kind of forgotten some of the things she spat at you, you knew she had and she’d meant it. 

You wanted a drink. Needed one, actually. So your destination choice was the local supermarket, which was a couple minutes away. As you headed towards it, the cool air of the evening dried your tears, leaving tracks that still glimmered under the streetlights, the warm white reflecting the shame that burned inside you for everyone that passed by to see. It was a vulnerable moment, but you did it to yourself, so it didn’t matter. You wandered the streets in the dark, alone, just like you did after that time at the restaurant. 

God, you would have done anything to know what Alexia was thinking earlier. You knew she was angry, that could have been clear even to Stevie Wonder, but there was something different, deeper, under the surface that you caught a glimpse of and it lingered in your mind. You had to stop thinking about her. 

That was an impossible task when she was in everything you saw. The alleyways you snuck off into on date nights, the cafes you ate breakfast in the mornings after whilst sat across the table from each other with bashful smiles and flushed cheeks, benches you would sit on together as you watched the world go by in front of you. All these sentimental places you walked by, where nothing had changed for them, meanwhile everything had changed for you. 

Things had changed between you both since, yet at the same time, nothing had changed at all.

The supermarket you went to, it was the same one the two of you would walk around together, picking and choosing what ingredients you would use for the next dish you cooked. You should have realised what shop you were going to end up at, but clearly critical thinking wasn’t your best skill at that time. 

You roamed the aisles, a basket on your arm, trying to ignore the thumping of your heart that was in tune with the continuous cycle of your mind. It told the same story you had shunned for some time, you were determined not to let it get to you that night. But just like your walk here, the shop showed no sign of anything that had ended, and it gave no instruction on how to forget that it had. 

You picked your poison and put it in the basket. Then you got another bottle of the same drink, so there was one to have on the way home and one to keep you company on the sofa. 

All was going well until you began to make your way to the exit. The aisle you chose to walk down to get to the tills was probably the worst one you could. The most unsuspecting, but undeniably the worst. Just as your mind finally let you think about something else, you spotted something on the bottom shelf that shattered the facade you had worked so hard to build.

Lavender laundry detergent. Unassuming? Yes. But in no time at all, it no longer was just a bottle of detergent. And it was fucking stupid. 

Suddenly, it was late Sunday evenings when Alexia would force you out of bed so that she could put on fresh sheets, adamant it was the perfect reset for a new week. Suddenly, it was the way she would pick you up and lay you down on the bed afterwards, giving an apology in the form of soft, gentle, slow, unrushed kisses because nights together felt timeless. Suddenly it was the feeling of her clothes against your skin, of tangled limbs in the early hours of the morning, of home. 

It wasn’t fair. None of it was. 

The breakup, the ambush at the club’s gathering, the weeks without each other, the tears that fell again. 

Your stomach twisted at the thought that hit you soon after. It should have been obvious, long ago. But so much time had passed, so much animosity, it initially seemed irreparable. How could she forgive you? And when had you forgiven her?

“Disculpe? Está bien?” 

No, you weren’t. Coming face to face with a decision you had detested for months wasn’t something you could just sit back and watch.

It was a decision you had to actively take.

—

“Alexia?” 

She put her foot through the ball just as you spoke, sending it flying over the crossbar. 

“Alba told me you would be here.” 

Alba? 

Ignoring you, she collected another ball and meticulously set it up outside of the box. 

“Please.” 

She geared up to take the free-kick, and this time, the net rippled and the sound echoed off of the houses around as it nestled in the top corner. The football pitch near her childhood home was often a place she went to when she needed time on her own. And God did she have a lot of it lately. 

Alexia gave as much as she was willing to; she turned her body to face you, hands on her hips, though she kept her eyes averted. It was an offer, not an invite.

“I… I came here with so much to say but now I don’t know where to start.”

The captain had mastered the act of coming across as stoic and unbothered. There, in front of you, she seemed emotionless and totally unbothered by your sudden appearance. The sharp sting of a lump in her throat told a different story. 

She had spent so long convincing herself this moment would never come, that you had given up on the idea entirely, which she knew was selfish to put this whole thing on your shoulders, but still. Then there you were, in front of her, looking at her like she was still something that mattered. 

Her shoulders tried to slump but she stood up straighter, her expression and her body language steady and unwavering in its coldness. Her jaw was tensed, her fingers curled into fists, eyes unblinking, almost like she was trying to bring on the anger she was supposed to feel. But the tears welled anyway, traitorously burning behind her eyes, and she had to blink them back before they betrayed her. 

“I need you, Alexia. And I don’t know why I’ve spent the past months telling myself I don’t.” 

You bared your soul in the hopes she did the same thing in return. 

In the last few weeks that led to this moment, Alexia thought the nights she spent wishing for this very scene to play out would have prepared her for hearing those words. It hadn’t worked, and the love she felt for you came rushing back, weaving in between the cracks she’d tried so hard to seal. It was a miracle she didn’t fall to your feet there and then. 

A part of her wanted to scoff and tell you it was too late. Those weren’t her true feelings. The way her nails dug into the palms of her hands and how the half of her heart she had left battered against her chest as it tried to escape, tried to make its way to you again, they shone a light on the truth that had long taken hold of her. She hated how easily she folded at the sound of your voice and the honesty within it, but you can’t hate who you don’t love.

Regardless, she swallowed hard, the lump not budging an inch, and she forced her face to stay blank as she replied.

“You don’t get to say that.” 

Her voice was steadier than she felt, but even as the words left her tongue, her resolve wavered slightly. 

“I know, but I am saying it.” You took a step closer. On that occasion, she met your gaze. “I’ve been a horrible person, and what I did yesterday, it… I don’t know why I did it. I don’t have any excuses or reasons why. I’m just sorry. I’m so… so sorry.”

Still, she didn’t say a word. You didn’t blame her. Begging for her forgiveness with your tail between your legs wasn’t a pretty sight. 

“I forgive you for what happened at the restaurant and I did a long time ago. I can’t do this life thing without you, I don’t know how I did it before you but I definitely can’t do it after without you. I love you. It’s only you.”

Words spilled out of you in a frantic manner as you filled the silence she left. Alexia stood rooted to the spot, absorbing every single syllable that you uttered. She saw the way your hands fidgeted and how you’d look her in the eye before glancing away, intimidated by her lack of reaction. It was like you were searching both her and the environment around for anything to tell you where you stood with her. Truthfully, the midfielder wasn’t sure.

Relief swarmed her chest so wholly it almost hurt, though her mind was still catching up. She wanted to tell you she heard you, that she forgave you, that she loved you, but… she couldn’t. Not yet, anyway. So she let you stumble through apologises and half-finished confessions whilst she tried to remember how to breathe again. 

“Please. I n-need you. I need you more than I’ve ever needed anything. I… I don’t know what else to say.” 

When so much time passed between you showing up and her giving away not a hint at how she felt, you began to feel embarrassed. Humiliated. Ashamed that you could drive away the one person you believed genuinely loved you.

You didn’t know what else to say, but you weren’t about to see her walk away from you again like last time. It hurt too much. If she didn’t want you in her life, then you would make the decision for her. You did have some common decency.

It’s just, when you turned and took your first step away from her, you couldn’t exactly take your second when a familiar hand grabbed your wrist and spun you back around. Though, she hesitated in her next plan of action, and it gave you a chance to see the stream coming from her eyes. Before you got the chance to apologise or run away or cry tears of your own, you were engulfed in an embrace. An embrace that was steady, strong, secure, like the ones you had gotten used to before everything went wrong.

“I’m still mad at you for what you did.” 

She sobbed into your neck as she spoke, her shoulders shaking with her cries, and somehow it was the most cathartic moment of your life. 

“I know.” 

—

happy ending... question mark? 😇 reverie national team fic is actively being worked on! this is just something i got the idea for the other day and it stuck in my mind since, though it looks nothing like i thought it would (i hate it sm) best believe im putting alllll my time and love and care and effort into the reverie nt fic!

[heavensoutofsight]

i want you to see (how you look to me) | b.e.

pairing: billie eilish x reader

synopsis: you're hopelessly in love with your best friend, billie, and you're unsure if she feels the same, choosing to keep your distance -- until one fateful night in the studio where your feelings finally boil over.

word count: 3,506

tags/warnings: angst if you squint, mostly fluffy, love confessions, mutual pining, best friends to lovers

author's note: GIFT FOR YOUUUU. sorry i took so long to write something LMAO. this was very quickly proofread at 3am. any mistakes are mine! hope you enjoy :) comments/tags/reblogs are always appreciated! (credit for the divider goes to @/cafekitsune)

In the dim light of your bedroom, you scrolled through your phone's photo gallery, feeling your heart constrict at all of the pictures you had with Billie. Some were taken directly after shows, some after particular interviews, and some during a random outing the two of you decided to go on. In many of the pictures, Billie left little to no personal space, her face squished against yours and her arms completely wrapped around you. You missed the times when Billie could touch you like that and it didn't set you aflame – when it didn't make your head spin as you took in her perfume and felt her soft body underneath your hands, her ocean eyes bright and full of mirth as she looked at you.

There was no denying that there was some distance between you and Billie now. And you hated it.

You weren't sure when it happened; when you first started feeling those stupid butterflies around her. When even just the sound of her laugh made your heart soar. If somebody asked you to pinpoint the exact moment you started falling in love with your best friend, you wouldn't be able to – it was all so fuzzy and frankly you didn't think it could be attributed to a single moment anyway. It might have been that one night she slept over and you fell asleep with your head on her shoulder as she sung you to sleep. Or the time the two of you were at her place, making some vegan recipe together, playing loud music and using spoons and forks as microphones, performing for no one but yourselves and giggling profusely at Billie giving you the performance of a lifetime in the comfort of her own kitchen. Or perhaps it was the time she comforted you all night after a breakup, holding you closely and never letting go, her ring-clad hands petting you gently, as if you were made of glass.

Your heart had always belonged to Billie, long before you truly understood your feelings. And now that they were more apparent to you than ever, you simply didn't know what to do.

You knew Bille loved you just as much as you loved her. But did she feel the same fire within her whenever your hands brushed together? Did she feel those same butterflies whenever you laughed at a dumb joke or gave her a bright smile? You couldn't bear even just the thought of pouring your heart out to this woman only for the feeling to not be mutual.

You glanced at the time on your phone screen. It was late. You should've been sleeping but you were just riddled with anxiety instead, too busy imagining up a million hypothetical situations in which you would dramatically confess your feelings. You wish you had the same confidence you had in your daydreams in your real life.

You sighed, scrolling to the very last thing you had in your gallery. It was the most recent video of you and Billie, taken only a few weeks ago. The both of you were in Billie's living room. You couldn't stop the smile that tugged the corners of your lips when Billie came into view as you secretly recorded her in all of her casual glory. Her long hair was down, falling in front of her face in a way that made the breath leave your lungs. She was in an oversized t-shirt, wearing a pair of simple black shorts. She was very focused; her lips forming a pout as she stared down at the notebook in her lap, a pencil in hand.

What started as a small grin evolved into a wide, lovesick smile as you watched Billie look at the camera in the video, finally having caught on to you filming her.

“What the hell are you doing?” Past Billie had asked, a smirk slowly appearing on her face as she eyed you suspiciously. You heard yourself giggle, suddenly aiming your phone camera away from her and poorly trying to appear innocent.

“Nothing.”

“You are a fucking liar,” Billie said playfully, barely able to get the words out through her own series of chuckles.

“I'm not!” Past you exclaimed. Billie just shook her head, scrambling over to you to grab your phone, the both of you erupting into whole-hearted laughter. The last blurry frame of the video was of Billie's smiling face looking at you. You admired her perfect teeth and lips, the shape of her nose, and those damn ocean eyes, far more beautiful than any body of water you'd ever seen.

That familiar fluttery feeling returned to your stomach again.

You shut off your phone and quickly placed it on your bedside table. You rolled over in your bed, still thinking of that video. You were beginning to feel something in your chest. Your heart felt like it was constricting again. You tried to ignore, instead attempting to shift the focus of your thoughts on the weight of your blanket encompassing you, or the gentle sound of whatever random sitcom you had playing on your television for background noise; but your mind always wandered back to Billie. Her smile, her laugh, her touch.

You were deeply, madly in love with Billie Eilish, your best friend, and it was starting to drive you insane. This was not a crush, no, it was more than a crush – it was like a craving, a desire so strong it entirely consumed you.

You were so fucked.

You closed your eyes, desperately just wanting to sleep. You weren't even necessarily physically tired. Just tired of your brain going a thousand miles a minute and constantly thinking about her.

After a few long minutes of battling complete and utter restlessness, you had mentally exhausted yourself enough to the point where you were finally starting to drift off – until you heard your phone go off, which abruptly pulled you away from the brink of sleep. Normally, you would ignore it, but you recognized that notification tone. It was a tone that you specifically gave to Billie, and whenever she texted, you had to answer.

You opened your messaging app, squinting a bit at the brightness of your screen in the dark room.

heyyyy u up

i'm in the studio by myself

feeling lonely as hell

You heard the messages in her voice. You found yourself smiling again, imagining her in her little swivel chair, maybe playing a melody on the piano or strumming a tune on the guitar.

Without wasting a second, you replied.

you: of course i'm up

you: god you can't do anything without me huh?

You chuckled to yourself, watching those three little dots disappear and reappear.

billie: you are absolutely correct

billie: you just really inspire me what can i say

billie: i'm not even joking you really do

You ignored the warmth in your cheeks at her words, opting to play around some more.

you: ew

you: cheesy ass

To that, Billie replied almost instantly:

billie: shut your mouth

billie: ARE YOU COMINGGG

bille: seriously tho i know it's late but we haven't hung out in a while and i kinda miss youuuu or whateverrrr

You didn't respond right away, staring up at your plain white ceiling, releasing a sigh. Your smile faltered a bit.

She missed you. And you missed her. And even though being around her made you feel like you were gonna lose your mind, she didn't deserve to be pushed away.

“You are going to get over your feelings, starting now.” you said to yourself encouragingly, getting out of your bed to meet Billie at her place. You finally threw her a reply back.

you: i'm omw :))))))

______

You didn't knock when you finally arrived since you had the key, but you did make your presence known.

“Bil,” you shouted out. You didn't get a response, but you shrugged it off. She was probably deeply concentrated on whatever lyric or melody she was trying to create. You made your way to the studio, feeling your heart race inside of your chest. As you walked down the stairs and down a hallway, getting closer to the studio door, you felt more and more anxious.

You were going to open the door, your hand resting on the doorknob, but you froze when you heard the soft sound of humming. You leaned in closer, honing in on the gentle sound of Billie's voice, muffled and just barely audible.

“I want you to stay… til I'm in the…” She trailed off. You heard her let out a heavy sigh. That’s when you decided to make your presence known.

You slowly opened the door, quietly enough that Billie hadn’t even turned around in her chair, looking up at the large television screen in front of her, messing around with some music production software that you could never understand. You continued to stand in the doorway, watching as Billie made some small edits within the current song she seemed to be working on. She hit play after making some miniscule changes, the unfinished song softly playing out of the large speakers. As soon as the instrumental filled the room, you felt chills on every inch of your body; it sounded beautiful despite the fact that it wasn’t even done. You’d never get over how lucky you were to be able to hear the early versions of Billie’s songs – it was like being let into a secret world, and it made you feel special that you, alongside her family, got to witness every step of the process.

Eventually, the short snippet of the song had stopped, and Billie leaned back in her seat. Just from her posture you could tell that she seemed defeated, like something about the song just wasn’t right to her. She began humming again, mumbling out some lyrics here and there. You found yourself grinning as you admired Billie in her element, but then you remembered that you still hadn’t announced your presence and that you were just creepily ogling at her from the doorway. You audibly chuckled at yourself which, of course, finally grabbed Billie’s attention.

She spun around in her chair, seemingly startled at first before she realized it was you.

“Jesus Christ,” she started, her adorable laugh filling the quiet studio. “Did you just get here?”

You shook your head, heading over to the couch and making yourself comfortable. “I was standing there for a good few minutes.” You replied with a grin.

“Don't ever do that again – my heart fell into my ass.” She exclaimed, and you let out a loud cackle at that. You grabbed one of the throw pillows next to you and held it in your arms, reclining back into the familiar cushions.

“Okay, won't happen again. Maybe. No promises.” You joked, to which Bille just rolled her eyes playfully.

“Anyway, whatcha workin’ on?” You asked curiously, your eyes going back to the music software she had on the screen.

“The album, obviously.” Billie said with a smirk. Now it was your turn to roll your eyes, not being able to fight the grin tugging at the corners of your lips.

“Shut up,” you said with mirth. “Which track?”

“It's called Birds of a Feather, it's track 4. It's… pretty shit, right now.”

Your eyes widened in complete and utter bewilderment, your eyebrows shooting up to your hairline.

“Billie, what? I just heard the little snippet you played and it sounded incredible.”

“You say everything I make sounds incredible.”

“Because it's true.” You replied sincerely. To that, Billie gave you a gentle smile, looking down at her lap as if shy at the sudden praise. You felt the sensation of warmth throughout your body at just how endearing she was.

“All you do is gas me up.” Billie replied through a series of chuckles.

“Of course I'm gonna gas up my amazingly talented super star best friend,” You responded. “But… can I ask why you think it's bad?”

Billie sighed, leaning back in her chair again, twiddling her thumbs. “It's just… the lyrics are giving me a hard time. And the instrumental is missing something but I don't know what it is.”

“Can I read the lyrics?” You asked.

At that, Billie looked at you with an expression you couldn't quite read. She seemed hesitant, which was definitely unusual–she always let you read her lyrics and never felt shy about sharing stuff with you.

“Yeah, go ahead.” Bille said after a few long seconds of pondering, but you could still hear the uncertainty in her voice. Curious, your brows furrowed.

“Bil, I understand if it's something you don't wanna share with me yet–”

“No, please,” she said, quickly handing you her journal, already having opened it to the pages that contained the lyrics in question. “You can read it.”

You glanced at her expression one more time as you took the journal, and noticed that this time – she was holding back a smile, biting her bottom lip.

You were equal parts confused and eager to see what Billie seemed a little hesitant to share. You silently began reading what she had written, taking in her adorable, albeit messy handwriting. There were all kinds of scribbles on the page, certain words were crossed out. It was fascinating to you to see her thought process on the page. You loved just how deeply she thought about every word, every sentence.

Eventually, you stopped admiring her crooked letters and side notes and finally began analyzing the lyrics themselves – and when you did, you honestly wanted to cry at how lovely they were.

I want you to stay

Till I'm in the grave

Till I rot away, dead and buried

Till I'm in the casket you carry

If you go, I'm going too

‘Cause it was always you

And if I'm turning blue

Please don't save me

Nothing left to lose

Without my baby

“Billie, these are…” you paused, searching for the right words. “These are so sweet.” You said with a smile, meeting her warm blue eyes that were still trained on your face.

“Thanks.” She replied, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

As you read some more, a question had crossed your mind. Your eyes trailed off the page as you internally debated with yourself whether or not you should even ask because you were little afraid of what the answer would be.

It was clear to you these lyrics were about someone– they had to be. And the very thought of this song being about someone else in Billie's life made you feel as if there was a heavy weight in your stomach. For a second, you foolishly thought that you'd be able to overcome the feelings you had for Billie. All it took was imagining her with someone else that made those feelings rush back all at once.

You must've been quiet for longer than intended, because Billie spoke up. “Are they actually terrible? Do you hate them and you're trying to figure out how to break it to me?” Billie asked, that playful tone creeping back into her voice.

You chuckled. “They are far from terrible, Bil, it's just…”

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat.

“I was just wondering… who's it about?” You asked, feeling unreasonably nervous about her response. You don't even know why, because you had long accepted that there was a possibility she didn't like you like that. You were prepared to be heartbroken – but that didn't mean it wouldn't hurt any less.

But all Billie did was just… laugh.

“Guess.” She said, crossing her arms.

Oh, God. So there is someone else, you thought.

With a smile that didn't quite reach your eyes, you said, “How the hell am I supposed to guess? But I'm happy for you, regardless.” You said, trying to be lighthearted, but your voice dropped a bit, possibly revealing your true feelings.

“Okay, do you want a hint?”

You stared at her incredulously. “You seriously want me to guess?”

“Do you want a hint or no?” Billie asked again, ignoring your question. She was smiling widely now, and you were still feeling that pang of sadness that you couldn't quite shake, but you continued to play along anyway.

“Sure. I'll take a hint.” You said.

“Okay,” Billie started. “She's my best friend in the entire world.”

“You have a lot of best friends-”

“Girl, let me finish.” Billie said with a laugh. “She's my best friend in the entire world who's known me my entire life. She's come with me to almost every show, every interview, and has supported me through everything.”

Billie had come a little closer to you now, her tone becoming more sincere with every word.

“When I'm lonely, she comes and visits me in the studio, even when it's ridiculously late. And she always compliments me and never lets me feel bad about anything I make.”

Slowly, but surely, you were beginning to realize something. Her descriptions were becoming more and more specific. Were you being delusional?

“Billie, I… what are you saying?” You asked. Your heart pounded against your ribcage, hard enough you were sure they'd be bruised.

“Still don't know?” She asked, her voice just barely above a whisper.

You shook your head.

“Okay, I'll just tell you then.”

Billie gently cupped the side of your face. You leaned into the touch almost instantly. She was close enough that you could feel her breath on your lips.

“She's right in front of me.” She said with a grin.

You couldn't even process the sentence that just came out of her mouth, frozen in shock and disbelief.

“This song is about me?” You asked quietly, your voice breaking slightly. You felt a stinging sensation in your eyes, all of the emotion brewing within you threatening to spill.

“Do you remember the last time we hung out and you were filming me writing? I was writing this. I was writing this and thinking about you and how much I love you. I realized it as I was just… sitting there. You were laughing at some dumb meme on your phone and I just remember thinking how much I wanted you all to myself.”

You didn't realize you were crying until Billie had wiped away a tear.

“Hey, hey,” Billie said ever so softly, opting to hold both of your hands now. “Why are you crying?”

You laughed a bit through the tears, sniffling a few times before answering. “Because I… can't believe you felt this way the whole fucking time. I was going crazy, Billie.”

Billie let out a loud laugh of her own. It was your favorite sound in the world.

“Sorry. Honestly, I was trying to figure out my own feelings and how to tell you.”

“No, I'm sorry. For pushing you away.” you replied. Billie shook her head.

“Oh my god, stop. You don't have to apologize. It all worked out in the end, right?” She asked.

You smiled. “Yeah. It did.”

For several long seconds, there was a comfortable silence that stretched between the two of you. The both of you were smiling at each other, completely lost in the other's eyes. You didn't miss the way Billie's eyes glanced at your lips.

“Billie.” You spoke.

“Yeah, baby?”

The pet name made your heart soar.

“If you don't fucking kiss me right now–”

Billie didn't even let you finish your sentence, her lips colliding with your eyes in an explosion of pent up feelings and passion. She held both sides of your face in your hands, while yours snaked around her waist. You held onto her like she was gonna disappear any second and kissed her like you were starving.

The kiss started off innocent– but it quickly delved into something a bit more intense when Billie just slightly bit your lip, not enough to cause pain but enough to make you gasp. She introduced her tongue hesitantly, silently asking for your permission, which you granted without a second thought.

At some point, Billie finally got out of her swivel chair and moved to sit down on the couch with you. The two of you had pulled apart briefly for that, and when Billie was seated, her eyes were hooded and she was gazing at you like you were sex on longs. She patted her lap, and liked an obedient dog, you wasted no time crawling into her lap.

“I've dreamt about this.” You said, completely breathless and warm in the face.

“Oh, yeah?” Billie asked with a smirk that had your insides flipping upside down. “What else have you dreamt about?”

“Being able to call you mine.”

At that, Billie smiled. “That's all?”

“No, that's not all, but… I'd rather show than tell…” you trailed off, but it was obvious what you were referring to.

“We are getting out of my brother's basement, right fucking now.” Billie said.

The two of you snuck out of Finneas’ house, hand-in-hand and giggling like little kids in love.

[cravetive]

𝚆𝙷𝙴𝙽 𝙸𝚃 𝚁𝙰𝙸𝙽𝚂

☾ ⋆*･ Pairings: Meteorologist! Jin x Fem!reader

☾ ⋆*･ Synopsis: after many failed relationships you find yourself struggling to open up to new connections but once you overhear that your timid colleague Seokjin has a crush on you, you set out to play a game of temptation where somewhere in the process, you come face to face with the sudden realization that the weather is not the only unpredictable thing.

☾ ⋆*･ Warnings: SMUT! workplace/office au, Jin is quiet and innocent until he's not, fingering, oral sex! ( M! receiving ), dirty talk, creampie ( hehe) , teasing, unprotected sex, hair pulling, hardcore, a bit angsty ( im an angst slut leave me alone ) , foreplay , slight dom/sub dynamics, kissing, biting/marking, we will pray Y/n gets her life together.

☾ ⋆*･ Authors note: I wish I could tell you what I've done but this is what my brain produces when I'm on 5 hours of sleep.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ Word count: 10 K ( for what reason?)

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Ever since you were conscious you would often find yourself lost in the sky - entrained on the sun, the moon, and the stars but most importantly on the weather. Even before you could walk You wondered what caused thunders to ripple through the clouds, worried over the sun that disappeared during rainfall. You were fixated, overly obsessed and it is what had led you to become a research meteorologist and whilst some found the profession to be boring and fruitless (your parents), there was nothing in the world that you loved most then to predict cloudy skies and cold nights. Being able to observe, understand, and therefore explain the earth's atmospheric phenomenons offers you a sense of gratification.

On the other hand you couldn’t say you ran with the same luck when it came to love and relationships, your long list of exes and failed talking stages were enough scientific evidence to prove that. Things just never ended well between you and whoever fate decided to send your way. you could never decipher if it was due to the lack of communication, lack of interest, or a little bit of both that prevented you from harvesting anything solid with those you fell in love with but it always left you high and dry. It wasn’t like you were a hopeless romantic either, yet the instincts you had when it came to forecasting sunny skies were just not there when it came to romance.

To put it bluntly, your relationships just didn’t last and it had brought you to a point where you questioned all your romantic interactions.

How long will this one last? How long until this one ends? Will we see each other in public and turn the other way?

It's why you struggled to get your feelings across most times, it's why you found it almost impossible to tell that certain person who sat across from you at work how he made you feel.

The timid and reserved Junior meteorologist didn’t catch your attention at first, always keeping to himself and rarely participating in any after work activities with your co-workers, which had made it almost impossible for you to even notice him. that was until 3 weeks ago during a mandatory work dinner. Whilst on a small bathroom break you had unintentionally walked into a game of truth and dare between your colleagues where by perhaps fate you had eavesdropped on the confession of that very same drunken man.

You had opted to feign ignorance, slipping back into the table as if nothing had happened all whilst deciding to commence a cruel game against the meek man. You would find yourself teasing him, subtly flirting until his cheeks turned red and his words turned into stutters. At first it was a childish fun ruse but as time progressed you found yourself looking in his direction more often, entranced by his smile and quiet charisma.

You were doomed and yet, it didn’t stop you from taunting him. small winks and little comments of how good he looked in his baseball caps and soft sweaters, causing him to often jolt as a response. It was harmless until it wasn’t, until you started imagining him between your legs, his large and skillful hands wrapped around your neck.

“for fucks sake” Daiyu, your best friend and colleague huffed as she ran towards the entrance, her freshly styled copper hair drenched with rain that poured from the sunny sky. You giggled, closing your umbrella and entering the building, your heels squeaking against the marbled floors. Daiyu followed after you, a trail of curses falling from her mouth whilst her hands frantically wiped at her wet clothes.

“I always tell you to carry an umbrella and you never listen” you sighed.

“It was a 30% chance!” she exclaimed, reaching to frantically press on the elevator button.

“I should sue you guys” Daiyu groaned.

You looked back at her, taking in her flustered and soaked appearance, deciding not to pass further judgment. Daiyu was as stubborn as a bull and anything that you chose to say would just  go  through one ear and out the other anyways. you reached into your purse and grabbed a napkin, extending it out for her to take. She snatched it urgently and dabbed on her face, emitting a groan of frustration at the inconvenience the sky had caused her.

“It was so sunny and warm outside” she complained, which caused you to laugh loudly, both of you stepping into the elevator as the doors slid open.

“Looks can be deceiving Daiyu” you noted, watching as the doors closed in front of you.

Daiyu smirked, disregarding your statement and focusing on the current situation you were in. her mind going back to the late-night conversation you both had shared 2 days ago over wine and expensive cheese. She leaned over closer to you, her eyebrows teasingly raising while you shared a bewildered expression on your face.

“what?” you asked, concerned with her inquisitive glances.

“I guess the same thing can be said about Jin,” Daiyu winked, a hint of excitement in her tone. She goaded you to speak on the subject, but you rolled your eyes in response.

“I bet he is a real beast in the sheets” Daiyu raised her eyebrows.

“Daiyu please, this is not the time or place to have this conversation” you scolded - eyes fixed on the numbers that flashed on the small screen above the elevator panel. 

“I guess you are deceiving - look at you all serious now like you aren't torturing that poor man.”

“Daiyu” your eyes widened and she was lucky you were both alone in the elevator - out of hearing range of any nosy employee’s. 

“I didn’t share that with you so that you can hold it over my head” you snapped, making a quick escape as soon as the elevator doors opened.

“oh come on!” she shouted after you, the sound of her heels echoing inside the office as she chased after you, her arm interlinking with yours when she caught up. you didn’t intend to avoid the topic, in fact you found it relieving to be able to speak to someone freely about it but what Daiyu was trying to indicate with her previous statements were by far completely illogical. 

Jin was but a shy and reserved guy, not the kind that tried to deceive by putting on appearances. 

How else was he able to contain himself by your constant teasing and flirting, if he wasn’t.

“we will talk about this later” you declared, giving her a soft shove towards her desk. Daiyu pouted, providing you a saddened glance whilst reluctantly dragging herself to her desk where she threw herself into her chair in rather dramatic defeat. You giggled at the scene she produced and walked across the room, reaching your own desk.

Seokjin was already there, too focused on the screen in front of him to notice your arrival. You took this time to take in his appearance. the sweater he wore accentuating his biceps and broad shoulders, the pair of glasses that sat on the bridge of his nose causing a pulsation between your thighs - lured by the image of him crawling over you with them on. You cleared your throat quickly, grabbing his attention and interrupting your perverted train of thought.

He glanced up at you, cheeks already turning pink as he took in your presence.

“Good Morning Mr. Kim” you whispered, offering him a smug smile whilst sliding into your chair. It took a moment for him to respond, his eyes briefly falling on the low v neck blouse you decided to wear today (one of your many little tricks of course). His lips parted, a gulp traveling down his throat. He quickly removed his eyes from your accentuated breasts, dragging his attention back to his screen.

“G-good Morning” he stumbled on the phrase, his tone quiet and faint.

you smiled out of satisfaction, unable to suppress the butterflies in your stomach that only he managed to make flutter. Seokjin is sexy in the most subtle ways; he doesn’t even try and yet he could make you squirm in your seat like a schoolgirl. His full lips, his deep intense eyes, and dorky smile kindled a pressure in your lower abdomen that you often tried to conceal by crossing your legs. 

“I like that color on you, you look good” you complimented, offering Jin a small smirk.

Jin glanced down at his sweater, his hands smoothing out the cashmere deep blue material. He had liked the color, had even thought it was a nice sweater when he first picked it out at the store but having its tincture complimented by you now, gave it a new feeling - it felt softer against his skin.

“thank you” he almost muttered.

You nodded happily, bringing your hair into a ponytail as you always did when beginning the day. Jin’s eyes hesitantly trailed your exposed neck, carving out the smoothness of your skin and studying each detail of the necklace that hung there - soon halting at the sight of your lips, a breath hitching in his throat. 

“You like what you see, Mr. Kim?” you asked, your eyes sparking with the realization of his discreet stare.

Jin sat up,your voice startling him out of his daze - his eyes now looking in every direction but yours.

“cause you can see more if you want, you just have to ask” your voice was a mere whisper and Jin could feel every hair in his body stand up from your tone alone. There was a long silence, your eyes intensively studying his composure. He moved his attention back on his computer screen, deciding it would be best to ignore the comment that made his heart run laps inside his chest all together.

“Hey Jin” you called, his eyes quickly moving back to you with hesitation.

“I'm only joking” you lied.

You would've allowed him to see your entire soul if he had just asked.

The day had turned sour rather quickly, the entire office thrown into a frenzy by the threat of an incoming spring storm and it had left you running in circles all throughout the building, your heels beginning to jab into your feet painfully- leaving your soles red and sore. You groaned, stepping into the cafeteria for the first time in the day, finally allowing yourself a small break amidst the hysteria. You needed coffee and you needed it fast. Your heavy eyes scanned the cabinet in search for your favorite mug - propping yourself on your toes for a better view. 

“Where the hell did I put you?” you muttered under your breath, your hands pushing away various mugs in an attempt to find the deep emerald one you always used. Your shoulders ached, weighed down by the tumultuous day and your eyes burned, the result of staring at your computer screen for 4 hours straight. Not finding your mug would be the last straw, the drop of water that would make you spill over. You groaned loudly and leaned against the counter, your hand flying to cover your face in frustration while you balanced from one foot to the other, trying to ease the ache shooting up your legs.

“Are you looking for this?” a quiet and familiar voice asked.

You raised your head slowly, capturing a view of the man standing in front of you, your mug held comfortably in his hand. Exhaustion creeped through your body, leading you to bubble with irrational anger but as you prepared to berate the individual who had seized your precious mug, you took a moment to study their fingers, soon realizing they were the hands you melted over ever so often, concluding who the culprit behind the theft was.

Jin offered you a concerned glance, his profound sepia eyes blinking slowly as if expecting a response. You remained silent, losing yourself in his stare. the ache on your limbs suddenly evaporating for those short seconds, a wave of serenity settling deep inside of you. you shook your head slowly, unable to break eye contact as he made time stop around you.

All urgency to resume your pending tasks halted whilst you stood in front of him - The buzzling in the office growing quiet as your eyes slowly traced his features.

“I can wash it out if you want, I’m done anyways” Jin offered, a small smile forming on his face.

Your attention crawled to his mouth, inspecting his plump and soft lips, lips you wanted to press yours against, lips that were smeared with the cold foam of his coffee, foam you imagined on other parts of his body for you to lick.

“n-no, it's okay” this time it was you who stuttered; it was you who grew flustered.

The room fell silent as you remained stunned by his intense stare, your mind flowing with ideas that were neither appropriate nor sane. You were in deep shit, and you knew it, your heart pressed against your chest begging to jump into the hands of the man standing before you whilst your mind yelled that he was like everyone else, like every guy you had ever met. The one with the soft eyes and quick lies.

“You uh have something” you gestured to his mouth, making him aware of the leftover foam on his lips.

He lowered his head in embarrassment, his hand quickly flying to wipe away at his face. his eyes trailed away from yours, causing you to inhale sharply.

“Did I get it?” he asked, turning back to you. His cheeks still flushed with shame.

You inspected his lips once again, taking in their smoothness and soft pink color, pictured them gracing your skin softly - leaving their imprint on your skin.

“Here I’ll-” you offered, reaching forward and closing the gap between you both. you leisurely wiped away at the top of his lip with your thumb, removing all the residual foam left there. His lips were warm under your touch, your breaths growing short and unruly due to the sensation.

You could feel his stare fixed on you as you aided him, your cheeks becoming rogue at the sudden intimacy of the situation. Jin’s mouth parted as if he had wanted to say something but even if he had you doubted you would have been able to hear him over the hammering of your heart. The euphoric feeling dazed you out of all self restraint - luring you to act upon your intrusive thoughts .

you found yourself losing yourself in the sea of brown that were his eyes again, knowing you could drown and subsequently, dipped your foam covered thumb into your mouth without a second thought.

You collected the sugar that had once rested on his lips on your tongue and allowed it to rest there. A pleasure filled hum echoing from within your chest - your eyes fluttering shut at the satisfaction the fulfillment of your craving caused. You remained stuck there, your brain unable to generate anything but utter bliss. 

“hey! Is there any creamer lef…”

The voice of the intern entering the cafeteria was like cracking thunder, your body jerking as a life vest was being thrown at you, aiding you from going under. Your eyes shot open in realization, body tensing at the action you had just mindlessly committed but Jin didn’t appear to be as startled as you, his eyes firmly held on your lips. It felt like your whole body was on fire and it was only then when you noted the damp fabric of your panties pressed against your clit. 

Both you and Jin turned your heads quickly, eyes landing on the intern who stood shocked by the door, his mouth held ajar. You blinked quickly; your brain unable to register what had just taken place. it was as if everything inside you had been electrocuted and you couldn’t even find the strength to defend yourself against the silent accusation the interns eyes made.

You dreadfully took a step back from Jin, lowering your gaze once he looked back at you - you cleared your throat quickly before stumbling out of the shared space. The sound of your heels leaving echoes inside of Jin’s head.

You had deduced 2 things from that brief encounter. The first being you and Jin were beyond screwed - interns liked to talk, liked to share and gossip didn't take long to spread within the office and secondly, that being alone in a room with Jin was dangerous, far more than you had anticipated.

“Yup, it's been sent to the group chat” Daiyu nodded, pushing a spoon full of yogurt into her mouth.

You sighed, covering your face in agony.

As expected the details of your little encounter with Jin had been shared all throughout the office with the intern taking quite the creative liberty of disclosing details you were sure never happened. You groaned loudly, pushing your food away. 

“Oh god” you whispered, “we work together, you know I can lose my job right?” you stared at her, wide eyed but your friend didn’t join your panic, instead a small giggle escaped her lips and your eyebrows intertwined in confusion.

“Do you find this funny?” you yelled, throwing a balled-up napkin at her head.

“Hey! Let’s use our words” she laughed, causing you to throw your head back in defeat.

“What did you think was going to happen Y/n? Jin is a man and you are a woman - i'm surprised you haven't humped in the janitors closet yet” she mused. 

You pressed your hands against your temples, trying to stop yourself from imagining the both of you doing the mentioned act. 

“Relax, it’s not that bad” she responded, “besides their just rumors, okay?” you knew she was trying to calm you, trying to bring you back from the trepidation you had been succumbing to during the last few days but her words didn’t offer any relief, anxiety running through your entire body quickly and mercilessly.

“you know I almost believed it but then he added that Jin had his hands wrapped around your waist and I had to debunk it” Daiyu shared, swallowing the yogurt in her mouth “cause we both know that boy would simply combust if he even graced his finger tips against your skin.”

You shot bullets in her direction, how was she able to make a joke out of all of this when you were literally falling apart? your job on the line, your reputation. Everything you had worked so hard to get and maintain all down the gutter for a man and Yet, there wasn’t even a hint of regret in your thoughts, in fact the only reason why you were so stressed out in the first place was for the simple fact that you were caught,caught doing something so frivolous and yet the whole office was in an uproar about it.

If you knew you would be at the brink of getting fired over lingering stares and kinship, you would’ve at least given yourself the liberty of kissing him.

“Hey, you are in your head again” Daiyu yelled, snapping her fingers in your face. you blinked in her direction and sighed, turning away once again.

“Can this get any worse?” you complained.

“I think it just might,” Daiyu winced.

You glanced back at her and turned your head in the direction of her widened eyes. The director had stepped into the cafeteria, and he was walking straight to you. you felt your body tremble, your brain preparing for the worst. You quickly stood up, your entire nervous system beginning to shut down.

“Ms. Y/n” he greeted, you stood completely still, unable to bring any air into your lungs as your knees threatened to collapse.

“Mr. Han,” your voice trembled.

Daiyu stood up quickly, putting down her yogurt and offering your boss a 90 degree bow before standing up straight, giving you a panicked glance.

“Ms. Y/n do you have a moment? I would like to go over some things in my office” your heart dropped, your palms clammy. You soon became very aware of every vein in your body, pulsating strongly against your skin.

your throat went dry, sandpaper rubbing against the other as you tried to form a coherent response.

“I uh I – yeah”

He turned quickly without another word, his steps firm and demanding, you followed behind him like a lost puppy, glancing back at Daiyu; your eyes brimmed with tears. she attempted to give you a smile through her concerned expression but even her movements faltered when she offered you a thumbs up. You were screwed, you had gone too far in your little game and now you were facing the consequences.

The walk back to Mr. Han’s office felt eternal, passing coworkers who stared and mumbled amongst each other. You were dragging your feet at this point, your heart plummeting into despair the closer you got to his office. In retrospect you didn’t feel contrition towards the event that had taken place, one does not lament over things they enjoyed but now was not the time for you to ponder on the things you did or didn't regret.

one word from your boss and you would be sent packing with all of your hopes and dreams.

You entered his office quietly, brain swarmed with negative thoughts - predicting the words that would soon empty from his mouth.

‘YOU’RE FIRED’ 

The unspoken yet inevitable words rang inside your ears - tears swelling in your eyes out of mere anticipation. 

You let out a long breath, hoping that for a second it could appease your mind but it was no use, you were a nervous wreck and it was evident by the way your boss stared at you whilst he sat behind his desk. You decided to solve math problems in your head, a method that most times distracted you from distressing situations but as you began to find the answer to your first algebra problem you felt a presence next to you and when you glanced over, your legs buckled.

“please take a seat guys” your boss requested.

You tried to move your limbs, but your feet were stuck to the ground, eyes fixed on Jin whilst he avoided your gaze and pushed out his chair taking a seat as instructed. He didn't greet you as he tended to do nor did he give you one of his famous small introverted smiles you often looked forward to. It was as if you weren’t even there but you were and it was as if he couldn’t care less. 

Ouch…

he was tense, you could see it and It was all your fault. you were fucked, royally fucked. Your shaky hands reached for your own chair, hesitantly slipping next to him.

“I can assume you know why I’ve asked the both of you here” Mr. Han began, your stomach somersaulting painfully. You glanced over at Jin who remained silent, not a speck of anxiousness in his demeanor. Why was he so relaxed? Had he just accepted his fate? Your face contorted with conflict and then turned to face your boss, a long weighed sigh leaving your body.

“I want to apologize, I know that it wasn’t ethical and I assume full responsibility-“ you began rambling, your mouth going painfully dry. your boss stared back at you like you had 3 heads and your voice faded into thin air, further apprehension spreading inside of you.

“Y/n, I can attest you are really good at your job but why are you apologizing for the weather?” Mr. Han chuckled. you blinked slowly, unable to understand his words.

“huh?”

“look, we might be facing a storm soon and I want to send a group of you over to our headquarters in Yeosu, they will be hit the hardest and in all honesty they need all the help they can get”

Relief and embarrassment flow through you as his intentions are made clear. you let out a small nervous giggle struggling with the intrusive desire to slap yourself across the face.

“I can go on my own,” Jin interrupted, and you quickly turned to him. his face cold and expressionless, your stomach dropping once again and all those bad feelings that had previously  swallowed you, began eating at you all over again.

“I'm sure Ms. Y/n  here has a lot of work on her plate and I'm sure I can do most of the work myself.”

His words were rational, made sense even but you couldn’t stop yourself from thinking this was just the aftermath of the rumors that had been spreading. You understood him, being spoken about and stared at when most times all he wanted to do was go about undetected must’ve been uncomfortable, albeit it made your insides twist.

“oh i'm sure you are more than capable but there will be a lot to cover and I just don’t think you’ll be able to manage.”

“Then give me a team, Ms. Y/n can stay here with the others - I'm sure we will need coverage here too” Jin insisted. you couldn’t bring yourself to protest. It was probably the best idea. You didn’t want any more rumors to spread about the two of you, not when it made Jin treat you like this. The game was over - no longer did you find amusement in your actions, instead you started to regret toying with him in the first place. it was immature on your part and you wanted nothing more than to apologize for your childish ways.

“I can understand your consideration of Ms. Y/n but it wasn’t a request” Mr. Han stated, causing chills to go down your spine.

“the train tickets have been purchased, you will be departing tomorrow morning” your boss concluded.

Jin stood up first, walking out of the room without another word. You followed behind quickly, your head spinning in circles as you tried catching up to him. 

“Jin” you called, but he kept his pace - not bothering to look back at you.

“Jin” you repeated, your voice much louder this time. 

His steps slowed, a sigh falling from his lips before he turned to look at you - you couldn't make out the stare he held once his eyes met with yours but it made you feel like shit. This entire ordeal was making you question the kind of person you were and for the first time since you had begun playing mind games with the man, you had realized how fucked this entire thing was. 

“How can i help you Ms. Y/n” his tone had always been reserved but this time it was different - you could feel the chill from a mile away. 

“I just wanted to say I'm sorry” you breathed. 

“Okay” he answered. 

“Okay?” you questioned, taken aback by his response. 

“Okay” Jin reaffirmed before he spun around and left you standing alone and confused in the empty hallway. 

The train ride had been 3 long painful hours and even though all your colleagues had slept peacefully, including Daiyu who snored into your ear the entire trip you hadn’t been able to stop thinking of Jin. He avoided you like the plague the entire way to Yeosu. Putting on his headphones when it was only the two of you awake, making sure he was the first to exit the train once it arrived, and when you entered the shared home you and your colleagues would be staying in for the longevity of the trip, he intentionally chose the room furthest away from yours.

You decided to just let the situation be, there wasn’t anything you could do now and besides, it didn’t appear like he even wanted an apology. Maybe, seeking him out would only make things worse.

“Have you talked to him?” Daiyu asked, setting up a small satellite on the ground to assist the tracking of the storm.

“no” you muttered, writing down notes in your notepad “and quite frankly I don’t intend to Daiyu.”

“oh come on, we will be here for 2 more days and you guys are just gonna what? Pretend the other is not there? It's making me and everyone else uncomfortable” she complained.

“And what other options do I have? I tried to apologize but he just said okay, like what even is that? okay?!” you huffed with frustration.

“he even stayed in when we said we would go out for drinks” you whisper, the topic alone distracting you from the data you were collecting. The memory caused an ache in your chest, an ache that you didn’t like. It was a faint soreness that had accompanied you many times before, during nights of heartache and rejection, so imperceptible yet debilitating.

“The kid likes you, we know he likes you, you know he likes you, and you like him” Daiyu shrugs “why are you dragging this?” her tone was annoyed but she held a smile on her face.

“it's more complicated than that and you know that” you responded, rolling your eyes.

“ugh whatever keep eye fucking him for all I care” Daiyu groaned.

“Are you all done here? I'll wait in the car” you yelled, taking quick steps away from Daiyu.

“hey! We need to make sure it's stable!” Daiyu yelled out but you ignored her, pretending to be too far to hear her curses.

As predicted the storm had arrived ferociously. Wind ripping through the city, rain pouring harshly - turning the sky opaque. Your dry and pained eyes stared at the computer screen in front of you as you wrote yet another report, racing against mother nature in an attempt to keep up with the current weather. You hadn’t slept in the last 24 hours and the toll it had left was visible. The only thing keeping you awake being the loud crackles of thunder tearing into the sky. 

You had been locked in your room all day and you had no intentions on stepping out.

The rest of the group with the exception of Jin had left to track the storm, giving you hourly updates on the current situation and the damage the storm was leaving in its path. Knowing you were alone with him in the same house left an anxious haze in your system.

You allowed your eyes to flutter shut for a few seconds, giving them some moisture but your mind wandered to another place, drifting deeper into your consciousness - within the darkness of your tightly shut eyes you envisioned Jin’s capable hands. touching, roaming, rubbing. You retracted the image of his mouth, of his tongue. Sliding, licking, pulling. And then there it was, the pooling between your thighs, the pressure under your navel.

Your eyes opened quickly as another thunder rolled through the sky, bright lights seeping through your half-opened blinds, dragging you away from your salacious contemplations.

You needed to clear your mind, to provide your brain another task to focus on before it began to rot. An impulse surged through you, your body rising from the chair it had made a home out of and stepping out into the dark house. What was the worst that could happen? For Jin to ignore you? He was already doing that anyway.

Your steps were soft as you made your way to the kitchen, a cup of chamomile tea sounding delicious at the moment, it would help you fall asleep and above all it would shake away the anxiousness that gripped you. your mouth watered with the idea. 

Aside from the small creaks the foundation of the old home made against the strong wind outside- everything else was completely silent. The gray evening sky offering the only source of light throughout the space.

You reached into the coverts and pulled out a kettle, which you filled with water and set on the stove to boil. Your eyes wandered out the window, concerned with the raging weather that apparently had no intentions on stopping. You were worried for your team, hoping they had found shelter, and you were also worried about running into Jin. all the bravery you had suddenly found in those short seconds when you first decided to leave your room quickly fading away. you blinked slowly, trying to rid yourself of the exhaustion pressing on your body.

 You made mental plans of a warm shower and then finally some rest, if the thunder allowed it.

If your Jin ridened brain would allow it.

There was another crackle in the sky and then the sliding door in the dining room opened and slammed shut, your whole nervous system jolting as a loud scream escaped your mouth. you turned your head to access the damage the wind had probably caused but your made out a figure standing by the door. A drenched, heaving figure. You blinked rapidly, ensuring it wasn’t your imagination and once your brain awakened from its internal slumber you realized that the person standing there, dripping wet from head to toe was Jin.

“Jin?” you exclaimed “are you okay?”

Your feet moved quickly towards him, mind racing with weariness at the sight of him. His presence left a puddle on the floor, his rain slicked black hair stuck to his forehead. He nodded slightly, wanting to avoid further questioning. You reached into the closet nearby and pulled out a clean towel. 

He was shivering, mouth trembling as he stood there in complete silence.

“What were you doing outside? It's dangerous out there” your voice was stern, but you weren’t trying to reprimand him. Jin was a grown man, and you were sure he was aware of the current climate.

“I had forgotten my camera” he simply explained, holding up the canon T7 camera for you to see.

“Gosh, let me help you” you sighed, taking fast steps towards him. your mind was racing with ways you could help him, concerned with his well-being however once you were closer, all those thoughts stopped – paused by the view in front of you. Jin’s black t-shirt was glued to his body, the imprint of his torso visible through the wet material. His face dripped droplets of water as he stared at you with those eyes that you habitually melted over and you weren’t sure if it was due to the rain outside, but his skin appeared to glisten, accentuating the veins that crawled down his forearms and down his hands.

This wasn’t the time to look, to peer like you often did, not a moment to tease but your eyes couldn’t help trail down to his sweats that now due to the weight of the water they had absorbed sat just below his waist, his underwear peeking above them.

You cleared your throat, attempting to remain focused whilst your hands tended to the shivering man in front of you but once the towel touched his skin, his hand came up to grip yours. You looked up at him quickly, your brows knitting with concern. His eyes pierced through you and you recalled the reason why the both of you hadn’t spoken this entire time, remembered the way he had avoided you at all costs.

“don’t do that” his tone was low, a heaviness within it that you had never heard him use before.

“do what?” yours quivered, a crack forming at the last word.

“don’t provoke me,” Jin stated.

The ache returned inside your chest, the one that you hated so much and you felt weak. Your eyes faltered, blinking away from his gaze with a heavy sigh.

“Jin, I want to apologize again, I shouldn’t have-“ you began, unable to recognize the softness in your words - a knot embedding itself in your trachea.

“What are you apologizing for?” his expression was that of confusion and you felt intimidated. The question leaves you disoriented.

“what?” you asked.

“you shouldn’t apologize if you aren’t sorry.”

“but I am” you stood on those words, truly feeling culpable of the situation you had created due to your lack of self control, due to your habit of complicating things but Jin’s words held different meaning which you had missed due to your lack of sleep,or perhaps it was because you couldn’t concentrate on anything else besides the bulge that pressed against his drenched sweats.

 Jin was teasing you.

He stepped closer, his chest now mere inches from yours. His towering build caused you to become very aware of how tall he really was, you didn’t speak another word as the room suddenly shrunk 3 sizes, your breath trapped inside of your rib cages.

“I take pride in the kind of man that I am” he muttered, leaning his face towards yours. “im respectful – a well mannered man” Jin’s eyes trailed down to your lips and he watched them intently as they parted slightly. 

“I am a civil man” he whispered, his hand rising to caress the skin of your cheek softly - erupting goosebumps everywhere inside of you. the shy and concealed man you had come to know had disappeared, leaving no traces of innocence – his stare flickering with lust. His thumb smoothed over your mouth and you could feel your heart rumble within your chest, your body trembling with each outlet of air.

“but you continue to toy with me, you appear in my dreams where I find myself doing the most indecent things to you” the confession made you lean into his touch, the realization of how good his hand felt pressed against your cheek eliminating all hesitation “it makes me question what a gracious man like me can do.”

“Jin” you trembled, body running feverishly warm as you bore into his eyes.

His hand traveled to the back of your head, his fingers intertwining with strands of your hair and he pulled, firmly but yet not hard enough to cause pain – your mouth opened as a whine traveled through your throat but before it could escape; his lips landed on yours.

 his tongue twisting away the small complaint.

It felt like a dream, like it wasn't real and for a second you wanted to pinch yourself – you wanted your alarm to go off so that you could wake up because it felt too real and dreams like these often brought you utter disappointment. Jin ran his hands against your body, his cold touch leaving a tingling sensation in its wake.

You could feel your arousal dripping against your panties, the exhilaration of his mouth and hands on you leaving your mind hazed. Jin’s hand trailed under your tank top, his fingers gracing your stomach as they dragged themselves towards your breast, your small whimpers pouring into his ravenous mouth. His hand went under your bra where his fingers found your nipples, rubbing them lightly. your body leaning into his as a consequence. You both stood so close now and yet, it didn’t feel like enough.

You wanted to melt into him, wanted to feel him everywhere all at once – until you couldn't breath, until you were louder than the storm outside.

Small moans left your lips, urging him to lose all control and you could tell he was reaching his breaking point when his hips jerked forward, his erection pressing against your thigh. You leaned away from his lips, eyes meeting at the sudden action. You tugged at his drenched t-shirt and he allowed you to remove it, lifting his arms up in the air. Your eyes trailed his skin as you exposed it, inch by inch.

He was gorgeous, not a trace of imperfections on his soft pale skin – his shoulders were so broad and you pictured your legs stretched over them, giving him full access to the part that pulsed sorely in-between your thighs.

His hand reached for your hair once again, pulling your head back - his tongue traveling up the valley of your neck. your eyes fluttered shut, mouth releasing short sighs as he bit and nibbled on the tender skin. You felt like your skin was on fire, cheeks burning due to the lack of oxygen his mouth was causing. It was a  high you wanted to be in at all times.

 you had misread Jin entirely. This man was capable of destroying you, the evidence in the way your body trembled under his attention.

His hand slipped from under your shirt, finding the hem of your pajama pants and guiding his hand inside. Your mouth falling completely open once his slender fingers reach your clit, quivering in anticipation. He palmed you through your panties slowly, allowing your wetness to spread across the crutch of your panties.

“mhmm so warm” Jin groaned almost painfully.

He licked his lips as he stared into your eyes, darkness enveloping them the longer his hand remained inside of your pants, you knew you were completely fucked, he had you right where he wanted you.

 a thought arises from within the deepest part of your mind that perhaps, he was the one toying with you all this time. testing how far you would go to bring him to this point.

“Jin” you moaned “I want to uh.”

“What do you want to do?” he asked, arching his brow at your broken request.

You couldn’t concentrate but you were sure of what you wanted, of what you wanted to do to him. you reached forward, your hand finding his rock hard dick - giving it a slow pump. It quivered under your touch, urging you for more. Small groans fell out Jin’s mouth, the hand intertwined with your hair pulling back a bit harder.

Your eyes pleaded out to him -  slowly sinking on your knees. your stare never breaks with Jin. You wanted to look at him while you snatched his soul away, you had imagined this moment so many times and now that it was finally here, presented to you in a silver platter your mouth salivated. You slowly pushed down his sweats and then his boxers, his erection springing out, standing tall in front of you.

Your willing tongue unraveled from your mouth, holding his delicate length in your hand as you slid your tongue up his shaft, spreading your saliva against the pulsing vein there. Your deep breaths cascades over his tip, his cock twitching against your tongue in anticipation. Jin watched  through hooded eyes, unable to blink away from your position under him.

“Ah fuck” he groaned. 

You looked so pretty, so dirty – he could cum from the sight alone.

Your tongue glided towards his tip, your damp muscle collecting all the pre-cum that sat on his slit, the salty taste making your clit pulsate. Your tongue slipped back and forth and then you felt it, his whole body trembling at the pleasure you were drawing out with just your mouth and you let out a moan, one that you couldn’t withhold because god did he look ethereal from this angle.

You eased his head into your mouth, eyes wide open looking up at him – your cheeks hollowing as you began to slowly bob your head, allowing him to catch his breath whilst your tongue glided around his thickness. Hisses streamed out of him, the sensation of your warm mouth wrapped around him leading him to throw his head back in pleasure.

Your saliva allowed you to take in more of him – feeling his cock reach the back of your throat, tickling your tonsils. you began moving your head faster, your hand reaching to pump the length that your mouth couldn’t take, the other slipping inside of your pajamas, your fingers rubbing against your folds and dipping inside of your warm walls.

His hand reached down, gripping your hair again and you noticed it was something he liked to do but you didn’t mind – the small pang of discomfort causing moans to vibrate against his dick. Jin’s hips started to move into your willing mouth, drool dripping down your chin as you continued your quick tempo – the sound of his drenched cock dipping in and out of your mouth echoing inside of the dining area along with the sound of your gagging. 

Your eyes burned, tears brimming at the corners but you didn’t dare to look away as he looked down at you, he appeared so sexy whilst in heat, the thought that it was you doing this to him causing your fingers to move quicker inside of you, your arousal gliding down your hands. 

“Y/n” Jin moaned.

You removed your hand from his shaft and took in the rest of him, you could feel your throat begin to burn but you didn’t care – your need to have his entire length in your mouth overpowering even your need for air. Your head bobbed up and down, waiting for him to come undone in your mouth but his hand pulled back on your head, causing his cock to slide out of your mouth with a loud pop.

“That's not where I want to come,” he groaned, his chest rising and falling with each harsh breath he took. 

He glided his thumb against your pulsing red lips, collecting the drool that remained on your chin. You whimpered, your own thumb pressing against your clit - fucking yourself to the sight of him. He carried a dark ardor, a look in his eyes that you had never witnessed before or perhaps never noticed. 

In one swift movement you were off the floor, Jin placed you on the kitchen counter - his tongue once again sliding down the nape of your neck dragging out small moans from your mouth. He was experienced, his mouth and hands knowing where to touch and tug as if he had studied your entire anatomy and you let him, falling into the bliss of all your lust filled dreams. 

His mouth found yours, his lips blending against your own with rapid appetite. His hands traveled to your waist, moving his fingers in between the skin and the hem of your pants and with one pull - he brought down your pajamas and dampened panties. You yelped as the cold air hit your hot clit - begging for his touch. He pulled away from your kiss - bringing his pointer and index finger into his mouth and coating the digits with his saliva - his eyes fixed on yours. 

Your body shivered, as you watched him preparing himself to completely wreck you and not a word of objection leaves your mouth, entranced with how sexy he makes it all look. He’s a professional and you had been too cocky to ever realize that. He pressed his fingers against your throbbing pussy, your hips jerking forward at the sensation. His fingers are long and warm against your cunt and you want nothing more than to have them inside of you. 

“Shhh relax” Jin hummed, rubbing your clit in small slow circles. 

Your breath trembled, mouth falling open as he teased your needy cunt - a smirk forming on his lips. Your touch deprivation didn't go unnoticed to the man standing in front of you. Your back arching into his teasing contact. He leaned forward and left wet kisses on your chest, trails of love bites and saliva as  he reached your breast and then his fingers began to move faster - his mouth taking one of your nipples into his mouth with ease. 

“Jin” you whimpered. He was everywhere all at once and your body shook, he was too much and yet you were capable of taking it all. 

His tongue went flat against your hardened nub, gliding it up and down and then sucking on the nipple softly, your hands tangled themselves in his hair, your legs shaking as he slid one finger into your welcoming cunt and then another, and then another and soon he began pumping them quickly, holding no mercy. 

Your hips matched his tempo and your breast begin to bounce as fucked yourself into his hand. Jin pulled away from your breast - not wanting to miss how much of a slut you had become for him. Your eyes were completely shut - allowing the feeling to take over you completely and you were a wreck but you couldn’t control your hips as they rolled against his appendages. Jin groaned at the sight of you, of your Pretty cunt taking all 3 of his fingers. 

“Look at you, you love this don’t you” he muttered into your ears, his forehead pressed into your cheek as he looked down at his fingers disappearing into your cunt, glistening with your juices - leaving a small puddle on the counter. 

“Is this what you wanted?” he asked but you remained silent, whimpers replacing the answer you wanted to give. 

“Mhm?” Jin urged you, wanting to hear you beg for him. 

“Y-yes” you stuttered. 

“Look who's stuttering now” he mocked and your eyes open, gleaming with lust. 

Jin slowly retracted his fingers from where they had remained, embedded inside of you, the action making you whine in desperation which made Jin smile in response - you were needy, no longer in control and Jin felt his dick quiver at the realization. He looked deep into eyes as he stood in front of you. he raised his hand and spit into his palm proceeding to lather up your already dripping cunt. You could feel his saliva coat your clit, the feeling causing your whole body to tremble. 

He leaned back in for a kiss, slowly pressing you back into the counter until you could only see the ceiling above you. His hands slid up your thighs and with one swift movement he brought your ass to the end of the counter, your legs now placed exactly where you had wanted them to be for so long, where you thought they would look their best, thrown over his shoulders. 

“You look so good like this” he groaned, his eyes scanning your half naked body. 

You could hear the loud whistling of the tea kettle on the stove consume the entire room, creating a symphony with the moans that rattled from your lungs and then Jin sank into you, with so much ease, so smoothly that for the next few seconds you couldn't breath. 

Jin’s hands rubbed along your legs, his hips starting to roll into you with swift and disposed movements. You could feel all of him, the pulsations of his cock as he slowly retracted and then easily slipped back inside. The way the tip of his cock reached your ovaries, your legs quivering out of reflex. 

“Jin” you cried out and you lost it, eyes rolling to the back of your head as he snapped his waist, pounding into you with so much speed that the counter underneath you began to shake, Jin’s hand flied to your tank top, gripping it in his hand -  pulling at the fabric with each thrust that he gave you. 

“Is this what you wanted me to do all this time?” he questioned, bringing his thumb against your clit. 

“Y-yes” you yelped. 

“Fuck Y/n” he moaned breathlessly and the thunder outside was no match for the sound of your greedy wet cunt taking his entire length, your loud yelps and moans masking the natural disaster taking place. 

Your ass bounced against his thighs each time he slammed into you and he was frantic, your warm walls smothering his aching cock as he plunged into you with so much need and desire you could feel your clit swell around him. As you peered down at him there wasn’t a trace left of the shy boy you once knew. His eyes darkened, glazed over as he stared at his dick stretching out your walls. His teeth biting down onto his lip harshly in a foolish attempt to refrain from the grunts that vibrated from his chest. 

His fingers rubbed quickly over your flustered clit, it was as if he already knew what you needed before you said it, he had you down to a science and you couldn’t stop your body from convulsing, your cunt squeezing around him as a signal of your incoming orgasm. 

“Jin i’m gonna-” you yelp out, this orgasm was different from the ones you would give yourself to the thought of him, pressure beginning to form dangerously in your core. 

“Shhhh i know princess relax” he hummed like an expert only would. 

Your legs fell from his shoulders and his hands received them quickly, holding them wide open. The view of your pussy taking him to the hilt  urging him to flutter in pleasure but he didn’t want to look away - he didn’t want to miss a beat, not when it had been everything he’s dreamed of and more. 

You looked so perfect, felt so perfect and whilst he fought the utter pleasure surging through him, that left him completely spent he could feel your cunt constricting around his cock, his hips faltering at the sudden tightness that enveloped him. 

“Ahh ahh” Jin yelped. 

 With loud moans you came undone, your body tensing and muscle restricting - eyes brimming with tears and just as fast, you felt every cell inside of you ease, like a shot of anesthesia, body and mind going completely blank. Moments later Jin shoots streams of his warm nectar into your walls, filling up every ridge, his milk oozing out as he retracts his hips slowly, careful as to not disturb your high. 

By the time the morning crept into the city of Yeosu, the storm had subsided - superseded by the bright sun that now shined directly in your face. You concluded that the sky had made it its goal to not allow you peaceful slumber these past few days. Denying you the pleasures of rest. You had been awake for a few minutes now but you had been reluctant to open your eyes, focusing on the feeling of the soft comforter wrapped around your nude body. 

Perhaps you were just really tired but the truth was that you just didn’t want to recognize the body that laid next to you, soft snores flowing past their lips, their face nestled into the crook of your neck. 

If you opened your eyes then it would all come to an end, the feeling of his arm wrapped around your waist, the feeling of his weight besides you. Yet, you knew it couldn't last forever and although neither of you had shared any words regarding the events that took place last evening, or the other things that happened after that, you concluded it would all end the same way it usually did. 

You weren’t unfamiliar to awkward goodbyes when the sexual tension dissipated and though inside you wanted to hold onto the hope that maybe this time it would be different, that Jin wasn't like that - you were aware of the inevitable. 

Your eyes blinked open with a soft hiss and for a moment you were blinded by a ray of sunshine gleaming on your face - you raised one of your arms, blocking away the light and carefully turned to glance over at the sleeping man beside you. Jin was sound asleep and you could tell how completely at ease he was in contrast to your nerves that rattled you out of your very needed and desired slumber. 

You didn’t want to leave, didn’t want him to wake up to an empty bed but you knew it would only be harder if you were to leave whilst he was awake, you knew he would attempt to sooth the rejection that was approaching. 

You carefully lifted his arm from around your waist, sliding inch by inch out of the comforter you both shared. Your eyes remained on his resting form, his lips slightly parted and his disheveled silky black locks sprawled on the pillow underneath his head - he looked angelic and your heart lurched at the sight. 

You contemplated if you should’ve stayed, if you could allow yourself a bit of cruelty in exchange for comfort but you had been down that road many times before and at last you made up your mind. Your eyes moved to scan the floor, trying to find the article of clothing you wore the day before but they are nowhere to be found. 

“Shit” you whispered. 

Scenes of the previous day flashed through your mind like a silent film, replaying the lust filled moments you both shared - your bodies intertwining in nearly every room of the vacant home until you found shelter under his bed sheets. His moans and whimpers forever embedded into your memory causing your legs to quiver as you stood disoriented in his room. 

You had left your clothing sprawled in different corners of the house - evidence left for your colleagues to find upon their arrival. 

Jin’s body twists and turns and grumbles fall from his lips, shifting you into overdrive. your hands quickly picked up one of his t-shirts that had been thrown across the floor. You slipped the fabric over your head - being suddenly hit with his scent, guilty adrenaline soaring through you. 

You slowly moved towards the door, your steps careful and calculated as you attempted to escape the room like a foolish thief. Your hands reached for the doorknob, wincing as the door creaked under your touch, cursing at the old house for exposing you in such a dire situation. 

“I thought i had at least 5 more minutes” Jin’s raspy voice echoed inside of the silence you so badly tried to keep. 

Your body froze - heart thumping inside of your chest at a faster rate than before. You shut your eyes as a grimace took over your expression - you had been caught, red handed. You tried to come up with an excuse, in order to lessen the blow but nothing came to mind and as you turned you gave him the words you had heard oh so many times before. 

“Sorry, i didn't want to wake you” the words left a pungent aftertaste in your mouth as you spoke them. 

Jin was sitting amongst the mess of comforter and sheets you both had made, his bare chest gleaming with the light that ripped through the windows - his hand reaching to rub his puffy eyes, a long exhausted sigh leaving his lips. 

“It's too early for you to lie and honestly, I'm too tired to believe it.”

You blinked quickly, his statement throwing you off balance. His tone did not hold any anger or frustration - he sounded disappointed. He was a reflection of you this time and now you were the one having to seek for poor excuses regarding your sudden departure. 

“Jin I-” you tried to speak but your words were cut off by silence, a boulder sitting comfortably against your throat. 

Jin shifted from his sitting position - his eyes focused on your messy hair and on his favorite t-shirt that hung loosely around your frame. 

“You are always close but yet, so out of reach Y/n” Jin states “as open as you appear to be you hold your doors so tightly that your hands grow blisters.” he didn’t intend to be harsh - in fact his words are only a demonstration of how deeply he had come to know you but you couldn’t control the bitter sensation they left inside of you. 

“I didn't mean to- '' you began but couldn’t finish, swallowing down your justifications. 

“I can predict the weather for the next 2 weeks but not what you will do next” he chuckled and your lips quivered at the reality of what he was saying, of the truths that he knew and threw at you without hesitation. 

“I just don't want to mess things up - not this time around Jin, not with you” your mouth grew dry, your eyes glistening with tears that you didn’t want to let out. 

“That’s not a decision you can make on your own,” Jin retorted. 

“Jin, i've been here before so many times - i don't want it to be you running out of my life this time, the thought alone is unbearable and i know we don't know each other like that but i don't want to put you in an uncomfortable situation, you are a really nice guy” you don’t breath between your words, your lungs constricting as you give him your reasons in fear that he won't understand. 

“Well I'm not the one sneaking out of the room, am i?” 

Jin’s stare was sharp and you fidgeted under it - your mind attempting to find other logical reasons why whatever it is you both shared ultimately would come crashing down in the most vile kind of way. 

“What if you grow tired of me?” you whispered, eyes looking away from his. 

“I like coffee” he jokes and this time you smile. 

“I'm being serious!” you whine, your brows knitting with the conflicting debate that expands in your head. 

“Y/n, i am a grown man” Jin smirks “and not the kind that plays silly little games.”

Your eyes snap in his direction - a pang of guilt shooting through you. 

“Yeah i’m sorry about that too” you mutter, your cheeks growing flushed in embarrassment. 

“Are you?” Jin raises his eyebrow, a small smile appearing on his cheeks.

“Stop apologizing and come here.”

It doesn't take a second longer before you swiftly remove his t-shirt from your body - making a mental note to remind him that it belongs to you now. the insignificant object becoming one of the first things he will let you keep without hesitation because this man, the one who you decorate with kisses - the one that has entered your atmosphere at high speeds and at an unknown trajectory will never be like the others.

© 𝐂𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞, 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝.

[greenwitchfromthewoods]

sea ​​shore. l General Marcus Acacius

Summary:  your father wanted you to accompany the General, but you didn't want to do it.

Warnings:  +18, smut, fingering, unprotected sex (remember - safety first), breeding kink, mention of blood, a little bit of angst (but not really)

A/N: it was one thought and then i sat down and wrote thist. there are definitely mistakes, sorry. but i hope you like it. your feedback is very important to me and I want to thank you for all the reblogs, comments and likes. I secretly hope you like this story.🖤

"Gods! How much longer do I have to listen to this? Why do you have to be such a disobedient daughter?" your father's loud voice echoed through the garden, and the birds, startled by this, flew off from a nearby tree with a screech. "You're just like your mother! Like your mother!"

"You always said that I got my best traits from her." you replied, not hiding your agitation at all.

"And the worst too! You're stubborn and insufferable." your father took a sip of wine from his goblet and nervously stood up from the armchair placed in the shade of a large tree. "I don't know why the Gods make fun of me like that! They punished me with a daughter like you."

"Or maybe they blessed you." you added.

The man snorted something under his breath and shook his head in disbelief.

For several days, your house had been shaken by more and more arguments. Even the servants had already gotten used to them and they didn't react to your raised voices, only sneaking under the walls or, like now, between the flower bushes and trees.

It all started when last week your father, one of the most distinguished generals of the Roman Empire, announced to you after returning from the Emperor's palace that you would go to the province to your estate by the sea.

You were surprised. It wasn't the time of year when you went to that place. And then he proudly declared:

"General Marcus Acacius will honor us with his presence there. Unfortunately, I can't accompany him, but you know this place very well. You will be a pleasant company for him."

You resisted almost immediately. General Acacius was the Emperor's favorite. A brilliant commander, brave and untamed. However, you had no intention of spending time in his company. You knew this type of people, soldiers, very well.

They were brutal and aggressive. They always took what they thought was theirs and didn't show any brilliance.

Of course, your father was different. That's why your mother married him. Unfortunately, fate gave them only one child, a daughter. So you grew up among gardens and shields, and you weren't afraid to say what you thought. Your mother died when you were still little, and your father never married again. So you were the only one left.

And now you were looking at him furious like some goddess of anger and storm, and he had no idea how to deal with you.

"General Acacius is a great man. His presence will be an honor for us." Your father tried to speak calmly, although you rolled your eyes.

"Our family has enough honors, father." you replied. "Years ago, you were in his place. You conquered new territories and wealth for the glory of the Empire."

"But I'm old now. Let the old man enjoy the fact that his home will accept such a wonderful man. Please, go there with him tomorrow. Show him what wonderful lands we have. Please your old father's heart."

"You're perfidious, father." you sighed. "You play the old man card, when you're full of strength. You were training in sword fighting just yesterday!"

You wanted to add something else, but hurried footsteps on the gravel path distracted you. One of the servants appeared and bowed low.

"Sir." she said quietly. "You have a guest. General Acacius has appeared at your request."

"Bring him to the garden, please." your father replied, completely ignoring your indignant look, and added to you. "The matter is settled and beyond discussion. Pack your bags. You're leaving tomorrow."

"I can't believe you invited him here!" you hissed.

Your father just shrugged and poured himself another glass of wine. You knew you couldn't resist any longer and had to fulfill his request. You understood his arguments and you knew that, as the heir to his lineage, you had to make sure that your family didn't lose what your father had fought so hard for.

"Oh, Marcus! It's wonderful to see you." Your father beamed, looking over your shoulder.

"Greetings, Lucius." A low voice rang out behind you, and a stocky man appeared immediately after, shaking your father's hand.

He was tall, with broad shoulders and tanned skin. His dark hair had streaks of gray on his temples, but he was still very handsome. The armor he wore contrasted with your father's white toga.

"Marcus, this is my daughter, Y/N." The General's brown eyes landed on you, he looked at you searchingly. "She'll show you our estate. I'm sure you'll be pleased. You'll spend these few days in almost royal conditions."

"My lady." Marcus nodded, but you didn't even flinch. 

You reminded him of the sculptures of goddesses he'd seen in temples. Beautiful and inaccessible, shrouded in a wonderful fog of mystery.

"Of course, she can talk. She's just a little..."

"I'm dissatisfied." You replied, looking bravely at the General.

"Why is that?" the man asked, folding his arms across his chest, clearly interested.

"I think you'd be more comfortable with my father's company, General." You continued, not looking away from him, even though his eyes were boring right through you. "I'm just a weak woman, I don't think I'd be interesting company for someone with your reputation."

"But certainly very beautiful." Acacius replied.

"Y/N, please go to your chambers and pack." Your father quickly intervened, because he saw that you had opened your mouth again.

You nodded and walked away from your guest. Marcus watched you go until you disappeared into the cool walls of your home.

"A charming creature." He stated, smiling at the older man.

"Yes, indeed." Lucius handed him a glass of wine and raised his own slightly before bringing it to his lips. "Lovely, like her mother. Unfortunately, the Gods only gifted us with her. Sometimes I think it was easier to tame the barbarians on the outskirts of the Empire than to engage in battle with a woman like her."

"Rome needs women like her too." Marcus swallowed a sip of sweet wine.

"And she needs a husband!" your father laughed and sat back down in his chair. "Someone to teach her how to be humble. Maybe when she gives birth to her own children, she'll understand that I always wanted the best for her."

"We don't know what fate has in store for us, Lucius."

The man nodded and looked longingly at the entrance his daughter had disappeared through.

A pleasant, cool wind from the sea swept over your face. The sound of waves crashing against the shore and the cries of white seagulls flying above them filled your ears. You loved this place.

Even as a child, you could spend hours looking for shells and small crabs on the shore. You ran away from the waves that tickled your feet, ran up the sand dunes and picked wild flowers growing nearby.

This house was a safe place for you and now, as you stood on the balcony looking at the setting sun, you felt peace and gratitude.

You heard a rustle and after a moment someone's lips brushed your exposed shoulder, and strong arms wrapped around your waist.

"Why did you leave the bed?"

"I like this view at this time." You replied, feeling kisses slowly creeping up to your neck, you tilted your head slightly, giving him better access to this sensitive spot. "Don't you think it's beautiful?"

"I have a much more beautiful one before my eyes." he mumbled quietly.

You smiled, reaching out behind you and sliding your fingers into his soft hair. As his soft lips roamed your shoulder, one of his hands squeezed your breast tenderly. A quiet sigh escaped your chest.

"Marcus..." you sighed, "You're insatiable..."

"I'll never get enough of you, love." he whispered, "I could die between your thighs or feeling your lips on mine."

"You better not do that." you giggled, turning in his arms and looking into those beautiful eyes, "How am I going to explain to my father that General Acacius died with his dick buried inside me."

"You're right." he nodded, "That could be a tough one. But such a death would be glorious."

His warm lips captured yours. You loved their taste from the first moment. 

When you first met Marcus many months ago, you couldn't take your eyes off him. And he experienced the same, he admitted it to you during one of your secret meetings. You were sure that fate had placed you opposite each other, you couldn't fight it.

His lips quickly tasted yours. Your bodies found their way to each other and soon you were repeating his name in amorous ecstasy. However, you hid it from prying eyes. Marcus was still on the Emperor's orders, and you were afraid of your father's reaction if you tied your fate to the soldier.

"Now everything will change, my love." he whispered, pressing his forehead to yours. "Soon I will be only yours, and you only mine."

"I have belonged to you for a long time, Marcus." you replied. "Since the first time I saw you, I knew..."

"Tell me."

You knew how much he loved it when you confessed your love to him or told him about what awaited you when times became calmer and more gracious for both of you. These stories gave him strength, and your voice soothed his racing thoughts.

He adored you every day. And every night he would raise prayers to the Gods, thanking them for the grace they had bestowed upon him. He didn't think a man like him deserved someone so wonderful and pure.

And yet you were. He held you in his arms, felt your heartbeat, kissed your lips. You were more material than what he believed in.

"I knew you were mine," you said quietly, the pads of your fingers brushing his lips. "You looked at me like you had been searching for me your whole life. And I felt like I had suddenly come alive. I had never felt like this before."

"I thought you were just a dream..." Marcus whispered, his lips brushing your fingers. "I was afraid that if I blinked, you would disappear. If that happened, my heart would never know peace. I didn't think I deserved someone as heavenly as you..."

Your hands rested on his cheeks, and you looked straight into those eyes you loved.

"Marcus, you are the bravest man I know. I couldn't give my heart better than in your hands."

"My hands are stained with blood, my love."

"So let me wash them with my love and devotion to you."

You kissed him, feeling the remnants of sweet wine on his lips. You clung to his bare chest, letting the sheet you were wrapped in slide to the floor. Marcus' hands rubbed your back as he kissed you back.

He slowly moved you and you felt a cold pillar behind you. You leaned against it. Marcus' hand slid between your thighs, touching your slippery folds. The remnants of what he had left there recently were trying to leave.

You moaned quietly, feeling his fingers slide into you.

"You're so beautiful... So divine." he murmured in your ear, glancing as his fingers disappeared inside you. "I filled you to the brim, and I know you'd take even more. I'd like you to walk around Rome with my cum flowing lazily down your thighs... It would remind you of all those moments together. And I'd know that you carry something of mine inside you."

"I've walked like this before..." you replied, smiling seductively. "I felt your seed between my legs when I was talking to my father's guests, and once even at a party in the Emperor's palace."

Marcus growled deeply at the mere memory of how he had possessed you, quickly and hard, during that party, when you both had disappeared for a moment in the dark corridors, unnoticed. His fingers were delving deeper into you, teasing that sensitive spot that was giving you incredible pleasure.

"Yesterday, when I saw you in the garden with your father, I wanted to kiss you." he confessed, kissing the corner of your mouth. "I wanted to fall at your feet, confess my love to you, and beg him to let me marry you. Gods! You were so adorable with those pouty lips and that angry expression."

"I think I would strangle you if you did!" your hand slid down his soft stomach, through his pubic hair, straight to his hard cock. "My father is not ready to part with me yet. I know he says otherwise, but believe me, he is not ready." you stroked his hard manhood a few times and Marcus groaned "But now everything will change. When we come back, a new life will be waiting for us."

"I can't even imagine it, love. Are you sure - ohhhh.... Are you sure he'll agree?"

"Of course he will." His fingers slipped out of you and Marcus stood between your legs, lifting you up slightly and you wrapped your legs around his waist as he slowly lowered you onto his cock "He respects you so much... Ohhh, yes!... He'll be happy when a general like you tames his daughter."

You were so juicy that his cock slid into you without the slightest problem all the way to the base. You breathed deeply, letting your walls get used to the stretch. Even though Marcus had been inside you so many times, each time you felt the same pleasant feeling of being completely filled by him.

"I want you to be my wife, not my servant." he said softly "I will only enslave you in the bedroom when you let me. When you let me be raw and rough, I will fuck that wonderful pussy until tears come to your eyes and your throat hurts from screaming my name."

He thrust his hips and you moaned, wrapping your arms around his neck tighter. He moved hard, his fingers digging into your soft hips where there were already marks from your last closeness. He felt your cunt squeeze him, still hungry for his seed.

Your back ached from being pressed against the column, but you didn't complain. Each thrust was harder and brought you closer to your peak.

"Tell me you'll let me put a baby in your womb." His voice was interrupted by every breath, but you felt that those words went straight to your core. "Tell me I'll see your swollen belly, your milky breasts... You'll be the goddess of life."

"I'll let you fill me to the brim every night... OHHHH! I want to carry your seed inside me, like fertile soil. Our sons and daughters will grow for the glory of your lineage." you moaned, digging your nails into his strong shoulders. "I'll be surprised if we don't come back from here with one of our children nested in my womb. Gods!" 

The mere thought that you could already be with his child made Marcus start thrusting into you harder and more determinedly. 

You felt that you wouldn't last long. His strength and passion were so great that soon you felt your body tense up, and the velvet walls tightly wrapped around his cock. Waves of pleasure flooded your entire body, but Marcus didn't stop. A few more thrusts made his seed flood your pussy once again. Driven by natural instinct, with a loud groan, he pushed them in further and further, as if he wanted to be sure that your prophecies would come true.

You put your forehead to his, you felt his sweaty skin under your fingers, his hot breath warmed your breasts.

You still had him inside you as the cooler evening wind caressed your skin. The cries of seagulls tore you out of your reverie for a moment. He slowly lowered you and your legs buckled slightly under you as your feet touched the cold floor.

"Kiss me, my love." he whispered, and you gladly fulfilled his request.

You kissed the man you loved with tenderness and devotion, you wanted him to feel everything that was in your heart that you couldn't express. And you knew that Marcus felt it.

"You were definitely right about one thing." he stated after a moment, looking at you with love “There are truly beautiful views in this place."

☆☆☆

Thank you for your time.

[ebony-blood]

OH MY GOODNESSS I was wondering, if you can pretty please do a lost boys X reader (poly if your comfortable with it) but she’s a wallflower? Like maybe she moved to Santa Carla and she’s bullied? Maybe a sprinkle of insecurity but ends up meeting the lost boys at the boardwalk and they just. Can’t. Leave. Her. Alone? She’s their mate and she’s so flustered cause the HOTTEST guys she’s ever seen are paying attention to her? Pretty pretty please?🥹🥹🥹 I’ll love you forever

Poly! The Lost Boys x Shy! Fem! Reader

Author's notes!: I had to look up what 'Wallflower' means lol, for those who don't know, a Wallflower is basically someone who kinda hangs back during parties because they are too shy. TW: READER IS FEM!! Bullying, mentioned violence, vampire stuff, the boys being obsessed right from the start. I tried so hard not to describe Reader in this, I try to be as inclusive as I can, but if anything is mentioned it's because I'm tired lol, I'll fix it, just bring it up in the comments and I'll track it down o7. This probably sucks, I'm sorry.

You had moved to Santa Carla looking for a fresh start a few weeks ago. You weren't used to the weird styles, the smell of weed and gas that seemed to constantly cover the streets, the loud boardwalk parties, none of it. So naturally, you kept to yourself, hanging back during parties and avoiding eye contact, unfortuantely, Santa Carla was not a place people like you, shy wallflowers, were treated right. 

Some people ignored you at best, they’d glare at you when you waved or smiled at them, they’d ignore you if you asked questions, they avoided you. But a lot of people were downright cruel to you. They mocked you at parties, some openly tried to take things from you or would push you around. People were never openly violent with you, at first, but after a few weeks they started getting more violent, pushing you around and screaming in your face. It was mostly the people who were either on drugs or drunk. It was mostly the men and their girlfriends who were openly hostile and mean to you. You wished you’d never moved to this place, it was gross, the people were indifferent at best and downright cruel at worst, and you missed people you knew in your past. You wish you weren’t like you were, so quiet and shy. Hell, it had been years since you could look in the mirror and see someone you didn’t view as hideous looking back at you, but Santa Carla made it so much worse.

It was yet another late night in Santa Carla. Another night of wandering the boardwalk while you tried to avoid the harassment you got from people. You weren’t surprised every time you were shoved aside, or shouted at by a familiar group. Honestly, you didn’t wanna deal with that tonight, you wanted to walk around, maybe go see whoever was playing a show that night and see if they were actually good, and then head back to your apartment, but it seemed whatever form of fate you believed in had a different idea, because the group just wouldn’t leave you alone, shouting random shit, from ‘Weirdo’ to one girl just straight up calling you ugly. You were fighting back tears.Why the hell were people so needlessly cruel? Whatever, it’s nothing new. 

You stopped by some area where people on the beach park their bikes. You took the biggest breath you possibly could when you realized your tormenters weren’t following you anymore, so you could finally breath. 

That was until you heard voices, four guys, you guessed. You looked in their direction and, for the first time since moving to Santa Carla, you got that butterfly feeling in your gut. That wasn’t a thing you had felt since high school. You swore the bullies you faced then laughed the feeling out of you, but these four seemed to knock the breath you had just taken out of you. Damn, they were hot. Three of the four men were blonde, one had curly hair, one had fluffy hair, and the third guy had a haircut that kind of reminded you of Billy Idol, he was smoking a cigarette. And then there was the one that seemed to be trailing behind, observing people around them while the other three, mostly the ones with curly hair and fluffy hair, laughed and joked. The fourth guy had long, dark brown hair. You stared for a minute longer before snapping yourself out of whatever daze you had been in. 

They had stopped walking, they were staring right at you, and you immediately prepared your apology in your head. Quietly standing up, and then one of the four, the fluffy-haired one, said something you assumed wasn’t meant to be said out loud.

“Holy shit, Marko, she’s hot.” 

You looked over at the four, confused, the man was immediately smacked across the back of the head by the one with the cigarette.

“Don’t say shit like that out loud, dumbass.”

You were staring at the four, your face suddenly warming up at the idea that they were talking about you. You figured it was a stupid thought, there were other hot girls around the boardwalk, why would any of these four think you were hot? Then, the one with the cigarette cleared his throat.

“Sorry about that, doll. Paul can’t seem to keep his mouth shut around pretty girls.” He said, glaring back at the one with fluffy hair, you assumed he was Paul.

The one with curly hair snickered a bit and looked over at Paul, before the one with the cigarette spoke up again, he quickly shut up then.

“I’m David, The guy behind me is Dwayne, and those two are Paul and Marko.” He said

You nodded softly, even their names were hot, what the hell? David and the other three were staring at you with a confusing amount of attention. 

Paul had an almost immediately obsessed or enamored look in his eyes, like you were just the prettiest thing he’d ever seen, Marko also looked absolutely in love with you already, both had the same look in their eyes, the other two, Dwayne and David didn’t seem in love, if they were, they were hiding it well enough. 

“So, where ya off to, sweets?” Paul said, giving you a soft grin.

“Oh, I was about to head home,” You reply, and they all suddenly seem to perk up a bit.

“Oh, really? Well, maybe, instead of that, you could come and hang out with me and the guys?” David asked, motioning to their bikes. 

Something about these four felt…supernatural. They carried themselves with such confidence, and something unseen seemed to be pulling you to them. You thought for a minute. Was it a good idea? Maybe not. It felt too good to be true, four hot boys, paying attention to you? They stared, waiting for your answer. Against your better judgment, you made your choice.

“Sure, I don’t see why I couldn’t.” 

Paul and Marko got visibly excited. Paul grabbed your hand quickly and led you over to their bikes, the other three following behind him, laughing at Paul’s excitement. You were carefully put on the back of one of their bikes and David got on in front of you, looking back at you when you wrap your arms around him.

“Hold on tight, alright?” 

You could only nod before the four sped off, David following behind the more rambunctious two, with Dwayne behind him. 

At the time you didn’t know it, but come the end of the next week, you’d be theirs, and you’d have no complaints about it.

This got so long lol.

Sorry it ended like it did, it's 4 am here and I'd dying.

more coming tomorrow <333

[polarisjisung]

LOVE ON THE COURT | 36 BRUTAL CLARITY

SYNOPSIS | every college student has their struggles, but raising her younger brother has Y/N top of the list, struggling her way through college whilst balancing her academics and basketball captaincy is difficult no doubt and with Jaemin, her ex best friend and captain of the guys basketball team, and his growing one sided hatred towards her, it doesn't seem to be getting any easier

WARNINGS | swearing (shocker but no sexual innuendos in this chap !) , lwk abandonment issues, blame shifting, lots of nervous habits too (?)

NOTES | first fully written chap, some of you guys will hate me for this, also, I was initially going to post this yesterday, but I got lazy and didn't write anything 😭

Now, Jaemin wasn’t one to believe in fate, but if it had somehow led him here, he wasn’t about to waste the opportunity.

After 10 minutes of trying to pry the door open and too many failed attempts at picking the lock both captains had finally given up, too worn out from the game to actually bother trying to get out of the room they found themselves locked in.

Jaemin stood near one of the benches, hands jammed deep into the pockets of his hoodie. His eyes occasionally darted to Y/N, who was sitting cross-legged on the floor, her back to him. Not a word had been exchanged between them in the past week, let alone during the last ten minutes. The silence between them felt heavy, far more suffocating than the game they'd just played.

There was so much to say—too much, in fact, and he had no idea where to begin. But Jaemin knew he had to start somewhere.

"Don't go on that date with Jay." He said softly, voice barely above a whisper. His body practically froze in the second it took him to process the words that had actually left his mouth, but Y/n sat still, unmoving. Of all the impending conversations, this was the last one he'd intended to start with.

He felt like an idiot.

When she didn’t respond, Jaemin felt a pang of uncertainty, wondering if she hadn’t heard him. He hesitated, the words stuck in his throat, but instead of repeating himself, he added, "Can we talk?"

Nothing. But he was certain she'd heard him.

"Come on, Y/N," Jaemin’s voice was quieter now but edged with desperation. "Talk to me"

Y/N’s shoulders stiffened, not turning around. Her gaze was fixed on the rough floor, the sting of old memories too sharp to face him directly.

Something about this moment felt too nostalgic, too tender, reminiscent of a past she desperately wanted to return to. And looking at Jaemin— she just couldn't do it.

Not now. Not when in this past week, she'd relived every moment she once knew Jaemin, through photographs and teenage diary entries,now buried somewhere at the back of her wardrobe.

Still, Jaemin took a step forward, and she bowed her head, refusing eye contact. His heart clenched. Her glossy eyes weren't difficult to miss, not for him.

"I don’t know what happened. I don’t even know why he's here, " Jaemin continued, his words rushed. "I just want to fix things. Please." He knew his words were jumbled, mixing pieces of conversations they should’ve had long ago, but if this was his only chance, he wouldn’t blow it. “Look at me, peach.”

Y/N’s lips pressed together, and for a moment, it seemed like she might just give in. Instead, she pulled her knees closer to her chest, wrapping her arms around them as if to shut herself off completely. Cocooning herself.

Jaemin let out a frustrated breath and sank onto the bench across from her, his voice quieter now. Defeated almost.

"I swear, he came onto me first," Jaemin defended himself, trying to take a different approach to the situation, a dry, soulless laugh rolling off his tongue. "That's a lie, but he was pissing me off." His hands were up, raised by his head in full defence after he'd caught the way y/n snuck bitter glances at him in the mirror across from them.

God, she almost wanted to laugh. And she hated that she did, hated how jaemin always knew what to say and when to say it, how to get her to laugh in her worst moments, how to get through to her when nobody else could. After all that, she didn't understand why he was the same person to turn his back on her so quickly.

In all honesty, she could've cared less about what Jaemin had done to her father. He probably deserved it, hell she was ready to blow up at him herself— the man who had never once shown up to a single one of her games in support, coming to one of the few that meant the most. He did it on purpose. He was trying to throw her off and it was clear as day. He could be dealt with later she supposed, trying to process everything Jaemin was saying instead.

But it still didn't make sense. Nothing seemed to match up. Why would the Jaemin who'd walked out of her life so easily put so much at stake for her, the Jaemin who once couldn't care less about her, now begged her just to look his way. Her mind raced, a swirl of emotions, but behind it all, a lingering sense of confusion.

"Can we talk y/n? You've been ignoring me for days, and I have no idea what I did." He pauses, hoping she'll finally break. She doesn't, not yet.

"If anyone should be mad at someone it's me. I should be angry, hell I should be enraged, but here I am making an effort and you're giving me nothing." he tries again, hopeful. His voice raises, louder, more hoarse when he continues, a sign of his slipping patience.

"Work with me here because I'm trying to salvage our friendship after everything we've been through, I'm trying to save us, and somehow, it feels like you've already given up"

She finally spoke, her voice flat.

"I have."

Jaemin felt the way his eyes widened, the spark of hope in his eyes vanished, confusion flooding his expression instead.

"What."

"Why would I fight for something I know won't last?" She spoke like she had all the certainty in the world

Jaemin's expression faltered. "What do you mean?"

The question is simple but comes with such sincerity that for a moment, just for a second, Y/n wonders if she's gone insane.

"What do I mean?" she laughs, sarcasm dripping through her tone, "You know damn well what I mean Jaemin." His innocent act is enough for Y/n to rise to her feet, fists bundled at her side, jaw set in a hard line.

"You don't just get to walk out of someone's life, my life Jaemin, and pretend like you did nothing wrong. You don't just get to throw away relationships like that, not what we had. You want to talk about fighting, huh Jaemin? I fought, so hard. " her voice was sharp, coming in bursts of irritation, struggling to catch her breath as she hiccuped, tears welling in her eyes and already rolling down her cheeks " I fought so fucking hard, and I fought alone, because I thought you, I thought we, were worth fighting for."

She takes a second to wipe her tears, Jaemin taken aback— he'd never seen her like this, never so raw, so vulnerable.

Nothing she had said made any sense, nothing she spoke of aligned with anything he knew, and yet it seemed nothing short of the truth.

"You disappeared, and you never even told me why, and you want to talk to me about giving up on us? How do I know you won't do it again, huh? How do I let you back into my life, accept you with open arms and a smile, when I don't know if you'll do it again, if you'll leave again." At this point, Jaemin watched the girl's sentences disintegrate in their flow, broken sobs punctuating her words in some places, shallow breaths in others.

"You say want to talk about us, but the first thing you asked me was not to go on some stupid date that really shouldn't be any of your concern in the first place. Is this really even about us? Because it feels like you say all this shit about fighting for us when really, you don't care at all."

Her words were coming out jumbled, a disorganised mess of all the things she'd been meaning to get off her chest in years, and yet the weight on her shoulders didn't seem to lighten even when she spoke.

"I called a thousand times, texted a million more, I begged to talk to you, I sent you letters, I even sent emails, emails Jaemin, and you never responded, not once. I was trying so hard, and you, you weren't even trying at all."

Jaemin felt a knot tighten in his stomach, uncertainty coursing through his veins. The anger he thought he should have felt was replaced by a deep concern, making him question everything he swore he had known for so long.

"You think I cut you off for no reason?" perhaps he should've made a more conscious effort to soothe her worries, but Jaemin felt it, his clammy palms, his shaky hands, he was on the edge— ready to spiral if he had to listen any further. The need to defend himself, and perhaps, to really get to the bottom of this, was compelling.

Everything he did, blocking her number and her contacts, ignoring her countless knocks at the door and her shouts for him across the street, all of it, came flooding back into his mind.

For a moment, he wondered if she really deserved it at all?

"You were all I had y/n, all I needed really, and you think I just did this all for no reason. I know you're not stupid enough to think that." He chuckles— sourly. "You left me," he corrects. "Broke every promise you'd ever made to me and never turned around once to apologise"

It felt like he was speaking gibberish, like his words didn't make sense, and his emotions came out of nowhere, a throbbing now making Y/n's head spin. This act Jaemin was putting on was good, too good.

"Stop speaking in riddles, what do you mean?"

"I mean, you don't get to stand there and pretend this is all my fault," he snaps, sharp and honest. "You left me at regionals, after promising you would be there, you left me to fend for myself after knowing what I would've had to give up if I competed, what I did give up. Y/n you left me, betrayed me in fact, so don't you dare make this my fault."

You left me— the words rang in her ears.

But she didn't.

Y/n didn't remember much, not from that point in her life, after she'd made every attempt forget it, but she remembered this, and she remembered it so vividly. Regionals hadn't gone ahead that year. She was certain. They were cancelled, she tried desperately to recollect. And then it hit her.

As Jaemin stared at her, the pieces began to fall into place. Y/n felt her heart drop. Just how stupid could she be?

"They didn't cancel the competition?" she asked, each syllable thick with a newfound shame.

"Of course not" he scoffed, "Why would you think that"

Jaemin almost rolled his eyes.

But then he saw it, the way her skin had drained of its colour. Y/n's lips trembled, she fidgeted with her fingers, picking at the skin that surrounded her nail beds, flicking the hair tie against her wrist. Something wasn't right. Y/n finally realised what she had done, and god, she felt like such a fool. The truth hit hard, and it hit fast.

"I'm so sorry, jaem," her head hung low with embarrassment, but her stare still held his, as if she could only convey the sheer sincerity of hers through her eyes. The weight of her words hung between them, and Jaemin could feel the atmosphere shift around him, the heat that rushed to his head before was now replaced with a harsh knocking against his ribs, cold feet and constricted air.

He wanted answers. He needed to know.

"Y/n what happened that day. Tell me."

The signs, they'd had been clear as day, and now, she wondered why she'd believed him, after his constant let downs and disapproval for her sport, his constant attempts to sabotage her and her career.

The organisers had all gotten into a car crash on their way to the competition, that why the competition didn't go ahead— that's what her dad had told her.

Regret settled in her chest as she fought to intake enough oxygen.

Her head shook, frantic and fevered, there was no way.

She couldn't believe it.

Her father lied to her, and she'd been naive enough to believe him.

It was all her fault.

Her stupidity had cost Jaemin so much. It had cost them so much. Everything.

But she didn't know how to tell him.

Her eyes focused on Jaemin, but he seemed blurry and hazy. In fact, soon enough, he was spinning.

Y/n struggled to keep her footing, her legs wobbling beneath her. It was as if the ground was shifting, and she couldn't find her balance, her mind racing with thoughts that only fueled her anxiety. The bitter taste of guilt residing on her tongue, harsh and unforgiving.

"I need you to breathe for me, peach. I'm right here. Just breathe."

But she needed to get it off her chest. She had to.

"He said they cancelled the competition. He lied."

"Who did?" Jaemin was beyond confused, her sentence too short and vague for him to understand what she was getting at. Still, his heart skipped a beat, panicked.

"My dad."

It was as if a fog had lifted, and suddenly, everything made sense. Really and truly, it felt impossible. A brutal clarity.

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[tinum]

Longing from the Office - Harumasa x Reader

Summary: Section 6 play wingman for a struggling harumasa Warnings: So much sighing and sitting in chairs, probable abuse of as, maybe ooc, errors Word Count: 2.1k Notes: I'm trying to improve my writing guys so sorry if its bad but also not sorry. Drop a request or don't.. its fine...

Harumasa's longing for you manifested in many ways. Some of which were more embarrassing than he liked to admit. You hardly seemed to notice though, even if he was practically attached to your hip like a puppy.

"I'm going on my lunch now, Tsukishiro." You call out, pushing your chair out and putting on the coat hanging off the back. Despite not even scratching the surface of your work, your eyes are already stained, and you feel the throb of a headache coming on. A break is definitely in order.

"Alright—" She was swiftly cut off by a voice chiming in.

"Yeah, we'll be going on break now, Tsukishiro!" Her eyebrows raise at the man, who was, just moments ago, sleeping.

"Oh? I hope you realize your nap has been cutting into your break time." Her face was serious, but on the inside, she almost wanted to laugh at how obvious he was being. It's something she noticed for a while now, how he glances at you from time to time when you are doing paperwork, completely unaware. The way he perks up when he hears your name in conversation.

"I was just resting my eyes." 

"So you admit you were taking a break?" 

He scratches the back of his neck. "Aha… no?"

She sighs, pinching the space between her brows, "If you're going to take a break now, all of your paperwork better be turned in by the end of the day."

"Whoa, really? Thanks, Tsukishiro! You won't regret this!"

She totally would, but she would regret it more if she didn't allow him to go. Watching him make a fool of himself while you were blind was torture. She'd rather lose a few hours of sleep completing his paperwork than watch another moment.

"Ah, Asaba, we're going on break at the same time? What a funny coincidence."

She physically facepalms, causing both your heads to snap her way. "Ahem… my apologies, there was a… bug. Don't mind me."

"Yeah, pretty crazy. I mean, what are the chances, right?" 

"It's almost like it was fate…" His heart practically skips a beat when you look at him and let out a giggle. "Well, just a silly thought! I'll be going now. Have fun on your break!"

He could only get out the start of his sentence before you promptly turned away, rushing towards the exit. Once you are gone, he lets out the loudest whine of his life. His upbeat posture deflates as he stares at the exit, jaw open. He only closes it when he hears the click of heels walking towards him.

"That was rather painful to watch." Yanagi places an awkward hand on his shoulder as some sort of means to comfort him.

"If you cringed by just watching it, imagine how I feel. I mean, seriously! How much more obvious do I have to get?"

Normally, Yanagi would not concern herself with her colleagues' personal lives, but the sight of his obvious pining and your obliviousness was giving her early wrinkles. "I find myself wondering the same thing." 

Harumasa groans, running his hand down his face in frustration. He turns to Yanagi, places both of his hands on her shoulders, and shakes her lightly. "You see it too? C'mon, you gotta help me!"

She squints her eyes, looking at him, and Harumasa shakes her more, letting out a crybaby 'Pleaseee.' She had already planned on helping him. Otherwise, she would not have walked up to him, but she can't lie; it was sort of fun seeing him fumble so much. Perhaps you were rubbing off on her.

"First of all, stop shaking me." He drops his hand faster than she's ever seen him move when overtime is on the line. "I'll help you—"

"Thank you, Tsukishiro! Seriously, you're the-"

"I wasn't finished," she clears her throat. "I'll help you, but you have to promise me a full week of your undivided attention. In other words, no slacking and no naps."

He deflates, letting out another loud groan. "I should have known it wouldn't be that easy…" His chair rolls backward as he slumps down, throwing his arm over his eyes. "It's hopeless… I'm going to die all alone."

She rolls her eyes. "Fine, you're lucky I'm feeling generous I'll cut it to three workdays."

He immediately brightens up, his posture straight, and he bats his eyelashes at Yanagi. "Really? You'd do that for little old me?"

"No. I'm doing it for Soukaku. She also wonders when you would finally confess."

"Oh… well, what's the plan?"

She immediately zeroes in. Harumasa follows suit, with a serious look on their face. Yanagi slams a piece of paper on his desk.

"Here's what I was thinking."

-----

When you return from lunch, you are greeted with an unusually focused Harumasa and no Yanagi in sight. You sigh as you walk towards your desk; the piles of papers seem never-ending. Unfortunately, the only way out is through.

A few minutes into the first page, you hear Harumasa let out a loud sigh. "This is sooo hard." He whines. You look up at him to see him already staring at you. "You gotta help me with this! I just can't seem to remember!"

"What do you need help with?"

"I cannot, for the life of me, remember what… time! Our last hollow investigation began.."

"It began at-"

"No! I mean, can you write it for me?" he coughs out. "I suddenly feel really sick." 

"I suppose if you are not feeling well… bring it here."

He scoots out of his chair, walking slowly with an exaggerated stagger. "Ah, I feel really dizzy. Can I rest on your shoulder?" He doesn't wait for an answer, rolling the chair from the empty desk next to you.

Your eyes widen. "Dizzy? Should I call in the doctor?" He places his hand on top of yours, stopping you from picking up your phone.

"No, no, I'll be fine." His head hesitantly creeps down, teetering on whether he should commit or not. Ultimately, he does. "I just need a moment."

"Oh…" A quick blush rose to your face as you grabbed the paper, which was… blank.

"Asaba, you—" 

You turn to look at him, expecting to be met with the view of his hair. Instead, you are greeted by his face, which is inches apart from yours.

"Yes?"

"You must be super sick! You gave me the wrong paper!" You fuss, pressing a hand to his forehead. "I'll inform Tsukishiro!"

"No, there's no need," he sighed. "I'm feeling better now." He gets up, walking back to his desk, head hanging low.

"Asaba…" you call out, tone a bit more serious. He turns around to face you, a hopeful look in his eyes. "You forgot your paper." 

"Right."

-----

"That didn't work?" Yanagi asked, her eyes wide.

"No! They just wanted to call you!"

"Hm… Well, they seemed worried; that's a start."

"I guess.." He slumps.

"Perhaps you should take a more direct approach. How about asking them on a date?"

"I practically did yesterday! Sharing a break with someone is a sacred thing, y'know!"

Suddenly, a cheerful voice chimes in, a bit muffled from a full mouth. "Why don't you give them candy!"

He looked at the Soukaku and then at Yanagi, who was deep in thought, muttering under her breath.  "Yes, that could work." Yanagi finally says, pushing up her glasses. "Why don't you give them a gift?"

"That's perfect! You guys are so smart; what would I do without you?" 

-----

The following day, you are greeted with a bundle of violets on your desk. It was certainly a strange gift. There was no note, just the flowers wrapped in heart-shaped plastic. You look around the room, noticing it was empty.

Maybe a fan left these? It wouldn't be surprising, considering they sometimes stand outside the building waiting to catch a glimpse of Section 6, but if it was from a fan, how could you know if it was for you? They definitely would not know which desk belongs to whom unless they were in the building. 

You shiver, throwing the flowers in a nearby bin. Then you grab your phone and call Yanagi. Not today, stalker.

What you didn't know is that Harumasa was watching in the nearby printer room. A card in his hands.

-----

"And then they threw them away! Right in front of me!"

"Hm, that is troubling…"

"I'm beginning to think they just don't like me."

"Cheer up, Harumasa!" Soukaku smiles, hugging him. Yanagi stood in front of the desk, her eyebrows furrowed.

"I don't know what to do anymore." He exhales, standing up.

"Have you tried telling them directly?" Everyone snaps their heads to the source of the voice and is met with a pair of dark ears.

Harumasa's head drops back down, defeated. Walking to the door in an exaggerated slowness.. "Nah, I think this is it. I can take a hint."

-----

"Asaba likes you." You sputter on the water you had been drinking, causing your shirt to get wet.

"Miyabi!" You nervously laugh, drying your shirt with napkins from a nearby table. "I'm sorry, what did you say?"

"Asaba likes you."

"Oh! Well, I like him too." Walking back towards your desk, you smile. . "Speaking of which, where is he? I haven't seen him or the others at all today." 

"No. Asaba likes you as more than a friend." She stops right in front of your chair, and you have to look up at her for the first time.

"Me too! He's pretty much my best friend!" Turning away from her, you gather a few papers left on your desk. "Miyabi, I have to go run these to another department. If the others come back, let them know that's why."

Miyabi watches as you walk by, letting out a sigh of her own. She know knows why Yanagi and Harumasa had been sighing at you these past three days. This was more difficult than she expected. Usually, a simple approach does the trick; less is more, after all.

"Well, that's it. I'm officially done." The other three members walk out from around the corner, a crushing look on their faces. He falls back on his chair and Miyabi is surprised it hasn't collapsed by how many times he has done that. "I'm sorry, Tsukishiro, but I'm gonna have to break our deal to sleep my sorrows away."

Soukaku speaks in a tearful tone. "Harumasa…" 

"It's okay, Soukaku.. Sometimes things just don't work out how we want them to."

She grips his hand and jumps up with determination. "No! You can't—" She pauses, tears welling in her eyes.

"Miyabi, have you seen the other pa-" You stopped in your tracks. Everyone was surrounding Harumasa's desk, sullen looks on their faces. 

"You can't give up your crush on—" She manages to get your name out before a hand on her mouth silences her.

All four of the members stare at you with shocked expressions. No one dares to speak up or move, too worried they might scare you off.

You stumble over your own tongue, a deep blush rising to your face. "Asaba has a crush on me?" and before Harumasa has the chance to ruin things for himself, the three other members speak up.

"Yes!" Their tone was almost annoyed. After all these attempts this is what it took? They aren't one to smoke but they'd be lying if they said they didn't need a cigarette right about now.

"Harumasa, is this true?"

He lets out a deep breath, "It is." Alright, here it comes; he's going to be rejected and—

"I like you too!" 

"WHAT?" You had to be kidding him. This whole time, he was trying to get your attention with gifts and outrageous gestures, and all it took was for you to overhear a conversation? He's pretty sure you just triggered a heart attack. Maybe he should retire, yeah.. that's what he'll do

"I like you too, Harumasa. I have for a while now."

"No way! You turned down all my advances!"

"You didn't make any advances?"

"Yes, I did!"

"No?"

"Yes? Remember that time I asked to go on break after you did?"

"I thought that was just a coincidence."

"What about the flowers?"

"You didn't leave me any flowers."

"I left violets on your desk, and you just threw them away!"

"I thought they were from one of those creepy fans."

"Miyabi literally told you how I felt!"

"How was I supposed to know she meant it romantically?"

Harumasa resisted the urge to tackle you. You were seriously spiking his blood pressure with your absurd reasoning. How could someone be so incredibly smart and dumb at the same time? He's not sure the gods could even answer that.

"You're so lucky you're you. I'd be running for the hills if it was anyone else."

"Does that mean you guys are dating now?" Soukaku asks, not a single thought behind her eyes.

You look at Harumasa, and for the first time, he knows what he must do. "Let's try this again. I have liked you forever, and now I know you do, so… can we date? Pretty please?" He asks that question with such enthusiasm that you're sure if he had a tail it would be wagging

"Of course, silly! All you had to do was ask!" Something clicks in Harumasa once he hears you say that.

Oh. You sly dog. You knew this whole time, didn't you?

[pitchsidestories]

akward and desperate for love II Lena Oberdorf x Lioness!Reader

masterlist I word count: 1005

a/n: hi everyone, the oneshot is inspired by this request here, let us hear your thoughts on it. ❤️

You hated the initiation ceremonies at Bayern Munich.

It had nothing to do with the club. You loved it here. You adored the city, the familiarity of the club and of course your teammates.

But the initiation ceremony filled you with dread and nervousness on behalf of all the new players. Even now, two years after your own initiation, the thought of singing in front of your new teammates made your skin prickle with embarrassment.

At least as an established member of the team, you had the privilege to just sit back and watch. Which was easier said than done, considering that your girlfriend had just joined the team and would have to face the same fate as everyone else.

In contrast to you, she seemed very relaxed about it. Not relaxed, you suddenly realized. She was drunk.

You leaned over to Georgia who sat across from you at the table: “G, why is Lena tipsy? I thought the beers all had no alcohol.“

Your fellow England teammate made a face as if you had just asked her the worlds’ dumbest question before she finally answered: “You really thought they were okay with non-alcoholic?”

She nodded into the direction of your German teammates. Many of them enjoyed their occasional beer but in all your time here, you had never seemed to get into it.

“But they’re all labeled as… Wait, what mischief are you two up to again?”, you interrupted yourself, turning to Georgia and Lea who tried to hide a giggle behind her hand.

“Nothing.“, the only other lioness in the team grinned innocently.

“Lies. They refiled them with alcoholic beer.“, Sydney blurted out, clearly also a few drinks in.

“Shhh.“, Georgia tried to silence her.

Simultaneously, you felt Leas elbow knocking hard against yours. Excitedly she pointed towards the stage: “Y/n! It’s Obis’ turn to sing now!”

“Children, the lot of you!”, you playfully scolded your teammates before turning to Lea.

Your heart dropped for a moment and your eyebrows knitted together as you watched your girlfriend take the stage. You felt unnecessarily nervous for her.

“Oh god…“, you whispered.

She seemed completely unfazed, flashing her typical confident smile at the team.

Georgia yelled: “What are you going to sing?!”

“Before I start to sing, I want to say a few words first. The past weeks have been really hard because of my injury…“, she started, fully ignoring Georgia. You could tell from the redness of her cheeks that she wasn’t sober anymore and you silently prayed that no one would notice that she paused for way too long already.

“Yeah, tell us, Lena!”, Georgia once again shouted from her seat, prompting her to go on.

“And I couldn’t have done this without my wunderbaren Freundin and Lea. I might’ve lost against her in the Euros final, messed up the tackle, but won after sliding in her dms. Luckily, she agreed to meeting me privately afterwards. This song is dedicated to y/n.”, Lena continued grinning.  

With closed eyes you went back to the time two years ago. It has been the perfect weather for your home tournament in England.

The fan excitement grew over the weeks, your teammates and you have never experienced something huge like this before, your lives forever changed by that summer in 2022. Lena and you both were even younger than now, both hungry and felt like you got something to prove.

 In the final the playing style of the German annoyed you to no end, the midfielder was reckless on the pitch and her challenges against opponents was ruthless. You could never imagine falling for someone like Lena despite her big beautiful brown eyes and loud but very kissable looking mouth.

She turned out to be a different person off the pitch. The young player who was your age was funny, charming and kind. Even a bit shy because you were her first big romantic relationship which you couldn’t believe at first because Lena was so lovable once you got to know her.

“Glad I was mentioned too.”, Leas laugh brought you back to the present.

“Lea, you know that you’re her platonic soulmate, right?”, you replied warmly.

“I appreciate that, but she loves you way more.”, the blonde declared winking.

“I hope the song is over soon, everyone’s staring at us.”, your voice slightly muffled against the fabric of the striker’s sweater in which you hid your burning cheeks.

“Don’t worry, they’re actually staring at her.”, Lea tried to comfort you in a reassuring tone.

“I hope so.”, you muttered under your breath.

Later in the safety of your hotel room you glared accusingly at your girlfriend. “I can’t believe you’d do this to me. In front of the whole team!”

“Why? That was fun.”, Lena frowned.

“It was embarrassing.”, you sighed.

“Was it?”, she chuckled amusedly.

“Yes, for me, you know that I worked hard for the place I’ve in this team..”, you started.

“And?”, the German interrupted you smiling sheepishly.

“You don’t feel guilty at all, huh?”, you realized.

“Nope.”, Lena replied letting herself fall on to the bed arms wide open.

“You’re terrible.”, you shook her head before following her on to it.

“You think so?”, the brunette looked alarmed.

“No, not really, I’m just joking. Promise.”, you quickly added when you noticed her concerned face.

Sometimes you both got lost in translation her English wasn’t the best and your German basically non existing.

 “I do hope so.”, she answered sincerely.

“To be honest, I’ve never been this fiercely loved before.”, you admitted.

“You better get used to it.”, Lena said, kissing you, before pulling you into a hug.

“I’ll. Good night.”, you promised. A glance at the clock let you know that it was already past midnight, and you were having training early in the morning.

“What do you mean good night?”, the midfielder gasped.

“It’s late or isn’t it overdorf yet?”, you teased her.

“It’s never overdorf.”, Lena replied cheekily before showing you that the night wasn’t over it had only begun.

[honeydewblogforwriting]

When you know you know

Summary: they’re convinced that they’re soulmates and they’re right.

Warnings: probably just typos

Uploaded to YouTube 30 minutes ago :

"Are you two a couple?", this question breaks the intimate bubble that you and your girlfriend had been trapped in as you swung your joined hands while strolling down the streets of San Francisco.

In front of you stands a young man with an eager expression and a digital camera.

Your girlfriend is the first of the couple to respond, "Yeah", she states with a large smile.

"Would you mind telling me the story of how you first met?"

"Oh yeah!", you excitedly respond.

"We met at a friend's birthday party. I thought she was really cute so I asked my friend to introduce us and then I moved in five days later."

"You moved in five days later?", the cameraman asks in a shocked tone.

Giggling, your partner states, "mhm in a business week"

"How did that happen?" Is the follow-up question.

"Well, the party was at her house and I just never left.", you giggle

"How long ago was that?"

"March of 2024"

"Wow, almost a year. What's your favorite thing about her?", the man behind the camera directs this question at your lover.

"Her gentleness. She's very gentle in all aspects of life. She's very patient, considerate, calm and receptive. She doesn't judge and her approach to life and interacting with others is to the point but not brash. She states her opinion but isn't rude about it. She makes me feel seen."

A warm blush coats your cheeks and you shyly sway on the spot.

There's a shift towards your direction and the previous question is repeated. You delicately toy with a beautiful necklace around your neck as you answer, "uhh everything. She's passionate, gentle, funny. She radiates warmth."

"We're doing a poll on if people believe in fate and the role it plays-"

Bright-eyed, you are the first to respond, "yes absolutely." You pivot your body towards her as you continue, "I feel like I knew you in like all of our past lives.". Your blonde-haired lover is quick to nod in agreement.

"What do you mean that you feel like you've known her in all your past lives?"

Nodding, you state, "I just feel extremely connected to her. Things have just been so comfortable and soothing."

"I've never heard a relationship being referred to as soothing. That's beautiful", the cameraman smiles.

Misty-eyed, the 6-foot young woman nods in agreement. You notice her prickling tears and quickly pull her in a comforting hug as you whisper, "I love you" in her ear. She repeats the sentiment as she tightens her arms around you. You stay in your tender embrace for a few moments longer. As you pull apart, you turn to the camera and state, "Thank you for this."

Behind the camera, the man nods with a genuine smile.

"What are you most excited for?"

You raise your left hand and wiggle your fingers, "our wedding." A shiny pear-shaped diamond engagement ring winks at the camera.

The Illinois native inches closer to you and her voice overlaps with yours as she points to your ring and state, "our wedding next year"

"Wow, thank you. Do you mind telling us your names?". Nodding in agreement, you take turns to respond with you going first. "Y/N L/N" "and Kate Martin".

Comments:

User1: okay so who’s the friend? 😭

🔂User2: I think it’s Jada. Her birthday is March and she tagged y/n in her birthday post. I tried to view y/n’s account but it’s private.

User3: so you’re telling me that Kate has been in a relationship before she even started playing for the Aces???

User4: so no one else finds it crazy that they started living together after five business days ? 😀

🔂User5: does it matter? They’re still together and intend to stay together

🔂User6: some of y’all don’t know the man for five business hours before y’all make them y’all babydaddies, be quiet please

User7: so you’re telling me that Y/N has been with Kate for her entire WNBA career so far ? 🥹🥹🥹

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

[magicfootballstuff]

Best Mate (georgia stanway x reader) 

Summary: Georgia is your entire world, the love of your life. But you’re probably never going to be more than just her best mate.

(aka 12k words of angst and pining)

———

You’ve known Georgia since you were eleven.

Thirteen years in which you’ve been the closest of friends, through ups and downs. Thirteen years of playing for the same football teams, of carpooling to training and movie nights after matches and sharing rooms on away trips. Thirteen years, basically, in which you could have fallen in love with each other.

There’s a strange kind of irony, a punishment from the fates, that the first time you start to think of Georgia as anything more than your best mate is about three weeks before she moves to Germany.

You blame the Euros, naturally. That’s where you start to catch feelings. A long pre-Euro preparation camp, followed by weeks of heightened emotions as the Lionesses progress further and further into the tournament. It’s been a bonding experience for you all and you’re far closer to all the girls than you were a couple of months ago, but there’s been a shift in your relationship with Georgia specifically that you can’t quite explain.

It’s after the game against Spain that you first notice it. After coming back from behind, Georgia is the one who scores the winner to send you through to the semi finals and it might be the best goal you’ve ever had the pleasure of seeing live. It’s not just the goal - you’ve seen Georgia score screamers from outside the box on countless other occasions in your thirteen years of friendship - but the significance too.

It’s after this game that you actually start to believe you can win the whole tournament, that nothing is going to stop you until you get your hands on the silverware. And that belief starts with Georgia’s goal.

“I fucking love you, G!” you tell her in the dressing room after the game, still riding the euphoric high of beating Spain in such dramatic fashion.

Georgia grins at you.

“I love you too.”

Her words make you feel warm inside but you put it down to being happy about the result.

It’s not until later, lying alone in your bed back at the team hotel, unable to sleep because you’re still so pumped up from one hundred and twenty minutes of difficult football, that you hear Georgia’s words over and over again in your head and realise what it means.

I love you too.

Shit. You’re falling in love with Georgia Stanway. Your best mate.

What a cliche.

But you’ve spent thirteen years of friendship not being in love with Georgia. It should be pretty easy to brush any hypothetical feelings aside. Right?

———

It’s not. 

Actually, it turns out that acknowledging you have feelings for Georgia only makes them grow more.

You sit next to her on the coach on the way back from Bramall Lane after beating Sweden in the semi final. Around you, the whole team is jubilant, but all you can think about is how you can smell Georgia’s shampoo and feel the warmth of her thigh pressing into yours.

Shit, you’ve got it bad.

“We’re going to Wembley,” Georgia says. “Can you believe it?”

“Stuff of dreams, right?” you grin at her.

“And I get to do it with my best mate.”

The words ‘best mate’, while true, are like a knife to your heart and you’re reminded that you’ll only ever be Georgia’s best mate.

You try to shake yourself out of it. You’ve been Georgia’s friend for over a decade, you can keep being her friend, no problems at all. Because surely it’s better to be her friend than to risk messing things up and being nothing at all?

Except that she moves to Munich in two weeks. What if she loves it there, what if she prefers her new teammates to the old ones, what if she has such a good time there that she completely forgets about her old life in Manchester?

And you hate yourself for even thinking that. Georgia deserves to be happy. You know how excited she is to move abroad, how much she’s looking forward to the challenge of playing for a new team in a new league after spending so long at Manchester City. As her friend, you want the best for her, you want her to thrive in the new environment and be happy with her Bayern teammates as she settles into life in Munich.

You just hope that she doesn’t forget about you in the process.

“You’re quiet,” Georgia says, drawing you out of your own thoughts. “Wanna talk about it?”

You shrug, then give a half truth.

“Just trying to soak this moment in,” you tell her. “This feels special. No matter what happens in the final, I don’t want to forget the feeling of being part of this team.”

“I’m never gonna forget this,” Georgia says, sinking into your side and when she lets her head fall against your shoulder, you allow yourself just the briefest moment to imagine that she’s talking about this exact moment on the bus with you, not the summer of incredible football. “Would be pretty cool to win the damn thing though, right? One more trophy together before I leave.”

You never want this summer to end. Because as soon as it ends, Georgia leaves and you lose your best mate. You lose the person you’re in love with.

You have a feeling that this moment is going to be one that you come back to over and over again when you’re missing her, and you try even harder to commit every detail to memory.

———

Inevitably, the tournament does come to an end, but in the blur of playing an intense final at Wembley, winning said final, and the celebrations that continue long into the night, you almost forget that this is one of your last nights together with Georgia before she leaves for Germany.

Eventually, you and Georgia find your way back to each other, as you always seem to do. You have no idea what time it is, no idea how many drinks you’ve had, but it’s the early hours of the morning and most friends and family have either left or gone to bed, leaving just the players to continue their celebrations. You can still hear distant music and the occasional shout from downstairs, but you end up on the carpeted floor of a deserted hallway, side by side with Georgia. You’re sitting so close that the thighs of your outstretched legs are touching, and Georgia leans her head on your shoulder. You're holding hands too, though you don’t know who initiates that. Maybe it just happened because it felt right.

“I’m so proud of you, G,” you tell her, tracing your thumb across the back of her hand. “For everything - for today, for everything you did at City, for choosing to take a leap in your career.”

Georgia has hardly spoken about her impending transfer since it was announced, not while she’s been so focused on the tournament, and other than a couple of jokes this evening hoping that her new teammates will still welcome her after beating so many of them today, it’s been easy to pretend that she’s not about to move to another country. But now that the tournament is over, you have to face up to the reality sooner or later that your best friend is about to spread her wings and embark on a new journey that doesn’t involve you.

“Stop it, you’re gonna make me cry. And we’re supposed to be happy right now. We’re supposed to be celebrating.”

“I’m gonna miss you though. Bayern are lucky to have you.”

Your hand is still in Georgia’s, fingers linked together, though you don’t remember how it happened, whether it was you who took her hand or her who took yours. But her skin is so soft, especially on the back of her hand where you trace mindless patterns with your thumb.

“You’re still gonna be my favourite though, you know that right?” Georgia promises you.

“I am?” you ask, turning your head to look at her.

“Yeah, you’re my day one. Even when we live in different countries. I’m still gonna be talking to you every day.”

“I’m gonna be thinking about you every day,” you confess. “Every second, even.”

It’s only after the words slip from your lips that you realise you might have said too much, that you’re getting dangerously close to telling Georgia about the feelings that you promised yourself that you were going to keep secret.

“Yeah?” Georgia asks, her voice barely more audible than a whisper.

And just like the hand-holding, you have no idea who initiates what comes next, you’re just aware that your lips are on Georgia’s, or maybe hers are on yours, but who the fuck cares who leant in first when it feels this damn good.

Her lips are as soft as her hands, softer maybe, and she tastes like a combination of the free beer you’ve been drinking all night and something else, maybe optimism, if such a thing has a taste. But you’re very quickly unable to process much at all, senses overwhelmed, because Georgia is kissing you. Georgia, who you’ve been friends with since you were awkward teenagers with spotty faces and bruised knees, whose kisses are like a drug that you’re surely going to get addicted to because how could you not want to do this forever?

Just when you’re considering the logistics of pulling Georgia into your lap to continue this further, she pulls away from you, giggling as she wipes at her lips with captivating fingers.

“Shit, I’ve had way too much to drink,” Georgia says. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

She leans her head back against the wall behind you both, her eyes closed, and you try to keep yourself together, though your heart feels like a fragile sheet of glass that could shatter under even the tiniest amount of pressure.

“It’s fine,” you tell her, even though your lips still burn from her kiss. Even though you’re probably never going to be the same again. “We’re both drunk.”

———

The next morning, Georgia is wearing the most ridiculous pair of sunglasses you’ve ever seen, so huge that they mask half her entire face, but maybe that’s the intention because when she sits down next to you on the coach that’s supposed to take you to Trafalgar Square, she lets out a groan and says, “I don’t think I’ve ever been this hungover in my life.”

“I think I’m still drunk,” you admit. Your head isn’t pounding, it’s just swimming, the alcohol not yet worn off out of your system. It’ll hit you at some point today, you’re sure of that, and it’ll be torture. 

“Did I kiss you last night?” Georgia asks, pushing the sunglasses up onto the top of her head and frowning quizzically at you.

The way she asks, it’s almost like she doesn’t quite remember, and that stings a little. It’s pretty much the only thing you’ve thought about in the five drunken hours since it happened.

“Oh,” you say, trying to sound just as casual about it as Georgia does. “Yeah. I’d forgotten about that until you mentioned it.”

The lie is easy because there’s no way that you’re going to admit how affected you are by something as simple as the memory of her lips on yours.

“Yeah, sorry about that,” Georgia grimaces. “Emotional day, and all that. We’re still cool, aren’t we?”

“Course we are,” you answer, and it’s mostly the truth - Georgia could commit a serious crime and you’d still think she was the best person on earth.

She’s got no reason to know the depth of your feelings for her, no reason to understand that kissing you might have done more damage than if you’d never got the chance to feel Georgia’s lips against yours at all.

———

You decide to confide in Keira.

“I think I’m in love with Georgia,” you confess, during pre-season, still ignoring the rumours that Keira might be moving abroad soon too.

“Our Georgia?” she asks for clarification, as if the idea is so ridiculous that she can’t quite believe what you’re telling her. “Georgia Stanway?”

You nod, and Keira presses on with her next question.

“Have you told her?” she asks.

“Why would I do that?” you scoff.

“Why wouldn’t you? What have you got to lose?”

“Only thirteen years of friendship,” you point out.

“Obviously it’s your decision, but worst case scenario she doesn’t feel the same and things carry on as normal.”

“Worst case scenario I lose one of the longest friendships I’ve got,” you interject to correct Keira.

“G’s not like that though,” Keira dismisses your worries with a wave of her hand. “She wouldn’t just cast you aside because of something like this. Anyway, she’s in a different country now. By the time you next see each other she’ll have forgotten all about it and things will be back to normal.”

“I’ll think about it.”

———

You do think about it. In fact, it’s pretty much all you think about.

One international break passes, then another, without you saying anything to Georgia about how you feel. You’re practically glued to her side for the whole of both camps, or maybe she’s glued to yours, because you somehow seem to end up alongside her even when you’re making an effort to not seem like you’re obsessed with her.

That plan clearly isn’t working, because on the penultimate night of the second international break, Keira brings it up when the two of you are alone.

“You’re not being subtle,” she tells you.

“Huh?”

“About G,” she explains. “If you think it’s not obvious you have feelings for her, you’re wrong.”

“Yeah but I’ve told you,” you point out, in a half-hearted attempt to justify the way you’ve probably been staring at Georgia with huge puppy dog eyes for the last week. “You know what you’re looking for.”

“Have you told Leah?” Keira asks, arching an eyebrow. “Because she asked me yesterday if you and Georgia were closer than usual so she’s noticed something too.”

“What did you say?” you demand, your eyes widening in panic.

“Don’t worry, I told her you used to be inseparable at City and that you probably just missed seeing each other every day. I think she bought it.”

You relax, or at least you try to, because if Keira says it’s obvious and even Leah has noticed your heart-eyes, then it can’t be long before Georgia herself realises, and then she’ll surely want to distance herself from you.

“Just talk to her,” Keira pleads with you. “You’re one of my best mates too and I hate seeing you like this. Even if nothing happens between you and Georgia, at least you’ll get closure by talking to her.”

You know that Keira is right. You’ve known Georgia for so long that you’d like to hope she won’t make things weird if you tell her how you feel and she doesn’t feel the same. You need an answer, so you can get over your feelings if nothing is ever going to happen.

And you fully intend to talk to her on the last night of camp. But you have a game tomorrow so you decide not to say anything for the risk of somehow upsetting the equilibrium of the team, and then before you know it Georgia is on a plane back to Munich while you return to Manchester and still nothing has been said.

Another time.

In the meantime, your heart continues to ache for something you’ll probably never get to have.

———

You’ll tell her when she comes home for Christmas, that’s what you decide. No England camp, no training or matches to use as an excuse for not telling her how you feel. Just two old friends catching up on what’s been going on in their lives - and so what if one of the most important thing that’s going on in yours is the depth of the feelings you currently have for your best friend?

You’re nervous for two full days before you see Georgia, your heart pounding each time you think of the enormity of the conversation you need to have with her. Telling her how you feel could change everything for better or for worse and even right up to the moment when you’re on your way to meet her, you’re still not sure if you have the courage to actually tell her.

You meet Georgia for lunch at Jill’s coffee shop, because Georgia’s only in Manchester for a few days before she jets off to Barcelona to see Keira and she wants to see as many people as she can while she’s back, but once you’ve both shared a bit of playful banter with Jill when she brings you your food and drinks, the two of you are left alone in a quiet corner of the shop.

“I’ve been dying to tell you something,” Georgia says, almost as soon as Jill leaves you alone. “I was gonna text you but I really wanted to tell you in person.”

She loves you too. That’s the first conclusion that your brain jumps to, because you can’t think of anything else she might have to tell you that’s important enough to be said face-to-face rather than over the phone.

She loves you too. She loves you t-

“I’m seeing someone,” Georgia announces.

And just like that, your heart shatters into a million tiny pieces.

She doesn’t love you.

“You are?” you ask, trying not to let the pain show on your face - this is supposed to be your best friend telling you that she’s found somebody, after all, and if you weren’t hopelessly in love with Georgia yourself, you’d surely be happy about this development in her life.

“Yeah, a guy back in Germany. His name’s Nico - he’s one of Syd’s mates so I met him through her. It’s still really new, like he’s not my boyfriend or anything, but we’ve been on a couple of dates and I think it’s going pretty well.”

“Cool,” you say, and then immediately kick yourself, because what kind of heartless idiot says cool when their best friend announces they’re dating someone, which is why you add, “I’m so happy for you.”

There’s a degree of truth to your words. Though on a selfish level you want Georgia to reciprocate your feelings and be happy with you, that’s not very likely to happen when you’re too much of a coward to tell her how you feel and obviously the most important thing is that Georgia is happy with whoever she chooses. You just hope that if it can’t be with you, that this Nico guy at least treats her well and gives her the happiness she deserves.

“Anyway, what’s going on with you?” Georgia asks, taking a sip of her hot chocolate. “Any big life updates?”

If there was ever a moment to tell Georgia that you’re in love with her, it would be now, when she’s inviting you to open up about what’s been going on in your life. But Georgia is clearly excited about this guy that she’s dating, or else she wouldn’t have waited until she saw you in person before making it the first thing she brought up, and what kind of friend would you be if you tried to ruin that for your own selfish reasons?

“Nothing much,” you answer with a shrug. “Nothing as exciting as your news. Anyway, tell me about Munich. Are the German lessons still kicking your arse?”

———

Keira calls you a few days later, when you know that Georgia is in Barcelona too, probably sharing the same news about her dating life with Keira that she told you the other day.

“You’ve seen G, then?” she asks, once you’ve caught up on your own lives.

“Yeah, we had lunch together a few days ago.”

“Did she tell you…?”

“About her new boyfriend?” you interject, completing Keira’s question. “Yeah.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Keira asks.

You can practically hear the pity in her voice and it cuts you almost as much as Georgia’s news about her dating life.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” you try to dismiss it quickly, before you end up getting upset, or angry, or both. “She’s happy, that’s all that matters. I missed my chance.”

“Did you ever tell her?”

Keira doesn’t need to elaborate on exactly what she’s asking about and for that you’re grateful.

“No,” you answer. “But it’s too late now anyway.”

“I don’t think it is,” Keira counters. “It doesn’t sound very serious yet with this German guy.”

“Keira, if there was any chance she felt the same she’d have told me.”

“You mean like you’ve told her how you feel?” Keira asks.

Though you can’t actually see Keira’s face, you can picture it, one eyebrow arched at you and mouth twitching at the corners as she calls you out.

“It’s different,” you try to argue. “She wouldn’t be dating someone else if she had feelings for me.”

“Well if you aren’t ever going to tell her, maybe you should think about dating someone else. You know, a couple of the Barca girls are single. If you don’t mind the distance, I could put in a good word for you.”

There’s only one person you’d be willing to put in the effort required for a successful long distance relationship, and it’s Georgia. Besides, while Keira’s right that you’ll have to think about dating someone else eventually, it doesn’t feel fair to mess with somebody else’s feelings before you’ve at least tried to put your feelings for Georgia behind you.

“I’m good, thanks Ke,” you promise Keira.

“Well if you change your mind…”

“I’ll let you know as soon as I do.”

———

You don’t change your mind. Not about being willing for Keira to set you up with one of her club teammates, at least. You do, however, reconsider your decision not to tell Georgia about how you feel.

What can the harm be? If anything, the German boyfriend is a safety net because you have less optimism that Georgia feels the same, fully prepared for her to let you down. 

You phone Georgia when she’s back in Germany in January, entering the conversation with your heart already wrapped in bubble-wrap, in theory protected from being broken.

“Hey G, are you busy?”

“I’m never too busy to talk to you,” Georgia replies.

Your heart soars, giving you the courage to say, “Cool, well there’s actually something I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Go on, I’m listening.”

“I was gonna say something when you were back in England but then you … well, you had your news and I didn’t want to ruin that.”

You pause and take a deep breath, glad that you’re doing this over the phone so that Georgia can’t see the sheer physical anguish you’re going through to psych yourself up to tell her this.

“I love you.”

There’s a moment of silence on the other end of the phone, then Georgia speaks.

“Aw, you big softie,” she teases you. “Love you too.”

You close your eyes and pinch the bridge of your nose. Part of you wants to leave it there, the idea of having to correct Georgia’s misunderstanding somehow even worse than having to admit you love her in the first place, but you can hear Keira’s voice in your head telling you to grow a pair and tell Georgia how you really feel.

“No, I … I mean that I love you,” you clarify. “Not just as a friend. Like, I’m properly in love with you.”

“Oh,” Georgia says. There’s silence on the other end of the line as she processes what you’ve told her, before she eventually repeats, “Oh. Shit, okay.”

It’s not exactly the reaction you were hoping for and though you’d prepared yourself for probable rejection, you couldn’t actually have prepared for the punch in the gut that is the pure surprise from Georgia, as if the idea of there being anything more than friendship between the two of you is so far-removed that she’s never once even considered the possibility.

“Forget I said anything,” you say quickly, eager to put this torturous ordeal behind you. “I’m just being stupid. It’s nothing I can’t get over.”

“No, wait!” Georgia blurts out. “It’s not stupid. It’s just … unexpected, I guess. You’ve surprised me, that’s all.”

“I’m sorry,” you mumble.

“No, don’t apologise! I’m glad you told me. The thing is, I do love you too. Just as a friend.”

And despite all the preparation you did beforehand to try to protect yourself from the pain of inevitable rejection, hearing Georgia confirm aloud what you already knew still causes your heart to splinter into tiny pieces. 

“Okay,” you say, trying to swallow the lump that’s formed in your throat. “That’s what I needed to hear. Now I can move on. And I understand if you don’t want anything to do with me-”

“Are you kidding?” Georgia interrupts you. “This doesn’t change anything. It takes courage to tell someone how you feel. I’m not gonna punish you for that. Anyway, you’ll always be super important to me. So unless you need a bit of space…?”

“No,” you’re quick to say. “I don’t need space.”

“Then you’re not getting rid of me anytime soon,” Georgia reassures you.

A single tear spills from your eye and you wipe it away quickly, even though Georgia can’t see you, because you’re worried that if you let it trickle the whole way down your cheek, it’ll be followed by a flood. The only thing that could make this more embarrassing that it already is would be if you burst into tears and Georgia heard you crying.

“Thanks, G.”

———

“I hate to admit it, but you were right,” you tell Keira, as you make your way out to the training pitch at St George’s Park on the first morning of the February international break, a few weeks on from telling Georgia how you feel - how you felt. “I just needed closure.”

“From Georgia?” Keira asks for clarification.

“Yeah. It turns out that finding out she doesn’t feel the same was a really quick way to shut down whatever stupid feelings I thought I had for her.”

“I think you’re being hard on yourself. It’s not stupid to catch feelings, especially for someone like G.”

“It was just emotion from the Euros,” you try to explain. “Then the distance. I was missing her. I got a bit carried away, that’s all. Anyway, she’s got her German guy now.”

“Not anymore,” Keira tells you. “That fizzled out a while ago.”

“It did?” you ask, your head jerking up in surprise when you hear the news. “She never told me that.”

“Yeah, well…” Keira trails off with a grimace, and you don’t need her to finish her sentence to understand what she’s saying.

“Right.”

You probably sacrificed your right to hear about Georgia’s personal life when you attempted to insert yourself into it by confessing your feelings for her. And if you’re completely honest, though you still talk to Georgia pretty often, there has been a slight shift in what you talk about, more superficial football chat and fewer deep conversations about all the other stuff going on in your lives.

Not for the first time since telling Georgia how you felt, you wonder if admitting your feelings was the wrong decision after all.

You hear footsteps behind you, the telltale sound of studs against concrete, and you turn to see Georgia, who inserts herself between you and Keira and drapes an arm around each of your shoulders.

“Hey guys, whatcha talking about?”

“The weather,” Keira is quick to save you the turmoil of having to come up with a lie yourself. “Thought it was cold in Barcelona at this time of year but I’d forgotten how much worse it is in England.”

“This?” Georgia scoffs, gesturing at the bleak grey sky above. “It’s tanning weather. I don’t know what you’re complaining about.”

“You’re mad,” Keira says, shaking her head as she eyes up Georgia’s bare arms.

“Not mad,” Georgia counters with a grin. “Just happy to be back in England with my best mates.”

You don’t know how it makes you feel, hearing Georgia refer to you as a “best mate” again. She’s clearly making an effort to make sure you know that nothing has changed, that your sudden confession of feelings a few weeks ago hasn’t made Georgia think any differently of you than she thinks of Keira. But it still stings a little, all those hours spent wondering what if and picturing a hypothetical parallel universe in which Georgia returns your affection coming to nothing.

In the back of your mind, it registers that a public friendzoning shouldn’t hurt if you were as over your feelings for Georgia as you claimed to Keira that you were, but you push that thought down for now.

———

You don’t actually speak to Georgia alone until later, hanging out in one of the communal recreation areas during the free time you get between a gym session and dinner.

“I meant what I said earlier,” Georgia says. “It’s good to be back together again. And we haven’t seen each other in person since…”

Georgia trails off, leaving you to fill in the rest yourself.

Deciding that the best way to get past the slight awkwardness is just to acknowledge exactly what happened and laugh it off, you say, “Since I told you I liked you?”

Georgia’s eyes widen, slightly surprised that you’re so blasé about the situation, but she passes it off quickly and says, “Yeah.”

“I’m sorry if I put you in a weird position,” you apologise. “I just needed to say something, even if you didn’t feel the same way, for peace of mind, you know? Just feelings that had been brewing under the surface since the emotion of the Euros…”

“Since the Euros?” Georgia interjects, surprised once again.

“Yeah, but I don’t feel that way anymore,” you continue, fully aware of the fact that your cheeks are starting to heat up with embarrassment. “I got closure and I moved on. I hope things can go back to normal between us.”

Georgia hesitates for a second, like she’s still trying to process everything, before her face splits open into a huge grin.

“Yeah, of course. Nothing’s changed at all.”

You try to remember what normal friends who haven’t admitted feelings for each other talk about, and your mind immediately wanders to the guy she told you about when she was last home. The guy that, if Keira is to be believed, is no longer in the picture.

“How’s it going with that guy you’re dating?” you ask, already knowing the answer but wanting to hear it from Georgia too.

“Nico? I’m not seeing him anymore. Like he was nice, but he was … I don’t know, he was just nice. There was no real spark, or nothing.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.”

It’s partially true. If you can’t have Georgia yourself, you want her to be happy with somebody, though you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t done some social media stalking after she told you about him and he didn’t seem like anybody particularly remarkable. In a way, it’s a relief to hear that confirmed by Georgia herself.

“Nah, it’s fine,” Georgia says, dismissing your words with a casual wave of her hand. “It wasn’t serious anyway. And I wanted to tell you it was over but I didn’t know how. I didn’t want you to think I was messing with your feelings, or anything.”

“I get it,” you assure Georgia. “But you don’t have to worry about that. There aren’t any feelings to mess with anymore. That’s all behind me.”

Georgia narrows her eyes just slightly, like she’s not quite sure she believes you, but it passes so quickly that you might have imagined it.

“Cool,” Georgia says. “Anyway, did you see that worldie I scored in training earlier?”

And so the conversation moves on, back to normal with your best friend.

———

It does go back to how it was before, for which you’re relieved. Your biggest worry about admitting your feelings for Georgia was that it would ruin your friendship if she didn’t reciprocate, so you’re glad that you’re still just as close as you were before Christmas.

The problem is that now you’re back to talking to Georgia all the time, whether that’s messaging each other, ganging up together on Leah in the group chat, or FaceTiming to have a general catch up about life, you’re starting to realise that maybe you’re not over your feelings for her after all.

Can you really be blamed? Georgia is like a human ray of sunshine, lighting up your world with her silly jokes and beautiful smile, even from another country.

Surely everybody who meets Georgia falls a little bit in love with her?

Still, Georgia has made it pretty clear that your relationship is never going to move beyond friends, and you’re content to have her in your life in whatever way she’ll allow you, even if you’re still harbouring feelings for her.

You don’t tell Keira either. She asks you about Georgia a couple of times, just casual questions in passing which you respond to with reassurances that you’re getting along like old friends again, that her rejection was enough to extinguish your feelings. If there’s one thing that’s more humiliating than admitting to your best friend that you’re in love with her only to be turned down, it’s having to deal with the constant pity of another friend concerned about a possible broken heart. So you tell Keira that everything is fine and she seems to believe you.

It is fine. You are fine.

(And if you tell yourself that enough times, one day it’ll eventually become true.)

———

You have a plan.

And it’s not a plan that you’re making because you’re in love with Georgia. It’s a plan for your best mate who lives abroad and you miss dearly.

So when Georgia’s Bayern Munich team draws Arsenal in the quarter final of the Champions League, you go straight to the airport from training on the day of the match and catch the next flight to Munich to watch her play.

As you sit next to Georgia’s mum in the stadium, who makes a comment about how nice it is that her daughter’s best friend has flown all the way from Manchester just to support her in one game, you try telling yourself that you’re not just here for Georgia, that you know Leah and Lotte and several of the other Arsenal girls and you’ve come to watch them too, but as the game progresses you’re only really watching one person. 

You’ve always known that Georgia is good - you’ve played alongside her for more than a decade at England age groups and then at City, watched her put in tackles that others wouldn’t dare to try and score goals from outside the box that would make anybody drool. But there’s a big difference between seeing Georgia play in training or when you’re on the same team as her, and actually watching her play. It’s an exciting match, a close match, with good performances from players on both sides, but you watch Georgia far more than any other players, your eyes tracking her even when she’s off the ball.

Bayern come away with the win, though only just, and you’re already trying to figure out whether you can make it down to London and back in a single night next week for the second leg that promises to be as exciting as the first. For the quality of football, you tell yourself, not just for another chance to see the best friend that you miss terribly.

You watch as Georgia greets the fans, smiling for pictures and signing shirts in the process, slowly making her way along the edge of the pitch until she reaches the area where you are. Her eyes search the crowd, no doubt looking for her mum, but she does a double take when she spots you and you carefully manoeuvre your way forward until you’re close enough to talk to her.

“What are you doing here?” Georgia asks, disbelief in her eyes.

“I’m here to see Leah,” you joke.

“Oh, I’ll just go and fetch her for you then, shall I?” Georgia grins at you. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?”

“Have you never heard of a surprise?”

Georgia just rolls her eyes.

“How long are you here for?” she asks.

“Just tonight,” you answer. “I managed to convince Gareth to let me have tomorrow off training so I fly back first thing. I wish I could stay longer, but we’ve got a league game at the weekend.”

“Are you coming next week?” Georgia asks. “To the second leg? At the Emirates?”

“Do you want me to come?”

Georgia nods enthusiastically and says, “Yeah, course I do.” She pauses, then adds, “Only if you want to, though. I know it’s a long way to travel.”

“I’ll be there,” you promise. A wicked smile spreads across your face as you add, “To see Leah again, of course.”

Georgia rolls her eyes and says, “Dickhead.”

“Be nice, Georgia,” Georgia’s mum interjects. “She’s come all this way to see you.”

“Relax, mum, it’s just banter,” Georgia protests. “She knows I love her really.”

Love. That word again. Because Georgia does love you, of that you’re certain, but not in the way you want her to.

But as you look down at your best friend over the barrier that separates the players from the fans, her brown eyes alight and a smile on her face as she stares back at you, you realise that you’ll take Georgia’s love, however much of it there is and in whatever form it comes in, just to see her smile like this.

———

The weather is terrible. Unrelenting rain turns the four hour drive from Manchester to London into a five and a half hour drive with limited visibility on the motorways. The prospect of spending an evening in this torrential downpour for at least the two hours of the match, possibly longer if the game goes to extra time and penalties, is brightened only with the knowledge that you get to see your best friend again just a week after you last saw her.

Unfortunately the game doesn’t go Bayern’s way. Despite bringing in a one goal lead from the first leg, that hard work is quickly undone by two Arsenal goals in quick succession in the first half. You’re largely neutral to the outcome of this game, except that you aren’t because you want to see Georgia succeed, and she seems to double her efforts when Bayern go behind, putting even more into every challenge, every pass, determined not to lose.

You’re kidding yourself if you think you’re a neutral fan in this game because when the final whistle goes and the Arsenal fans start celebrating a hard-fought victory, your heart aches for Georgia and what could’ve been. But Georgia is a ray of sunshine, even in defeat, and still makes time for all the fans.

When you finally get to see her, inside the stadium after she’s showered and changed out of her wet kit, you’re actually more disappointed than she is about the outcome of the game.

“That’s football, isn’t it?” Georgia says with a shrug, after you’ve exchanged a long hug and offered her your commiserations. “Thanks for coming down though. It’s good to see you again. I missed you.”

Her words make your heart flutter and you play it off the only way you know how - with humour.

“It’s only been a week, G,” you remind her, rolling your eyes.

“A week is a long time when we used to see each other every day,” she points out. 

“And whose fault is that?” you tease her.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Georgia rolls her eyes at you. “What are you doing now?”

It’s already late and the drive back to Manchester will be a long one so as much as you want to hang around and cherish every moment with Georgia, you know you need to get on the road soon.

“Gotta drive back home soon,” you tell her.

“To Manchester?” Georgia asks her eyes wide. “Nah, no way I’m letting you drive back through the night, especially not in this weather.”

“But…”

“No buts,” Georgia interrupts you. “I’ll text you the address of our hotel and you can stay with me. Drive back in the morning.”

You’re supposed to have training in the morning and you don’t want to imagine the trouble you’ll get yourself into if you don’t show up. But this is Georgia, and is a bit of a telling off from the coaches not worth spending a bit of extra time with her? Besides, can you not just set an early alarm and drive back home straight to the training ground in the morning? You’re not needed until ten anyway…

“Fine,” you nod, trying to pretend that the decision was harder than it actually was, pretending that you wouldn’t jump off a cliff for Georgia with very little hesitation if she asked you nicely enough. 

———

Georgia meets you in the lobby of her hotel just over thirty minutes later, already dressed in pyjamas with a battered pair of sliders on her feet. She grins when she sees you and reaches straight for your hand, not even bothering with a proper greeting.

“Come on,” Georgia says, dragging you into the lift and pressing the button for the fifth floor. “Before anyone sees you.”

The lift doors rattle shut and it starts to rise. You turn to Georgia and ask, “Is this gonna get you in trouble?”

Georgia grins at you, then replies, “Only if we get caught.”

Your heart is pounding in your chest, so loud that Georgia must be able to hear it echoing around the confined elevator too, and you’re not sure if it’s racing from the thrill of trying not to get caught or because Georgia’s hand is still in yours, her warm palm pressed against yours and your fingers tangled together. 

Does Georgia even realise that she’s still holding your hand, or the effect that it’s having on you? Because it’s pretty much all you can think about as the lift ascends, your heart hammering away until the rush of blood in your ears is so strong that you might faint.

The lift can’t reach Georgia’s floor soon enough, but eventually it does arrive and the doors slide open with a soft ping, and then Georgia is dragging you along the carpeted hallway until she reaches the door to her room.

“Shhh,” Georgia hisses as she unlocks the door, ushering you inside as she finally lets go of your hand. “In you go.”

You enter Georgia’s hotel room and she closes the door behind the two of you. It’s a pretty standard room, a large double bed in the middle, a tv screen hanging from the wall beside a door that leads to the adjoining bathroom. Georgia’s suitcase is open on the floor, a few clothes strewn across the floor and the chair in the corner.

“Do you want a shower to warm up?” Georgia asks you. “I can lend you some spare clothes to sleep in.”

“Yeah, sounds nice,” you nod, shivering as you’re reminded that you’re still wearing your rain-soaked clothes from earlier.

Georgia kneels beside her suitcase and rummages around in it until she pulls out a spare pair of shorts with the Bayern logo on them and an oversized t-shirt, which she passes to you as she stands up again.

“Spare towel is on the rail in the bathroom,” she explains. “Pass us your wet clothes when you’ve taken them off and I’ll hang them up to dry.”

You smile your thanks and wander into the bathroom, turning on the hot water of the shower before stripping out of your wet clothes. Wrapping a towel around yourself for warmth and modesty, you open the door just wide enough to pass your clothes through to Georgia, who promises to hang them up by the radiator to dry overnight, before shutting yourself in the bathroom and stepping into the shower to warm up.

You spend longer than you probably need to in the shower but the warm water cascading over your head is more than welcome and it gives you time to think. To think about the fact that you’re here in Georgia’s hotel room, about to spend the night in her bed, wearing her spare clothes, when you should really be halfway up the motorway back to Manchester right now.

For some reason, your conscience warning you against this appears in the form of Keira’s voice.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Keira’s voice asks you in your head. “You’re still trying to get over her. Is this really going to help?”

“It’s fine,” you whisper aloud into the empty bathroom, your words masked by the sound of water hitting the tiles. “We’re just friends and that’s fine.”

It’s far from the first sleepover you’ve had with Georgia. You’ve known each other for well over a decade and spent your teenage years sleeping over at each other’s houses gossiping and giggling well into the night until a parent came in to hush you and urge you to get some sleep. You’ve shared rooms on countless camps before, during tournaments with England or on away trips with Manchester City. And since growing up and getting your own places, there have been movie nights that ended late where it was easier for one of you to stay over instead of driving back late.

In short, you’ve shared a bed with Georgia many times before.

You haven’t shared a bed since you realised you had feelings for her last summer, and definitely not since you admitted those feelings a couple of months ago.

But if Georgia’s comfortable with it, then you shouldn’t have a problem either.

You finally get out of the shower, when you’re completely warmed through and your fingertips are starting to shrivel from being under the water for so long. You dry off and change into the clothes borrowed from Georgia, then spend a bit of time drying your hair with a towel and brushing your teeth using the spare hotel-issued brush still in its plastic wrapper, before you eventually unlock the bathroom door and return to the bedroom.

Georgia is sitting upright in bed looking down at the screen of her phone, bathed in the yellow glow of the bedside lamp. She glances up when she hears the bathroom door open and smiles, whether at the sight of you in her clothes or some other reason, you’re not quite sure. 

“You still like to sleep furthest from the door, right?” she asks, shuffling across to leave plenty of room for you in the bed beside her.

“You gonna protect me from intruders?” you tease her, as you clamber into the empty side of the bed.

Georgia is a few inches shorter than you, but you’ve seen the way she tackles on a football pitch and you have no doubt that she’d do better in a fight than you.

“Course I will,” Georgia grins back at you. “Ready for bed? Can I turn the light off?”

You nod and settle yourself down, adjusting the pillow and pulling the covers up over your shoulders as you roll onto your side. Georgia flicks off the light, then there’s some shuffling on her side of the bed, before you both fall still.

With your eyes not yet adjusted to the darkness, you can’t actually see Georgia more than just a shadow on her side of the bed, but you’re pretty sure she’s lying on her side facing you. 

And that’s when it truly hits you. You’re sharing a bed with Georgia, close enough to touch her, close enough to be able to hear her breathing, but knowing that you can’t do anything about the ache in your chest.

You have no idea how you’re going to calm your mind or your heart enough to be able to fall asleep tonight.

You shiver - whether that’s because you’re still cold or for some other reason like Georgia’s proximity - but it’s enough that she notices.

“Shit, are you still cold?” Georgia whispers into the darkness. 

“No, it’s fine,” you say, but your body betrays you again with another shiver.

“Come here,” Georgia says, though it’s her, not you, that closes the gap between you, shuffling her body closer until she can wrap her arms around you and pull your body against hers. Your feet intertwine at the bottom of the bed, hers warmer than yours, though she makes no complaint. “Nothing warms you up like a little cuddle.”

It’s not just a little cuddle though. This is a cuddle with your best friend who you’re more than a little bit in love with, who is kind enough to let you stay here despite the fact she could get in trouble, who has lent you her clothes and let you use her shower and now offers her arms to keep you warm. Your best friend who can surely now feel as well as hear the pounding of your heart as you nestle your body against hers beneath the covers.

Your eyes have started adjusting to the darkness and now you can see how close her face is to yours, your foreheads separated by barely an inch, and she’s staring right back at you, her warm breath hitting your face with each exhale.

“G…”

You breathe her name into the space between your lips, ready to tell her that you can’t do this, ready to admit that you still have feelings for her and that you need to leave, drive back to Manchester even though it’s the middle of the night and you’ve got no dry clothes, because otherwise you might do something that you regret.

But you don’t get the chance to say anything, because suddenly Georgia’s warm lips are on yours, soft and unmoving and so incredibly tentative, but also so right.

She lingers for a few seconds, then pulls back, her chest rising and falling more deeply than before with each breath, as she asks, “Sorry, I … was that okay?”

“You shouldn’t kiss me if you don’t mean it,” you say, just about ready to combust into tears, such is the intensity of the feelings overwhelming your entire body for the other girl. 

You don’t know what to expect from Georgia, but it’s definitely not what she says next.

“And what if I do mean it?”

Her voice is quiet, her words cautious. You’re so used to Georgia being her usual loud and effervescent self that you barely recognise the tone of her voice, but she sounds almost vulnerable.

“I’m so far gone on you, G,” you admit. “I thought I could get over you but I can’t. I need you to know that you could shatter my heart and stamp on all the tiny pieces and I’d still want to be yours. And if there’s even the smallest part of you that doesn’t mean it, then we should forget that ever happened and…”

You don’t get to finish your sentence because Georgia’s mouth is on yours again, hotter and more insistent this time. You gasp as she kisses you and her mouth opens too, her hand coming up to cup your jaw as her tongue swipes past your lips. The sound you let out is involuntary and you would be embarrassed, if not for the fact that you can’t think of anything except Georgia - her lips on yours, her body wrapped around you, her hands burning your skin.

Eventually, breathing becomes a necessity and Georgia must agree because she pulls back, though only far enough to lean her forehead against yours as she says, “I think I’m in love with you.”

“You think?” you ask, needing Georgia to be absolutely certain before you let yourself hope.

“I’m pretty sure,” Georgia corrects herself. “I’m still figuring it out but I’ve been thinking about it ever since you told me you liked me, and then when you showed up in Munich last week to surprise me … nobody’s ever done something like that for me before. And I can’t imagine anyone else making me feel the way that you do. You’re so much more to me than just a best mate. You’re … you’re everything to me.”

“Do you really mean it?”

Georgia nods.

“Whatever I have to do to convince you I mean it…”

“Just hold me,” you tell her, pushing your body further into hers and nuzzling your face into the crook of her neck.

“Just hold you?” Georgia asks, her hand squeezing your hip, and though you can’t see her face, you can picture the smirk on her face anyway.

You lift your head and use the element of surprise to roll Georgia onto her back, trapping her against the mattress with one of your legs framed on each side of her hips.

“You’ve got other suggestions, have you?” you ask her, raising your eyebrows at her as you sweep your damp hair out of your face.

Her hands settle on your hip tentatively, like she knows what she wants but isn’t quite sure yet whether it’s okay.

“I’ve got some ideas,” Georgia admits, fighting off a mischievous smile.

“Yeah?”

You lean down, still hardly able to believe that this is Georgia telling you that she loves you, that she wants you in the same way that you want her, as you press your lips to hers again. You hope that you’ll never get tired of kissing her because each time feels more magical than the last, as you slowly get used to the way that her lips move, to the things that make her breath catch in her throat as she kisses you back, and you know that there’s a whole other side of your oldest friend that’s now open for you to get to know and explore.

It would be so easy to get carried away, especially when Georgia’s hands, already dangerously low on your hips, start to slide lower, but there will be plenty of time for that, you hope. You’ve waited long enough, thirteen long years, for this to happen. You can wait a little longer.

You reluctantly detach your lips from Georgia’s and settle back against her side, one of your legs slung over her hips and her hands coming up to wrap around your back as you lie half on top of her.

“Another time,” you tell her, as you let your eyes flicker shut, knowing that sleep will be easy to come by with Georgia’s arms around you.

“That’d better be a promise,” Georgia murmurs, pressing a kiss to your temple.

You don’t say anything, just laugh softly, and snuggle into her until sleep takes you both.

———

You wake in a different position, spooning Georgia from behind, but no less content than you were when you fell asleep. Georgia is still fast asleep, body rising and falling with each deep breath, and you manage to carefully extract your arms from around her so that you can reach for your phone on the bedside table to check the time.

You let out a soft groan when you see the time because you’re supposed to be at training in Manchester in less than two hours, and as perfect as last night was, finally getting an admission from Georgia that she feels the same, you now have to deal with the consequences of staying overnight in London instead of driving back home last night after the match.

You slip out of bed as quietly as you can, intending to go into the bathroom to call Gareth and give him some kind of made up excuse about why you’re not going to be at training. Something that doesn’t involve having to admit that you prioritised a girl over your career, even though Georgia is so much more than just a girl and last night will hopefully be the first of many that you get to experience falling asleep in her embrace, but you’re not so sure that your manager will understand or approve.

But before you can make it as far as the bathroom, you hear a sleepy voice from behind you.

“You’re not sneaking out on me, are you?”

You turn to the most adorable sight, a sleepy Georgia rubbing at her bleary eyes as she pushes herself up onto one elbow, her hair sticking up at an awkward angle on the side she slept on.

“No, of course not,” you promise her. You hold up your phone and explain, “I just need to make a call. I’ve got training today and obviously I’m not going to make it.”

“Come back to bed,” Georgia pleads with you.

“One sec,” you say, calling Gareth and lifting your phone to your ear as you sit down on the edge of the bed. 

When it rings through to voicemail, you’re a little relieved that you don’t actually have to talk to him in person, and you wait for the tone before leaving your message.

“Hi Gareth,” you say, deliberately rasping your voice as you try to sound as sick as you possibly can. “I’m really sorry but I don’t think I’m going to make it into training today. I’m not feeling well and I’ve already been sick once this morning. Sorry again. I’ll catch up with you soon when I’m feeling better. Bye.”

You hang up and toss your phone aside, ignoring the amused look on Georgia’s face as you get back under the covers.

“Pulling a sickie, eh?” she teases you.

“Shut up,” you grumble, though you still cuddle back into Georgia’s side, tangling your legs together beneath the covers once more.

From this close, you’re taken aback by just how pretty she is. Not that it’s the first time you’ve thought that, but seeing her like this, still slightly heavy-eyed from just waking up, looking back at you with adoration mirrored in her dark eyes, and being able to take it all in without having to worry about whether you get caught staring at her, is brand new. And with whatever limited time you have left before you inevitably have to get up and leave the blissful sanctuary of Georgia’s bed, you just want to kiss her, to feel her body against yours so that you have something tangible to remember this by when she has to go back to Munich.

“Can I kiss you?” you ask.

“You don’t have to ask.”

“I do,” you insist. “Because I can’t believe that last night actually happened. I’m still kinda waiting for you to tell me it’s just a prank.”

Georgia presses forward and her lips meet yours. It’s slower than the kisses you exchanged last night before bed, but you sigh happily into the kiss and bring your hand up to cup Georgia’s cheek. She lets out a little noise that you capture with your own mouth as your fingertips brush against a sensitive spot just below her ear and you make a mental note to revisit the spot later, perhaps with your lips and teeth instead, and vow to find every other spot that makes her whimper and melt into putty.

You make out for a while, a lazy exploration of each other’s mouths without any real destination. Having spent at least the last eight months dreaming of getting to spend quiet mornings in bed with Georgia, kissing until it’s hard to tell where you end and she begins, you’d be quite happy to keep doing this for the rest of eternity, but she eventually pulls back.

“I wish I didn’t have to go back to Germany,” Georgia says, echoing your own thoughts.

“But you love it there,” you remind her, trying to be the voice of reason, even though you wish you could both just exist in the cocoon of this hotel room for the rest of time.

“I love it here too.”

“Here being…?”

“With you,” Georgia clarifies, and your face cracks open into a big grin.

“Didn’t know you were so soppy, G,” you tease her. 

“Neither did I. I guess you bring it out in me.”

“Charmer,” you say, snuggling into her shoulder and sliding your hand under the hem of her t-shirt so that your fingertips can brush across the skin of her hip bone.

“We should really get up,” Georgia says, though she makes no move to do so.

“Five more minutes?” you ask, nuzzling your face into Georgia’s neck and pressing your lips to her pulse point.

“Go on then. Five more minutes.”

———

It’s another twenty minutes before you eventually drag yourselves out of bed, which means you have to rush to get ready and any chance you might have had to slip out of the hotel before any of Georgia’s teammates see you is ruined when you hear a knock on the door.

You’ve redressed in last night’s clothes, now mostly dry, and grab the last of your things as Georgia opens the door, revealing three of her teammates standing out in the hallway.

“Breakfast?” they ask her, before three pairs of eyes look past Georgia and fall on you, slipping your feet into your trainers.

“I should go,” you say, checking your coat pocket for your car keys and wandering over to where Georgia stands at the door once you’re satisfied you’ve got everything. “Text me when your flight lands.”

“I’ll text you before then,” Georgia says, her hand coming up to rest on your waist as she tilts her head up to press a sweet kiss to your lips. It’s far more chaste than the ones you shared last night and this morning but it’s still enough to draw some sniggers out of her teammates.

“Bye,” you whisper against her lips as you pull away.

“Love you,” she says.

“Love you too.”

As you leave the room and walk down the hall, you can hear Georgia’s teammates starting to tease her loudly behind you, and you enter the lift fighting off a smile that has everything to do with the development of your relationship in the last ten hours.

———

Luckily you don’t have to wait long to see Georgia again because just a few days after the Champions League match, she returns to England for another Lionesses camp as you prepare for the Finalissima against Brazil.

Naturally, you smuggle Georgia into your room almost as soon as she arrives on camp and spend the night trying really hard to keep your hands to yourself, because you’ve waited so long for Georgia to be yours that you’re determined to wait a little longer so that your first time together isn’t at St George’s Park while your teammates are trying to sleep in the rooms on either side of yours. But you settle for kissing her heatedly well into the night and waking up with her head resting on your chest and one of her arms draped around your waist.

You’re in such a good mood when you go down to breakfast on the first morning of camp, that you completely forget that nobody else knows about the new development in your relationship with Georgia. Specifically, you forget that Keira, who knows pretty much every other up and down of the last few months, doesn’t yet know that Georgia reciprocates your feelings.

You sit at your usual table for breakfast, Keira opposite you and Georgia setting her tray down next to yours.

“I’m just gonna get some juice,” Georgia says. “Do you want some?”

“No thanks,” you reply, taking a sip from your mug of coffee.

You watch as Georgia wanders over to the jugs of juice, your gaze following the swish of her ponytail before dropping to appreciate her legs and the shape of her butt in her training shorts. It’s only when Keira kicks you under the table, hard enough to surely leave a bruise on your shin, that you snap out of your trance.

“What?” 

“You’re still in love with her, aren’t you?” Keira hisses across the table.

You pause for a second, glancing between Keira and Georgia, who is on her way back to the table with a glass of orange juice, and then you laugh. You can’t help the way that it spills from your throat because Keira is looking at you like being in love with Georgia is the worst thing in the world, and while it might have been painful a week ago, you don’t know how to begin to explain that in the space of just a few days it’s become the best thing that’s ever happened to you.

“What did I miss?” Georgia asks, as she returns to the table and sits down beside you. “What’s so funny?”

“Keira thinks I’m in love with you,” you explain.

Keira’s eyes widen, and now that you’ve got over the initial surprise of her question, you start to wonder if you can have a bit of fun before actually telling her the truth.

Georgia is clearly thinking the same, because she nudges your thigh with hers and says, “Aw, you love me? That’s lame.”

Keira looks even more panicked - understandable given that she’d probably expect Georgia to be a little more considerate towards your feelings if she didn’t reciprocate.

“Can we talk after breakfast?” Keira asks. “Because I’m worried about you. I thought you’d…” Keira’s eyes flit across to Georgia, then back to you, giving you a deliberate look as she says, “… you know.”

“You thought she’d moved on?” Georgia fills in the gap. She puts down her fork, then reaches for your hand, lacing your fingers together and resting them on the table where Keira, and anybody else, can see. “Fat chance of that. She’s obsessed with me.”

Keira looks more confused than ever, and you realise that you probably owe her an explanation.

“G’s my …” You pause, realising that while you’ve both admitted you love each other and there seems to be an understanding that you’re together now, you haven’t actually had a conversation to put an official label on what you are. You turn to Georgia and ask, “Are you my girlfriend?”

“If that’s your way of asking me, it’s not very romantic, is it?” Georgia teases you.

Rolling your eyes, you turn back to Keira and say, “She’s my girlfriend. We’re dating.”

To emphasise your point, you bring your joined hands to your lips and press a kiss to the back of Georgia’s fingers.

Keira’s eyes look like they might pop out of her head at any second.

Leah sits down in the empty seat beside Keira, taking one look at your joined hands, before she says, without a hint of surprise in her voice, “You two have finally got your shit together, then? About bloody time.”

“How are you not more surprised by this?” Keira asks Leah, apparently exasperated by the new development. “I’ve spent months listening to this one,” she jabs an accusatory finger in your direction, “whine on and on about how much she loves Georgia and how Georgia is never going to love her back to the point where I’ve genuinely had sleepless nights worrying about it, only for them to hard launch their apparent relationship by rocking up to breakfast and just holding hands like it’s completely normal!”

Keira is usually so cool and composed, even when under stress, that it’s weird to see her have an outburst like this, but she’s the only one who knows the extent of how much your feelings for Georgia not being reciprocated until now has really affected you over the last few months, and for that she deserves an explanation. 

Georgia leans closer to you and whispers, “Babe, I think we broke Keira.”

You’ll have time to process the way that Georgia’s use of the pet name babe makes your heart do an actual somersault in your chest, eager to revisit the subject later, but you probably owe Keira an explanation before she actually combusts.

“I love her,” you tell Keira and Leah. “And it turns out G loves me too, it just took her a while to figure it out. But we’re serious about giving this a go. It’s brand new, which is scary and exciting, but…” You turn to Georgia now, almost forgetting that the others are here too as you get caught in the adoration in Georgia’s eyes. “But she’s my girlfriend, my best mate, the only person I’ve ever felt like this about. So yeah, I’ve been a bit of a mess over the last few months trying to get my head around what I felt for her. But she’s worth it. You’re worth it, Georgia. And I’m lucky I get to call you mine.”

Your words come from the heart and it feels for just a second like the two of you are caught in your own little bubble of blossoming romance.

That is, until Leah bursts it by sarcastically saying, “Well thanks guys, I really didn’t want to keep my breakfast down this morning.”

It doesn’t matter if Leah ruins the moment. You’ve waited for Georgia for far too long to care. And as the news of your relationship filters through camp until the rest of the team knows, met with some surprise, some cries of “I knew it!”, and plenty of teasing, the only thing that matters is Georgia and the fact that you finally get to call yourself hers.

[felibrary]

╭──╯PAIRING: aventurine x fem!reader

CHAPTER SYNOPSIS:  Out of everyone this could’ve happened to, of course, it struck you. As a barista, you meet new customers every day but a fateful encounter with a stupid(ly handsome) stranger, turns into two and three and to the point of no return, and somewhere along the way catching yourself faltering for his persistent charms annoyance.

WORDCOUNT: 4.2k

CONTENT & GENERAL WARNINGS: fem!reader, barista!reader, cursing, light angst if you squint, fluff, march is the n1 shipper, vague mentions of ratio, banter and bickering (more from readers side), no beta-read we die like baiheng

AUTHOR'S NOTE: the last chapter was posted like 2 weeks ago? i think not sure. sorry guys i just had no motivation in the previous few weeks at all 😭😭 but here it is, enjoy! also just cause this took super long to write doesn't equal it being super good 😓

ART CREDITS: none of the characters or art belong to me all art credits go to @/kkuekkue on x!

TAGLIST: @azullumi,@sunananaa, @milksnake-tea, @iceunhie, @nayukiyukihira, @jjzlisu, @raideneiari (if you want to be added to the tag list write a comment or send me an off anon ask! ^^)

PREVIOUS || MASTERLIST || NEXT

“Order for uh.” you abruptly stop your sentence. Furrowing your brow in confusion you look at the questionable name that is written on the paper cup that you’re currently holding in your hand. Your gaze drifts over to the barista behind you. “March..” you whisper through gritted teeth, trying to maintain a smile while pausing for a brief moment to study the face of the girl with the cotton candy-like hair. 

The short girl hums quietly, “What is it?” she tilts her head to the side, a milk-frothing pitcher in her right hand, almost empty. “And why are we whispering?” admittedly you’re not even sure yourself, after all, people come up with silly names all the time, so why are you refraining from saying this name out loud?

“Well, I'm whispering because I don't want the other customers to listen into our conversation, but, are you sure that you wrote the right name here?” you ask the girl behind you doubtfully before directing your view towards the letters that were written in cursive and were adorned by little stars and flowers drawn by none other than March. 

The '*•.¸♡𝓐𝓿𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓾𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓮 ♡¸.•*' which she wrote in cursive (and if you may add, kind of crooked) made you raise your eyebrows as you held the cup in front of her face for her to see.

She always had a habit of drawing cute smiley faces or hearts onto the cups, reasoning it by saying that it’d sweeten the customers' day. Although you’re not sure if that’s really necessary, their day probably already gets sweetened enough from the amount of sugar and sweetener March puts into the drinks.

She huffs, feigning hurt and acting offended by your question “If you want to suspect someone, blame her!” March’s eyes drift over to the silver-haired girl who is currently sitting next to the trash can near the staff rooms, playing video games and thus blocking the way: Stelle. 

The girl in question quickly lifts her head and just smiles sheepishly as if not knowing what’s going on right now. “She’s the one who gave me the receipts and told me the names before you took over, I just added the condiments and started creating cute latte art!.” you sigh at that. Well, whoever gave Stelle their name will probably be able to recognize it sooner or later anyway. 

The worst case scenario that could probably happen is the customer putting their hands on the counter and starting to scream and yell at you to the point where their spit lands in your eyes. Urging to talk to your manager: Pompom. If the customer would see them the customer would probably start scolding you for bringing out the mascot instead of the manager, leaving the shop and giving you zero stars on Maps. (definitely not talking from any former experiences.) Yeah, hopefully, that won’t happen.

You let out a throaty cough before loudly shouting once again “Order for Aventurine!” you really wonder whose mom named their kid after a quartzite stone now — hell, if you let your guard down, the next person who you’d have to call up is someone named Ashleigh or Jonaslian. 

What’s up with women who are only maybe one or two decades older than, and their obsession with horrible baby names?

“Hellooo” the o of the greeting gets dragged out by the owner of the sing-song voice. “Earth to the cashier.” The next thing you know is a hand that is covered in a black leather glove,  waving at your face, moving in a repetitive up-and-down motion. The gesture makes you snap out of the haze which you were in, and slightly shake your head, before looking up at the customer and getting a good glance at them.  

In front of you stood possibly the hottest man you’ve ever seen. Blond silky hair and was dressed in a crisp black waistcoat that was draped around his slim torso, wearing a turquoise button-up underneath it that was adorned with gold decorations around his collar. His tie that matched his waistcoat was adjusted perfectly so that it sat in the right place. Black leather gloves envelop his slender fingers. 

The last time you were enamored by someone was when you were 9 reaching 10, and seeing Asami Sato bumping into Mako with her motorcycle on TV for the first time made you fall head over heels in love with her. That woman had younger you in a chokehold.

You feel your body tensing and heating up slightly. Fuck, has it always been this warm here? Your eyes sway over to the air conditioner behind you. No, that can't possibly be it, you made sure that the A/C was on the highest level before opening the cafe. 

The blond in front of you raises his eyebrow and looks at you expectantly, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as his eyes shift over your face as if studying your expression. There’s amusement that settles onto his face — smugness would be the best word to describe it.

 Shit, there was no way he found out that you were fawning over him.

“Take a picture. It lasts longer sweetheart.” he shoots you a small wink and you’re not sure whether to feel impressed or horrified at the fact that he was able to read you as easily as an open book where the most important words are already highlighted in a bold colour. 

So you remain silent — speechless, to be precise. There’s a familiar feeling bubbling up in your chest, one that makes you all giddy and nervous. How can someone whom you never met enarmour you so much? It’s weird, but it’s weirder that it feels all too familiar. Suspicion arises within you.

“Hmm?” Aventurine — or whatever his name may be, tilts his head to the side, a questioning and innocent expression manifesting on his face that it almost makes him look like a young boy who still has to grasp the concepts of the many fundamentals of the world.

“Spacing out already? Am I that handsome?” Yeah, keyword: almost.

It takes a second to compose yourself again before speaking up again. “Yeah.” Your eyes form into crescent moons as you give him a small faux smile (how March likes to call it: your customer service smile) before your face contorts into an expression of unpleasantness “No, in your dreams Mister. Also please hurry up, you’re holding up the line.” You point behind him and he angles his head backwards to see..no one?

“There’s no one there.” This time it’s him who looks unimpressed, a deadpan expression gracing over his features and you do have to admit that he looks kind of cute with that expression. Oh god, what were you thinking? “You know you’ll have to do better than try to tri-”

Before he can even finish his sentence you quickly cut him off. “With cash or with card?” Your customer service smile from before finds its way onto your face once more. “Miss, you’re so cruel! You didn’t even let me fini-” “I repeat. With cash or with card?” 

Your patience was running thin. Lucky for him he’s somewhat respectful and cute while bothering you and not going on your nerves. If he were some weirdo, you would’ve scurried away already. People like him (unfortunately) remind you that pretty privilege does exist. 

His gloved hand dives into the depths of the pockets of his slacks before pulling out a leather wallet and revealing a black card. Oh great, a rich guy. “With card.” he sighs dramatically. Do all rich people behave like this? “Sir, this is a café not an acting audition for some teenage romance drama.” You’re not sure what to think of this guy, on one hand, his attempts are cute on the other it’s kind of weird that he’s flirting with a cashier whom he met 5 minutes ago. “Just.” You hesitate before speaking up again. “Just type your PIN in here and you’re done.” He nods and continues to do so which the small sound the machine makes confirms. 

At that, you give him a small nod as a gesture of thankfulness, before attempting to kick him out again. “Great, thank you. Now please go and I wish you a good day.” 

“But how am I supposed to have a good day without yo-”

“You’ll live.” you wave him goodbye and that leaves him with no other choice but to step back and leave. 

Maybe you’re hallucinating and maybe you’re just imagining it but before he leaves he gives you a small smile. The soft and charming glow that emanates from his eyes resonates well with the dusking sun as if they were reflecting the last golden rays of sunshine before they were to be engulfed by the warm hues of the sky and later on painted black like the night. An inexplicable feeling rises in your chest as he bids you goodbye, wishing you a nice day.

“Oh he so has a massive crush on you.” you shudder upon hearing March’s voice. Her words ring in your ears like Christmas bells chiming during the holiday season. Loud and obnoxious. You try to drain the thoughts away but how can you when the source who started it all is right behind you? Continuously gushing about how that handsome stranger must have an enormous crush on you.

“The group chat has to know about this!” March enthusiastically squeals and quickly fishes her phone out of her pockets. Before you’re even able to realize what is bound to happen let alone prevent her from aggressively typing on her phone, she’s already sent the first message. 

At that you can only bury your face into the palms of your hand, face sinking into your hands in embarrassment. As much as you love March, it sometimes feels like she’s the oldest of the group and not Mr. Yang. Not in terms of matureness and wiseness, no more like in the sense of the kind of mom who has to share each and every one of her baby’s accomplishments online, but not as bad though, of course. Still.

“I hate you,” you complain, words muffled by the palms of your hands.

“I love you too.” she quips cheerfully, a smirk on her lips.

Safe to say March was in charge of cleaning and tidying up the café for the whole shift.

“Aww the handsome guy from yesterday isn’t here today.” March coos into your ear, a frown is displayed on her lips. She frowns, but you can see the hints of playfulness that linger in her expression. “Put on such a nice show yesterday only to chicken out. Booo, lameeee.” March rolls her eyes in amusement, giggling while doing so. 

Although you didn’t want to agree with what March had to say, she’s somewhat right. You full-heartedly believed that he’d visit again today after the move he pulled off yesterday or perhaps you wanted him to visit him again. 

You quickly shook your head at that thought, brushing the idea of someone paying you a visit at work off to humor you a bit. There was absolutely no way you wanted to see him again. 

“It’s early in the morning and you’re trying to shake the dandruff out of your hair already?” “Not funny Mar-” There was no fucking way.

If this wasn’t a deja vu, you don’t know either. It’s almost as if the interaction of yesterday was replaying right in front of your eyes and once again catching you off guard.

“You know it’s not polite to blatantly stare at people right?” he spoke with a chuckle as he observed your irritated face. “Frowning like that will make you gain wrinkles.” The twitching on your right eye doesn’t go unnoticed by him and he can only chuckle at that, seemingly amused by your morning misery. 

“What are you doing here.” you can only mutter a single question out, dumbfounded by him appearing in front of you once again. “Hm, am I not allowed to come by? I mean, everything’s quite affordable in here and this place isn’t far away from my workplace either sooo.” 

Well, you can’t judge him for that. “Then, what do you want?” with a sigh you pluck one of the sticky notes of the block of colorful sticky notes, ready to write his order and name down. “Someone’s in a bad mood.” he chirps. A blank stare is the only thing you provide him as an answer and at that, he can only chuckle, it’s obvious that he’s enjoying this. “An Iced Americano would be nice. Thanks.” 

“Mhmm, noted.” you quickly scribbled his order down onto the quadratic paper before shouting March’s name over your shoulder. “Can you come here to keep our dear customer company? I’ll prepare his drink in the meantime.” you shoot Aventurine a heavy side-eye before darting your gaze back to March. The girl only giggles in response before happily skipping over to the counter. 

“Aww, do you want to extra prepare my drink?” upon hearing his remark you turn around. Meeting a pair of pink eyes which were covered behind long blond lashes, scanning your figure from a close distance. 

Nervosity crawls at your skin as you feel yourself getting watched by him. It’s weird — screw that, he’s weird. 

“Close!” a giggle accompanies your words. “Actually, I just really wanna get away from you. Have fun with him March.” scoffing, you turn around again.

It didn’t take you long to prepare his order, filling a cup with ice cubes and pouring some shots of espresso over them was a piece of cake. “Here” You hand him his drink and he nods in contentment before handing you a few coins, a cheeky grin appears on his face and you can see the amusement glimmering in his pink eyes. “See you tomorrow” he chuckles and upon that March nudges your side, which in response you can only give her an exasperated groan. 

“Yep. Head over heels in love.” she quips as soon as Aventurine is out of sight, and you have to fight the urge to slam your forehead against the counter.

Your third encounter with Aventurine occurred on a fairly rainy day. With sluggish movements and wet clothes, soaked from head to toe he slumped over to the counter and grinning as soon as he saw you. 

“Hey.” it takes you a moment to process the situation and reluctantly you reply. “Hey.” Your eyes scan over his figure, his white dress shirt is completely translucent now and you can’t help but let your eyes drift to the tattoo on his neck, down to his collarbone which is visibly poking out, and his slim waist, ribs only covered by a thin layer of pale skin.   

Aventurine seems to catch on pretty quickly and wraps himself into his blazer, seemingly uncomfortable by the way you’re looking at him.

You quickly gather your words, and voice an apology. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to shamelessly stare, that was rude again, I’m so sor-” “It’s fine.” Aventurine interrupts, cutting your apology curt while huffing out a tired sigh. The exasperation that resides in his voice implies that he obviously doesn’t want to dwell on this topic any further.  

A meek nod is the only response you’re able to give. “Can I just get the same thing I’ve had last time? Thanks.” he pulls out his card, ready to pay for his order. 

“Really? An Iced Americano during this weather?” you let out a small chuckle with which you’re trying to lighten up the tense atmosphere that built up between the two of you. 

At the sound of your light laughter, Aventurine’s eyes flicker over your face. “You remember my order?” he asks dumbfounded.

“Well yeah, no one besides teenage girls order an Iced Americano.” you joke, the usual sarcasm back in your voice. It quenches his former uneasiness, your light-hearted words soothing him like a cool steam dripping into his parched heart.

The corners of his lips twitch and he can’t help but smile. “Oh, shut up.” His signature smirk graces his lips and upon catching sight of it you can’t help but also let out a fond smile. 

“Will.. a freshly black brewed coffee do?” you’re careful when asking him. Nervousness crawls at your skin in anticipation. 

“Black coffee?” he hums. “Yeah, that should work. Thanks.” the reassuring smile he gives you makes your tense shoulder drop in relief, easing the worry that previously swam in your stomach.

You disappear into the kitchen, searching for the container that stores the coffee beans to prepare his drink, in the meantime, Aventurine quickly types into his phone before erasing the words as fast as he wrote them.

The fresh scent of coffee beans engulfs your nose and you can’t help but smile. Freshly brewed coffee always reminds you of home; someone in whose arms you can bury yourself in, nudging your nose into their chest as they cage you with their arms, softly embracing you. The rattling of a coffee machine in the background rings in your ears, but the only thing you can focus on is a voice that softly caresses the shell of your ear. 

Domesticity washes over you — it’s all too familiar. 

Aventurine’s drink is prepared in no time and you set it on the counter which makes him look up from his phone, giving you a weak smile before wrapping his hand around the drink. It’s still hot to touch, the warmth spreading over his hand in an instant like wildfire, it’s nice — the feeling of warmth enveloping his cold hand is nice. 

“Well, I’ll get going now.” his announcement catches you off guard, and impulsively you reach out to tug on his sleeve to prevent him from leaving. The action leaves both you and Aventurine surprised. Curious, the blond raises an eyebrow and grins (oh how much you want to wipe that stupid grin off his face), expectantly awaiting your next move.

“Sorry.” you cough apologetically before quickly letting go of his semi-dried sleeve. “But I don’t think it’s a good idea to go out again when it’s still raining. If I were you I’d just wait until the rain stops.” Upon hearing your sincere suggestion, Aventurine’s grin falters and instead slowly molds into a fond smile that makes you inexplicably warm.  

“Aww, don’t tell me you're worried that I might catch a cold?” You counter his playful remark with one of your own. “Well, yeah. Who else is supposed to give me a generous tip?” At that Aventurine can only laugh and the smile you’ve been trying to hold back escapes. 

“Touché.”

From there on visits from Aventurine became frequent, always coming during your shift or during your break to chatter with you about mindless topics. You got used to his visits, and even when you gave off the impression of showing no interest in his ramblings, you always lent him an ear, carefully listening to what he had to say about his pets or his grumpy friend. 

(He told you that the both of you resemble each other in some way, aloof on the outside but caring on the inside. In response, you shot him a big side eye, cause what does he mean by aloof?)

The small conversations exchanged between the two of you, ranged between topics of the latest spots that have just opened, to operas and musicals and eventually work. 

His work to be specific.

Curiosity got the better of you and you couldn’t help but ask: “Aventurine.” upon hearing his name sliding off your tongue, he hums in acknowledgment. “What is it?” you scan his attire, the material of his black blazer is slightly crumpled and the turquoise button-up he’s wearing underneath seems to be the same one as the one when you first met him.

“What the hell do you even work as? I mean what kind of job requires you to wear a new suit every day?” befuddlement manifests on your face. “Ah, well.” Aventurine hesitates for a moment, mouth slightly agape before closing it once again as if searching for the right words to say. “I’ve told you that I work here right down the street right? I’m a teaching assistant at St. Freya University for my friend.” he gives you a small and coy smile. 

“Oh, that prestigious university for rich kids?” at that Aventurine slightly raises his eyebrows as if surprised by your remark before quietly laughing. “Mhm, I suppose you could say so.” “I should’ve known that you taught there, I bet you also went there for university.” It’s only a joking remark you made upon impulse but the amusement on Aventurine’s face slightly dissipates, replaced with a sheepish expression.  

“I didn’t go to university.”

“What?”

“What?”

“What do you mean you didn’t go to university? I mean as teaching a-” “I-i started working from a very early age on and not as a teaching assistant it’s only a job for me to help my friend with.” he quickly corrects himself. “Oh.” “Yeah.” he hums, looking away. 

The silence is unbearable. It’s weird and unusual for you to not hear Aventurine chatter into your ear. “So uhm.. what do you teach or help with?” the embarrassment quickly rises to your cheeks and you turn your head downwards to avoid any eye contact. God, why’s initiating a conversation so hard and always fucking awkward.

“Interested in joining? Want me to sign you up?” you’re relieved upon hearing Aventurine immediately responding, lifting your head only to be met with soft pink eyes that are already earnestly admiring you. 

Your deadpan expression tells him more than enough and he chuckles more to himself than to you. “Well, my friend, he has high expectations for his students. To some people, he might appear strict, but really, it’s for their own well-being — not his. He cares about his students a lot. Sharing his knowledge about certain topics and seeing the potential in all of them, for them to pick the information up and be able to use it. So the things he does in his classes differ, from practical to theoretical classes and I’m just there to assist with my knowledge.” the small smile that quirks at his lips doesn’t go unnoticed by you.

“Okay, okay, well enough about me, what about you? Any plans for the weekend?” Aventurine smoothly changes the topic. 

Upon being asked what your plans are your eyes immediately light up with excitement. “I’ve been meaning to visit the fair for a while now. Trying out the new rides and stuff you know?” Aventurine momentarily pauses. “Ah, I’ve actually never been to a fair.” his admission comes over as surprising to you. 

“Wait what? You’ve never been to a fair? You’re lying!” 

“I’m not! Or maybe I am.” he laughs. “Well, I might have gone to some but I can’t recall anything like that. Perhaps I was too short, too young, or too much of a pussy to try out one of the rides.” 

Before you can even think of how to respond to that, you blurt out a: “Go with me then!” You’re not even sure how you had the courage to ask that, especially to someone whom you’ve only met a month or hell a few weeks ago, you’re even less sure where that question even came from.

From what you can read off Aventurine’s face, he seems to be as equally surprised as you, mouth slightly agape and lips forming a smile as he stares at you with expectant eyes. 

“Really?” Disbelief settles onto his face.

“Thinking about it now, nope.” The light in Aventurine’s eyes immediately dies down, suddenly looking like a kicked puppy who didn’t get any belly rubs. It somehow makes you feel bad — somehow you sympathize with him. “..Fine.” you mumble. You can’t believe yourself. “Though there’s one condition: You’ll have to pay for everything.”

“Sure, no problem.” Aventurine agrees without any hesitation and that makes you skittish. “I was joking!” He gives you a boyish grin “Well, I know but it’s not like it’s a big deal either. Also, can this be considered a date?” he props his elbow up and places his cheek onto his balled fist, smirking while doing so.

“Aventurine,” you say in a stern voice. “Don’t make me change my mind.”

Your irritated eyes meet his fond ones. “I’m glad.” he expresses and you’re caught off guard by his sincere tone. There’s no teasing or playfulness behind it, just pure gratefulness. 

“Is it alright if I have your number? It’s easier to reach you then.” the smirk plastered on his face is enough to tell you what the actual intention behind his words is. 

“Admit it. You just want my number, don’t you?” you deadpan him.

“Hmm, who knows?” the grin on his face only grew wider, amused by the fact that you caught on so quickly.

Swiftly you fish out your phone from your pockets, unlocking it before showing him your phone number, and before you can even ask how he’s saved your number; which contact name he typed in for you, he pulls his phone away. Smiling in triumph upon seeing your irritated face.

He gets up from the chair he’s been sitting on for the past few minutes. “Well, your break is about to end soon, so I’ll take my leave.” your eyes follow him as he checks if he’s got everything. “See you tomorrow then:” he says in a playful tone before leaving. 

Yeah, you’re going to meet your demise, you just know it.

END NOTE: this is just idk man we're gonna progress more in the future chaps okay 😔

© VYNICITY 2024. stealing, copying, translating, reposting my works on other platforms or feeding them to ai is not permitted.

[butchcarmy]

Blood Orange (Ch 1: The Walk-In)

Carmy Berzatto x Reader (R18)

Rating: E (7.3k words)

links: fic playlist, pinterest board, ao3 link, ch 2

Summary: Losing your job is the worst thing to ever happen to you. Getting hired by Carmen Berzatto is a close second. You tell yourself that The Beef is only temporary, that it's just a replacement until you find something better. It doesn't work. You've stopped listening. You've had a taste of Carmy, and now you don't think you're ever gonna be able to let go. No matter how bad it gets. 

Content Tags: secret workplace relationship/sex, friends/coworkers with benefits, they/them afab reader, miscommunication, mental illness (carmy and reader), dom/sub dynamics, dom carmy (for now), enemies to friends to lovers (eventually), unhealthy coping mechanisms, dysfunctional relationship

A/N: It's finally here! New series! We even get sex in the first chapter! In my other fic, I'm taking care of Carmy. In this one, I'm making him worse. Of course, here's a disclaimer that I DON’T condone or intend to glorify any of this behavior. It's just compelling to write. Enjoy!

You return to The Beef for the first time in years when you're at your lowest.

The only upside to this abysmal situation is that the job was shitty. The job you just got laid off from, to be exact. Retail was never your passion, and there's a certain relief in knowing you don't have to go back to that windowless place. You didn't play an important role in the ecosystem, but it played a pretty crucial role in yours. It kept a roof over your head.

You're sure you could’ve sued them in some fashion for letting you go without any warning, any parachute, but you didn't have the luxury of time. You needed to figure out how you were going to pay rent, and fast.

After the rage boiled over (not to say that it's resolved, the residual anger's leveled into an even simmer), you pulled your hair back, found your cleanest, nicest outfit, and started your job search. With your updated resume in hand and scuffed sneakers on your feet, you've trekked all over Chicago looking for a new job. You weren't optimistic, nor were you hopeful. 

You suppose the only word you could use to describe yourself was desperate, and it was a matter of finding someone that was just as desperate, if not more desperate than you. To put it politely, the odds of that were low. Very low. 

You got laid off that very morning. The rest of your afternoon has been spent walking from door to door to every establishment you could spot. By some cruel twist of fate, none of them were hiring. The ones that were hiring looked unenthusiastic, even adverse to taking your resume. 

“When would you be able to start?” Some of the workers asked. 

“Tomorrow,” was your desperately honest answer. 

“If all goes well, you'll hear from us in a week,” was their response. The unspoken was, of course, the fact that radio silence was more likely than an email or phone call. Places didn't even send rejection letters anymore. 

“Thanks for your time,” you'd say, bringing out a bright smile from a complete lack of reserves, and as soon as you turned around, your face would drop. 

Your hopes were low, nearly non-existent, but damn. Damn. It wasn't looking good for you.

That's why you enter The Beef. You vaguely remember visiting this place a couple years ago, back when you first moved to Chicago. The owner was…pretty nice, actually. You don't remember his name, but you remember having a pleasant conversation with him. Of course, there's nothing you can do if he doesn't have a job opening, but it wouldn't be bad to see a friendly face. Even if that face is from someone who's basically a stranger. 

The doorbell rings when you enter. It catches the attention of the man standing behind the counter, and with how his head jolts up, you'd think the bell functioned as an alarm instead. 

“Welcome,” he says. Your first impression, other than the fact that he seems very, very, tired, is that he's irritatingly attractive. If anything, the eyebags and the greased back waves only add to whatever the hell he's got going on. 

“Hi. Um…” You're briefly caught off guard by his biceps, but you catch yourself. “I was actually wondering if you guys were hiring.”

“We are,” he replies, and it's the best thing you've heard all day. He lights up like the spark of a lighter, bright and instantaneous. It doesn't shake the pervasive exhaustion that radiates off him, though. 

“Thank god,” you mutter, and you want to take it back (it's far too casual), but he cracks an amused smile that makes you want to dissolve like a pinch of salt in a sea of sauce. “Sorry. Do you mind if I talk to the owner? We met a while ago, and—”

“I'm the owner,” he interrupts, and any other words you had planned fall away.

“Sorry?” You repeat. “I swear it was this guy—he had short dark hair, I think—”

“Yeah, he left the place to me. Didn't want it anymore, so.” He shrugs. The light you just saw from him has fizzled away like the end of a sparkler, short-lived and ultimately disappointing. 

“Oh. Got it. Uh…” To your credit, you don't fumble for too long. You have a lot of questions, but you've got more pressing issues. You pluck out a resume from a file folder. “Here's my resume, then.”

He takes it from you, flips it to face him. He's quiet as his eyes lower down the page, and you wonder if it's going to be a guillotine or a pot of gold at the end of this. The only sounds in the entrance are the passing cars outside, the rickety air conditioning, and muffled chatter from the back. 

“You worked as a prep cook.” He says it like a fact, but you know it's a question. 

“Yeah, nothing fancy. Just at some chain restaurants.”

“Right. I see you worked as a line cook at another location. Which one did you prefer?”

“Uh…” They both came with their separate pains. Your honest answer is that being a line cook was one of the most stressful experiences of your life, but if he has a position open as a line cook, you don't want to fuck it up. “They were both fine. I think I was a little better as a prep cook, but I didn't mind either.”

He hums, satisfied by your answer. At least it’s only half of a lie.                                                                                                                    

“How do you work under pressure?”

“Good,” you answer quickly. “Well enough.”

“Willing to learn?”

“Obviously. I mean…” You think you see a flash of a smile, but you're unsure. “Yeah.”

“When'd you be able to start?” You're surprised he's already asking this.

“Tomorrow,” you say, just like you’ve been, and his reaction is different from the others. He nods. He doesn't smile, not like he did earlier, but you can tell this is a good sign. 

Before he can get a word out, there's a sharp, metallic explosion of noises that resounds from the direction of the kitchen. 

“Uh,” he starts, eyebrows pinched in irritation, the voices come in. 

“I told you, you have to say behind!” A woman's voice. She sounds young, but there's no real way to be sure of that.

“How the hell did you not hear me coming?” A Chicago accent, male. Older, maybe. “I was in the middle of having a conversation with Tina—”

“Great, I'm so happy for you, I don't give a shit, now this has all went to waste—”

“Well, who's fault is that?”

“Who's fault is that? You did not just—”

“Guys!” The man you've been talking to gives you an apologetic glance before walking to the back, pushing through the folding doors. You catch a glimpse of the two people arguing on the other side before it shuts. “I'm tryin’ to talk to a new hire here. We can't be like this right now. Not ever, but especially right now.”

Finally, the first sane person I've met all day, you think. 

“Carmy, talk some sense into her,” the older guy shouts, and it gives you a name to the face. “All of this on the floor—”

“You didn't say behind,” the woman repeats, except with more fury in it this time.

“You didn't say behind,” he imitates back. “Carmy—”

“She’s right. Richie, step out,” Carmy says. “Syd, you clean this up.”

“But—” You hear her start to protest. 

“You spilled it, you clean it,” he cuts through, decisive and firm.

“I know, but Richie—”

“Clean it,” he repeats, firmer, darker this time, and there's a beat of silence. 

“...Yes, chef.”

“I told you to step out,” Carmy tells who you assume is Richie. 

“You're just gonna let her—”

“Step the fuck outside right fucking now!” Carmy screams, his patience shooting away like a gunshot. You feel something shrivel inside you, and not in a good way. “Do the one fucking thing you're good at and get out of the fucking way!”

Yeah…definitely not in a good way.

From what you hear, it sounds like Richie has to get wrestled outside by someone, whom you're not sure. After another minute, Carmy returns to the front. 

“I'm sorry about that. Fucking—” He drags a hand across his face. You swear his eyebags have grown heavier in the 5 minutes he was in the kitchen. “What was I saying?”

“Um, I was saying that I could start tomorrow,” you remind him, although the vigor you had just stated it with is a bit fizzled out. 

“Right. Okay. Uh—” He pats his hands on his apron, searching for something. A pen and paper appear in his hands, and he scribbles something on it. This is when you notice his tattoos. A flower on the back of his hand. Surprising. “You're hired. Here's the paperwork you need to fill out, along with the number and email you'll be hearing from me at.”

“What?” You take the sheets, but the smooth paper doesn't feel real in your hands. His handwriting is hasty and dark, like he was running out of time on a test. “I mean, I'm just surprised.”

“Do you not want it?”

“I want it,” you promise, and you feel your cheeks flush. This is a bad time to yet again notice how attractive he is. His pretty eyes, his nose. The little moles under his left eye. “Y-Yeah, I want the job.”

“Good.” He motions towards the sticky note again. “Come in at 8 am tomorrow. You'll be starting as a prep cook, which you've done before.”

“Okay. Okay, yeah, I'll be there.” The reality is setting in now, and an odd cocktail of relief, apprehension, and excitement is settling in your stomach. “Thank you so much.” I just got laid off from my job this morning, so this means a lot, you want to say, but it's too soon. You don't want to say anything that'll make him change his mind about whatever he sees in you. 

“Thank you,” he echoes back. “We need the help. I'll see you tomorrow.”

“See you,” you reply, and with that, the door rings behind you. A customer comes up to the counter, peering up at the menu. You figure this is your cue to leave. He's not looking at you anymore anyway. 

So, I got a job now, you update your friends, texting them on your way home on the metro. As the relieved congratulations come flying in, another remark seems to resound amongst all of them. 

I can't believe you got the job just like that. That place must be desperate, too, is roughly what they've all said. The thing is, they're not wrong. 

You managed to find someone more desperate than you in the job economy. Just one, but that was enough. It makes you think, though. You think about Carmy's weary blue eyes, his brief smile, and his hand tattoos. You wonder if it's just the restaurant that gives him that bone-deep exhaustion, or if it's a smaller part of a bigger picture. 

You think about it for the rest of your commute, you think about it as you smoke on the porch, you think about it as you lay in bed. You think about it as you fill out the paperwork, fingers tracing where Carmy's written his name, number, and email.

Carmen Berzatto

773-555-0901

So Carmy's a nickname, you think. Not about what type of boss he's going to be, not about what it's going to be like working under someone you are obviously attracted to. 

Maybe you should be more worried about this.

If it's bad, I'll just find another job, you tell yourself, and you foolishly believe it.

. . . . .

Your first day on the job starts with introductions. 

At least, that's about as much as you've figured out so far. When he sees you upon arrival, he pauses and stares at you like he's forgotten. Not a great start. Granted, he does snap out of it. That's when he tells you to follow him, which is where you currently find yourself. You're not sure where he's leading to, only that he's introducing you to others as you pass them by.

“They’re working with us starting today,” Carmy tells everyone. “They’re gonna be on prep.”

Right. So that's what you'll be doing. At least he told you that much yesterday.

The catalog of coworkers expands exponentially. You remember Sydney from yesterday, and to her credit, she apologizes about having you witness her fight with Richie, who conveniently isn't here yet. She seems the nicest out of all the bunch, so you decide to let it slide. 

Marcus is pretty nice, too. So are Ebra, Sweeps, Manny, Angel—everyone seems to be pretty alright. It’s obvious they’re standoffish by you being in their space. You find it hard to hold it against them. You’re not really sure how your relationships with them are going to pan out. There are only three that you’re particularly unsure on.

The first and obvious one is Richie. He came in eventually and didn’t give you the best impression, immediately talking over everyone and oozing arrogance. The only salvageable thing is that he’s not even a chef. At least you won’t have to be in the kitchen with him much. You want to avoid the honor of talking to him as much as possible.

Tina is next. She clearly doesn’t enjoy having someone new in the ecosystem, and she’s spent more time ignoring you than talking with you. As you understand it, she’s close to the rest of the staff since they’ve all been together for a while. Minus you and Syd, as you learn she’s only been there for a week. You think Tina will warm up to you…eventually.

Carmy is the last one, and he’s…he’s…

He’s something else.

He has you doing prep for most of the day. After introducing you to everyone and giving you a brief tour, he brings you to your station, scratched up stainless steel.

“You’re going to be cutting onions and carrots today for the stock. The vegetables are in the walk-in I showed you earlier, and when it’s done, it goes on the first shelf.” Carmy’s to your right, set up at his own station. You swear you keep your eyes focused on the vegetables, not his biceps in that shirt, but… “You should already know this, but label everything. I don’t want to see anything without a date. Got it?”

“Yes, chef,” you confirm, snapping out of it. He’s been flinging new information at you like it’s a war and he’s gunning to survive. But so are you. “I’ll do my best.”

“I expect as such.” He slides over a peeler for the carrots and some plastic bins for trash. “It’s just a stock, so don’t worry about an even cut. Just salvage whatever you can, cut off anything that doesn’t look good.” You nod. “Been a year or so since you did this, right?”

“Yeah. I cook regularly, but I’ll need to get back into the groove of things. And I will,” you add hastily. “I’ll combine them into this one when I'm done, right?” You ask, nudging a large plastic container. 

“Correct.” A brief smile flashes across his face. “You're already following quicker than I thought you would.” You’re not sure if he means it as an insult or a compliment, so you decide to take it as the latter. 

“I haven't even chopped anything yet.”

“I know.” His expression is flat again. You resist a laugh.  He plucks an onion from the bin, puts it in front of you. “Show me a rough dice.”

The knife is sharp. You notice this as you place careful cuts into the onion. It's not quite as sharp as his unnerving gaze, which layers pressure upon pressure. It builds up like a pastry puff, thin multitudes of layers expanding upward. You need to be good. You need to be perfect. You don't want to disappoint him, not this early, even though you've barely been here for an hour. 

It's just a shitty old sandwich shop, you tell yourself, but your dicing is uneven and you briefly think about accidentally chopping your fingers off. 

“Not my best work,” you admit, vaguely breathless. Carmy hasn't said anything yet.

“It'll do.” You're waiting for him to say something else, give you some tips, but he doesn't. Irritation prickles to the tips of your fingers. “I'll be back to check in on you later.”

You stand there, motionless and shocked in the aftermath. You're not sure what you expected from today, but being abandoned an hour in was not at the top of your bucket list. 

Man, what the fuck, you think, the thought clear in the silence around you, and that's the last time you can hear yourself think for the rest of the shift. 

There's a prepared stock from yesterday simmering on the stove behind you. It's flanked by boiling potatoes and reducing tomato sauce. The heat from it’s searing your back like a steak, slowly drawing lines of moisture all over the surface of your shirt. Your coworkers constantly invade your space to check on them. You suppose it's not their fault that the kitchen, but it's still irritating. They're also all shouting over each other like it's a competition.

“Who the fuck touched my stock—”

“No one touched your stupid shitty stock—”

“I am trying to find this cutting board, will someone please—”

You move on from the onions with only a thin layer of sweat collected at your hairline. 

Your hands are shaky as they peel the carrots. You know you're not getting as efficient of a shave as you could be, but the caffeine crash from your morning coffee is getting to you. You don't remember the last time you drank water. A cigarette sounds nice. 

“Clean your station, chef.” Carmy materializes next to you. You hear him before you see his hands scooping carrot shavings into a plastic container. It shocks you so much that you almost cut yourself. 

“Sorry, chef,” you reply reflexively. You look down at your station, straightening your tools. You want to ask if you can take your break, but you don't want to look any weaker than you do already. “So, uh, do we get 30's here?”

When you don't get a response, your head snaps up, irritation on the tip of your tongue, but he's not even there. 

Fucking hell, you think, annoyance simmering into something akin to anger, and you go back to finishing your prep. 

You don't see him for another hour after that. It's not even him that tells you to take your 15, it's Syd, who noticed you were half-way through your shift and on the verge of…something. 

“You finished the prep he gave you, right?” Syd had asked. You told her you finished and put it back in the walk-in. “Yeah, then go take your break. Did he not tell you we get 15's here?”

“He didn't,” you say, too annoyed to bother hiding the disdain in your face. Sydney just sighs, rolling her eyes, and you think you love her. 

“Asshole.” She makes a shooing motion at you then. “Go, get a break from this madness. It'll get better, I promise.”

You're not sure if you believe her, but you do step outside to take your break. 

As you stand outside in the back, you take note of tightness in your body that you weren't even aware of. The cigarette smoke calms you, loosens you. Or maybe you owe that to getting out of that hot kitchen. 

This time, you see Carmy before you hear him. You turn to the door to see him stepping out, a pack of smokes in his hand. 

“Hey,” he says. 

“Hey,” you reply.

“Everythin’ goin’ okay so far?”

“Yeah. It's fine.” Other than everything.

“Really?” His surprise just pisses you off further. “Well, that's good.”

“...Yeah.” You decide if your mouth stays unoccupied, you'll start cussing him out, so you put your cigarette back in your mouth. 

“You're bleeding.”

“What?”

“I said, you're bleeding. Your hand.” 

You look down at your hand holding the cigarette, and sure enough, there's a thin, shallow cut oozing blood near one of your knuckles. 

“Shit,” you mutter, quickly sucking the skin into your mouth. When you pull it back, the red refills. “I didn't even notice.”

“Let's get a bandaid on that.” He puts his unlit cigarette back into his pack. “I have some in my office.”

That's how you end up in the enclosed, dark space of his office, seated on the only chair as he leans back against his cluttered desk. The dingy first-aid kit is propped on top of a shaky stack of papers. Carmy takes out a bandaid from it and peels it open.

“Thought I gave you a sharp knife, it shouldn't have cut you like that,” Carmy comments. 

“It was sharp,” you correct. “Guess I just fucked up.”

“It happens,” he says, which surprises you. He keeps surprising you. You just can't seem to figure him out. “Let me see the cut.”

You only realize that he's putting the bandaid on you when he cradles your hand in his. His hands are warm. 

He has so many hand tattoos. You notice the letters on his fingers first, the SOU curled around your palm. You notice the other tattoo on the back of his hand next, since that's the one carefully placing the bandaid on you. 

He wraps it around your finger just right. Not too tight, not too loose. 

“Is that too tight?” He asks, almost in a whisper. He's so close, and he smells like kitchen oil, cigarette smoke, and a faded cologne you can't place. 

“No, it's okay.” You don't mean to talk so quietly back, but you do. You can't stop staring at his fingers. They're long and marked up with silver scars and burns. If you look carefully, you can place the locations of his callouses. 

“Good.” You don’t know why he does it, but he runs his thumb across the seams of where your bandaid overlaps. Surely it’s just to secure it further…surely.

“Thank you.” He’s still holding your hand. You’re unsure if you’re imagining the tension in the air or not. Everything feels more intimate behind closed doors, especially in low light. “I could’ve done it myself.”

“It’s easier if another person does it.” He lets go, finally, and you try not to mourn the loss. “Did you finish prepping for the stock?”

“What you gave me, yeah.”

“Alright. Let’s go take a look at it, then,” he says, like that isn’t the most anxiety inducing thing you’ve ever heard. 

“R-Right now?”

“As opposed to?” He opens the door to his office, and the muffled noises in the kitchen become sharp and clear again, like emerging from underwater. “Come on.”

You don’t know how it happens, but Carmy gets into five separate arguments on the way to the walk-in. FIVE. To be fair, two of them are from Richie.

“I’ve been telling you guys to sharpen your knives, don’t fucking treat them like this,” Carmy shouts, trudging over to someone’s station. “You see this? This is exactly what we should not be doing! How many times have I said this today?! Don’t—“

“Stop going into my office when I’m not there,” Carmy hisses at Richie next. “You keep fucking up where the papers are put, and I can’t find anything! It’s enough of a mess as it is! No—I said—cousin, listen to me—“

“Everyone shut the hell up, clean your stations, and get the fuck back to work!” Is the last thing he shouts before slamming the door to the walk-in behind you. He slams it so hard the wire racks rattle. You decide not to comment. 

The difference in sound is eerie. You’re always surprised by how sound proof these walk-in fridges are.

“Is this the prep you did today?” Carmy asks, touching one of the clear plastic bins. Sure enough, it’s the one you placed there a moment ago.

“Yeah, it is.” You chew the inside of your cheek. You were hoping he would be in an okay mood when he checked your work. It seemed like he was at first, but now?

“It's on the wrong shelf.”

“What?” You stare at it sitting on the first shelf, just like he told you to. “You told me to put it on the first shelf.”

“It goes on the second shelf.” He's pissed, and there's ice in your veins. He huffs as he takes the container and moves it one shelf up, slamming it down unnecessarily. “I told you—second shelf.”

“You literally said it went on the first shelf.” The ice has melted, and it's boiling. 

“No, I didn't.” You wanna punch him. Badly. You know what you heard. “And you forgot to label it.”

“Shit.” That, you did forget. You’re not above owning up to your mistakes, unlike him. “I'm sorry, I was—”

“We always need stuff like this to be labeled,” he interrupts, rude and abrupt. You can hear the thinly veiled anger in his voice. “I told you.”

“I know, I just—“

“Don’t make excuses. Just do better.”

“It’s my first fucking day!” You snap, finally, and it’s like a firecracker in the dead of night. “I don’t expect to be coddled, but I’ve only been here for a couple hours, and you’re just—“

“I told you to put a label on it, to put it on the second shelf, and you didn’t do either of those things.” This is a different type of anger. It’s quiet, contained. Dangerous. And with your outburst, it’s trembling at the edges. 

“You literally hired me yesterday!” You’re exasperated. “You looked at my resume for like two seconds before hiring me, and you’re mad that I’m messing up?”

“You had enough credentials on your resume. You told me you could work well under pressure and learn quickly. Is that true or not?”

“It is true! You just have to give me a chance first!”

“I just gave you a chance,” Carmy snaps back, “and you fucked it up.”

“Oh my god. I just—“ You take a step back. “I don’t have to take this shit.”

“Are you quitting already?”

“I wasn’t going to.” You move towards the door. “But maybe I should, before you fire me. Doesn't seem like you want me, anyway.”

You were planning on exiting the walk-in after that, to leave on cue, but the door doesn’t budge. You and Carmy notice it at the same time. 

Suddenly, there is a new problem.

“Fuck,” Carmy curses under his breath. The two of you are pushing against the door, but it won’t budge. He slams his fist on it and calls out. “Guys, the walk-in door is stuck! Can any of you open it from out there?”

“Carmen?” Richie's voice is muffled from the other end. There's the sound of frustrated efforts on the other end. “It's not fuckin’ budging!”

“Fuck,” Carmy repeats, seething, and you agree. “Call Fak!”

“I already did! He’s gonna be here in 20!”

“20 minutes?!” Carmy shouts. You close your eyes and sigh, audibly. “Don't we have a screwdriver in here or something?! Just take the hinges off!”

“Why do you think I called Fak?! Shut the hell up and be patient!”

“Tell him to hurry the fuck up,” Carmy barks, and that's where their conversation ends. 

“Just what I needed right now,” you mutter under your breath. Carmy's not looking at you, eyes boring into the door that's trapping the both of you in here with each other. “To be locked in a room with you.”

It's quiet for a minute before he speaks, cutting the silence open.

“...I do want you, y'know.”

“You—huh?” He said it so quietly you're not sure if it was a hallucination. 

“We need you here.” He's still not looking at you. “This place—it's fucked.  We don't have enough hands.”

“I can tell,” you say, and you mean for it to come out bitter, but it's soft. Naively so. 

“I want you here. I do.” He doesn't need to say it like that. You don't want to believe it, neither his words or the way hearing it makes you feel. “I need you.”

“Can you at least look at me when you say it?” 

You’re not sure why you say it. You instantly recognize it for how needy it sounds, but you don't get the luxury of embarrassment. Carmy's already turning to face you. 

“I want you,” he repeats, voice low. You think about the paint you'd need to mix to match the color of his eyes. Blue, white, and the slightest bit of orange to desaturate it. You're not sure what type of orange, though. “I need you.”

“Fuck,” you mutter, despite yourself, and it's too late.

“Are you gonna do better?” You didn't even register him moving closer to you. When did your back end up against the shelves?

“I’m gonna do better,” you whisper, “if you stop being such an asshole.”

“It won't happen again,” he whispers back, and you recognize it for the lie that it is. 

You don't really care, though. 

His face is so close to yours that you can see the separate specks of colors in his iris. You watch his gaze fall from your eyes to your lips, and it lingers there before rising again. Any shreds of self respect or control you were clinging onto disintegrate. It doesn't matter if he really means what it says. All that matters is getting your mouth on his.  

“Okay,” you say, a whisper of foolish acceptance, and you're kissing him. 

Or is he kissing you? You don't know who leaned forward first. It's not important. 

“I saw you staring at my hands today,” Carmy says against your lips. Spit makes your mouths slide easily against each other. “Yesterday, too.”

“What the—no you didn't,” you gasp, appalled, heat rising in your face, “how did you—?”

“You're right. I didn't,” he admits with a cheeky grin. You’re really gonna punch him now. 

“God, you're just,” you mutter, “you're such an asshole.”

“I know.” At first, you think he's being smug, but there's a surprising sense of remorse under it. You don't have time to think about it, though, not when his hand is cradling your face. There's no way he doesn't feel how hot your face is. 

“What're you…?” His thumb passes over your lower lip, and the words fall away. 

“Tell me you want this.” Your eyes flicker to his hand, then to his face. His other hand is at the top of your jeans, fingers resting on the edge of your waistband. Excited arousal hits your gut, sizzling like browning butter, warm and toasted. His eyes are dark, caramel on the verge of burning. “If you don't, I'll pretend like this never happened. I'll never touch you again.”

I'll never touch you again, he says, like it's not the last thing you'll ever want. 

“I want this,” you murmur. “Touch me. Please.”

“Good,” Carmy praises, one quiet word enough to sear your insides with heat, blue flame on the underside of a pan. “That's what I thought.”

His hands slip behind you to untie your apron. The strings fall to your sides, and you tug it hastily up and over your head. It falls to the floor next to you. Surely that's a gigantic health hazard, but Carmy's the one who throws it there, so you don't say anything. You lower your gaze to his fingers unbuttoning your pants. The sight of it makes you woozy. You take note of his other tattoos, noticing the letters on his fingers. You watch as the stabbed hand made of ink on his right disappears under the cloth of your underwear.

“Oh,” you breathe. You didn't expect his hand to be so warm, even though you had just felt his heated palm gentle on your cheek.

“You're wet.” The tip of his index finger dips into where your hot folds separate. It strokes at the fluid that's pooled at your entrance, coaxing it out. “When did this happen?”

“Fuck you is when,” you bite back, but it's all bark. “I don't know.”

“Sure,” he agrees, but not really. His condescending smile shouldn't be hot, it really shouldn't, but your pussy throbs against his hand, and he smiles knowingly. “All you need is me to talk and you get wet, is that it?”

“I—” His finger rises upward, splitting you open and flicking at your clit. You buck against his hand. “Don't ask me a question and then touch me like that,” you hiss, horribly turned on.

“Mm, sorry.” It's barely an apology. You throw your head back in frustration. “I didn't mean to.”

“I have a hard time believing that,” you pant. He's pushed your slick up your pussy to your clit, two slick fingers sliding back and forth on your stiff nub. The pads of his calloused fingers are rubbing you almost where you're too sensitive. 

“Then don't. I don't care what you think of me.” You think he's about to get his fingers inside of you, and your breath hitches, but he pulls back. You regret the frustrated whine that is just audible enough in the back of your throat. He does it again, just barely pushing the tips of fingers in before pulling away.

“You—why—do you want me to beg or something?” Your clenched hands raise by your sides to grip the collar of his white shirt and yank him forward. The shock that flashes across his face gives you a sick sense of satisfaction.

“It wouldn't hurt,” he mumbles. Seeing him stagger like this, even if briefly, sends a rush through your head.

“Is that what it's gonna take for you to get those fucking fingers inside me?” 

Like a coward, instead of answering, he leans an inch forward and kisses you. Or maybe that was his answer. That's when he sinks two fingers inside you, long and thick, pushing until your wet pussy's pressed tight against his palm. 

You moan, a pathetic thing, and Carmy swallows the sound of it.

“You're already begging,” he says quietly. He pulls his fingers out. You whine in protest, desperate and angry pleas on the tip of your tongue, but then he's pushing inside again.

That's the last moment of reprieve you get. His fingers start thrusting into you faster, dragging out slick each time he pulls them out. Paranoia suddenly screams that you’re gonna wet the front of your pants at this rate. The aching pleasure is louder than your fear, though. You can’t help the way his fingers are making you moan.

“More,” you plead, “give me another, I can take it.” Your hips are thrusting forward to meet his hand when they push inside. Your clit slaps against the heel of his palm, and you chase the friction. He must notice, because when he obliges and stretches you out with a third finger, he grinds the heel of his palm into your clit.

“You have to be quiet,” he says lowly when you keep moaning. “They’re gonna hear you.” 

“I—I’m trying,” you whine. You’re squeezing so tight down on him. You feel so full. “Your fingers—“

“You’re the one who asked for more.” He slaps his other hands firmly over your mouth. It silences your sound of surprise. “You said you could take it, so here’s what’s gonna happen.” His fingers are slamming into your now, and your hole spasms around them in pleasure. “You’re gonna come on my fingers, and you’re gonna be quiet. Understand?”

You know how soundproof the walk-in is. You had just witnessed it moments ago. But Carmy’s warnings do something fierce to you, bypassing logic straight into anxious, desperate arousal. He’s right, you think. You need to be quiet. You nod quickly in response, so he takes your consent and sprints with it.

To your credit, you try to be quiet. You said you would. But there’s only so much you can do when he’s fingering you so hard your legs are shaking. You’re whimpering into his hand, the sounds muffled.  Your own moans, his heavy breathing, and the slick sound of your pussy getting railed by his fingers—that’s what you listen to as you come.

“Fuck, you’re squeezing down tight,” Carmy hisses, and for an irrational second  you’re afraid you’re hurting him, but one look at his starved expression changes your mind. His three wide fingers are fucking you slowly through your wildly contracting orgasm. In one of his palms, you're oozing slick, and in his other palm, you're smearing with spit.

You should be thinking about how bad of an idea this all is, having sex with your boss. It’s too bad your orgasm is so potent you can’t think at all.

You lean your head back against the cold metal railings of the wire racks behind you. It’s uncomfortable, but a part of it feels good against the coiling heat that’s unraveling in your stomach. The air around you is cold, but you’re hot, far too hot. You don’t remember the last time you’ve finished this hard.

He finally pries his hand off your mouth once you've stopped clamping down on his fingers. His hand lingers at your face before wiping it on the side of his jeans. His expression has this unreadable, unnamed intensity to it, and you can't tell where that ends and where the hunger starts. Although he is looking very, very starved.

His hand that's tucked into your underwear tugs it upward as it leaves, pulling the fabric taut against your pussy. It sticks like paper mache with the glue of your orgasm, molded to your shape. You make an aroused noise that's a mixture of surprise and annoyance.

You're about to complain, something along the lines of “was that really necessary”, but then your eyes are zeroed in on the sheen of his fingers that were fucking you.

“Don't,” you start, suddenly worried he's going to wipe them on his jeans again, but you don't get to finish. He's pushing his index finger into your mouth, and you taste yourself on his skin.

“Good,” Carmy whispers when he feels your tongue wrapping around him. Fuck, hearing him say it like that does awful things to you.

You don't know why you accept it without a fight, but if you're being honest with yourself, this is exactly what you wanted. You start to suck, but he doesn't linger. When he pulls his finger out, your parted lips expect the other two, but he sucks them into his mouth instead. 

God. What do you even say to that? He even has the nerve to look you in the eyes as he pops his cleaned fingers out of his mouth. 

“Let me touch you,” you decide to say instead, because if you think about him and his fingers in—anyway. 

“It's fine. I don't need it.” He's oddly cagey all of a sudden. 

“Let me return the favor, please,” you insist, even adding in some good manners. It seems to still him for a moment, giving you enough time to lift his apron.

Fuck, you think to yourself, the word resounding like an alarm inside your head. His jeans are tented so tightly it looks painful. All this from touching me, you realize. You can see the shape of his bulge under the denim. The silhouette is vague, but...

It's big.

“Carmy? You still in there?”

A voice you don't recognize calls out beyond the door. As soon as you both hear it, Carmy jerks away. You mourn the loss only for a moment before you remember yourself. You're scrambling to get your pants buttoned and your apron over your head. 

“Yeah, I'm still in here,” Carmy shouts back, instantaneously irritable. His back is turned to you, and you want to feel those muscles tensing under your palm. “About fuckin’ time!”

“You're welcome, by the way! I could've left you in here to freeze and die a tragic death!”

“It's not just me in here, Fak.” A beat of silence. “Are you opening it?”

“Am I fucking—Jesus Christ, Carmen, just give me a second! I'm working my magic!”

That shuts Carmy up. Almost. He sighs before turning to look at you. 

“Sorry for getting us stuck in here.” The apology is equally as surprising as the softness of which he speaks. “Shitty first day, huh?”

“It's cool. It's not your fault.” Other than all the shit that was completely your fault, you think, remembering the way you were shouting at each other just a moment ago. “Kinda shitty though, yeah.”

“Yeah.” He sighs again. “If you wanna leave, I don't blame you.”

“I thought I wasn't getting fired.”

“You're not,” he says quickly. “But I'm—this place is a shitshow.” You're not sure which he really means to say, but you hear both. The restaurant, and him especially, are both complete messes. That much was obvious from the beginning. “So if you wanna take off, just…” He shrugs. “Just go.”

Maybe that'd be for the best, if you left. As far as first days go, you've already broken every rule in the book. You messed up your first task, got into an argument with your boss, and then had sex with him. Nothing about this place is particularly inviting, either. This restaurant wears its dysfunction on its sleeve, unabashed in all the ways it lacks. You had left the kitchen with ringing ears from all the noise and a cut on your hand you didn't even notice. 

But here you are. You're not running. Maybe it's because of the fact that you need to pay rent. Maybe it's knowing that just one more pair of hands here could really make a difference. Maybe you're just desperate to keep food on the table. Maybe it's Carmen Berzatto, beautiful, haunted, and angry. Maybe it's all of that, a combined whole that's become greater than the sum of its parts.

Or maybe it's just that now that you've kissed him, had a taste of him, you refuse to let go. Maybe the reason is as shallow as that. 

Carmy's been waiting for you to speak, tired eyes searching your own. You're still not sure what exact colors you need to perfectly recreate the blue you're staring at. 

“Almost done!” Fak shouts. “Just one more hinge!”

“Heard,” Carmy shouts back. He hasn't taken his eyes off you. “So? What's it gonna be? Are you staying or not?”

Blood orange, you think all of a sudden. That's the orange you would need to make the perfect blue to match his eyes. Just a little bit—that's all you would need.

“I'm staying,” you tell him. “I need to pay rent, after all.”

Yeah. That's the reasoning you're settling on. Rent.

“Right. Of course.” There's a glimpse of that gentle smile you've seen flashes of today. It fades away as quickly as it came. “After this, I'm gonna have you learn how to check produce next.”

“Okay, sounds good,” you say as naturally as you can, given the tonal whiplash.

“There should be some that's about to get washed. I'll show you where that is.” The door's shifting. “But before that…” He lowers his voice, leans in close. Is he about to kiss you?

“W-What?”

“Get a new apron from my office. That one's dirty.” Beams of light stream through the entrance of the walk-in, forced wide open. “You need to keep your apron clean, chef.”

YOU WERE THE ONE WHO THREW IT ON THE GROUND, you want to scream. Just when you thought he started being nice, he does something that makes you want to grab him by the collar and shake him.

But you can't. The walk-in's open again, and you see your coworkers crowded by the door. 

“Yes, chef,” you reply, and the words taste bitter on your tongue.

~

@zorrasucia

[tnyarr]

Toji was proud and he knew it very well, as you did. His character was quite complex and sometimes you caught yourself thinking about how fate had brought you guys together. If the previous version of you knew what type of guy you were in a relationship with, she wouldn’t believed it. She’d be crazy. But here you are. A grown girl in a long-term relationship with her man.

«You really don’t understand the problem, Toji?» You were very upset that he forgot about date which you guys had planned so long ago. You specifically wanted to do something special with him on this long-awaited evening. Because you were both busy and never had time for each other.

And when the day finally arrived, Toji just forgot about it.

From the very morning he spontaneously went to the beach with Shiu where they rented a house on the sea, grilled barbecue all day, and drank beer.

At the same time you were sitting at home alone waiting for him to come or send a message apologizing for forgetting the date. But of course it didn’t happen.

«We can have this date another time, doll. I don’t see anything wrong with that.» Toji waving his hands across your shared bedroom. You and him stood at the two ends of the room and were separated by a huge bed.

«You have given up on me for your friend!» You cried out in anger and covered your face with your hands.

Sometimes Toji didn’t understand your feelings. You and him spoke the same language, but it was as if you couldn’t understand each other even then.

«We planned this day two weeks before the date. And Shiu just offered to take you with him, without even asking if you had other plans. But you know, I don’t blame him, I blame you Fushiguro, because you forgot that your girlfriend also plays some role in your life!»

Toji was silent for a long time, analyzing your face. Your lips were tightly compressed, the eyes gave out irritation. Okay, he seems to have really begun to understand why you are so angry. But all he could answer was:

«Really? Fushiguro? Since when do we call each other by surnames?»

It was the last straw.

You walked past Toji and left the room, leaving him alone in the bedroom, not forgetting to slam the door loudly. So that the walls are smitten with your anger.

«C’mon, doll, why are you always getting on my nerves?» Toji walked into the living room where he saw you sitting on the couch and switching channels on the TV. But hearing what he said about you getting on his nerves only made it more stressful.

You slowly turned your head to the doorway where your boyfriend was standing. You couldn’t believe he could say that. You just looked at him in silence, expecting him to explain his words somehow.

«I mean, you’re a real pain in the ass sometimes. And you get really fast mad about little things»

You kept silent, not knowing what to say. Your eyes started tingling a little.

«I don’t understand you, woman. I feel like you’re deliberately blowing up an elephant to annoy me more. Or is it because we haven’t fucked in a while?»

Toji rolled his eyes and was about to leave. He didn’t even look at you, but the barely audible sound of crying made him freeze and turn around.

«Oh fuck»

You wiped your crying eyes with the back of your hand. His words made you really upset and cry.

Toji ran up to you, but you pushed him away.

«It was not my intention to hurt you, baby… I didn’t think… didn’t think my words would be so painful for you. I just-»

«Leave me alone, Toji»

You lowered your head, groaning and trying to catch your breath.

«Instead of just admitting your guilt and apologizing, you keep arguing. You see nothing beyond your pride. While I was about to cry at your insulting words, you were trying to prove me wrong. So leave me alone, Toji.»

You stood up from the couch and went back to your bedroom. Toji was following you, but you were faster and locked in the bedroom before he could stop you.

And then Toji realized he had fucked up.

He punched the door trying to get you to open it and let him in.

«Well, I’m really sorry that my words hurt you, but give me a chance to fix it»

You fell on the bed and hid in a blanket, unwilling to listen to your boyfriend standing outside the door.

«I’ll break down the damn door if you don’t open it, y/n!»

Suddenly in his sports pants pocket vibrated the phone. You wrote him a short sms:

«Your pride has gone beyond all limits. I am disgusted with you now, Fushiguro, and I don’t want to talk to you. Not after you called me a pain in the ass when I just wanted to spend the evening with you. Not after you called me annoying when I just wanted to explain my point of view. And not after you said that all our argument is because I haven’t been fucked in a while».

Toji squigleed and reread the message several times. He read these lines, remembering every word and each time regretting more that he was such a bastard towards you. The bedroom was quiet and he knew you were asleep.

He lay in the living room and closed his eyes, also trying to sleep, but in the end all night he would be tormented by regret that he had caused pain to his beloved.

[angelnthsnow]

All Too Well

pairing: joe burrow x fem!reader (+18)

summary: enemies since childhood, y/n and joe burrow meet again in LSU, joe to play for the university's team while studying consumer and family financial services and y/n to study mechanical engineering, while also being a cheerleader for the team. what happens when they encounter each other after a fateful night?

word count: 7.1k

warnings: cursing, implied smut, fratboy!joe, asshole!joe, reader skinpicks, angst, use of y/n, author not knowing how an american uni works.

author's note: first published fanfic! i hope you enjoy! keep in mind english isn't my first language, so i'm sorry in advance for any mistakes, also this wasn't proofread bc it's too long and i'm lazy lmaoo.

Sat in the airport, legs over your luggage, you started to question the decision you had made a month ago. It all started in June, when an old colleague from LSU reached out to you via email with a simple, yet — to you — terrifying invitation.

Your colleagues from university were planning a Fourth Of July party in Baton Rouge, the one place in earth you swore to never step foot on again. Well, it's not like the city itself had done anything to you, more like the college life did. Your college years were a part of your life you desperately wanted to forget, partly because going to LSU meant giving up on your dream of studying abroad, and partly, well, let's just say a certain blonde with a degree on consumer and family financial services was to blame.

With an acute voice echoing through the airport gates, you sighed, getting up to get on the plane.

As the aircraft was in the air, you get your playlist blasting on the headphones and not long after that, you drift off to sleep.

You wake up when there's 20 minutes left to land on the city, and as you get your phone to send a message to your friend, Emily, the device decides to make this trip a little harder than it should have ever been. On that bright screen, on a small box with "Years ago on this week.." written over it, was the picture.

It was night when you woke up, tangled on the white strawberry sheets of your own dorm bed. Opening your eyes quietly, you saw the one man that had put you on that position earlier. Sat with his back to you, there was Joe. He had only his sweatpants on, and you could see the reddish marks, the ones caused by you, were starting to fade on his skin. His hair was messy and he breathed slowly, seeming oddly calm giving what had just happened.

Joe and you had been, well.. enemies? since you could remember. It all started in school, you had a dream of becoming a world famous dancer, a cheerleader in college, and Joe just thought it was stupid, all of it. He was quite shy, but you knew he had a dream as well. Joe wanted to be a football star, but nobody knew that. He'd just let it slide once when you two were fighting on the school's playground. When you two got to the age in which people go to university, you thought you had finally seen the last of him. How foolish, truly. After two years of studying engineering at Louisiana State University and being in the cheerleading team, there he was, ready to make your life miserable for another few years.

That was, of course, until now. You'd never imagine you see him like this; half naked, messy hair and your cat on his lap as he caressed her head, whispering in a baby voice to her as she purred softly.

You smiled, because why wouldn't you? Shifting quietly on your bed, as if he was a scaredy animal you could scare away with any abrupt movements, you get your phone, taking a picture of him. It was dark, blurred, but you didn't mind, you could tell it was Joe, his big silhouette right in the center of the photograph. In your head, you knew you wouldn't need to keep this blurry memento, you were certain the amount of opportunities to take pictures of him now were infinite, or so you thought, drifting to sleep again.

The pilot's voice pulls you out of your little daydream, announcing the plane had arrived in Louisiana.

"I shouldn't have come." You chant in your head as you exit the plane, heading over to the landing area to wait for Emily.

You and Emily had met in LSU, and became inseparable since then. She was your roommate and, despite being highly introverted, you managed to develop your longest friendship ever with her.

When Anna, the colleague that invited you to the party, emailed you, Emily was the first person to text you, begging you to come and enjoy a night with the people you hadn't seen in so long. She also missed you a lot since both of you hadn't seen each other much after college, of course, you somehow managed to see each other every year and talk almost everyday, but it wasn't as close as you wished.

Emily lived in Louisiana with her husband, Dave, who had also gone to LSU with you, and of all the times you had seen each other, she had gone to your home, so you technically kind of owed this to her.

Waving in a frantic manner, there she was. Slightly different from last time, but still your best friend. You smile, walking towards her.

"I'm so glad you're here!" she says once she gets a hold of you, hugging you as if you could run away at any moment. You kind of wished you could, but she made everything better. She had that superpower.

"I'm glad I could come, Ems. I've missed you so much." You smile, looking at her as she helps you with your heavy bags.

The two of you start walking towards the exit to her car, catching up after a long time. Emily put you to date on what every single old colleague was up to now, and you laughed at the amount of gossip she was able to retain.

"Where's Dave?" You furrow your brows, just realizing someone was missing.

Emily opens the trunk and you help her put your bags on it. Panting after carrying so much weight, she replies "Home. He was working so he couldn't come, but he's super excited to see you." as you two get into the vehicle.

And with that, the engine starts and soon you're on the highway, on the way to her house.

The week in Emily and David's house had passed very quickly, and you throughly regretted ever wishing you hadn't came. She had shown you every bit of the city, and things had changed a lot. Now, you were in their guest room, getting ready to the reason that had you coming all the way from New York to Louisiana.

It was fourth of July, and you had heard fireworks all day around the neighborhood, even stopping to watch them for a bit before going for a shower.

"They're pretty, aren't they?" Emily said through the kitchen window as she saw you looking up outside.

"Very much." You turned around, smiling at her.

"Anna told me they're having fireworks tonight, I think you'll like it."

You got a bit excited, you've always loved fireworks, they were like drawings in the biggest canvas you could ever get, the sky.

"Looking forward to it!" You said, going up the stairs to get ready.

Looking in the mirror, you sigh. You wore an USA flag bodysuit and jean shorts. This whole patriotism seemed stupid, but Emily dragged you into it, alleging you were allergic to fun. Nonetheless, you looked good.

"Y/N! Let's go, we're gonna be late!"

Breathing in deeply, you close your eyes and stare at yourself one last time. You knew Joe would probably attend the party, he loved parties, and still, you came. You couldn't give up now, you couldn't get this stupid thing get to you. He probably doesn't even remembers everything that happened that day.

You shake your head, moving those thoughts away as you go downstairs, seeing Emily and Dave ready sitting on the couch.

"You look amazing! I told you you'd rock this fit." she gets up, hugging you.

"You too, Ems." you laugh, fixing your hair after she lets you go. "Shall we?"

"After you, Miss United States!" David jokes, signaling for you to get out of the house first. You laugh, rolling your eyes.

The three of you get in the car, and the drive to the party is filled with singing and more of Emily informing you of your colleague's current lives.

When Dave finally pulls over to the party, you can already hear the loud music in the car. Looking out the window, you see the last thing you'd expect to see today: Joe's parents house.

When Robin and Jim were away, Joe would always throw parties in his house instead of in the frat house. It made sense, giving the fact his house was a bit bigger. Snapping back to reality, you froze, but still had hopes of not seeing him tonight, after all, the amount of people that would come to the party was huge.

Entering the house, you were struck by fairy lights hanging on the roof, from a wall to another, and USA flags all over the house. There was a big wood table in a corner with punch and other drinks, but other than that, the place looked pretty much the same. It was weird coming back after all these years, but it still had a familiar air to it.

After almost 50 minutes, Emily was already drunk and fooling around somewhere with her fiancé. You were finally alone, and by now you had roamed the entire house, gladly not meeting Joe not even once. You thought about leaving, but not before going to your favorite spot in the house, the only one you hadn't explored today yet.

Joe's house had a small attic, which you adored. When he threw parties in high school and you couldn't get away from your friend's pleas to come, this was the place you found yourself in. So, after 6 years, there were you again. On that narrow wooden space that had a somewhat medium window with a view to the back of the house, where the party was most wild. You were surprised to see they hadn't moved a thing, it felt like you had time-traveled to your school years.

In front of the window, there was an old blue armchair, the one you would sometimes sleep on waiting for Emily and the others to want to go home. The rest of the attic was filled with boxes, some with trophies and pictures of Joe, with his family, his team, and his coach.

You sat on the armchair, arms hugging your knees as you looked at the window, the music that once made your head hurt because of the volume was long gone, sounding now like white noise.

Entering the football team frat house, you could see neon lights and hear music blasting through the speakers. Soon enough, all the other cheerleaders and Emily were dancing and having fun, after all the team had won the game, there was no reason not to celebrate. Except for you, because a win for LSU immediately meant running into Joe Burrow, or seeing his face all over the university for a week or so.

Sitting on a couch in the living room, you had a privileged view to the enormous door that swung open, revealing a sweaty but smiley Joe. He walks in as he normally does, exhaling an air of cockiness around him. He has a bottle of beer in hand, and already looks drunk as he laughs to his teammates. After being showered in praises and congratulations, he's free to walk a bit further, which is when he sees you. His eyes immediately glance at your jersey, and you immediately regret having done what you did.

Earlier that day, before you left for the party, it started to snow, and you realized you hadn't brought a single coat to the game. The girls were about to leave and they didn't want any delays, so you looked around for anything that could cover your body and protect you from freezing.

The only thing you could find was an old LSU football team jersey with the name "BURROW" stitched on the back. You sighed, but tried to confort yourself by thinking nobody would see it, after all, the lights at the party were pretty low.

All of it cumulated to this moment. This disgusting look he gives you as he looks down, glaring at his jersey. "What the hell are you wearing?”

Of course he would recognize it, it was his, after all. You cursed yourself mentally in all the languages you know, and prayed that Emily would come to you out of the blue to take you home. She didn't.

"Please, don't start, Joseph." You say, trying to ignore him. "I was cold and this was the only thing I could find."

“Yeah, right. Just say you were trying to piss me off, like always.” he scowls.

"Not everything is about you, QB." You get up, furrowing your brows at the audacity, annoyance dripping in your voice.

“Everything is most definitely not about you either, cheerleader.” he scoffs, and his teammates laugh. “You're still not even good at that.”

"And you're still not even good at your little games, idiot." I scoff. "Let me remind you, I'm the one going to the national competition while you're still playing football in college."

This time, his friends mutter a low "oooh".

He's stunned for a moment, then he scowls and gets closer to your face. “Watch your mouth. This is my last season here anyway, then i’m going straight to the NFL and everyone's gonna know my name, who knows what you’ll be doing.”

You just still didn't know he actually meant it.

"The NFL?" You laugh, hands on your chest. "You know, Joey.." You say, calling him by the nickname his friends had given him, in an attempt to piss him off. "To be on the NFL, you gotta be one of the greats." You stare at him, getting closer. "Something you.. are not."

He scowls, and his friends are surprised, the nickname really got to him. Before you can get another word in, he grabs you and pulls you close, his voice is low and cold. “Who the fuck are you calling Joey? You don’t get on the nickname level with me, Y/N."

Your squirm under his touch, trying to get off of him. A bit of fear seems to be creeping up in your eyes, and you try your best to not let it show.

"Don't fucking touch me!" You slap him, getting some inches away and staring at him in awe.

He recoils a bit, then glares. His lips are trembling, and you’ve never seen him angry like this, even his breath is shaky. He doesn't look like the Joe you once fed turtles in kindergarten with. He clenches his fist and looks around, he’s got the attention of everyone at the party “Are you seriously gonna slap the quarterback?”

"Fuck you! You're a horrible person that thinks that because you're a star you can do whatever the fuck you want, well, breaking news, YOU CAN'T." You scoff, angrier than ever, while removing the jersey off of you, throwing it at him, eyes swelling with tears.

"You're a fucking parasite, a manwhore who thinks everything's about you. I hope you never get to the NFL." This time it comes out lower, like a personal threat. You desperately crave to hurt him in a way he won't be able to laugh at or make jokes. Turning around, you walk out of the house, everything seemed to suffocate you.

He's stunned, no ones ever talked to him like that, specially you, the one person he was so used to getting shit from. He just stares at your back, the BURROW that was once hidden by your messy hair now gone, in his shaky hands. A range of emotions go through him. He's mad, but then there’s a sadness, he feels unwanted, as if the only reason people talk to him is because he is the quarterback. He doesn’t want you to leave like this, but he doesn’t know what to say, so he just yells “Where are you even gonna go?!”

"Somewhere you're not!" You scream, not even bothering to turn around to face it, crossing the door and walking through the garden in front of the house.

At this point, the party had gone back to what it once was, a loud, fun mess.

He sighs, then chases after you. When he catches up, he grabs your arm and forces you to turn around to face him. “Where the hell do you think you're going? You're not safe, there's a bunch of drunkards out there today."

"Like you give a fuck." You shrug, shaking your arm to get away from his grip. You turn around and start walking, the cold getting to you again. The snow fell mercilessly and all you had was the thin sweater that covered your cheerleading clothes.

He sighs, then realizes you’ll freeze outside. He puts his arm around you and pulls you in. You're so incredibly small compared to him you can feel his heart beating fast and his muscles tense from anger. “I do care. Just… come back inside, you're gonna freeze out here."

"Leave me alone! I fucking hate you!" The tears start falling as you punch his chest in a frantic way. It didn't hurt him, of course, but you didn't know that.

He scowls when you do so, gritting his teeth, then just watches you cry. He sighs and pulls you in tight, his body heats yours up. He rocks you like a baby, and whispers “Let me explain. I didn't meant for things to be like this.”

"Like what? Like living hell?" You away from his embrace, but part of you wishes you hadn't. Joe was so big and warm you didn't even needed a coat. "You hate me. Why are you even doing this?" you yell, the loud blasting music from the party muffling your screams. "Go back to your stupid party with your friends and your girls. I'm going home."

He grabs your arms and makes you turn to him. “I don’t.. hate you. I just get mad and take it out on you. I know that’s not right, i’m trying to fix it. Let me take you home.”

"Oh please." You scoff, tears still falling. "No need. I'll walk." You say, shivering due to the cold.

He sighs again. “You're not going home alone, it's not safe. I don’t care if you hate my guts, i’m not letting you walk alone.”

Joe's words and actions pierce you like a bullet. Never, in a million years, you had imagined you'd hear him talk to you like this. Of course, it was still rude, but there was a sweetness to it. You say nothing, as you couldn't bring yourself to. As he puts the jersey you once threw in his face back on your shoulders, the shivering reduces a bit, and your lips stop trembling, their reddish color that was once white from the cold, reappearing. His big hands stroking your back felt so gentle, and helped you get rid of the cold as he gently and quietly led you to his car. He opens the door to the passenger seat and waits for you to get in. You do so, surprisingly, and he closes it, turning around to get into the driver's seat.

He climbs in the drivers seat and starts the engine. The warm air that comes out of the vents warming you up as he looks over at you. You watch him drive, he seems so focused, and when he speaks, it’s in a quiet voice “I'll walk you to your door, then you should probably take a hot shower to warm up, your gonna get sick like this.”

"There's no need. I'll survive." you say, pulling the jersey closer and breathing in the warmth.

“I'm not gonna risk you getting sick just because you decided to be stubborn now.” You can’t help but notice how gentle his voice is, a nice contrast to how cold he seemed towards you at the party.

"Fine." You whisper, and after a few moments in silence, he finally pulls up to the dorms. You open the door of the car and get out, the cold getting to you again. You sigh.

Joe does the same and the two of you walk in silence towards the entrance of the building. Once you reach the door, you turn around, "You've done enough, Burrow. I mean it. Go back to your party, you have a win to celebrate." You say, grabbing your keys and unlocking the door.

“I wanna see you safe in your house before i go, I feel responsible for you getting cold out here.” he doesn’t want you to think he doesn’t care about you, when it’s clear from the way he’s acting he only thinks of you and your safety right now.

You nod, his gentle words feeling like daggers in your heart, making you almost regret the way went a few rounds with him earlier.

Getting into your aparment, you take off your shoes, holding the door for him to do the same, and when he does, you lock it again, before making your way to the small kitchen.

"Can I get you anything? Water, tea..?" You ask, trying to be a good host. You and Emily never expected no one to come to the apartment, so there was never many food or drink options.

He follows you to the kitchen, shrugs and looks around. The apartment is not very big, but it’s homely. From the kitchen, you can see the entire living room, including the door, and then there's a small hallway that leads to the rooms and bathroom.

He looks at you when you offer him something and smiles, it breaks his scowl, it looks good on him. He looks at you for a moment, then says “Can i get a glass of water?”

You nod and get on your tip toes to open the cabinet, getting a glass and then filling it with water, handing it to Joe as you take a seat on one of the stools in front of the kitchen's island.

He takes the glass and drinks from it, still holding on to his scowl, but it slowly drops off as he begins to relax. He sits down beside you, close enough that his knees are touching yours “Your apartment is so different from mine.”

You sigh, making small talk with him was the last thing on your list for today, but still, you gave it a shot.

"How so..?" You say, not even bothering to look at him. Instead, the cup of water you had poured to yourself in front of you was the one getting all of the attention. The fact that the only person in the entire campus that hated you was the one to bring you home was already embarrassing enough, so you were still to wrap your mind around the fact he was still here.

He watches you and looks around the kitchen, not sure how to explain it to you. For a few moments he just looks at you, trying to gather his thoughts. “I don’t know how to explain it, it’s just different from anything i’m used to.”

"Calling me poor now, are we, Burrow?" You shrug, letting a small laugh fall from your lips.

He glares, then realizes you were joking and laughs a little bit. You can notice he still smiles when he looks at you, which is surprising considering how he always scowled at you. “I'd never call you poor, especially not after seeing your outfit tonight.” he looks you up and down.

"Mr. Joseph Burrow's a fashionista?" You chuckle, this wasn't something you'd ever expect from him. There wasn't any monograms or brand names on the sweater you wore, but if you were a someone into good clothing, you'd recognize it.

He laughs and shakes his head, he can’t help but notice your curves and he looks down, trying not to stare. “I wouldn’t consider myself a fashion guy, i just know something looks nice when i see it.. and your outfit looks very nice on you."

"Yeah, sure.." You nod, standing up and grabbing both of the glasses. You take them to the sink, putting your hair up in a bun and washing them. "I'm okay now, Burrow, really. I don't know why you did what you did tonight, but thank you." The thank you comes out like a whisper, but you pray he does notice. "Come back to your party, enjoy your teammates and your girls. There's still time."

He shifts in his seat and watches you as you wash the glass, his mind is conflicted. Part of him wants to follow his teammates back to the party, the other part wants to stay with you, see how long the small talk can go before it turns into a fight again. His eyes watch you as his breathing starts to pick up a bit. When you thank him, he realizes you don’t want to talk about the fight or why he did what he did at all.

He shakes his head and stands up. “I guess I better get going then."

"Yeah.. of course." You flash him a shy smile, and the awkward silence sets in again.

He notices your smile and smiles back, not knowing how to express himself right now, although he doesn’t know how to leave either. He just awkwardly stands there, staring at you, his eyes are locked on yours, he can’t help but notice how beautiful they are. The two of you lost in your own thoughts, the silence filled with tension. Then he speaks “Can i ask something before I go?”

"Yes."

“Why'd you wear that jersey? You knew it would piss me off, so why’d you wear it?”

You sigh, you had already explained that, but Joe seemed so drunk you thought maybe he had forgotten. "I told you, I was cold and I had forgotten my hoodie." you point to the couch, where the green hoodie rested on. "I knew it would piss you off, and trust me when I say I wasn't going for that today, but it happened. I'm sorry for it, you can have it back now." You say, taking the jersey off for the second time that night, except this time you don't throw it on his face. Instead, you just gently hand it to him, like a peace offering.

He takes it, looking down at it in his hands, then he looks back up at you. He sighs and is suddenly filled with mixed feelings, anger, sadness, his emotions feel overwhelming. He doesn’t want to yell and argue with you again, but he also doesn’t want to leave. He can’t stop looking at you and your eyes, he can’t help but love how pretty they are. "Can I please keep this? Please..?" he whispers.

"Why are you asking me that? It's yours, it has your name on it." You say matter-of-factly, fidgeting with your hands, something you do when you're nervous.

You can tell he’s trying really hard not to smile at you, his voice is soft when he says “Yeah… but it’s got your sweat on it… your smell… I want something to remind me of you… even though, you know… we always seem to get each other mad.”

You don't understand, after all, you see each other every single day. The best "something to remind me of you" he could ever ask for was standing right in front of him everyday.

You furrow your eyebrows. Years of fighting, screaming and pissing each other off leading to this moment was something you couldn't wrap your mind around. "Do I need to remind you we hate each other? Until this morning, you'd get me suspended from LSU if you could."

He laughs, and you’ve never seen him in such a vulnerable and soft state. "We both know I don’t wanna get you suspended from LSU, I mean, come on.. just look at you.” he stares at you, you see his eyes roaming your body like he always does, but there’s a different look about them. "You deserve this scholarship more than I do, you've always have."

"Yeah.." You scoff, not believing a word, looking at the jersey on his hands and then at his eyes. His big, blue eyes that you got lost in countless times before.

He smiles at you, realizing the snarkiness he just heard. He doesn’t mind the teasing, in fact, he kinda likes it. He stares at you for a minute, then he looks back down at the jersey “I like how it fits tight on you.” he says without realizing it.

"Tight? You're big as hell, it looks huge on me." You laugh, remembering how the jersey looked on you when you put it on earlier today.

He laughs silently to himself, a big smirk appears on his face. He looks at your body, then smiles. “You're just too small, but I do like how it fits on you."

You feel goosebumps throughout your entire body and your cheeks heat up. You curse yourself mentally for letting it all show so easily.

He's still staring at you, but doesn’t realize just how much he’s making you blush. He continues to speak in a low voice "I can see your belly button when you dance for us on the field.." He pauses, but decides to go on, and it's like you can hear the engines turning in his head. "I can see your bra strap when you go so high in the sky I feel my hands covered in cold sweat in fear that you'll fall and I won't be there to catch you. I can see your collarbones when you get so close to me when we're fighting that I wish I would just lean in and shut you the fuck up. I can see how you blush when I sweep you off your feet and leave you speechless, like i'm doing now." He steps closer. "I can see all of you. Matter of fact, Y/N, I think you're all I have ever wanted to see." He states, like it's a fact, like he has always known that. You feel your eyes starting to water and you feel stupid. "Every inch of you looks amazing in that jersey, it fits you like nothing else i’ve ever seen."

You sigh, it's almost like you can feel your skin being touched by him just by the way he’s looking at you. You feel like a forest fire, and his voice tone doesn't help. "Stop.."

His voice is so low when he talks, you want him to keep speaking. You want to hear his voice go on and on, to get you worked up, but also to lull you into the most peaceful sleep you've had in years. He keeps staring at you as he speaks “Just look at your shoulders, the fabric wraps all around them so perfectly, they’re such beautiful curves, just like the rest of you. Just look at you.. Jesus." He sighs.

You squirm under his gaze, but in a split second you're reminded of everything that happened before this moment. Before being here, in your small dorm, talking to the man you earlier thought to be the meanest person you knew. "I won't fall for it. I'm not the girls you get after winning games."

He chuckles and looks away, clearing this throat before going on "Those girls are just something to make me feel good, they don’t even mean anything to me. But you.. even when you make me angry, I want nothing but to feel you in my arms. You make me feel so good, even when you piss me off.”

"You don't mean that." You mutter, trying to stay calm. You pick the skin on your arms while staring at him.

His eyes shift back to yours when you speak, he sighs and you can tell for a minute he’s conflicted on what to say. "I know you don’t believe I mean all those words, but honestly, I mean every word. You are the only girl who's ever made me feel something, even if we’re arguing, that means we at least have some emotion we want to put towards each other. I'd rather have you making me mad than have someone making me feel nothing at all."

A single tear slides down your cheek. "You're drunk, that's what it is. You're drunk and this.." You point to yourself, and then to him, "..must be a prank."

“I know that’s all we’ve known for years, but maybe the reason you make me so mad is because I have feelings for you. You are the only girl I have ever wanted to talk to like this. You're the only girl that makes me feel this way. I never want to stop talking to you, I just want to tell you how beautiful you are, even when you make me mad, or when you push me so far it makes me want to push you towards the wall and kiss you."

You stare at him like everything you've ever known has finally made sense. A few more tears drip from your eyes and you sigh. "You promise?" it comes out in a whisper.

He smiles and you can tell it's not a fake drunk smile. This is the smile he flashes at someone when he's letting down his guard and being completely honest and vulnerable. "I promise. I don't want anyone else, I want you. I wanna be the guy who makes you happy like no one else could. I want you to be there when I get into the NFL and I want to be able to look for you on every game, waving at you when I see you're wearing my jersey because you finally want to, because it means something."

You look up, melting over his voice, your eyes meeting his like never before. His eye color seemed different now, a more vivid blue. His eyes seemed more relaxed, a nice contrast to the ones full of rage that always came with a furrowed brow. "I want you, too." You whisper.

He smiles, a real and sweet smile. This time when his eyes roam your body, you feel like he isn't looking at you in a nasty way like always, he's just looking at you because he thinks he's the luckiest boy in the world.

You smile, "Do I need to call you some names to have you kissing me now?" It makes him laugh, and your eyes lock on his. There isn't any words, just feelings, and you can see it in him when the realization sets in that you want him too.

You get on your tip toes as Joe pulls you towards him, your lips finally touching each other. Your belly feels as if you just rode a rollercoaster, as if the LSU football team had won, as if there was fireworks inside of you like there's in the sky on the fourth of July. But instead it was all him, the same boy that you once hated so much, doing all of this to you without even trying.

Immersed in your thoughts, you didn't notice when someone opened the door and came in, what gave it away was the smell, and you wondered if it would ever change.

"Joseph..?" you froze, again, but still managed to turn around on the armchair, feet now touching the ground.

His eyes meet yours for the first time in.. well, years, since that fateful night. He looked.. the same. Although his hair was shorter now and he looked bigger than ever, his face was the same. The same mesmerizing ocean blue eyes, pointy nose, and rosy cheeks, which you always found funny, because it looked like he had blush on. He wore a threadbare white shirt, shorts, and a tennis shoe, but they weren't the same as years ago, and you thought to yourself how an outfit of his now would cost probably more than your monthly earnings. He also wore a USA flag headband, which you had seen earlier laying on the wood table for everyone to get one. You thought it looked.. funny.

"Y/N." He nods. It felt like forever since your name had left his lips for the last time.

"Sorry, I-" You start, getting up from the chair as you wrote a full apology in your head for being in a private part of his home. "I thought nobody would need the room, I'll leave now."

"Nobody does." He takes a sip of his drink, his hands looking huge as he holds the red cup. "Dave told me you came with him and Emily, had to see it for myself."

He says, getting closer and finally leaning onto the window, arms resting just above it. Another sip, and you find yourself sitting again.

"How'd you know I was here?" You furrow your eyebrows, not understanding a thing. His eyes don't wander from the view. You're stiff, and you think you've probably never felt so nervous.

"You always are."

If you thought your eyebrows couldn't furrow any more, you were wrong. As soon as the words fell from his lips, you were in complete shock. Does that mean he knew that, all this time, you spent the parties in his attic, alone, dying to go home? That he knew you slept here, not once, not twice, but several times before?

"What?" Is all you manage to say, embarrassment taking over you.

"I mean, when I threw parties in high school you were always here. I know you don't like parties but you would always come because of Emily, and somehow your nights always ended here."

Your eyes widened, and you swore that if your mom could see you now, she would say something along the lines of You look like you've seen a ghost.

You kind of felt like you had.

"I'm surprised you like the place, it's kinda small." He finally shifts, taking his arms off the window and setting his now empty cup on the small wood piece that rested under the window. You blush, after all this time.

When you woke up in the morning, Joe was no longer there. You didn't panic, just thought of it as typical him. Getting up from the bed, you saw Emily on her chair, watching something on her computer.

"Morning, sleeping beauty." she says as she hears you yawn.

"Morning, Ems." You smile, sitting up straight. "D'you have a good night?"

"Obviously, duh. Dave's a gentleman." she states, bragging, and you laugh. "He also told me you and Joe left together last night.. what was that about?"

You sigh, flashes from the night before coming back to haunt you. "We.. uh.." you start, but words can't really explain what went down in this apartment yesterday. "We kissed, and had sex.. and, uh.. he might've said he likes me.." you whisper, like it was a crime.

"WHAT?!" Emily jumps from the chair, startled. "Y/N.. Oh my God.." she gets closer to you, getting on her knees in front of you. "How was that? And, most importantly, how's that gonna work now?" she states, as if something had changed overnight.

"What do you mean?" you furrow your eyebrows, confused.

"Well, you know he's been drafted to the NFL, don't you?" she says as if it was something everyone knew, incluiding you.

You felt your heart sink.

So it was a prank, after all. The worst one he could ever pull on you.

He left, and he wasn't coming back.

You knew he meant every word he had said last night, but he also had really left. Joe had confessed his love to you the night before just to leave in the morning, leaving you mercilessly stranded.

You don't say anything, because how could you find the words to? Emily immediately understands and hugs you, but the only embrace you could possibly want at the time was miles away now.

You were surprised at his ability to pretend like nothing had happened, like the last few years hadn't been torture to you, wondering where did it go wrong. Years of blaming yourself, of recalling the night over and over and-

"No need to be ashamed, Y/N." he chuckles, the sound of it filling the quiet room.

"I'm not ashamed." you lie. Letting him see through you was the last thing you needed today. "Just thought nobody knew."

"Well, if it helps, I'm the only one who does." he finally sits on the ground, back glued to the wall where the window was. A beat, and then he was back with the personal questionnaire. "How are you?"

"I should be the one asking that question. Huge team, getting all the girls, abnormal paycheck.. Superbowl." your words dripping with disgust as you stare out the window, hoping for something, anything, anyone, a divine intervention to get you out of there.

"I don't really get that many girls," he says as he stares at you. One of the things about him that bothered you so much was his courage. You could never, ever, not a million years, bring yourself to stare at him the way he'd do to you. It was intimidating, raw, and worst of all, familiar. He'd always do this when the two of you fought in high school, that's how he'd always win the arguments, not by words, by having the courage to look you in the face and leaving you feeling vulnerable and naked under his gaze. That's also the same way he stared at you that night, after saying all those nice words that made you melt under his touch.

"Mhm.." You nod, not knowing what to say.

"Aren't you going to answer me?" he questions, again.

"I'm fine, finishing my doctorate now."

You don't know why you told him that, but it felt right.

He lets out a breath, "Fuck, Y/N.. That's huge." he congratulates you, and although he couldn't see it due to the poor lighting, it makes you blush. You had never seen it as that big of a deal, it was just the thirst for knowledge you always had, but it was nice knowing someone Joe thought about it as something nice.

"Thank you"

"Thank you coming today," he finally says, awkwardly, as he gets up, grabbing his cup as he does so. "tell your folks I said hi."

"Will do."

He opens the door and gets lost in the crowd, leaving quietly and sneakily like he did that night, and you let out a breath you didn't even realize you were holding.